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Being very anxious to leave no stone unturned, I waited until
Mr. Spenlow came in, and then described what had passed; giving
him to understand that I was not hopeless of his being able to soften
the adamantine jorkins, if he would undertake the task.
'Copperfield,' returned Mr. Spenlow, with a gracious smile, 'you
have not known my partner, Mr. jorkins, as long as I have. Nothing
is farther from my thoughts than to attribute any degree of artifice
to Mr. jorkins. But Mr. jorkins has a way of stating his objections
which often deceives people. No, Copperfield!' shaking his head.
'Mr. jorkins is not to be moved, believe me!'
I was completely bewildered between Mr. Spenlow and Mr. jorkins,
as to which of them really was the objecting partner; but I saw
with sufficient clearness that there was obduracy somewhere in the
firm, and that the recovery of my aunt's thousand pounds was out
of the question. In a state of despondency, which I remember with
anything but satisfaction, for I know it still had too much reference
to myself (though always in connexion with Dora), I left the office,
and went homeward.
I was trying to familiarize my mind with the worst, and to present
to myself the arrangements we should have to make for the future
in their sternest aspect, when a hackney-chariot coming after me,
and stopping at my very feet, occasioned me to look up. A fair hand
was stretched forth to me from the window; and the face I had never
seen without a feeling of serenity and happiness, from the moment
when it first turned back on the old oak staircase with the great
broad balustrade, and when I associated its softened beauty with
the stained-glass window in the church, was smiling on me.
'Agnes!' I joyfully exclaimed. 'Oh, my dear Agnes, of all people
in the world, what a pleasure to see you!'
'Is it, indeed?' she said, in her cordial voice.
'I want to talk to you so much!' said I. 'It's such a lightening
of my heart, only to look at you! If I had had a conjuror's cap,
there is no one I should have wished for but you!'
'What?' returned Agnes.
'Well! perhaps Dora first,' I admitted, with a blush.
'Certainly, Dora first, I hope,' said Agnes, laughing.
'But you next!' said I. 'Where are you going?'
She was going to my rooms to see my aunt. The day being very
fine, she was glad to come out of the chariot, which smelt (I had
my head in it all this time) like a stable put under a cucumber-frame.
I dismissed the coachman, and she took my arm, and we walked on
together. She was like Hope embodied, to me. How different I felt
in one short minute, having Agnes at my side!
My aunt had written her one of the odd, abrupt notes - very little
longer than a Bank note - to which her epistolary efforts were usually
limited. She had stated therein that she had fallen into adversity,
and was leaving Dover for good, but had quite made up her mind to
it, and was so well that nobody need be uncomfortable about her.
Agnes had come to London to see my aunt, between whom and herself
there had been a mutual liking these many years: indeed, it dated
from the time of my taking up my residence in Mr. Wickfield's house.
She was not alone, she said. Her papa was with her - and Uriah Heep.
'And now they are partners,' said I. 'Confound him!'
'Yes,' said Agnes. 'They have some business here; and I took
advantage of their coming, to come too. You must not think my visit
all friendly and disinterested, Trotwood, for - I am afraid I may
be cruelly prejudiced - I do not like to let papa go away alone,
with him.' 'Does he exercise the same influence over Mr. Wickfield
still, Agnes?'
Agnes shook her head. 'There is such a change at home,' said
she, 'that you would scarcely know the dear old house. They live
with us now.'
'They?' said I.
'Mr. Heep and his mother. He sleeps in your old room,' said Agnes,
looking up into my face.
'I wish I had the ordering of his dreams,' said I. 'He wouldn't
sleep there long.'
'I keep my own little room,' said Agnes, 'where I used to learn
my lessons. How the time goes! You remember? The little panelled
room that opens from the drawing-room?'
'Remember, Agnes? When I saw you, for the first time, coming
out at the door, with your quaint little basket of keys hanging
at your side?'
'It is just the same,' said Agnes, smiling. 'I am glad you think
of it so pleasantly. We were very happy.'
'We were, indeed,' said I.
'I keep that room to myself still; but I cannot always desert
Mrs. Heep, you know. And so,' said Agnes, quietly, 'I feel obliged
to bear her company, when I might prefer to be alone. But I have
no other reason to complain of her. If she tires me, sometimes,
by her praises of her son, it is only natural in a mother. He is
a very good son to her.'
I looked at Agnes when she said these words, without detecting
in her any consciousness of Uriah's design. Her mild but earnest
eyes met mine with their own beautiful frankness, and there was
no change in her gentle face.
'The chief evil of their presence in the house,' said Agnes,
'is that I cannot be as near papa as I could wish - Uriah Heep being
so much between us - and cannot watch over him, if that is not too
bold a thing to say, as closely as I would. But if any fraud or
treachery is practising against him, I hope that simple love and
truth will be strong in the end. I hope that real love and truth
are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.'
A certain bright smile, which I never saw on any other face,
died away, even while I thought how good it was, and how familiar
it had once been to me; and she asked me, with a quick change of
expression (we were drawing very near my street), if I knew how
the reverse in my aunt's circumstances had been brought about. On
my replying no, she had not told me yet, Agnes became thoughtful,
and I fancied I felt her arm tremble in mine.
We found my aunt alone, in a state of some excitement. A difference
of opinion had arisen between herself and Mrs. Crupp, on an abstract
question (the propriety of chambers being inhabited by the gentler
sex); and my aunt, utterly indifferent to spasms on the part of
Mrs. Crupp, had cut the dispute short, by informing that lady that
she smelt of my brandy, and that she would trouble her to walk out.
Both of these expressions Mrs. Crupp considered actionable, and
had expressed her intention of bringing before a 'British Judy'
- meaning, it was supposed, the bulwark of our national liberties.
MY aunt, however, having had time to cool, while Peggotty was
out showing Mr. Dick the soldiers at the Horse Guards - and being,
besides, greatly pleased to see Agnes - rather plumed herself on
the affair than otherwise, and received us with unimpaired good
humour. When Agnes laid her bonnet on the table, and sat down beside
her, I could not but think, looking on her mild eyes and her radiant
forehead, how natural it seemed to have her there; how trustfully,
although she was so young and inexperienced, my aunt confided in
her; how strong she was, indeed, in simple love and truth. We began
to talk about my aunt's losses, and I told them what I had tried
to do that morning.
'Which was injudicious, Trot,' said my aunt, 'but well meant.
You are a generous boy - I suppose I must say, young man, now -
and I am proud of you, my dear. So far, so good. Now, Trot and Agnes,
let us look the case of Betsey Trotwood in the face, and see how
it stands.'
I observed Agnes turn pale, as she looked very attentively at
my aunt. My aunt, patting her cat, looked very attentively at Agnes.
'Betsey Trotwood,' said my aunt, who had always kept her money
matters to herself. '- I don't mean your sister, Trot, my dear,
but myself - had a certain property. It don't matter how much; enough
to live on. More; for she had saved a little, and added to it. Betsey
funded her property for some time, and then, by the advice of her
man of business, laid it out on landed security. That did very well,
and returned very good interest, till Betsey was paid off. I am
talking of Betsey as if she was a man-of-war. Well! Then, Betsey
had to look about her, for a new investment. She thought she was
wiser, now, than her man of business, who was not such a good man
of business by this time, as he used to be - I am alluding to your
father, Agnes - and she took it into her head to lay it out for
herself. So she took her pigs,' said my aunt, 'to a foreign market;
and a very bad market it turned out to be. First, she lost in the
mining way, and then she lost in the diving way - fishing up treasure,
or some such Tom Tiddler nonsense,' explained my aunt, rubbing her
nose; 'and then she lost in the mining way again, and, last of all,
to set the thing entirely to rights, she lost in the banking way.
I don't know what the Bank shares were worth for a little while,'
said my aunt; 'cent per cent was the lowest of it, I believe; but
the Bank was at the other end of the world, and tumbled into space,
for what I know; anyhow, it fell to pieces, and never will and never
can pay sixpence; and Betsey's sixpences were all there, and there's
an end of them. Least said, soonest mended!'
My aunt concluded this philosophical summary, by fixing her eyes
with a kind of triumph on Agnes, whose colour was gradually returning.
'Dear Miss Trotwood, is that all the history?' said Agnes.
'I hope it's enough, child,' said my aunt. 'If there had been
more money to lose, it wouldn't have been all, I dare say. Betsey
would have contrived to throw that after the rest, and make another
chapter, I have little doubt. But there was no more money, and there's
no more story.'
Agnes had listened at first with suspended breath. Her colour
still came and went, but she breathed more freely. I thought I knew
why. I thought she had had some fear that her unhappy father might
be in some way to blame for what had happened. My aunt took her
hand in hers, and laughed.
'Is that all?' repeated my aunt. 'Why, yes, that's all, except,
"And she lived happy ever afterwards." Perhaps I may add
that of Betsey yet, one of these days. Now, Agnes, you have a wise
head. So have you, Trot, in some things, though I can't compliment
you always'; and here my aunt shook her own at me, with an energy
peculiar to herself. 'What's to be done? Here's the cottage, taking
one time with another, will produce say seventy pounds a year. I
think we may safely put it down at that. Well! - That's all we've
got,' said my aunt; with whom it was an idiosyncrasy, as it is with
some horses, to stop very short when she appeared to be in a fair
way of going on for a long while.
'Then,' said my aunt, after a rest, 'there's Dick. He's good
for a hundred a-year, but of course that must be expended on himself.
I would sooner send him away, though I know I am the only person
who appreciates him, than have him, and not spend his money on himself.
How can Trot and I do best, upon our means? What do you say, Agnes?'
'I say, aunt,' I interposed, 'that I must do something!'
'Go for a soldier, do you mean?' returned my aunt, alarmed; 'or
go to sea? I won't hear of it. You are to be a proctor. We're not
going to have any knockings on the head in THIS family, if you please,
sir.'
I was about to explain that I was not desirous of introducing
that mode of provision into the family, when Agnes inquired if my
rooms were held for any long term?
'You come to the point, my dear,' said my aunt. 'They are not
to be got rid of, for six months at least, unless they could be
underlet, and that I don't believe. The last man died here. Five
people out of six would die - of course - of that woman in nankeen
with the flannel petticoat. I have a little ready money; and I agree
with you, the best thing we can do, is, to live the term out here,
and get a bedroom hard by.'
I thought it my duty to hint at the discomfort my aunt would
sustain, from living in a continual state of guerilla warfare with
Mrs. Crupp; but she disposed of that objection summarily by declaring
that, on the first demonstration of hostilities, she was prepared
to astonish Mrs. Crupp for the whole remainder of her natural life.
'I have been thinking, Trotwood,' said Agnes, diffidently, 'that
if you had time -'
'I have a good deal of time, Agnes. I am always disengaged after
four or five o'clock, and I have time early in the morning. In one
way and another,' said I, conscious of reddening a little as I thought
of the hours and hours I had devoted to fagging about town, and
to and fro upon the Norwood Road, 'I have abundance of time.'
'I know you would not mind,' said Agnes, coming to me, and speaking
in a low voice, so full of sweet and hopeful consideration that
I hear it now, 'the duties of a secretary.'
'Mind, my dear Agnes?'
'Because,' continued Agnes, 'Doctor Strong has acted on his intention
of retiring, and has come to live in London; and he asked papa,
I know, if he could recommend him one. Don't you think he would
rather have his favourite old pupil near him, than anybody else?'
'Dear Agnes!' said I. 'What should I do without you! You are
always my good angel. I told you so. I never think of you in any
other light.'
Agnes answered with her pleasant laugh, that one good Angel (meaning
Dora) was enough; and went on to remind me that the Doctor had been
used to occupy himself in his study, early in the morning, and in
the evening - and that probably my leisure would suit his requirements
very well. I was scarcely more delighted with the prospect of earning
my own bread, than with the hope of earning it under my old master;
in short, acting on the advice of Agnes, I sat down and wrote a
letter to the Doctor, stating my object, and appointing to call
on him next day at ten in the forenoon. This I addressed to Highgate
- for in that place, so memorable to me, he lived - and went and
posted, myself, without losing a minute.
Wherever Agnes was, some agreeable token of her noiseless presence
seemed inseparable from the place. When I came back, I found my
aunt's birds hanging, just as they had hung so long in the parlour
window of the cottage; and my easy-chair imitating my aunt's much
easier chair in its position at the open window; and even the round
green fan, which my aunt had brought away with her, screwed on to
the window-sill. I knew who had done all this, by its seeming to
have quietly done itself; and I should have known in a moment who
had arranged my neglected books in the old order of my school days,
even if I had supposed Agnes to be miles away, instead of seeing
her busy with them, and smiling at the disorder into which they
had fallen.
My aunt was quite gracious on the subject of the Thames (it really
did look very well with the sun upon it, though not like the sea
before the cottage), but she could not relent towards the London
smoke, which, she said, 'peppered everything'. A complete revolution,
in which Peggotty bore a prominent part, was being effected in every
corner of my rooms, in regard of this pepper; and I was looking
on, thinking how little even Peggotty seemed to do with a good deal
of bustle, and how much Agnes did without any bustle at all, when
a knock came at the door.
'I think,' said Agnes, turning pale, 'it's papa. He promised
me that he would come.'
I opened the door, and admitted, not only Mr. Wickfield, but
Uriah Heep. I had not seen Mr. Wickfield for some time. I was prepared
for a great change in him, after what I had heard from Agnes, but
his appearance shocked me.
It was not that he looked many years older, though still dressed
with the old scrupulous cleanliness; or that there was an unwholesome
ruddiness upon his face; or that his eyes were full and bloodshot;
or that there was a nervous trembling in his hand, the cause of
which I knew, and had for some years seen at work. It was not that
he had lost his good looks, or his old bearing of a gentleman -
for that he had not - but the thing that struck me most, was, that
with the evidences of his native superiority still upon him, he
should submit himself to that crawling impersonation of meanness,
Uriah Heep. The reversal of the two natures, in their relative positions,
Uriah's of power and Mr. Wickfield's of dependence, was a sight
more painful to me than I can express. If I had seen an Ape taking
command of a Man, I should hardly have thought it a more degrading
spectacle.
He appeared to be only too conscious of it himself. When he came
in, he stood still; and with his head bowed, as if he felt it. This
was only for a moment; for Agnes softly said to him, 'Papa! Here
is Miss Trotwood - and Trotwood, whom you have not seen for a long
while!' and then he approached, and constrainedly gave my aunt his
hand, and shook hands more cordially with me. In the moment's pause
I speak of, I saw Uriah's countenance form itself into a most ill-favoured
smile. Agnes saw it too, I think, for she shrank from him.
What my aunt saw, or did not see, I defy the science of physiognomy
to have made out, without her own consent. I believe there never
was anybody with such an imperturbable countenance when she chose.
Her face might have been a dead-wall on the occasion in question,
for any light it threw upon her thoughts; until she broke silence
with her usual abruptness.
'Well, Wickfield!' said my aunt; and he looked up at her for
the first time. 'I have been telling your daughter how well I have
been disposing of my money for myself, because I couldn't trust
it to you, as you were growing rusty in business matters. We have
been taking counsel together, and getting on very well, all things
considered. Agnes is worth the whole firm, in my opinion.'
'If I may umbly make the remark,' said Uriah Heep, with a writhe,
'I fully agree with Miss Betsey Trotwood, and should be only too
appy if Miss Agnes was a partner.'
'You're a partner yourself, you know,' returned my aunt, 'and
that's about enough for you, I expect. How do you find yourself,
sir?'
In acknowledgement of this question, addressed to him with extraordinary
curtness, Mr. Heep, uncomfortably clutching the blue bag he carried,
replied that he was pretty well, he thanked my aunt, and hoped she
was the same.
'And you, Master - I should say, Mister Copperfield,' pursued
Uriah. 'I hope I see you well! I am rejoiced to see you, Mister
Copperfield, even under present circumstances.' I believed that;
for he seemed to relish them very much. 'Present circumstances is
not what your friends would wish for you, Mister Copperfield, but
it isn't money makes the man: it's - I am really unequal with my
umble powers to express what it is,' said Uriah, with a fawning
jerk, 'but it isn't money!'
Here he shook hands with me: not in the common way, but standing
at a good distance from me, and lifting my hand up and down like
a pump handle, that he was a little afraid of.
'And how do you think we are looking, Master Copperfield, - I
should say, Mister?' fawned Uriah. 'Don't you find Mr. Wickfield
blooming, sir? Years don't tell much in our firm, Master Copperfield,
except in raising up the umble, namely, mother and self - and in
developing,' he added, as an afterthought, 'the beautiful, namely,
Miss Agnes.'
He jerked himself about, after this compliment, in such an intolerable
manner, that my aunt, who had sat looking straight at him, lost
all patience.
'Deuce take the man!' said my aunt, sternly, 'what's he about?
Don't be galvanic, sir!'
'I ask your pardon, Miss Trotwood,' returned Uriah; 'I'm aware
you're nervous.'
'Go along with you, sir!' said my aunt, anything but appeased.
'Don't presume to say so! I am nothing of the sort. If you're an
eel, sir, conduct yourself like one. If you're a man, control your
limbs, sir! Good God!' said my aunt, with great indignation, 'I
am not going to be serpentined and corkscrewed out of my senses!'
Mr. Heep was rather abashed, as most people might have been,
by this explosion; which derived great additional force from the
indignant manner in which my aunt afterwards moved in her chair,
and shook her head as if she were making snaps or bounces at him.
But he said to me aside in a meek voice:
'I am well aware, Master Copperfield, that Miss Trotwood, though
an excellent lady, has a quick temper (indeed I think I had the
pleasure of knowing her, when I was a numble clerk, before you did,
Master Copperfield), and it's only natural, I am sure, that it should
be made quicker by present circumstances. The wonder is, that it
isn't much worse! I only called to say that if there was anything
we could do, in present circumstances, mother or self, or Wickfield
and Heep, -we should be really glad. I may go so far?' said Uriah,
with a sickly smile at his partner.
'Uriah Heep,' said Mr. Wickfield, in a monotonous forced way,
'is active in the business, Trotwood. What he says, I quite concur
in. You know I had an old interest in you. Apart from that, what
Uriah says I quite concur in!'
'Oh, what a reward it is,' said Uriah, drawing up one leg, at
the risk of bringing down upon himself another visitation from my
aunt, 'to be so trusted in! But I hope I am able to do something
to relieve him from the fatigues of business, Master Copperfield!'
'Uriah Heep is a great relief to me,' said Mr. Wickfield, in
the same dull voice. 'It's a load off my mind, Trotwood, to have
such a partner.'
The red fox made him say all this, I knew, to exhibit him to
me in the light he had indicated on the night when he poisoned my
rest. I saw the same ill-favoured smile upon his face again, and
saw how he watched me.
'You are not going, papa?' said Agnes, anxiously. 'Will you not
walk back with Trotwood and me?'
He would have looked to Uriah, I believe, before replying, if
that worthy had not anticipated him.
'I am bespoke myself,' said Uriah, 'on business; otherwise I
should have been appy to have kept with my friends. But I leave
my partner to represent the firm. Miss Agnes, ever yours! I wish
you good-day, Master Copperfield, and leave my umble respects for
Miss Betsey Trotwood.'
With those words, he retired, kissing his great hand, and leering
at us like a mask.
We sat there, talking about our pleasant old Canterbury days,
an hour or two. Mr. Wickfield, left to Agnes, soon became more like
his former self; though there was a settled depression upon him,
which he never shook off. For all that, he brightened; and had an
evident pleasure in hearing us recall the little incidents of our
old life, many of which he remembered very well. He said it was
like those times, to be alone with Agnes and me again; and he wished
to Heaven they had never changed. I am sure there was an influence
in the placid face of Agnes, and in the very touch of her hand upon
his arm, that did wonders for him.
My aunt (who was busy nearly all this while with Peggotty, in
the inner room) would not accompany us to the place where they were
staying, but insisted on my going; and I went. We dined together.
After dinner, Agnes sat beside him, as of old, and poured out his
wine. He took what she gave him, and no more - like a child - and
we all three sat together at a window as the evening gathered in.
When it was almost dark, he lay down on a sofa, Agnes pillowing
his head and bending over him a little while; and when she came
back to the window, it was not so dark but I could see tears glittering
in her eyes.
I pray Heaven that I never may forget the dear girl in her love
and truth, at that time of my life; for if I should, I must be drawing
near the end, and then I would desire to remember her best! She
filled my heart with such good resolutions, strengthened my weakness
so, by her example, so directed - I know not how, she was too modest
and gentle to advise me in many words - the wandering ardour and
unsettled purpose within me, that all the little good I have done,
and all the harm I have forborne, I solemnly believe I may refer
to her.
And how she spoke to me of Dora, sitting at the window in the
dark; listened to my praises of her; praised again; and round the
little fairy-figure shed some glimpses of her own pure light, that
made it yet more precious and more innocent to me! Oh, Agnes, sister
of my boyhood, if I had known then, what I knew long afterwards!
-
There was a beggar in the street, when I went down; and as I
turned my head towards the window, thinking of her calm seraphic
eyes, he made me start by muttering, as if he were an echo of the
morning: 'Blind! Blind! Blind!'
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