"If you ever see me coming past your crossing with my little woman--I mean a lady--" says Mr. Snagsby with his finger on his nose, "don't allude to it!"

"If you ever see me coming past your crossing with my little woman - I mean a lady-" says Mr. Snagsby with his finger on his nose, "don't allude to it!"


For some little time the jurymen hang about the Sol's Arms colloquially.

For some time the jurymen hang about the Sol's Arms


In the sequel, half-a-dozen are caught up in a cloud of pipe-smoke that pervades the parlour of the Sol's Arms; two stroll to Hampstead; and four engage to go half-price to the play at night, and top up with oysters.


Little Swills is treated on several hands.


Being asked what he thinks of the proceedings, characterizes them (his strength lying in a slangular direction) as "a rummy start."


The landlord of the Sol's Arms, finding Little Swills so popular, commends him highly to the jurymen and public, observing that for a song in character he don't know his equal and that that man's character-wardrobe would fill a cart.


Thus, gradually the Sol's Arms melts into the shadowy night and then flares out of it strong in gas.

Then, gradually, the Sol's Arms melts into the shadowy night.


The Harmonic Meeting hour arriving, the gentleman of professional celebrity takes the chair, is faced (red-faced) by Little Swills; their friends rally round them and support first-rate talent.


In the zenith of the evening, Little Swills says, "Gentlemen, if you'll permit me, I'll attempt a short description of a scene of real life that came off here to-day."


Is much applauded and encouraged; goes out of the room as Swills; comes in as the coroner (not the least in the world like him); describes the inquest, with recreative intervals of piano-forte accompaniment, to the refrain: With his (the coroner's) tippy tol li doll, tippy tol lo doll, tippy tol li doll, Dee!


The jingling piano at last is silent, and the Harmonic friends rally round their pillows.


Then there is rest around the lonely figure, now laid in its last earthly habitation; and it is watched by the gaunt eyes in the shutters through some quiet hours of night.

Then there is rest around the lonely figure, now laid in its last earthly habitation; and it is watched by the gaunt eyes in the shutters through the quiet hours of night.


If this forlorn man could have been prophetically seen lying here by the mother at whose breast he nestled, a little child, with eyes upraised to her loving face, and soft hand scarcely knowing how to close upon the neck to which it crept, what an impossibility the vision would have seemed!


Oh, if in brighter days the now-extinguished fire within him ever burned for one woman who held him in her heart, where is she, while these ashes are above the ground!


It is anything but a night of rest at Mr. Snagsby's, in Cook's Court, where Guster murders sleep by going, as Mr. Snagsby himself allows--not to put too fine a point upon it--out of one fit into twenty.


The occasion of this seizure is that Guster has a tender heart and a susceptible something that possibly might have been imagination, but for Tooting and her patron saint.


Be it what it may, now, it was so direfully impressed at tea-time by Mr. Snagsby's account of the inquiry at which he had assisted that at supper-time she projected herself into the kitchen, preceded by a flying Dutch cheese, and fell into a fit of unusual duration, which she only came out of to go into another, and another, and so on through a chain of fits, with short intervals between, of which she has pathetically availed herself by consuming them in entreaties to Mrs. Snagsby not to give her warning "when she quite comes to," and also in appeals to the whole establishment to lay her down on the stones and go to bed.


Hence, Mr. Snagsby, at last hearing the cock at the little dairy in Cursitor Street go into that disinterested ecstasy of his on the subject of daylight, says, drawing a long breath, though the most patient of men, "I thought you was dead, I am sure!"


What question this enthusiastic fowl supposes he settles when he strains himself to such an extent, or why he should thus crow (so men crow on various triumphant public occasions, however) about what cannot be of any moment to him, is his affair.


It is enough that daylight comes, morning comes, noon comes.


Then the active and intelligent, who has got into the morning papers as such, comes with his pauper company to Mr. Krook's and bears off the body of our dear brother here departed to a hemmed-in churchyard, pestiferous and obscene, whence malignant diseases are communicated to the bodies of our dear brothers and sisters who have not departed, while our dear brothers and sisters who hang about official back-stairs--would to heaven they HAD departed!--are very complacent and agreeable.

In the morning the body is taken to a hemmed-in churchyard, pestiferous and obscene.


Into a beastly scrap of ground which a Turk would reject as a savage abomination and a Caffre would shudder at, they bring our dear brother here departed to receive Christian burial.


With houses looking on, on every side, save where a reeking little tunnel of a court gives access to the iron gate--with every villainy of life in action close on death, and every poisonous element of death in action close on life--here they lower our dear brother down a foot or two, here sow him in corruption, to be raised in corruption: an avenging ghost at many a sick-bedside, a shameful testimony to future ages how civilization and barbarism walked this boastful island together.

With houses looking on, on every side, save where a reeking little tunnel of a court gives access to the iron gate - here they lower our dear brother down a foot or two, here sow him in corruption.


Come night, come darkness, for you cannot come too soon or stay too long by such a place as this!


Come, straggling lights into the windows of the ugly houses; and you who do iniquity therein, do it at least with this dread scene shut out!

Come, straggling lights into the windows of the ugly houses!


Come, flame of gas, burning so sullenly above the iron gate, on which the poisoned air deposits its witch-ointment slimy to the touch!


It is well that you should call to every passerby, "Look here!"


With the night comes a slouching figure through the tunnel-court to the outside of the iron gate.


It holds the gate with its hands and looks in between the bars, stands looking in for a little while.

It holds the gate with its hands and looks in between the bars for a little while.


It then, with an old broom it carries, softly sweeps the step and makes the archway clean.


It does so very busily and trimly, looks in again a little while, and so departs.


Though a rejected witness, who "can't exactly say" what will be done to him in greater hands than men's, thou art not quite in outer darkness.


There is something like a distant ray of light in thy muttered reason for this: "He wos wery good to me, he wos!"

There is something like a distant ray of light in thy muttered reason: "He wos wery good to me, he wos!"


We were to pass the night, Mr. Kenge told us when we arrived in his room, at Mrs. Jellyby's; and then he turned to me and said he took it for granted I knew who Mrs. Jellyby was.

We were to pass the night, Mr. Kenge told us back in his room, at Mrs. Jellyby's. Then he turned to me and said he assumed I knew who Mrs. Jellyby was.


But no, they knew nothing whatever about Mrs. Jellyby.


Mrs. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, standing with his back to the fire and casting his eyes over the dusty hearth-rug as if it were Mrs. Jellyby's biography, "is a lady of very remarkable strength of character who devotes herself entirely to the public.

Mrs. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, "is a lady of remarkable strength of character who devotes herself entirely to the public.


She has devoted herself to an extensive variety of public subjects at various times and is at present (until something else attracts her) devoted to the subject of Africa, with a view to the general cultivation of the coffee berry--AND the natives--and the happy settlement, on the banks of the African rivers, of our superabundant home population.

She is at present devoted to the subject of Africa.


Mr. Jarndyce, who is desirous to aid any work that is considered likely to be a good work and who is much sought after by philanthropists, has, I believe, a very high opinion of Mrs. Jellyby."

Mr. Jarndyce, who is desirous to aid any good work, has, I believe, a very high opinion of Mrs. Jellyby."


Mr. Kenge, adjusting his cravat, then looked at us.


Mr. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, "is--a--I don't know that I can describe him to you better than by saying that he is the husband of Mrs. Jellyby."

Mr. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, "is - a - is the husband of Mrs. Jellyby.


"I don't say that," returned Mr. Kenge gravely.


"I can't say that, indeed, for I know nothing whatever OF Mr. Jellyby.


I never, to my knowledge, had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jellyby.

I never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jellyby.


He may be a very superior man, but he is, so to speak, merged--merged--in the more shining qualities of his wife."

He may be a very superior man, but he is, so to speak, merged in the more shining qualities of his wife."


Mr. Kenge proceeded to tell us that as the road to Bleak House would have been very long, dark, and tedious on such an evening, and as we had been travelling already, Mr. Jarndyce had himself proposed this arrangement.

Mr. Kenge told us that as the road to Bleak House would have been very long and dark on such an evening, Mr. Jarndyce had proposed this arrangement.


A carriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's to convey us out of town early in the forenoon of to-morrow.

A carriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's to convey us out of town early the next morning.


He then rang a little bell, and the young gentleman came in.

He then rang a little bell, and the inky young gentleman came in.


Addressing him by the name of Guppy, Mr. Kenge inquired whether Miss Summerson's boxes and the rest of the baggage had been "sent round."

Addressing him by the name of Guppy, Mr. Kenge inquired whether the baggage had been sent round.


Mr. Guppy said yes, they had been sent round, and a coach was waiting to take us round too as soon as we pleased.

Mr. Guppy said yes, and a coach was waiting for us.


"Then it only remains," said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, "for me to express my lively satisfaction in (good day, Miss Clare!)

"Then it only remains," said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, "for me to express my satisfaction in


the arrangement this day concluded and my (GOOD-bye to you, Miss Summerson!)


lively hope that it will conduce to the happiness, the (glad to have had the honour of making your acquaintance, Mr. Carstone!)


welfare, the advantage in all points of view, of all concerned!


"No distance," said Mr. Guppy; "round in Thavies Inn, you know."


"I can't say I know where it is, for I come from Winchester and am strange in London."


"Only round the corner," said Mr. Guppy.


"We just twist up Chancery Lane, and cut along Holborn, and there we are in four minutes' time, as near as a toucher.


This is about a London particular NOW, ain't it, miss?"

This is a London particular now, ain't it, miss?"


He seemed quite delighted with it on my account.


"Not that it affects you, though, I'm sure," said Mr. Guppy, putting up the steps.

"Not that it affects you, though, I'm sure," said Mr. Guppy.


"On the contrary, it seems to do you good, miss, judging from your appearance."

"It seems to do you good, miss, judging from your appearance."


I knew he meant well in paying me this compliment, so I laughed at myself for blushing at it when he had shut the door and got upon the box; and we all three laughed and chatted about our inexperience and the strangeness of London until we turned up under an archway to our destination--a narrow street of high houses like an oblong cistern to hold the fog.

I knew he meant well in paying me this compliment, so I laughed at myself for blushing when I had got into the coach and he had got up on to the box; and we all three laughed and chatted about our inexperience and the strangeness of London, until we turned up at our destination - a narrow street of high houses like an oblong tank to hold the fog.


There was a confused little crowd of people, principally children, gathered about the house at which we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the door with the inscription JELLYBY.

There was a confused little crowd of people, principally children, gathered about the house where we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the door inscribed JELLYBY.


said Mr. Guppy, looking in at the coach-window.


"One of the young Jellybys been and got his head through the area railings!"

"One of the young Jellybys has been and got his head through the railings!" said Mr. Guppy.


"Oh, poor child," said I; "let me out, if you please!"


The young Jellybys are always up to something," said Mr. Guppy.


I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest little unfortunates I ever saw, and found him very hot and frightened and crying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while a milkman and a beadle, with the kindest intentions possible, were endeavouring to drag him back by the legs, under a general impression that his skull was compressible by those means.

I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest little unfortunates I ever saw, and found him very frightened and crying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while a milkman and a beadle were trying to drag him back by the legs.


As I found (after pacifying him) that he was a little boy with a naturally large head, I thought that perhaps where his head could go, his body could follow, and mentioned that the best mode of extrication might be to push him forward.

I mentioned that it might be best to push him forward; and


This was so favourably received by the milkman and beadle that he would immediately have been pushed into the area if I had not held his pinafore while Richard and Mr. Guppy ran down through the kitchen to catch him when he should be released.


At last he was happily got down without any accident, and then he began to beat Mr. Guppy with a hoop-stick in quite a frantic manner.

means he was happily extricated, and then began to beat Mr. Guppy with a hoop-stick in quite a frantic manner.


Nobody had appeared belonging to the house except a person in pattens, who had been poking at the child from below with a broom; I don't know with what object, and I don't think she did.

Nobody had appeared from the house except a person in clogs, who had been poking at the child with a broom.


I therefore supposed that Mrs. Jellyby was not at home, and was quite surprised when the person appeared in the passage without the pattens, and going up to the back room on the first floor before Ada and me, announced us as, "Them two young ladies, Missis Jellyby!"

This person now appeared in the passage without the clogs, and going upstairs before Ada and me, announced us as, "Them two young ladies, Missis Jellyby!"


We passed several more children on the way up, whom it was difficult to avoid treading on in the dark; and as we came into Mrs. Jellyby's presence, one of the poor little things fell downstairs--down a whole flight (as it sounded to me), with a great noise.

We passed several more children on the way up, whom it was difficult to avoid treading on in the dark; and as we came into Mrs. Jellyby's presence, one of the poor little things fell downstairs with a great noise.


Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of the uneasiness which we could not help showing in our own faces as the dear child's head recorded its passage with a bump on every stair--Richard afterwards said he counted seven, besides one for the landing--received us with perfect equanimity.

Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of our uneasiness at hearing the dear child's head bump down every stair, received us with perfect equanimity.


She was a pretty, very diminutive, plump woman of from forty to fifty, with handsome eyes, though they had a curious habit of seeming to look a long way off.

She was a pretty, plump woman of from forty to fifty, with handsome eyes, though they had a curious habit of seeming to look a long way off.


As if--I am quoting Richard again--they could see nothing nearer than Africa!


"I am very glad indeed," said Mrs. Jellyby in an agreeable voice, "to have the pleasure of receiving you.

"I am very glad," said Mrs. Jellyby, "to have the pleasure of receiving you.


I have a great respect for Mr. Jarndyce, and no one in whom he is interested can be an object of indifference to me."

I have a great respect for Mr. Jarndyce."


We expressed our acknowledgments and sat down behind the door, where there was a lame invalid of a sofa.

We thanked her and sat down on a limp sofa.


Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair but was too much occupied with her African duties to brush it.

Mrs. Jellyby had been too much occupied with her African duties to brush


The shawl in which she had been loosely muffled dropped onto her chair when she advanced to us; and as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help noticing that her dress didn't nearly meet up the back and that the open space was railed across with a lattice-work of stay-lace--like a summer-house.

her hair; and when she turned, we could not help noticing that her dress didn't meet up at the back, but was railed across with a lattice-work of corset-lace.


The room, which was strewn with papers and nearly filled by a great writing-table covered with similar litter, was, I must say, not only very untidy but very dirty.

The room, which was strewn with papers and nearly filled by a great writing-table, was, I must say, not only very untidy but very dirty.


We were obliged to take notice of that with our sense of sight, even while, with our sense of hearing, we followed the poor child who had tumbled downstairs: I think into the back kitchen, where somebody seemed to stifle him.


But what principally struck us was a jaded and unhealthy-looking though by no means plain girl at the writing-table, who sat biting the feather of her pen and staring at us.

A jaded and unhealthy-looking girl sat at the writing-table, biting her pen and staring at us.


I suppose nobody ever was in such a state of ink.


And from her tumbled hair to her pretty feet, which were disfigured with frayed and broken satin slippers trodden down at heel, she really seemed to have no article of dress upon her, from a pin upwards, that was in its proper condition or its right place.

And from her tumbled hair to her pretty feet, which were disfigured with frayed and broken slippers, she really seemed to have no article of dress that was in its proper condition.


"You find me, my dears," said Mrs. Jellyby, snuffing the two great office candles in tin candlesticks, which made the room taste strongly of hot tallow (the fire had gone out, and there was nothing in the grate but ashes, a bundle of wood, and a poker), "you find me, my dears, as usual, very busy; but that you will excuse.

"You find me, my dears," said Mrs. Jellyby, "as usual, very busy;


The African project at present employs my whole time.

the African project at present employs my whole time.


It involves me in correspondence with public bodies and with private individuals anxious for the welfare of their species all over the country.

It involves me in correspondence with public bodies and private individuals all over the country.


We hope by this time next year to have from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families cultivating coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger."

We hope by this time next year to have two hundred families cultivating coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger."


As Ada said nothing, but looked at me, I said it must be very gratifying.


"It involves the devotion of all my energies, such as they are; but that is nothing, so that it succeeds; and I am more confident of success every day.

"It involves the devotion of all my energies.


Do you know, Miss Summerson, I almost wonder that YOU never turned your thoughts to Africa."

Do you know, Miss Summerson, I almost wonder that you never turned your thoughts to Africa."


This application of the subject was really so unexpected to me that I was quite at a loss how to receive it.

This was so unexpected that I was at a loss.


"You may go into Holborn, without precaution, and be run over.


You may go into Holborn, with precaution, and never be run over.


"If you would like," said Mrs. Jellyby, putting a number of papers towards us, "to look over some remarks on that head, and on the general subject, which have been extensively circulated, while I finish a letter I am now dictating to my eldest daughter, who is my amanuensis--"

"If you would like to look over some remarks on the subject, while I finish a letter I am now dictating to my eldest daughter, who is my scribe-"


The girl at the table left off biting her pen and made a return to our recognition, which was half bashful and half sulky.

The girl at the table stopped biting her pen and gave a nod, half bashful and half sulky.


"--I shall then have finished for the present," proceeded Mrs. Jellyby with a sweet smile, "though my work is never done.

"-I shall then have finished for the present," proceeded Mrs. Jellyby with a smile, "though my work is never done.


"'Presents her compliments to Mr. Swallow, and begs--'" said Caddy.

" 'Presents her compliments to Mr. Swallow, and begs-' " said Caddy.


"'And begs,'" said Mrs. Jellyby, dictating, "'to inform him, in reference to his letter of inquiry on the African project--' No, Peepy!

" 'And begs,' " said Mrs. Jellyby, " 'to inform him, in reference to his letter of inquiry on the African project-' No, Peepy!"


Peepy (so self-named) was the unfortunate child who had fallen downstairs, who now interrupted the correspondence by presenting himself, with a strip of plaster on his forehead, to exhibit his wounded knees, in which Ada and I did not know which to pity most--the bruises or the dirt.

Peepy was the unfortunate child who had fallen downstairs, and who now came in, with a strip of plaster on his forehead, to exhibit his wounded knees.


Mrs. Jellyby merely added, with the serene composure with which she said everything, "Go along, you naughty Peepy!"

Mrs. Jellyby merely said serenely, "Go along, you naughty Peepy!"


and fixed her fine eyes on Africa again.


However, as she at once proceeded with her dictation, and as I interrupted nothing by doing it, I ventured quietly to stop poor Peepy as he was going out and to take him up to nurse.


He looked very much astonished at it and at Ada's kissing him, but soon fell fast asleep in my arms, sobbing at longer and longer intervals, until he was quiet.

I ventured to pick up poor Peepy, who looked very much astonished, but soon fell fast asleep in my arms, sobbing at longer and longer intervals, until he was quiet.


I was so occupied with Peepy that I lost the letter in detail, though I derived such a general impression from it of the momentous importance of Africa, and the utter insignificance of all other places and things, that I felt quite ashamed to have thought so little about it.

I was so occupied with Peepy that I lost the letter in detail, though I had a general impression of the momentous importance of Africa, and the utter insignificance of all other places and things.


"And our dinner hour is nominally (for we dine at all hours) five!


Caddy, show Miss Clare and Miss Summerson their rooms.


You will like to make some change, perhaps?


You will excuse me, I know, being so much occupied.

You will excuse me, I know, being so busy.


I begged permission to retain him, truly saying that he was not at all troublesome, and carried him upstairs and laid him on my bed.

I begged permission to retain him, and carried him upstairs and laid him on my bed.


Ada and I had two upper rooms with a door of communication between.

Ada and I had two upper rooms with a connecting door between.


They were excessively bare and disorderly, and the curtain to my window was fastened up with a fork.


"You would like some hot water, wouldn't you?"


said Miss Jellyby, looking round for a jug with a handle to it, but looking in vain.

said Miss Jellyby, looking round for a jug, but in vain.


"If it is not being troublesome," said we.


"Oh, it's not the trouble," returned Miss Jellyby; "the question is, if there IS any."

"Oh, it's not the trouble," returned Miss Jellyby; "the question is, if there is any."


The evening was so very cold and the rooms had such a marshy smell that I must confess it was a little miserable, and Ada was half crying.


We soon laughed, however, and were busily unpacking when Miss Jellyby came back to say that she was sorry there was no hot water, but they couldn't find the kettle, and the boiler was out of order.


We begged her not to mention it and made all the haste we could to get down to the fire again.


But all the little children had come up to the landing outside to look at the phenomenon of Peepy lying on my bed, and our attention was distracted by the constant apparition of noses and fingers in situations of danger between the hinges of the doors.

But all the little children had come up to the landing to look at Peepy lying on my bed.


It was impossible to shut the door of either room, for my lock, with no knob to it, looked as if it wanted to be wound up; and though the handle of Ada's went round and round with the greatest smoothness, it was attended with no effect whatever on the door.

It was impossible to shut the door of either room, for my door had no knob; and though the handle of Ada's went round and round, it had no effect whatever on the door.


Therefore I proposed to the children that they should come in and be very good at my table, and I would tell them the story of Little Red Riding Hood while I dressed; which they did, and were as quiet as mice, including Peepy, who awoke opportunely before the appearance of the wolf.

Therefore I proposed to the children that they should come in and be very good, and I would tell them the story of Little Red Riding Hood while I dressed for dinner; which they did, and were as quiet as mice.


When we went downstairs we found a mug with "A Present from Tunbridge Wells" on it lighted up in the staircase window with a floating wick, and a young woman, with a swelled face bound up in a flannel bandage blowing the fire of the drawing-room (now connected by an open door with Mrs. Jellyby's room) and choking dreadfully.

When we went downstairs we found a young woman with a swelled face bound up in a flannel bandage blowing the fire of the drawing-room and choking dreadfully.


It smoked to that degree, in short, that we all sat coughing and crying with the windows open for half an hour, during which Mrs. Jellyby, with the same sweetness of temper, directed letters about Africa.

It smoked so much that we all sat coughing and crying with the windows open for half an hour, while Mrs. Jellyby directed letters about Africa.


Her being so employed was, I must say, a great relief to me, for Richard told us that he had washed his hands in a pie-dish and that they had found the kettle on his dressing-table, and he made Ada laugh so that they made me laugh in the most ridiculous manner.

Richard quietly told us that he had washed his hands in a pie-dish and that they had found the kettle on his dressing-table, and made me and Ada laugh in the most ridiculous manner.


Soon after seven o'clock we went down to dinner, carefully, by Mrs. Jellyby's advice, for the stair-carpets, besides being very deficient in stair-wires, were so torn as to be absolute traps.

Soon after seven o'clock we went down to dinner, stepping carefully on the torn stair-carpets.


We had a fine cod-fish, a piece of roast beef, a dish of cutlets, and a pudding; an excellent dinner, if it had had any cooking to speak of, but it was almost raw.


The young woman with the flannel bandage waited, and dropped everything on the table wherever it happened to go, and never moved it again until she put it on the stairs.

The young woman with the flannel bandage dropped everything on the table.


The person I had seen in pattens, who I suppose to have been the cook, frequently came and skirmished with her at the door, and there appeared to be ill will between them.

The person in clogs, who I suppose to have been the cook, frequently came and skirmished with her at the door, and there appeared to be ill will between them.


All through dinner--which was long, in consequence of such accidents as the dish of potatoes being mislaid in the coal skuttle and the handle of the corkscrew coming off and striking the young woman in the chin--Mrs. Jellyby preserved the evenness of her disposition.

All through dinner - which was long, because of such accidents as the potatoes being mislaid and the handle of the corkscrew coming off - Mrs. Jellyby stayed serene.


She told us a great deal that was interesting about Borrioboola-Gha and the natives, and received so many letters that Richard, who sat by her, saw four envelopes in the gravy at once.


Some of the letters were proceedings of ladies' committees or resolutions of ladies' meetings, which she read to us; others were applications from people excited in various ways about the cultivation of coffee, and natives; others required answers, and these she sent her eldest daughter from the table three or four times to write.

Some of the letters were proceedings of ladies' committees, which she read to us; others were applications from people excited about the cultivation of coffee; others required answers, which she sent her eldest daughter from the table three or four times to write.


She was full of business and undoubtedly was, as she had told us, devoted to the cause.


I was a little curious to know who a mild bald gentleman in spectacles was, who dropped into a vacant chair (there was no top or bottom in particular) after the fish was taken away and seemed passively to submit himself to Borrioboola-Gha but not to be actively interested in that settlement.

I was curious to know who a mild bald gentleman in spectacles was, who dropped into a vacant chair after the fish was taken away


As he never spoke a word, he might have been a native but for his complexion.


It was not until we left the table and he remained alone with Richard that the possibility of his being Mr. Jellyby ever entered my head.

It was not until we left the table and he remained alone with Richard that the possibility of his being Mr. Jellyby entered my head.


But he WAS Mr. Jellyby; and a loquacious young man called Mr. Quale, with large shining knobs for temples and his hair all brushed to the back of his head, who came in the evening, and told Ada he was a philanthropist, also informed her that he called the matrimonial alliance of Mrs. Jellyby with Mr. Jellyby the union of mind and matter.

But he was Mr. Jellyby; and a loquacious young man called Mr. Quale, with large shining knobs on his forehead and his hair all brushed back, came in, and told Ada he was a philanthropist.


This young man, besides having a great deal to say for himself about Africa and a project of his for teaching the coffee colonists to teach the natives to turn piano-forte legs and establish an export trade, delighted in drawing Mrs. Jellyby out by saying, "I believe now, Mrs. Jellyby, you have received as many as from one hundred and fifty to two hundred letters respecting Africa in a single day, have you not?"

This young man, besides having a great deal to say about Africa, delighted in drawing Mrs. Jellyby out by saying, "I believe now, Mrs. Jellyby, you have received as many as two hundred letters about Africa in a single day, have you not?"


or, "If my memory does not deceive me, Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that you had sent off five thousand circulars from one post-office at one time?"

or, "Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that you had sent off five thousand circulars at one time?"


--always repeating Mrs. Jellyby's answer to us like an interpreter.


During the whole evening, Mr. Jellyby sat in a corner with his head against the wall as if he were subject to low spirits.

During the whole evening, Mr. Jellyby sat in a corner with his head against the wall as if he were in low spirits.


It seemed that he had several times opened his mouth when alone with Richard after dinner, as if he had something on his mind, but had always shut it again, to Richard's extreme confusion, without saying anything.


Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffee all the evening and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter.

Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in a nest of waste paper, drank coffee and dictated to her eldest daughter.


She also held a discussion with Mr. Quale, of which the subject seemed to be--if I understood it--the brotherhood of humanity, and gave utterance to some beautiful sentiments.

She also held a discussion with Mr. Quale, about - if I understood it - the brotherhood of humanity, and expressed some beautiful sentiments.


I was not so attentive an auditor as I might have wished to be, however, for Peepy and the other children came flocking about Ada and me in a corner of the drawing-room to ask for another story; so we sat down among them and told them in whispers "Puss in Boots" and I don't know what else until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally remembering them, sent them to bed.

I was not a very attentive listener, however, for Peepy and the other children came flocking about Ada and me to ask for another story; so we sat down and told them in whispers "Puss in Boots" until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally remembering them, sent them to bed.


As Peepy cried for me to take him to bed, I carried him upstairs, where the young woman with the flannel bandage charged into the midst of the little family like a dragon and overturned them into cribs.


After that I occupied myself in making our room a little tidy and in coaxing a very cross fire that had been lighted to burn, which at last it did, quite brightly.

After that I tidied our room and coaxed our very cross fire into burning.


On my return downstairs, I felt that Mrs. Jellyby looked down upon me rather for being so frivolous, and I was sorry for it, though at the same time I knew that I had no higher pretensions.

On my return downstairs, I felt that Mrs. Jellyby looked down upon me rather for being so frivolous.


It was nearly midnight before we found an opportunity of going to bed, and even then we left Mrs. Jellyby among her papers drinking coffee and Miss Jellyby biting the feather of her pen.

It was nearly midnight before we could go to bed, and even then we left Mrs. Jellyby among her papers drinking coffee and Miss Jellyby biting her pen.


"How curious of my cousin Jarndyce to send us here!"


"My love," said I, "it quite confuses me.


I want to understand it, and I can't understand it at all."


"It MUST be very good of Mrs. Jellyby to take such pains about a scheme for the benefit of natives--and yet--Peepy and the housekeeping!"

It must be very good of Mrs. Jellyby to take such pains about the natives - and yet - Peepy and the housekeeping!"


Ada laughed and put her arm about my neck as I stood looking at the fire, and told me I was a quiet, dear, good creature and had won her heart.

Ada laughed and put her arm around me, and told me I was a quiet, dear, good creature.


"You are so thoughtful, Esther," she said, "and yet so cheerful!


You would make a home out of even this house."


She was quite unconscious that she only praised herself and that it was in the goodness of her own heart that she made so much of me!

It was because of the goodness of her own heart that she praised me so.


said I when we had sat before the fire a little while.

said I when we were sitting before the fire.


Shaking her golden hair, Ada turned her eyes upon me with such laughing wonder that I was full of wonder too, partly at her beauty, partly at her surprise.


"You want a description of my cousin Jarndyce?"


Young as she was when her mama died, she remembered how the tears would come into her eyes when she spoke of him and of the noble generosity of his character, which she had said was to be trusted above all earthly things; and Ada trusted it.

Young as she was when her mama died, she remembered how the tears would come into her mother's eyes when she spoke of his noble generosity.


Her cousin Jarndyce had written to her a few months ago--"a plain, honest letter," Ada said--proposing the arrangement we were now to enter on and telling her that "in time it might heal some of the wounds made by the miserable Chancery suit."

Her cousin Jarndyce had written to her a few months ago - "a plain, honest letter," Ada said - proposing the arrangement we were now to enter on and telling her that "in time it might heal some of the wounds made by the miserable Chancery suit."


She had replied, gratefully accepting his proposal.


Richard had received a similar letter and had made a similar response.


He HAD seen Mr. Jarndyce once, but only once, five years ago, at Winchester school.

He had seen Mr. Jarndyce once, five years ago, at Winchester school,


He had told Ada, when they were leaning on the screen before the fire where I found them, that he recollected him as "a bluff, rosy fellow."

and had told Ada that he was "a bluff, rosy fellow."


This was the utmost description Ada could give me.

This was the best description Ada could give me.


It set me thinking so that when Ada was asleep, I still remained before the fire, wondering and wondering about Bleak House, and wondering and wondering that yesterday morning should seem so long ago.

It set me thinking; when Ada was asleep, I remained before the fire, wondering about Bleak House.


I don't know where my thoughts had wandered when they were recalled by a tap at the door.

My thoughts were recalled by a tap at the door.


I opened it softly and found Miss Jellyby shivering there with a broken candle in a broken candlestick in one hand and an egg-cup in the other.

I opened it softly and found Miss Jellyby shivering there with a broken candle in a broken candlestick.


she shortly and unexpectedly asked me in the same sulky way.


She would not sit down, but stood by the fire dipping her inky middle finger in the egg-cup, which contained vinegar, and smearing it over the ink stains on her face, frowning the whole time and looking very gloomy.

She would not sit down, but stood by the fire rubbing at the ink stains on her face, and looking very gloomy.


she said "Don't talk to me, Miss Summerson.


I told her she was tired, and I was sorry.


I put my hand upon her head, and touched her forehead, and said it was hot now but would be cool to-morrow.

I put my hand upon her forehead, and said it was hot now but would be cool tomorrow.


She still stood pouting and frowning at me, but presently put down her egg-cup and turned softly towards the bed where Ada lay.

She stood pouting and frowning, but then turned softly towards the bed where Ada lay.


she said with the same knitted brow and in the same uncivil manner.


She can talk French, I suppose, and do geography, and globes, and needlework, and everything?"


"I can't do anything hardly, except write.


I wonder you two were not ashamed of yourselves to come in this afternoon and see me able to do nothing else.

I wonder you two were not ashamed of yourselves to come in and see me able to do nothing else.


Yet you think yourselves very fine, I dare say!"


I could see that the poor girl was near crying, and I resumed my chair without speaking and looked at her (I hope) as mildly as I felt towards her.

I could see that the poor girl was near crying, and I looked at her as mildly as I could.


Priscilla drinks--she's always drinking.

Priscilla drinks - she's always drinking.


It's a great shame and a great story of you if you say you didn't smell her to-day.

Shame on you if you say you didn't smell her today.


It was as bad as a public-house, waiting at dinner; you know it was!"

It was as bad as a public-house at dinner; you know it was!"


"My dear," said I, "as long as you won't hear me out--"


"Oh, yes, I think you do," said I, "because that would be so very unreasonable.


I did not know what you tell me because the servant did not come near me at dinner; but I don't doubt what you tell me, and I am sorry to hear it."

"I did not know what you tell me because the servant did not come near me at dinner; but I don't doubt you, and I am sorry to hear it."


"You needn't make a merit of that," said she.


She was still standing by the bed, and now stooped down (but still with the same discontented face) and kissed Ada.

She was still standing by the bed, and now stooped down (with the same discontented face) and kissed Ada.


That done, she came softly back and stood by the side of my chair.


Her bosom was heaving in a distressful manner that I greatly pitied, but I thought it better not to speak.


It would be a great deal better for us."


In a moment afterwards, she knelt on the ground at my side, hid her face in my dress, passionately begged my pardon, and wept.

In a moment, she knelt on the ground at my side, hid her face in my dress, passionately begged my pardon, and wept.


I comforted her and would have raised her, but she cried no, no; she wanted to stay there!


"You used to teach girls," she said, "If you could only have taught me, I could have learnt from you!

"You used to teach girls," she said, "I wish you could have taught me!


I am so very miserable, and I like you so much!"


I could not persuade her to sit by me or to do anything but move a ragged stool to where she was kneeling, and take that, and still hold my dress in the same manner.

I could not persuade her to do anything but move onto a ragged stool, still holding my dress.


By degrees the poor tired girl fell asleep, and then I contrived to raise her head so that it should rest on my lap, and to cover us both with shawls.

Gradually the poor tired girl fell asleep, and then I contrived to raise her head so that it should rest on my lap, and to cover us both with shawls.


The fire went out, and all night long she slumbered thus before the ashy grate.


At first I was painfully awake and vainly tried to lose myself, with my eyes closed, among the scenes of the day.


At length, by slow degrees, they became indistinct and mingled.

; but at length, my thoughts became indistinct and mingled.


I began to lose the identity of the sleeper resting on me.


Now it was Ada, now one of my old Reading friends from whom I could not believe I had so recently parted.


Now it was the little mad woman worn out with curtsying and smiling, now some one in authority at Bleak House.

it was the little mad woman, now some one in authority at Bleak House.


Lastly, it was no one, and I was no one.


The purblind day was feebly struggling with the fog when I opened my eyes to encounter those of a dirty-faced little spectre fixed upon me.

The day was feebly struggling with the fog when I opened my eyes to see a dirty-faced little spectre fixed upon me.


Peepy had scaled his crib, and crept down in his bed-gown and cap, and was so cold that his teeth were chattering as if he had cut them all.

Peepy had scaled his crib, and crept down in his bed-gown and cap, his teeth chattering with the cold.


It has left off raining down in Lincolnshire at last, and Chesney Wold has taken heart.


Mrs. Rouncewell is full of hospitable cares, for Sir Leicester and my Lady are coming home from Paris.

Sir Leicester and my Lady are coming home from Paris to Chesney Wold.


The fashionable intelligence has found it out and communicates the glad tidings to benighted England.


It has also found out that they will entertain a brilliant and distinguished circle of the ELITE of the BEAU MONDE (the fashionable intelligence is weak in English, but a giant refreshed in French) at the ancient and hospitable family seat in Lincolnshire.

There, according to the fashionable world, they will be entertaining a brilliant and distinguished circle of the elite.


For the greater honour of the brilliant and distinguished circle, and of Chesney Wold into the bargain, the broken arch of the bridge in the park is mended; and the water, now retired within its proper limits and again spanned gracefully, makes a figure in the prospect from the house.

The broken arch of the bridge in the park is mended; and the water, again spanned gracefully, makes a fine view from the house.


The clear, cold sunshine glances into the brittle woods and approvingly beholds the sharp wind scattering the leaves and drying the moss.


It glides over the park after the moving shadows of the clouds, and chases them, and never catches them, all day.

It glides over the park, chasing the shadows of the clouds.


It looks in at the windows and touches the ancestral portraits with bars and patches of brightness never contemplated by the painters.

It looks in at the windows and touches the ancestral portraits with patches of brightness.


Athwart the picture of my Lady, over the great chimney-piece, it throws a broad bend-sinister of light that strikes down crookedly into the hearth and seems to rend it.

Across the picture of my Lady, over the great chimney-piece, it throws a broad bend-sinister of light.


Through the same cold sunshine and the same sharp wind, my Lady and Sir Leicester, in their travelling chariot (my Lady's woman and Sir Leicester's man affectionate in the rumble), start for home.

Through the same cold sunshine and the same sharp wind, my Lady and Sir Leicester start for home.


With a considerable amount of jingling and whip-cracking, and many plunging demonstrations on the part of two bare-backed horses and two centaurs with glazed hats, jack-boots, and flowing manes and tails, they rattle out of the yard of the Hotel Bristol in the Place Vendome and canter between the sun-and-shadow-chequered colonnade of the Rue de Rivoli and the garden of the ill-fated palace of a headless king and queen, off by the Place of Concord, and the Elysian Fields, and the Gate of the Star, out of Paris.

With much jingling and whip-cracking, their carriage rattles out of the yard of the hotel and canters out of Paris.


Sooth to say, they cannot go away too fast, for even here my Lady Dedlock has been bored to death.

To tell the truth, they cannot go away too fast, for even here my Lady Dedlock has been bored to death.


Concert, assembly, opera, theatre, drive, nothing is new to my Lady under the worn-out heavens.


Only last Sunday, when poor wretches were gay--within the walls playing with children among the clipped trees and the statues in the Palace Garden; walking, a score abreast, in the Elysian Fields, made more Elysian by performing dogs and wooden horses; between whiles filtering (a few) through the gloomy Cathedral of Our Lady to say a word or two at the base of a pillar within flare of a rusty little gridiron-full of gusty little tapers; without the walls encompassing Paris with dancing, love-making, wine-drinking, tobacco-smoking, tomb-visiting, billiard card and domino playing, quack-doctoring, and much murderous refuse, animate and inanimate--only last Sunday, my Lady, in the desolation of Boredom and the clutch of Giant Despair, almost hated her own maid for being in spirits.

Only last Sunday, when poor families were playing with children among the clipped trees and the statues in the Palace Garden; or walking in the Elysian Fields, or through the gloomy Cathedral - only last Sunday, my Lady, in the desolation of Boredom and the clutch of Giant Despair, almost hated her own maid for being in spirits.


She cannot, therefore, go too fast from Paris.


Weariness of soul lies before her, as it lies behind--her Ariel has put a girdle of it round the whole earth, and it cannot be unclasped--but the imperfect remedy is always to fly from the last place where it has been experienced.

Weariness of soul lies everywhere, but the imperfect remedy is always to fly from the last place where it has been felt.


Fling Paris back into the distance, then, exchanging it for endless avenues and cross-avenues of wintry trees!

Fling Paris back into the distance, then!


And, when next beheld, let it be some leagues away, with the Gate of the Star a white speck glittering in the sun, and the city a mere mound in a plain--two dark square towers rising out of it, and light and shadow descending on it aslant, like the angels in Jacob's dream!


Sir Leicester is generally in a complacent state, and rarely bored.

Sir Leicester is generally complacent, and rarely bored.


When he has nothing else to do, he can always contemplate his own greatness.


It is a considerable advantage to a man to have so inexhaustible a subject.


After reading his letters, he leans back in his corner of the carriage and generally reviews his importance to society.

After reading his letters, he leans back in his corner of the carriage and reviews his importance to society.


"You have an unusual amount of correspondence this morning?"


"I saw one of Mr. Tulkinghorn's long effusions, I think?"


"You see everything," says Sir Leicester with admiration.


"He sends--I really beg your pardon--he sends," says Sir Leicester, selecting the letter and unfolding it, "a message to you.

"He sends," says Sir Leicester, unfolding the letter, "a message to you.


Our stopping to change horses as I came to his postscript drove it out of my memory.

Our stopping to change horses drove it out of my memory.


He says--" Sir Leicester is so long in taking out his eye-glass and adjusting it that my Lady looks a little irritated.

He says-" Sir Leicester adjusts his eye-glass


"He says 'In the matter of the right of way--' I beg your pardon, that's not the place.

- "he says 'In the matter of the right of way-' I beg your pardon, that's not the place.


He says, 'I beg my respectful compliments to my Lady, who, I hope, has benefited by the change.

He says, 'I beg my respectful compliments to my Lady.


Will you do me the favour to mention (as it may interest her) that I have something to tell her on her return in reference to the person who copied the affidavit in the Chancery suit, which so powerfully stimulated her curiosity.

Will you do me the favour to mention that I have something to tell her on her return in reference to the person who copied the affidavit in the Chancery suit, which so powerfully stimulated her curiosity.


My Lady, leaning forward, looks out of her window.


"That's the message," observes Sir Leicester.


"I should like to walk a little," says my Lady, still looking out of her window.

"I should like to walk a little," she says.


repeats Sir Leicester in a tone of surprise.


"I should like to walk a little," says my Lady with unmistakable distinctness.

"I should like to walk a little," says my Lady distinctly.


The carriage is stopped, the affectionate man alights from the rumble, opens the door, and lets down the steps, obedient to an impatient motion of my Lady's hand.

The carriage is stopped, and the door is opened.


My Lady alights so quickly and walks away so quickly that Sir Leicester, for all his scrupulous politeness, is unable to assist her, and is left behind.

My Lady alights and walks away so quickly that Sir Leicester is left behind.


A space of a minute or two has elapsed before he comes up with her.

A minute or two elapses before he catches up with her.


She smiles, looks very handsome, takes his arm, lounges with him for a quarter of a mile, is very much bored, and resumes her seat in the carriage.


The rattle and clatter continue through the greater part of three days, with more or less of bell-jingling and whip-cracking, and more or less plunging of centaurs and bare-backed horses.

The rattle and clatter of travel continue for three days.


Their courtly politeness to each other at the hotels where they tarry is the theme of general admiration.

Their courtly politeness to each other at the hotels where they stay is the theme of general admiration.


Though my Lord IS a little aged for my Lady, says Madame, the hostess of the Golden Ape, and though he might be her amiable father, one can see at a glance that they love each other.

Though my Lord is a little aged for my Lady, says Madame, the hostess of the Golden Ape, one can see at a glance that they love each other.


One observes my Lord with his white hair, standing, hat in hand, to help my Lady to and from the carriage.

One observes my Lord help my Lady from the carriage.


One observes my Lady, how recognisant of my Lord's politeness, with an inclination of her gracious head and the concession of her so-genteel fingers!

One observes my Lady graciously incline her head to him.


The sea has no appreciation of great men, but knocks them about like the small fry.

The sea has no appreciation of great men, but knocks them about like small fry.


It is habitually hard upon Sir Leicester, whose countenance it greenly mottles in the manner of sage-cheese and in whose aristocratic system it effects a dismal revolution.


Nevertheless, his dignity gets over it after stopping to refit, and he goes on with my Lady for Chesney Wold, lying only one night in London on the way to Lincolnshire.

It is always hard upon Sir Leicester; nevertheless, his dignity gets over it, and he goes on with my Lady to Chesney Wold.


Through the same cold sunlight, colder as the day declines, and through the same sharp wind, sharper as the separate shadows of bare trees gloom together in the woods, and as the Ghost's Walk, touched at the western corner by a pile of fire in the sky, resigns itself to coming night, they drive into the park.

Through the cold sunlight and the sharp wind, as the day declines and the Ghost's Walk resigns itself to coming night, they drive into the park.


The rooks, swinging in their lofty houses in the elm-tree avenue, seem to discuss the question of the occupancy of the carriage as it passes underneath, some agreeing that Sir Leicester and my Lady are come down, some arguing with malcontents who won't admit it, now all consenting to consider the question disposed of, now all breaking out again in violent debate, incited by one obstinate and drowsy bird who will persist in putting in a last contradictory croak.

The rooks, swinging in their lofty houses in the elm-tree avenue, seem to break out into violent debate above them.


Leaving them to swing and caw, the travelling chariot rolls on to the house, where fires gleam warmly through some of the windows, though not through so many as to give an inhabited expression to the darkening mass of front.

The carriage rolls on to the house, where fires gleam warmly through some of the windows, though not many as yet.


But the brilliant and distinguished circle will soon do that.

But the brilliant and distinguished circle will soon change that.


Mrs. Rouncewell is in attendance and receives Sir Leicester's customary shake of the hand with a profound curtsy.

Mrs. Rouncewell is waiting and receives Sir Leicester's handshake with a deep curtsy.


"I hope I have the honour of welcoming you in good health, Sir Leicester?"


"My Lady is looking charmingly well," says Mrs. Rouncewell with another curtsy.


My Lady signifies, without profuse expenditure of words, that she is as wearily well as she can hope to be.

My Lady signifies briefly that she is as wearily well as she can hope to be.


But Rosa is in the distance, behind the housekeeper; and my Lady, who has not subdued the quickness of her observation, whatever else she may have conquered, asks, "Who is that girl?"

But Rosa is behind the housekeeper; and my Lady asks, "Who is that girl?"


Lady Dedlock beckons her, with even an appearance of interest.


"Why, do you know how pretty you are, child?"


she says, touching her shoulder with her two forefingers.


Rosa, very much abashed, says, "No, if you please, my Lady!"


and glances up, and glances down, and don't know where to look, but looks all the prettier.

and glances up, and glances down, and doesn't know where to look, but looks all the prettier.


"Nineteen," repeats my Lady thoughtfully.


"Take care they don't spoil you by flattery."


My Lady taps her dimpled cheek with the same delicate gloved fingers and goes on to the foot of the oak staircase, where Sir Leicester pauses for her as her knightly escort.

My Lady taps her cheek with delicate gloved fingers and goes on to the staircase.


A staring old Dedlock in a panel, as large as life and as dull, looks as if he didn't know what to make of it, which was probably his general state of mind in the days of Queen Elizabeth.


That evening, in the housekeeper's room, Rosa can do nothing but murmur Lady Dedlock's praises.


She is so affable, so graceful, so beautiful, so elegant; has such a sweet voice and such a thrilling touch that Rosa can feel it yet!


Mrs. Rouncewell confirms all this, not without personal pride, reserving only the one point of affability.

Mrs. Rouncewell confirms all this with some pride, being unsure only about the Lady's affability.


Mrs. Rouncewell is not quite sure as to that.


Heaven forbid that she should say a syllable in dispraise of any member of that excellent family, above all, of my Lady, whom the whole world admires; but if my Lady would only be "a little more free," not quite so cold and distant, Mrs. Rouncewell thinks she would be more affable.

If my Lady were not quite so cold and distant, Mrs. Rouncewell thinks she would be more affable.


"'Tis almost a pity," Mrs. Rouncewell adds--only "almost" because it borders on impiety to suppose that anything could be better than it is, in such an express dispensation as the Dedlock affairs--"that my Lady has no family.

"'Tis almost a pity," Mrs. Rouncewell adds, "that my Lady has no family.


If she had had a daughter now, a grown young lady, to interest her, I think she would have had the only kind of excellence she wants."

If she had had a daughter to interest her, I think she would have had the only kind of excellence she lacks."


"Might not that have made her still more proud, grandmother?"


says Watt, who has been home and come back again, he is such a good grandson.

says Watt, who has come to visit again, he is such a good grandson.


"More and most, my dear," returns the housekeeper with dignity, "are words it's not my place to use--nor so much as to hear--applied to any drawback on my Lady."


The Dedlock family have always reason to be."


"Well," says Watt, "it's to be hoped they line out of their prayer-books a certain passage for the common people about pride and vainglory.


"Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, my dear, are not fit subjects for joking."


"Sir Leicester is no joke by any means," says Watt, "and I humbly ask his pardon.


I suppose, grandmother, that even with the family and their guests down here, there is no objection to my prolonging my stay at the Dedlock Arms for a day or two, as any other traveller might?"

"I suppose, grandmother," says Watt, "that even with the family and their guests here, there is no objection to my prolonging my stay at the Dedlock Arms for a day or two?"


"I am glad of that," says Watt, "because I have an inexpressible desire to extend my knowledge of this beautiful neighbourhood."

"I am glad of that," says Watt, "because I long to extend my knowledge of this beautiful neighbourhood."


He happens to glance at Rosa, who looks down and is very shy indeed.


But according to the old superstition, it should be Rosa's ears that burn, and not her fresh bright cheeks, for my Lady's maid is holding forth about her at this moment with surpassing energy.

But according to the old superstition, it should be Rosa's ears that burn, and not her fresh bright cheeks; for my Lady's maid is holding forth about her at this moment with great energy.


My Lady's maid is a Frenchwoman of two and thirty, from somewhere in the southern country about Avignon and Marseilles, a large-eyed brown woman with black hair who would be handsome but for a certain feline mouth and general uncomfortable tightness of face, rendering the jaws too eager and the skull too prominent.

My Lady's maid is a Frenchwoman of thirty-two, a large-eyed woman who would be handsome but for a certain feline mouth and general uncomfortable tightness of face.


There is something indefinably keen and wan about her anatomy, and she has a watchful way of looking out of the corners of her eyes without turning her head which could be pleasantly dispensed with, especially when she is in an ill humour and near knives.

She has a watchful way of looking out of the corners of her eyes which could be pleasantly dispensed with, especially when she is in an ill humour and near knives.


Through all the good taste of her dress and little adornments, these objections so express themselves that she seems to go about like a very neat she-wolf imperfectly tamed.

With her tasteful dress and little adornments, she seems like a very neat she-wolf imperfectly tamed.


Besides being accomplished in all the knowledge appertaining to her post, she is almost an Englishwoman in her acquaintance with the language; consequently, she is in no want of words to shower upon Rosa for having attracted my Lady's attention, and she pours them out with such grim ridicule as she sits at dinner that her companion, the affectionate man, is rather relieved when she arrives at the spoon stage of that performance.

She has good English, and no lack of words to shower upon Rosa for having attracted my Lady's attention. She pours them out with grim ridicule at dinner.


She, Hortense, been in my Lady's service since five years and always kept at the distance, and this doll, this puppet, caressed--absolutely caressed--by my Lady on the moment of her arriving at the house!

She, Hortense, has been in my Lady's service since five years and always kept at the distance, and this doll, this puppet, caressed by my Lady on the moment of her arriving at the house!


"And do you know how pretty you are, child?"


And take care they do not spoil you by flattery, child!"


In short, it is such an admirable thing that Mademoiselle Hortense can't forget it; but at meals for days afterwards, even among her countrywomen and others attached in like capacity to the troop of visitors, relapses into silent enjoyment of the joke--an enjoyment expressed, in her own convivial manner, by an additional tightness of face, thin elongation of compressed lips, and sidewise look, which intense appreciation of humour is frequently reflected in my Lady's mirrors when my Lady is not among them.

In short, Mademoiselle Hortense can't forget it; but for days afterwards, shows her silent enjoyment of the joke by her tightness of face and thin compressed lips. Her sideways look is frequently reflected in my Lady's mirrors when my Lady is not there.


All the mirrors in the house are brought into action now, many of them after a long blank.

All the mirrors in the house are brought into action now.


They reflect handsome faces, simpering faces, youthful faces, faces of threescore and ten that will not submit to be old; the entire collection of faces that have come to pass a January week or two at Chesney Wold, and which the fashionable intelligence, a mighty hunter before the Lord, hunts with a keen scent, from their breaking cover at the Court of St. James's to their being run down to death.

They reflect handsome faces, simpering faces, youthful faces, faces of seventy that will not submit to be old; all the faces that have come to pass a January week or two at Chesney Wold.


By day guns and voices are heard ringing in the woods, horsemen and carriages enliven the park roads, servants and hangers-on pervade the village and the Dedlock Arms.

By day guns and voices are heard ringing in the woods, horsemen and carriages enliven the park roads, servants fill the village and the Dedlock Arms.


Seen by night from distant openings in the trees, the row of windows in the long drawing-room, where my Lady's picture hangs over the great chimney-piece, is like a row of jewels set in a black frame.


On Sunday the chill little church is almost warmed by so much gallant company, and the general flavour of the Dedlock dust is quenched in delicate perfumes.

On Sunday the chill little church is almost warmed by so much gallant company.


The brilliant and distinguished circle comprehends within it no contracted amount of education, sense, courage, honour, beauty, and virtue.

The brilliant and distinguished circle includes within it much education, sense, courage, honour, beauty, and virtue.


Yet there is something a little wrong about it in despite of its immense advantages.

Yet there is something a little wrong about it.


There is no King George the Fourth now (more the pity) to set the dandy fashion; there are no clear-starched jack-towel neckcloths, no short-waisted coats, no false calves, no stays.

There is no King George the Fourth now to set the dandy fashion; no


There are no caricatures, now, of effeminate exquisites so arrayed, swooning in opera boxes with excess of delight and being revived by other dainty creatures poking long-necked scent-bottles at their noses.


There is no beau whom it takes four men at once to shake into his buckskins, or who goes to see all the executions, or who is troubled with the self-reproach of having once consumed a pea.

or beaus whom it takes four men to shake into his buckskins.


But is there dandyism in the brilliant and distinguished circle notwithstanding, dandyism of a more mischievous sort, that has got below the surface and is doing less harmless things than jack-towelling itself and stopping its own digestion, to which no rational person need particularly object?


There ARE at Chesney Wold this January week some ladies and gentlemen of the newest fashion, who have set up a dandyism--in religion, for instance.

But some ladies and gentlemen in the distinguished circle have set up a dandyism - in religion, for instance.


Who in mere lackadaisical want of an emotion have agreed upon a little dandy talk about the vulgar wanting faith in things in general, meaning in the things that have been tried and found wanting, as though a low fellow should unaccountably lose faith in a bad shilling after finding it out!

In want of an emotion, they have agreed upon a little dandy talk about the vulgar lacking faith in things, and


Who would make the vulgar very picturesque and faithful by putting back the hands upon the clock of time and cancelling a few hundred years of history.

would make the vulgar very picturesque and faithful by putting back the hands of time and cancelling a few hundred years of history.


There are also ladies and gentlemen of another fashion, not so new, but very elegant, who have agreed to put a smooth glaze on the world and to keep down all its realities.

There are also ladies and gentlemen of another fashion, who have agreed to put a smooth glaze on the world and to keep down all its realities.


For whom everything must be languid and pretty.


Who have found out the perpetual stoppage.


Who are to rejoice at nothing and be sorry for nothing.


On whom even the fine arts, attending in powder and walking backward like the Lord Chamberlain, must array themselves in the milliners' and tailors' patterns of past generations and be particularly careful not to be in earnest or to receive any impress from the moving age.

For whom even the fine arts must array themselves in the patterns of the past and be particularly careful not to be in earnest.


Then there is my Lord Boodle, of considerable reputation with his party, who has known what office is and who tells Sir Leicester Dedlock with much gravity, after dinner, that he really does not see to what the present age is tending.

Then there is my Lord Boodle, of considerable reputation with his political party, who tells Sir Leicester Dedlock, after dinner, that


A debate is not what a debate used to be; the House is not what the House used to be; even a Cabinet is not what it formerly was.

a debate is not what it used to be; the House is not what it used to be; even a Cabinet is not what it formerly was


He perceives with astonishment that supposing the present government to be overthrown, the limited choice of the Crown, in the formation of a new ministry, would lie between Lord Coodle and Sir Thomas Doodle--supposing it to be impossible for the Duke of Foodle to act with Goodle, which may be assumed to be the case in consequence of the breach arising out of that affair with Hoodle.


Then, giving the Home Department and the leadership of the House of Commons to Joodle, the Exchequer to Koodle, the Colonies to Loodle, and the Foreign Office to Moodle, what are you to do with Noodle?


You can't offer him the Presidency of the Council; that is reserved for Poodle.


You can't put him in the Woods and Forests; that is hardly good enough for Quoodle.


That the country is shipwrecked, lost, and gone to pieces (as is made manifest to the patriotism of Sir Leicester Dedlock) because you can't provide for Noodle!

and the country is shipwrecked, gone to pieces!


On the other hand, the Right Honourable William Buffy, M.P., contends across the table with some one else that the shipwreck of the country--about which there is no doubt; it is only the manner of it that is in question--is attributable to Cuffy.

Across the table, the Right Honourable William Buffy, M.P., contends that the shipwreck of the country is due entirely to the wrong people being in charge.


If you had done with Cuffy what you ought to have done when he first came into Parliament, and had prevented him from going over to Duffy, you would have got him into alliance with Fuffy, you would have had with you the weight attaching as a smart debater to Guffy, you would have brought to bear upon the elections the wealth of Huffy, you would have got in for three counties Juffy, Kuffy, and Luffy, and you would have strengthened your administration by the official knowledge and the business habits of Muffy.


All this, instead of being as you now are, dependent on the mere caprice of Puffy!


As to this point, and as to some minor topics, there are differences of opinion; but it is perfectly clear to the brilliant and distinguished circle, all round, that nobody is in question but Boodle and his retinue, and Buffy and HIS retinue.

It is perfectly clear to the brilliant and distinguished circle that Boodle and his retinue, and Buffy and his retinue,


These are the great actors for whom the stage is reserved.


A People there are, no doubt--a certain large number of supernumeraries, who are to be occasionally addressed, and relied upon for shouts and choruses, as on the theatrical stage; but Boodle and Buffy, their followers and families, their heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, are the born first-actors, managers, and leaders, and no others can appear upon the scene for ever and ever.

A People there are, no doubt - who are to be occasionally addressed, and relied upon for shouts and choruses; but Boodle and Buffy, and their followers and families, are the chief actors, managers, and leaders, and no others can appear upon the scene for ever and ever.


In this, too, there is perhaps more dandyism at Chesney Wold than the brilliant and distinguished circle will find good for itself in the long run.


For it is, even with the stillest and politest circles, as with the circle the necromancer draws around him--very strange appearances may be seen in active motion outside.


With this difference, that being realities and not phantoms, there is the greater danger of their breaking in.


Chesney Wold is quite full anyhow, so full that a burning sense of injury arises in the breasts of ill-lodged ladies'-maids, and is not to be extinguished.


It is a turret chamber of the third order of merit, plainly but comfortably furnished and having an old-fashioned business air.

It is a turret chamber, plainly but comfortably furnished, with an old-fashioned business air.


It is Mr. Tulkinghorn's room, and is never bestowed on anybody else, for he may come at any time.


It is his quiet habit to walk across the park from the village in fine weather, to drop into this room as if he had never been out of it since he was last seen there, to request a servant to inform Sir Leicester that he is arrived in case he should be wanted, and to appear ten minutes before dinner in the shadow of the library-door.


He sleeps in his turret with a complaining flag-staff over his head, and has some leads outside on which, any fine morning when he is down here, his black figure may be seen walking before breakfast like a larger species of rook.


Every day before dinner, my Lady looks for him in the dusk of the library, but he is not there.


Every day at dinner, my Lady glances down the table for the vacant place that would be waiting to receive him if he had just arrived, but there is no vacant place.

Every day at dinner, my Lady glances down the table for the vacant place that would be set for him if he had just arrived, but there is no vacant place.


Every night my Lady casually asks her maid, "Is Mr. Tulkinghorn come?"


Every night the answer is, "No, my Lady, not yet."


One night, while having her hair undressed, my Lady loses herself in deep thought after this reply until she sees her own brooding face in the opposite glass, and a pair of black eyes curiously observing her.

One night, while having her hair undressed, my Lady loses herself in deep thought after this reply, until she sees her own brooding face in the glass, and Hortense curiously observing her.


"Be so good as to attend," says my Lady then, addressing the reflection of Hortense, "to your business.

"Be so good as to attend to your business," says my Lady.


You can contemplate your beauty at another time."


"That," says my Lady, "you needn't contemplate at all."


At length, one afternoon a little before sunset, when the bright groups of figures which have for the last hour or two enlivened the Ghost's Walk are all dispersed and only Sir Leicester and my Lady remain upon the terrace, Mr. Tulkinghorn appears.


He comes towards them at his usual methodical pace, which is never quickened, never slackened.


He wears his usual expressionless mask--if it be a mask--and carries family secrets in every limb of his body and every crease of his dress.


Whether his whole soul is devoted to the great or whether he yields them nothing beyond the services he sells is his personal secret.


He keeps it, as he keeps the secrets of his clients; he is his own client in that matter, and will never betray himself.


says Sir Leicester, giving him his hand.


The lawyer, with his hands behind him, walks at Sir Leicester's side along the terrace.

He walks at Sir Leicester's side along the terrace.


"We expected you before," says Sir Leicester.


As much as to say, "Mr. Tulkinghorn, we remember your existence when you are not here to remind us of it by your presence.

graciously, as if to say, "Mr. Tulkinghorn, we remember your existence.


We bestow a fragment of our minds upon you, sir, you see!"


Mr. Tulkinghorn, comprehending it, inclines his head and says he is much obliged.

Mr. Tulkinghorn says he is much obliged.


"I should have come down sooner," he explains, "but that I have been much engaged with those matters in the several suits between yourself and Boythorn."

"I should have come down sooner," he explains, "but I have been much engaged with those suits between yourself and Boythorn."


"A man of a very ill-regulated mind," observes Sir Leicester with severity.


"An extremely dangerous person in any community.


"He is obstinate," says Mr. Tulkinghorn.


"It is natural to such a man to be so," says Sir Leicester, looking most profoundly obstinate himself.

"It is natural to such a man to be so," says Sir Leicester, looking profoundly obstinate himself.


"The only question is," pursues the lawyer, "whether you will give up anything."


That, of course, I know you would not abandon.


"Mr. Tulkinghorn," returns Sir Leicester, "there can be no minor point between myself and Mr. Boythorn.


If I go farther, and observe that I cannot readily conceive how ANY right of mine can be a minor point, I speak not so much in reference to myself as an individual as in reference to the family position I have it in charge to maintain."

In fact, I cannot readily conceive how any right of mine can be a minor point."


Mr. Tulkinghorn inclines his head again.


"Mr. Boythorn will give us a good deal of trouble--"

"Mr. Boythorn will give us a good deal of trouble-"


"It is the character of such a mind, Mr. Tulkinghorn," Sir Leicester interrupts him, "TO give trouble.

"It is the character of such a mind," Sir Leicester interrupts him, "to give trouble.


An exceedingly ill-conditioned, levelling person.


A person who, fifty years ago, would probably have been tried at the Old Bailey for some demagogue proceeding, and severely punished--if not," adds Sir Leicester after a moment's pause, "if not hanged, drawn, and quartered."


Sir Leicester appears to discharge his stately breast of a burden in passing this capital sentence, as if it were the next satisfactory thing to having the sentence executed.


"But night is coming on," says he, "and my Lady will take cold.

But night is coming on, and my Lady will take cold.


As they turn towards the hall-door, Lady Dedlock addresses Mr. Tulkinghorn for the first time.


"You sent me a message respecting the person whose writing I happened to inquire about.

"You sent me a message about the person whose writing I happened to inquire about.


It was like you to remember the circumstance; I had quite forgotten it.


I can't imagine what association I had with a hand like that, but I surely had some."

I can't imagine what association I had with a hand like that, but I think I must have had some.


And did you really take the trouble to find out the writer of that actual thing--what is it!--affidavit?"

Did you really take the trouble to find out the writer of that thing - what is it! - affidavit?"


They pass into a sombre breakfast-room on the ground floor, lighted in the day by two deep windows.


The fire glows brightly on the panelled wall and palely on the window-glass, where, through the cold reflection of the blaze, the colder landscape shudders in the wind and a grey mist creeps along, the only traveller besides the waste of clouds.


My Lady lounges in a great chair in the chimney-corner, and Sir Leicester takes another great chair opposite.


The lawyer stands before the fire with his hand out at arm's length, shading his face.

The lawyer stands before the fire, shading his face.


"Yes," he says, "I inquired about the man, and found him.


And, what is very strange, I found him--"


"Not to be any out-of-the-way person, I am afraid!"


Not so much shocked by the fact as by the fact of the fact being mentioned.


"I was directed to his lodging--a miserable, poverty-stricken place--and I found him dead."

"I was directed to his lodging - a miserable, poverty-stricken place - and I found him dead."


"You will excuse me, Mr. Tulkinghorn," observes Sir Leicester.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tulkinghorn," observes Sir Leicester.


"Pray, Sir Leicester, let me hear the story out" (it is my Lady speaking).


Mr. Tulkinghorn re-asserts it by another inclination of his head.


Sir Leicester's gallantry concedes the point, though he still feels that to bring this sort of squalor among the upper classes is really--really--


"I was about to say," resumes the lawyer with undisturbed calmness, "that whether he had died by his own hand or not, it was beyond my power to tell you.

"I was about to say," resumes the lawyer calmly, "that whether he had died by his own hand or not, it was beyond my power to tell you.


I should amend that phrase, however, by saying that he had unquestionably died of his own act, though whether by his own deliberate intention or by mischance can never certainly be known.

He had unquestionably died of his own act, however, though whether deliberately or by mischance can never be known.


The coroner's jury found that he took the poison accidentally."


"And what kind of man," my Lady asks, "was this deplorable creature?"


"Very difficult to say," returns the lawyer, shaking his head.


"He had lived so wretchedly and was so neglected, with his gipsy colour and his wild black hair and beard, that I should have considered him the commonest of the common.

"He had lived so wretchedly and was so neglected, with his wild black hair and beard, that I should have considered him the commonest of the common.


The surgeon had a notion that he had once been something better, both in appearance and condition."

The surgeon had a notion that he had once been something better."


"What did they call the wretched being?"


"They called him what he had called himself, but no one knew his name."


"Not even any one who had attended on him?"

"Not even anyone who had attended on him?"


"Without any; there was," says the lawyer meditatively, "an old portmanteau, but--No, there were no papers."

"Without any; there was an old portmanteau," says the lawyer meditatively, "but there were no papers."


During the utterance of every word of this short dialogue, Lady Dedlock and Mr. Tulkinghorn, without any other alteration in their customary deportment, have looked very steadily at one another--as was natural, perhaps, in the discussion of so unusual a subject.

During every word of this short dialogue, Lady Dedlock and Mr. Tulkinghorn have looked very steadily at one another.


Sir Leicester has looked at the fire, with the general expression of the Dedlock on the staircase.


The story being told, he renews his stately protest, saying that as it is quite clear that no association in my Lady's mind can possibly be traceable to this poor wretch (unless he was a begging-letter writer), he trusts to hear no more about a subject so far removed from my Lady's station.

He now says haughtily that he trusts to hear no more about a subject so far removed from my Lady's station.


"Certainly, a collection of horrors," says my Lady, gathering up her mantles and furs, "but they interest one for the moment!

"Certainly, a collection of horrors," says my Lady, gathering up her furs, "but they interest one for the moment!


Have the kindness, Mr. Tulkinghorn, to open the door for me."


Mr. Tulkinghorn does so with deference and holds it open while she passes out.

Mr. Tulkinghorn holds it open while she passes out


She passes close to him, with her usual fatigued manner and insolent grace.


They meet again at dinner--again, next day--again, for many days in succession.

They meet again at dinner, and again, for many days in succession.


Lady Dedlock is always the same exhausted deity, surrounded by worshippers, and terribly liable to be bored to death, even while presiding at her own shrine.

Lady Dedlock is always the same exhausted deity, surrounded by worshippers, and terribly liable to be bored to death.


Mr. Tulkinghorn is always the same speechless repository of noble confidences, so oddly out of place and yet so perfectly at home.

Mr. Tulkinghorn is always silent, oddly out of place and yet perfectly at home.


They appear to take as little note of one another as any two people enclosed within the same walls could.

They appear to take no notice of each other.


But whether each evermore watches and suspects the other, evermore mistrustful of some great reservation; whether each is evermore prepared at all points for the other, and never to be taken unawares; what each would give to know how much the other knows--all this is hidden, for the time, in their own hearts.

But whether each evermore watches and suspects the other, mistrustful of some great secret; and what each would give to know how much the other knows - all this is hidden, for the time, in their own hearts.


The term had commenced, and my guardian found an intimation from Mr. Kenge that the cause would come on in two days.

The Chancery term had commenced, and Mr. Kenge told us that the cause would come on in two days.


As I had sufficient hopes of the will to be in a flutter about it, Allan and I agreed to go down to the court that morning.


Richard was extremely agitated and was so weak and low, though his illness was still of the mind, that my dear girl indeed had sore occasion to be supported.

Richard was extremely agitated and was so weak and low that my dear girl indeed required support.


But she looked forward--a very little way now--to the help that was to come to her, and never drooped.

But she looked forward to the child that was to come, and never drooped.


It was at Westminster that the cause was to come on.

The Court of Chancery was to be held at Westminster Hall.


It had come on there, I dare say, a hundred times before, but I could not divest myself of an idea that it MIGHT lead to some result now.


We left home directly after breakfast to be at Westminster Hall in good time and walked down there through the lively streets--so happily and strangely it seemed!--together.


As we were going along, planning what we should do for Richard and Ada, I heard somebody calling "Esther!

As we were walking along, planning what we should do for Richard and Ada, I heard somebody calling "Esther!


And there was Caddy Jellyby, with her head out of the window of a little carriage which she hired now to go about in to her pupils (she had so many), as if she wanted to embrace me at a hundred yards' distance.

And there was Caddy, with her head out of the window of a little carriage which she hired now to go about in to her pupils.


I had written her a note to tell her of all that my guardian had done, but had not had a moment to go and see her.


Of course we turned back, and the affectionate girl was in that state of rapture, and was so overjoyed to talk about the night when she brought me the flowers, and was so determined to squeeze my face (bonnet and all) between her hands, and go on in a wild manner altogether, calling me all kinds of precious names, and telling Allan I had done I don't know what for her, that I was just obliged to get into the little carriage and calm her down by letting her say and do exactly what she liked.

Of course we turned back, and the affectionate girl was in such rapture, and was so overjoyed to talk about the night when she brought me the flowers, and was calling me all kinds of precious names, that I was obliged to get into the little carriage and calm her down by letting her say what she liked.


Allan, standing at the window, was as pleased as Caddy; and I was as pleased as either of them; and I wonder that I got away as I did, rather than that I came off laughing, and red, and anything but tidy, and looking after Caddy, who looked after us out of the coach-window as long as she could see us.

Allan, standing at the window, was as pleased as Caddy; and I came away laughing, and red.


This made us some quarter of an hour late, and when we came to Westminster Hall we found that the day's business was begun.

This made us some quarter of an hour late, and when we came to Westminster Hall the day's business was begun.


Worse than that, we found such an unusual crowd in the Court of Chancery that it was full to the door, and we could neither see nor hear what was passing within.


It appeared to be something droll, for occasionally there was a laugh and a cry of "Silence!"


It appeared to be something interesting, for every one was pushing and striving to get nearer.


It appeared to be something that made the professional gentlemen very merry, for there were several young counsellors in wigs and whiskers on the outside of the crowd, and when one of them told the others about it, they put their hands in their pockets, and quite doubled themselves up with laughter, and went stamping about the pavement of the Hall.

The professional gentlemen were very merry about it, for there were several young lawyers quite doubled up.


We asked a gentleman by us if he knew what cause was on.

We asked a gentleman nearby if he knew what cause was on.


We asked him if he knew what was doing in it.

We asked him if he knew what was happening in it.


He said really, no he did not, nobody ever did, but as well as he could make out, it was over.

He said, no he did not, nobody ever did, but as well as he could make out, it was over.


When we heard this unaccountable answer, we looked at one another quite lost in amazement.

We looked at one another lost in amazement.


Could it be possible that the will had set things right at last and that Richard and Ada were going to be rich?

Could it be possible that the will had set things right at last and that Richard and Ada would be rich?


Our suspense was short, for a break-up soon took place in the crowd, and the people came streaming out looking flushed and hot and bringing a quantity of bad air with them.

People now came streaming out looking flushed and hot and


Still they were all exceedingly amused and were more like people coming out from a farce or a juggler than from a court of justice.

exceedingly amused, more like people coming out from a farce or a juggler than from a court of justice.


We stood aside, watching for any countenance we knew, and presently great bundles of paper began to be carried out--bundles in bags, bundles too large to be got into any bags, immense masses of papers of all shapes and no shapes, which the bearers staggered under, and threw down for the time being, anyhow, on the Hall pavement, while they went back to bring out more.

We stood aside, watching, and presently great bundles of paper began to be carried out, which the bearers staggered under, and threw down anyhow, on the Hall pavement, while they went back to bring out more.


We glanced at the papers, and seeing Jarndyce and Jarndyce everywhere, asked an official-looking person who was standing in the midst of them whether the cause was over.

We glanced at the papers, and saw Jarndyce and Jarndyce everywhere.


Yes, he said, it was all up with it at last, and burst out laughing too.


At this juncture we perceived Mr. Kenge coming out of court with an affable dignity upon him, listening to Mr. Vholes, who was deferential and carried his own bag.

Then we perceived Mr. Kenge coming out of court with affable dignity, listening to Mr. Vholes.


said Mr. Kenge, raising his hat to me with polished politeness.


"Really," returned Mr. Kenge, "it is as well that he is NOT here to-day, for his--shall I say, in my good friend's absence, his indomitable singularity of opinion?--might have been strengthened, perhaps; not reasonably, but might have been strengthened."

"Really," returned Mr. Kenge, "it is as well that he is not here today, for his opinion might have been strengthened, perhaps."


"What has been done," repeated Mr. Kenge.


We have been checked--brought up suddenly, I would say--upon the--shall I term it threshold?"

We have been checked upon the threshold."


"Is this will considered a genuine document, sir?"


"Most certainly, if I could," said Mr. Kenge; "but we have not gone into that, we have not gone into that."

"We have not gone into that," said Mr. Kenge.


"We have not gone into that," repeated Mr. Vholes as if his low inward voice were an echo.

"We have not gone into that," repeated Mr. Vholes like a dull echo.


"You are to reflect, Mr. Woodcourt," observed Mr. Kenge, using his silver trowel persuasively and smoothingly, "that this has been a great cause, that this has been a protracted cause, that this has been a complex cause.

"Reflect, Mr. Woodcourt," observed Mr. Kenge smoothly, "that this has been a great cause, a protracted and complex cause.


Jarndyce and Jarndyce has been termed, not inaptly, a monument of Chancery practice."

Jarndyce and Jarndyce has been termed a monument of Chancery practice."


"And patience has sat upon it a long time," said Allan.


"Very well indeed, sir," returned Mr. Kenge with a certain condescending laugh he had.


You are further to reflect, Mr. Woodcourt," becoming dignified almost to severity, "that on the numerous difficulties, contingencies, masterly fictions, and forms of procedure in this great cause, there has been expended study, ability, eloquence, knowledge, intellect, Mr. Woodcourt, high intellect.

"Further reflect, Mr. Woodcourt, that on the numerous difficulties in this great cause, there has been expended study, ability, eloquence, knowledge, and high intellect.


For many years, the--a--I would say the flower of the bar, and the--a--I would presume to add, the matured autumnal fruits of the woolsack--have been lavished upon Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

For many years, the flower of the bar has been lavished upon Jarndyce and Jarndyce.


If the public have the benefit, and if the country have the adornment, of this great grasp, it must be paid for in money or money's worth, sir."

And this great public benefit must be paid for, sir."


"Mr. Kenge," said Allan, appearing enlightened all in a moment.


"Do I understand that the whole estate is found to have been absorbed in costs?"


"And that thus the suit lapses and melts away?"


"My dearest life," whispered Allan, "this will break Richard's heart!"


There was such a shock of apprehension in his face, and he knew Richard so perfectly, and I too had seen so much of his gradual decay, that what my dear girl had said to me in the fullness of her foreboding love sounded like a knell in my ears.

There was such a shock of apprehension in his face, and I too had seen so much of Richard's gradual decay, that what my dear girl had said to me in her foreboding love sounded like a knell in my ears.


"In case you should be wanting Mr. C., sir," said Mr. Vholes, coming after us, "you'll find him in court.

"If you should be wanting Mr. C., sir," said Mr. Vholes, "you'll find him in court.


I left him there resting himself a little.


Good day, sir; good day, Miss Summerson."


As he gave me that slowly devouring look of his, while twisting up the strings of his bag before he hastened with it after Mr. Kenge, the benignant shadow of whose conversational presence he seemed afraid to leave, he gave one gasp as if he had swallowed the last morsel of his client, and his black buttoned-up unwholesome figure glided away to the low door at the end of the Hall.

He hastened after Mr. Kenge, and his black buttoned-up unwholesome figure glided away.


"My dear love," said Allan, "leave to me, for a little while, the charge you gave me.

"My dear love," said Allan, "leave him to me, for a little while.


Go home with this intelligence and come to Ada's by and by!"


I would not let him take me to a coach, but entreated him to go to Richard without a moment's delay and leave me to do as he wished.


Hurrying home, I found my guardian and told him gradually with what news I had returned.

Hurrying home, I found my guardian and told him the news.


"Little woman," said he, quite unmoved for himself, "to have done with the suit on any terms is a greater blessing than I had looked for.

"Little woman," said he, quite unmoved for himself, "to have done with the suit on any terms is a blessing.


We talked about them all the morning and discussed what it was possible to do.

We talked about them all morning, discussing what it was possible to do.


In the afternoon my guardian walked with me to Symond's Inn and left me at the door.


When my darling heard my footsteps, she came out into the small passage and threw her arms round my neck, but she composed herself directly and said that Richard had asked for me several times.

When my darling heard my footsteps, she came out and threw her arms round my neck.
Composing herself, she said that Richard had asked for me.


Allan had found him sitting in the corner of the court, she told me, like a stone figure.


On being roused, he had broken away and made as if he would have spoken in a fierce voice to the judge.

On being roused, he had broken away as if he would have spoken fiercely to the judge.


He was stopped by his mouth being full of blood, and Allan had brought him home.


He was lying on a sofa with his eyes closed when I went in.


There were restoratives on the table; the room was made as airy as possible, and was darkened, and was very orderly and quiet.

The room was darkened, and was very orderly and quiet.


Allan stood behind him watching him gravely.


His face appeared to me to be quite destitute of colour, and now that I saw him without his seeing me, I fully saw, for the first time, how worn away he was.

Richard's face appeared to be quite without colour, and I fully saw, for the first time, how worn away he was.


But he looked handsomer than I had seen him look for many a day.


Opening his eyes by and by, he said in a weak voice, but with his old smile, "Dame Durden, kiss me, my dear!"

Opening his eyes, he said in a weak voice, but with his old smile, "Dame Durden, kiss me, my dear!"


It was a great comfort and surprise to me to find him in his low state cheerful and looking forward.

It was a great comfort and surprise to me to find him cheerful and looking forward.


He was happier, he said, in our intended marriage than he could find words to tell me.

He was happier, he said, in our intended marriage than he could say.


My husband had been a guardian angel to him and Ada, and he blessed us both and wished us all the joy that life could yield us.

My husband had been a guardian angel to him and Ada, and he blessed us both.


I almost felt as if my own heart would have broken when I saw him take my husband's hand and hold it to his breast.


We spoke of the future as much as possible, and he said several times that he must be present at our marriage if he could stand upon his feet.


Ada would contrive to take him, somehow, he said.


But as my darling answered him thus hopefully, so serene and beautiful, with the help that was to come to her so near--I knew--I knew!

But as my darling answered him thus, so serene and beautiful - I knew - I knew!


It was not good for him to talk too much, and when he was silent, we were silent too.

It was not good for him to talk too much.


Sitting beside him, I made a pretence of working for my dear, as he had always been used to joke about my being busy.

Sitting beside him, I made a pretence of sewing for my dear, as he always used to joke about my being busy.


Ada leaned upon his pillow, holding his head upon her arm.


He dozed often, and whenever he awoke without seeing him, said first of all, "Where is Woodcourt?"

He dozed often, and whenever he awoke, said first of all, "Where is Woodcourt?"


Evening had come on when I lifted up my eyes and saw my guardian standing in the little hall.