Now, this Miss Barbary was extremely close--seems to have been extraordinarily close for a female, females being generally (in common life at least) rather given to conversation--and my witness never had an idea whether she possessed a single relative.

says Mr. Guppy. "Now, this Miss Barbary was extremely close and secretive, and my witness never had an idea whether she possessed a single relative.


On one occasion, and only one, she seems to have been confidential to my witness on a single point, and she then told her that the little girl's real name was not Esther Summerson, but Esther Hawdon."

On one occasion only, she confided to my witness on a single point, and she then told her that the little girl's real name was not Esther Summerson, but Esther Hawdon."


Lady Dedlock sits before him looking him through, with the same dark shade upon her face, in the same attitude even to the holding of the screen, with her lips a little apart, her brow a little contracted, but for the moment dead.

Lady Dedlock sits before him in the same attitude, with her lips a little apart, her brow a little contracted, but for the moment dead.


He sees her consciousness return, sees a tremor pass across her frame like a ripple over water, sees her lips shake, sees her compose them by a great effort, sees her force herself back to the knowledge of his presence and of what he has said.

He sees a tremor pass across her frame like a ripple over water, sees her lips shake, sees her compose them by a great effort,


All this, so quickly, that her exclamation and her dead condition seem to have passed away like the features of those long-preserved dead bodies sometimes opened up in tombs, which, struck by the air like lightning, vanish in a breath.


"Your ladyship is acquainted with the name of Hawdon?"


"Name of any collateral or remote branch of your ladyship's family?"

"Name of any remote branch of your ladyship's family?"


"Now, your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy, "I come to the last point of the case, so far as I have got it up.

"Now, your ladyship," says Mr. Guppy, "I come to the last point of the case.


It's going on, and I shall gather it up closer and closer as it goes on.


Your ladyship must know--if your ladyship don't happen, by any chance, to know already--that there was found dead at the house of a person named Krook, near Chancery Lane, some time ago, a law-writer in great distress.

Your ladyship must know that there was found dead at the house of a person named Krook, near Chancery Lane, a law-writer in great distress.


Upon which law-writer there was an inquest, and which law-writer was an anonymous character, his name being unknown.

There was an inquest, in which this law-writer was an anonymous character, his name being unknown.


But, your ladyship, I have discovered very lately that that law-writer's name was Hawdon."


"Aye, your ladyship, that's the question!


Now, your ladyship, a queer thing happened after that man's death.


A lady started up, a disguised lady, your ladyship, who went to look at the scene of action and went to look at his grave.

A lady in disguise went to look at the scene and went to look at his grave.


She hired a crossing-sweeping boy to show it her.


If your ladyship would wish to have the boy produced in corroboration of this statement, I can lay my hand upon him at any time."

If your ladyship would wish to have the boy produced, I can lay my hand upon him at any time."


The wretched boy is nothing to my Lady, and she does NOT wish to have him produced.

The wretched boy is nothing to my Lady, and she does not wish to have him produced.


"Oh, I assure your ladyship it's a very queer start indeed," says Mr. Guppy.

"I assure your ladyship it's very queer indeed," says Mr. Guppy.


"If you was to hear him tell about the rings that sparkled on her fingers when she took her glove off, you'd think it quite romantic."


There are diamonds glittering on the hand that holds the screen.


My Lady trifles with the screen and makes them glitter more, again with that expression which in other times might have been so dangerous to the young man of the name of Guppy.


"It was supposed, your ladyship, that he left no rag or scrap behind him by which he could be possibly identified.

It was supposed, your ladyship, that Hawdon left no scrap behind him by which he could be identified.


All this time her eyes never once release him.


And to-morrow night, your ladyship, they will come into my possession."

And tomorrow night, your ladyship, they will come into my possession."


"If you think there's enough in this chain of circumstances put together--in the undoubted strong likeness of this young lady to your ladyship, which is a positive fact for a jury; in her having been brought up by Miss Barbary; in Miss Barbary stating Miss Summerson's real name to be Hawdon; in your ladyship's knowing both these names VERY WELL; and in Hawdon's dying as he did--to give your ladyship a family interest in going further into the case, I will bring these papers here.

"If you think there's enough in this chain of circumstances to give your ladyship a family interest in going further into the case, I will bring these papers here.


I don't know what they are, except that they are old letters: I have never had them in my possession yet.

I don't know what they are, except that they are old letters: I have never seen them.


I will bring those papers here as soon as I get them and go over them for the first time with your ladyship.


I have told your ladyship that I should be placed in a very disagreeable situation if any complaint was made, and all is in strict confidence."

I have told your ladyship all this in strict confidence."


Is this the full purpose of the young man of the name of Guppy, or has he any other?


Do his words disclose the length, breadth, depth, of his object and suspicion in coming here; or if not, what do they hide?

Do his words disclose his full object and suspicion in coming here; or if not, what do they hide?


She may look at him, but he can look at the table and keep that witness-box face of his from telling anything.

That witness-box face of his tells her nothing.


"You may bring the letters," says my Lady, "if you choose."


"Your ladyship is not very encouraging, upon my word and honour," says Mr. Guppy, a little injured.

"Your ladyship is not very encouraging, upon my word," says Mr. Guppy, a little injured.


"You may bring the letters," she repeats in the same tone, "if you--please."

"You may bring the letters," she repeats in the same tone, "if you please."


On a table near her is a rich bauble of a casket, barred and clasped like an old strong-chest.

On a table near her is a rich bauble of a casket.


She, looking at him still, takes it to her and unlocks it.


I assure your ladyship I am not actuated by any motives of that sort," says Mr. Guppy, "and I couldn't accept anything of the kind.

I assure your ladyship I couldn't accept anything of the kind," says Mr. Guppy.


I wish your ladyship good day, and am much obliged to you all the same."


So the young man makes his bow and goes downstairs, where the supercilious Mercury does not consider himself called upon to leave his Olympus by the hall-fire to let the young man out.

So the young man makes his bow and leaves.


As Sir Leicester basks in his library and dozes over his newspaper, is there no influence in the house to startle him, not to say to make the very trees at Chesney Wold fling up their knotted arms, the very portraits frown, the very armour stir?

As Sir Leicester dozes over his newspaper in the library, is there no influence in the house to startle him, to make the very portraits frown, the very armour stir?


Words, sobs, and cries are but air, and air is so shut in and shut out throughout the house in town that sounds need be uttered trumpet-tongued indeed by my Lady in her chamber to carry any faint vibration to Sir Leicester's ears; and yet this cry is in the house, going upward from a wild figure on its knees.

Sobs and cries are only air, and air is so shut in throughout the house in town that no vibration is carried to Sir Leicester's ears; and yet this cry is in the house, going from a wild figure on its knees.


Not dead in the first hours of her life, as my cruel sister told me, but sternly nurtured by her, after she had renounced me and my name!


There is disquietude in Cook's Court, Cursitor Street.


Black suspicion hides in that peaceful region.


The mass of Cook's Courtiers are in their usual state of mind, no better and no worse; but Mr. Snagsby is changed, and his little woman knows it.


For Tom-all-Alone's and Lincoln's Inn Fields persist in harnessing themselves, a pair of ungovernable coursers, to the chariot of Mr. Snagsby's imagination; and Mr. Bucket drives; and the passengers are Jo and Mr. Tulkinghorn; and the complete equipage whirls though the law-stationery business at wild speed all round the clock.

For Tom-all-Alone's and Lincoln's Inn Fields have harnessed themselves like wild horses to the chariot of Mr. Snagsby's imagination; and Mr. Bucket drives; and the passengers are Jo and Mr. Tulkinghorn; and the whole lot whirl though the law-stationery business all round the clock.


Even in the little front kitchen where the family meals are taken, it rattles away at a smoking pace from the dinner-table, when Mr. Snagsby pauses in carving the first slice of the leg of mutton baked with potatoes and stares at the kitchen wall.

Even in the little front kitchen where the family meals are taken, it rattles away when Mr. Snagsby pauses in carving the leg of mutton and stares at the kitchen wall.


Mr. Snagsby cannot make out what it is that he has had to do with.

Mr. Snagsby cannot make out what it is all about.


Something is wrong somewhere, but what something, what may come of it, to whom, when, and from which unthought of and unheard of quarter is the puzzle of his life.

Something is wrong somewhere, but what something is the puzzle of his life.


His remote impressions of the robes and coronets, the stars and garters, that sparkle through the surface-dust of Mr. Tulkinghorn's chambers; his veneration for the mysteries presided over by that best and closest of his customers, whom all the Inns of Court, all Chancery Lane, and all the legal neighbourhood agree to hold in awe; his remembrance of Detective Mr. Bucket with his forefinger and his confidential manner, impossible to be evaded or declined, persuade him that he is a party to some dangerous secret without knowing what it is.

His veneration for Mr. Tulkinghorn, and his remembrance of Detective Bucket with his confidential manner, persuade him that he is a party to some dangerous secret without knowing what it is.


And it is the fearful peculiarity of this condition that, at any hour of his daily life, at any opening of the shop-door, at any pull of the bell, at any entrance of a messenger, or any delivery of a letter, the secret may take air and fire, explode, and blow up--Mr. Bucket only knows whom.

At any moment, at any opening of the shop-door, at any pull of the bell, or any delivery of a letter, the secret may explode, and blow up - Mr. Bucket only knows whom.


For which reason, whenever a man unknown comes into the shop (as many men unknown do) and says, "Is Mr. Snagsby in?"

For which reason, whenever an unknown man comes into the shop (as many do) and says, "Is Mr. Snagsby in?


or words to that innocent effect, Mr. Snagsby's heart knocks hard at his guilty breast.

", Mr. Snagsby's heart knocks hard at his guilty breast.


He undergoes so much from such inquiries that when they are made by boys he revenges himself by flipping at their ears over the counter and asking the young dogs what they mean by it and why they can't speak out at once?


More impracticable men and boys persist in walking into Mr. Snagsby's sleep and terrifying him with unaccountable questions, so that often when the cock at the little dairy in Cursitor Street breaks out in his usual absurd way about the morning, Mr. Snagsby finds himself in a crisis of nightmare, with his little woman shaking him and saying "What's the matter with the man!"

Men and boys persist in walking into Mr. Snagsby's sleep and terrifying him with unaccountable questions, so that often at cock-crow Mr. Snagsby finds himself in a crisis of nightmare, with his little woman shaking him awake and saying "What's the matter with the man!"


The little woman herself is not the least item in his difficulty.

The little woman herself is not the least of his difficulties.


To know that he is always keeping a secret from her, that he has under all circumstances to conceal and hold fast a tender double tooth, which her sharpness is ever ready to twist out of his head, gives Mr. Snagsby, in her dentistical presence, much of the air of a dog who has a reservation from his master and will look anywhere rather than meet his eye.

To know that he is keeping a secret from her, like a tender tooth, which her sharpness is ever ready to twist out of his head, makes Mr. Snagsby unwilling to meet her eye.


These various signs and tokens, marked by the little woman, are not lost upon her.

These various signs are not lost upon the little woman.


They impel her to say, "Snagsby has something on his mind!"


And thus suspicion gets into Cook's Court, Cursitor Street.

And thus suspicion gets into Cook's Court.


From suspicion to jealousy, Mrs. Snagsby finds the road as natural and short as from Cook's Court to Chancery Lane.


And thus jealousy gets into Cook's Court, Cursitor Street.


Once there (and it was always lurking thereabout), it is very active and nimble in Mrs. Snagsby's breast, prompting her to nocturnal examinations of Mr. Snagsby's pockets; to secret perusals of Mr. Snagsby's letters; to private researches in the day book and ledger, till, cash-box, and iron safe; to watchings at windows, listenings behind doors, and a general putting of this and that together by the wrong end.

which is very active and nimble in Mrs. Snagsby's breast, prompting her to nocturnal examinations of Mr. Snagsby's pockets; to secret perusals of Mr. Snagsby's letters; to private researches in the ledger; to watchings at windows, listenings behind doors, and a general putting of this and that together in the wrong way.


Mrs. Snagsby is so perpetually on the alert that the house becomes ghostly with creaking boards and rustling garments. "Who was that lady - that creature?"


The 'prentices think somebody may have been murdered there in bygone times.


Guster holds certain loose atoms of an idea (picked up at Tooting, where they were found floating among the orphans) that there is buried money underneath the cellar, guarded by an old man with a white beard, who cannot get out for seven thousand years because he said the Lord's Prayer backwards.


Mrs. Snagsby repeatedly inquires of herself.


Now, Nimrod being as dead as the mighty hunter whose name Mrs. Snagsby has appropriated, and the lady being unproducible, she directs her mental eye, for the present, with redoubled vigilance to the boy.

The lady being unproducible, she directs her mental eye with redoubled vigilance to the boy.


"And who," quoth Mrs. Snagsby for the thousand and first time, "is that boy?


And there Mrs. Snagsby is seized with an inspiration.


No, to be sure, and he wouldn't have, of course.


Naturally he wouldn't, under those contagious circumstances.


He was invited and appointed by Mr. Chadband--why, Mrs. Snagsby heard it herself with her own ears!--to come back, and be told where he was to go, to be addressed by Mr. Chadband; and he never came!

He was invited by Mr. Chadband to come back, and hear Mr. Chadband; and he never came!


But happily (and Mrs. Snagsby tightly shakes her head and tightly smiles) that boy was met by Mr. Chadband yesterday in the streets; and that boy, as affording a subject which Mr. Chadband desires to improve for the spiritual delight of a select congregation, was seized by Mr. Chadband and threatened with being delivered over to the police unless he showed the reverend gentleman where he lived and unless he entered into, and fulfilled, an undertaking to appear in Cook's Court to-morrow night, "to--mor--row--night," Mrs. Snagsby repeats for mere emphasis with another tight smile and another tight shake of her head; and to-morrow night that boy will be here, and to-morrow night Mrs. Snagsby will have her eye upon him and upon some one else; and oh, you may walk a long while in your secret ways (says Mrs. Snagsby with haughtiness and scorn), but you can't blind ME!

But happily that boy was met by Mr. Chadband yesterday in the streets; and that boy was seized by Mr. Chadband and threatened with being delivered over to the police unless he showed the reverend gentleman where he lived and promised to appear in Cook's Court tomorrow night.


Mrs. Snagsby sounds no timbrel in anybody's ears, but holds her purpose quietly, and keeps her counsel.

Mrs. Snagsby thinks with a tight smile and a tight shake of her head that tomorrow night that boy will be here, and Mrs. Snagsby will have her eye on him and on some one else; and oh, you may walk in your secret ways (says Mrs. Snagsby with scorn), but you can't blind me!


To-morrow comes, the savoury preparations for the Oil Trade come, the evening comes.


Comes Mr. Snagsby in his black coat; come the Chadbands; come (when the gorging vessel is replete) the 'prentices and Guster, to be edified; comes at last, with his slouching head, and his shuffle backward, and his shuffle forward, and his shuffle to the right, and his shuffle to the left, and his bit of fur cap in his muddy hand, which he picks as if it were some mangy bird he had caught and was plucking before eating raw, Jo, the very, very tough subject Mr. Chadband is to improve.

Comes Mr. Snagsby in his black coat; come the Chadbands; come the 'prentices and Guster, to be edified; comes at last, with his slouch and his shuffle, and his bit of fur cap in his muddy hand, Jo, the very tough subject Mr. Chadband is to improve.


Mrs. Snagsby screws a watchful glance on Jo as he is brought into the little drawing-room by Guster.


He looks at Mr. Snagsby the moment he comes in.


Why should he do that, but that Mrs. Snagsby sees it all?


Why else should that look pass between them, why else should Mr. Snagsby be confused and cough a signal cough behind his hand?


It is as clear as crystal that Mr. Snagsby is that boy's father.

- it is as clear as crystal that Mr. Snagsby is that boy's father.


"Peace, my friends," says Chadband, rising and wiping the oily exudations from his reverend visage.

"Peace, my friends," says Chadband, rising and wiping the oil from his reverend face.


Because," with his fat smile, "it cannot be against us, because it must be for us; because it is not hardening, because it is softening; because it does not make war like the hawk, but comes home unto us like the dove.

Because," with his fat smile, "it cannot be against us, because it must be for us; because it does not make war like the hawk, but comes unto us like the dove.


Therefore, my friends, peace be with us!


Stretching forth his flabby paw, Mr. Chadband lays the same on Jo's arm and considers where to station him.

Stretching forth his flabby paw, Mr. Chadband lays it on Jo's arm.


Jo, very doubtful of his reverend friend's intentions and not at all clear but that something practical and painful is going to be done to him, mutters, "You let me alone.

Jo, very doubtful of his intentions, mutters, "You let me alone.


"No, my young friend," says Chadband smoothly, "I will not let you alone.


Because I am a harvest-labourer, because I am a toiler and a moiler, because you are delivered over unto me and are become as a precious instrument in my hands.

Because I am a harvest-labourer, because you are delivered unto me and are become as a precious instrument in my hands.


My friends, may I so employ this instrument as to use it to your advantage, to your profit, to your gain, to your welfare, to your enrichment!


Jo, apparently possessed by an impression that the reverend gentleman wants to cut his hair, shields his head with both arms and is got into the required position with great difficulty and every possible manifestation of reluctance.

Jo, apparently convinced that the reverend gentleman wants to cut his hair, shields his head with both arms and is got onto the stool with great difficulty.


When he is at last adjusted like a lay-figure, Mr. Chadband, retiring behind the table, holds up his bear's-paw and says, "My friends!"


This is the signal for a general settlement of the audience.


The 'prentices giggle internally and nudge each other.


Guster falls into a staring and vacant state, compounded of a stunned admiration of Mr. Chadband and pity for the friendless outcast whose condition touches her nearly.

Guster falls into a vacant state, compounded of a stunned admiration of Mr. Chadband and pity for the friendless outcast.


Mrs. Snagsby silently lays trains of gunpowder.

Mrs. Snagsby silently lays trails of gunpowder.


Mrs. Chadband composes herself grimly by the fire and warms her knees, finding that sensation favourable to the reception of eloquence.

Mrs. Chadband warms her knees grimly by the fire.


It happens that Mr. Chadband has a pulpit habit of fixing some member of his congregation with his eye and fatly arguing his points with that particular person, who is understood to be expected to be moved to an occasional grunt, groan, gasp, or other audible expression of inward working, which expression of inward working, being echoed by some elderly lady in the next pew and so communicated like a game of forfeits through a circle of the more fermentable sinners present, serves the purpose of parliamentary cheering and gets Mr. Chadband's steam up.

Mr. Chadband has a habit of fixing some member of his congregation with his eye and arguing his points with that person, who is understood to be expected to be moved to an occasional grunt, groan, or gasp, to be echoed by some elderly lady in the next pew and so communicated through a circle of the sinners present.


From mere force of habit, Mr. Chadband in saying "My friends!"


has rested his eye on Mr. Snagsby and proceeds to make that ill-starred stationer, already sufficiently confused, the immediate recipient of his discourse.

has rested his eye on Mr. Snagsby and proceeds to make that confused and ill-starred stationer the recipient of his speech.


"We have here among us, my friends," says Chadband, "a Gentile and a heathen, a dweller in the tents of Tom-all-Alone's and a mover-on upon the surface of the earth.

"We have here among us, my friends," says Chadband, "a Gentile and a heathen.


We have here among us, my friends," and Mr. Chadband, untwisting the point with his dirty thumb-nail, bestows an oily smile on Mr. Snagsby, signifying that he will throw him an argumentative back-fall presently if he be not already down, "a brother and a boy.


Devoid of parents, devoid of relations, devoid of flocks and herds, devoid of gold and silver and of precious stones.


Now, my friends, why do I say he is devoid of these possessions?


Mr. Chadband states the question as if he were propounding an entirely new riddle of much ingenuity and merit to Mr. Snagsby and entreating him not to give it up.

Mr. Chadband states the question as if he were asking Mr. Snagsby an ingenious riddle.


Mr. Snagsby, greatly perplexed by the mysterious look he received just now from his little woman--at about the period when Mr. Chadband mentioned the word parents--is tempted into modestly remarking, "I don't know, I'm sure, sir."

Mr. Snagsby, greatly perplexed by the mysterious look he received from his little woman when Mr. Chadband mentioned the word parents, remarks, "I don't know, I'm sure, sir."


On which interruption Mrs. Chadband glares and Mrs. Snagsby says, "For shame!"


"I hear a voice," says Chadband; "is it a still small voice, my friends?


I fear not, though I fain would hope so--"


I say this brother present here among us is devoid of parents, devoid of relations, devoid of flocks and herds, devoid of gold, of silver, and of precious stones because he is devoid of the light that shines in upon some of us.


Mr. Chadband draws back his head and pauses, but Mr. Snagsby is not to be lured on to his destruction again.

Mr. Chadband pauses and addresses Mr. Snagsby.


Mr. Chadband, leaning forward over the table, pierces what he has got to follow directly into Mr. Snagsby with the thumb-nail already mentioned.


"It is," says Chadband, "the ray of rays, the sun of suns, the moon of moons, the star of stars.

"It is the ray of rays, the sun of suns, the moon of moons, the star of stars.


Mr. Chadband draws himself up again and looks triumphantly at Mr. Snagsby as if he would be glad to know how he feels after that.

Mr. Chadband draws himself up and looks triumphantly at Mr. Snagsby.


"Of Terewth," says Mr. Chadband, hitting him again.


"Say not to me that it is NOT the lamp of lamps.


I say to you, a million of times over, it is.

"I say to you, a million of times over, it is!


I say to you that I will proclaim it to you, whether you like it or not; nay, that the less you like it, the more I will proclaim it to you.

I say to you that I will proclaim it to you, whether you like it or not,


I say to you that if you rear yourself against it, you shall fall, you shall be bruised, you shall be battered, you shall be flawed, you shall be smashed."

I say to you that if you rear yourself against it, you shall fall, you shall be bruised, you shall be battered, you shall be smashed."


The present effect of this flight of oratory--much admired for its general power by Mr. Chadband's followers--being not only to make Mr. Chadband unpleasantly warm, but to represent the innocent Mr. Snagsby in the light of a determined enemy to virtue, with a forehead of brass and a heart of adamant, that unfortunate tradesman becomes yet more disconcerted and is in a very advanced state of low spirits and false position when Mr. Chadband accidentally finishes him.

The effect of this oratory is not only to make Mr. Chadband unpleasantly warm, but to represent the innocent Mr. Snagsby as a determined enemy to virtue. That unfortunate tradesman becomes yet more disconcerted when Mr. Chadband accidentally finishes him.


"My friends," he resumes after dabbing his fat head for some time--and it smokes to such an extent that he seems to light his pocket-handkerchief at it, which smokes, too, after every dab--"to pursue the subject we are endeavouring with our lowly gifts to improve, let us in a spirit of love inquire what is that Terewth to which I have alluded.

"My friends," he resumes after dabbing his fat head, "let us inquire what is that Terewth to which I have alluded.


For, my young friends," suddenly addressing the 'prentices and Guster, to their consternation, "if I am told by the doctor that calomel or castor-oil is good for me, I may naturally ask what is calomel, and what is castor-oil.

Now, my young friends," suddenly addressing the 'prentices and Guster, to their consternation, "


I may wish to be informed of that before I dose myself with either or with both.


Now, my young friends, what is this Terewth then?


Firstly (in a spirit of love), what is the common sort of Terewth--the working clothes--the every-day wear, my young friends?


A shiver in the negative from Mrs. Snagsby.


A shake of the head from Mrs. Snagsby--very long and very tight.


"No, my friends, it is neither of these.


When this young heathen now among us--who is now, my friends, asleep, the seal of indifference and perdition being set upon his eyelids; but do not wake him, for it is right that I should have to wrestle, and to combat and to struggle, and to conquer, for his sake--when this young hardened heathen told us a story of a cock, and of a bull, and of a lady, and of a sovereign, was THAT the Terewth?

When this young heathen - who is now, my friends, asleep, the seal of indifference and perdition being set upon his eyelids - when this young hardened heathen told us a story of a lady, and of a sovereign, was that wholly the Terewth?


Or if it was partly, was it wholly and entirely?


If Mr. Snagsby could withstand his little woman's look as it enters at his eyes, the windows of his soul, and searches the whole tenement, he were other than the man he is.

Mr. Snagsby, at his little woman's look,


"Or, my juvenile friends," says Chadband, descending to the level of their comprehension with a very obtrusive demonstration in his greasily meek smile of coming a long way downstairs for the purpose, "if the master of this house was to go forth into the city and there see an eel, and was to come back, and was to call unto him the mistress of this house, and was to say, 'Sarah, rejoice with me, for I have seen an elephant!'

"Or, my juvenile friends," says Chadband, descending to the level of their comprehension with a greasy smile, "if the master of this house was to go forth into the city and there see an eel, and was to come back, and say to the mistress of the house, 'Sarah, rejoice with me, for I have seen an elephant!'


"Or put it, my juvenile friends, that he saw an elephant, and returning said 'Lo, the city is barren, I have seen but an eel,' would THAT be Terewth?"


"Or put it, my juvenile friends," said Chadband, stimulated by the sound, "that the unnatural parents of this slumbering heathen--for parents he had, my juvenile friends, beyond a doubt--after casting him forth to the wolves and the vultures, and the wild dogs and the young gazelles, and the serpents, went back to their dwellings and had their pipes, and their pots, and their flutings and their dancings, and their malt liquors, and their butcher's meat and poultry, would THAT be Terewth?"

"Or, my juvenile friends," says Chadband, stimulated by the sound, "if the unnatural parents of this slumbering heathen. after casting him forth to the wolves and the vultures, and the wild dogs and the young gazelles, went back to their dwellings and had their pipes, and their pots, and their flutings and dancings, would that be Terewth?"


Mrs. Snagsby replies by delivering herself a prey to spasms, not an unresisting prey, but a crying and a tearing one, so that Cook's Court re-echoes with her shrieks.

Mrs. Snagsby replies by going into spasms, so that Cook's Court echoes with her shrieks.


Finally, becoming cataleptic, she has to be carried up the narrow staircase like a grand piano.


After unspeakable suffering, productive of the utmost consternation, she is pronounced, by expresses from the bedroom, free from pain, though much exhausted, in which state of affairs Mr. Snagsby, trampled and crushed in the piano-forte removal, and extremely timid and feeble, ventures to come out from behind the door in the drawing-room.

After unspeakable suffering, she is pronounced, by messages from the bedroom, to be free from pain, though much exhausted; at which Mr. Snagsby, trampled and timid, ventures to come out from behind the door in the drawing-room.


All this time Jo has been standing on the spot where he woke up, ever picking his cap and putting bits of fur in his mouth.

By this time Jo is standing on the spot where he woke up, picking his cap and putting bits of fur in his mouth.


He spits them out with a remorseful air, for he feels that it is in his nature to be an unimprovable reprobate and that it's no good HIS trying to keep awake, for HE won't never know nothink.

He feels that it's no good his trying to keep awake, for he won't never know nothink.


Though it may be, Jo, that there is a history so interesting and affecting even to minds as near the brutes as thine, recording deeds done on this earth for common men, that if the Chadbands, removing their own persons from the light, would but show it thee in simple reverence, would but leave it unimproved, would but regard it as being eloquent enough without their modest aid--it might hold thee awake, and thou might learn from it yet!


Its compilers and the Reverend Chadband are all one to him, except that he knows the Reverend Chadband and would rather run away from him for an hour than hear him talk for five minutes.


"It an't no good my waiting here no longer," thinks Jo.


"Mr. Snagsby an't a-going to say nothink to me to-night."

"Mr. Snagsby an't a-going to say nothink to me tonight."


But downstairs is the charitable Guster, holding by the handrail of the kitchen stairs and warding off a fit, as yet doubtfully, the same having been induced by Mrs. Snagsby's screaming.

But downstairs is the charitable Guster, holding the handrail of the kitchen stairs and warding off a fit induced by Mrs. Snagsby's screaming.


She has her own supper of bread and cheese to hand to Jo, with whom she ventures to interchange a word or so for the first time.

She has her own supper of bread and cheese to hand to Jo.


"Here's something to eat, poor boy," says Guster.


"What's gone of your father and your mother, eh?"

"What's gone of your father and mother, eh?"


Jo stops in the middle of a bite and looks petrified.


For this orphan charge of the Christian saint whose shrine was at Tooting has patted him on the shoulder, and it is the first time in his life that any decent hand has been so laid upon him.

For Guster has patted him on the shoulder, and it is the first time in his life that any decent hand has been so laid upon him.


"I never know'd nothink about 'em," says Jo.


"No more didn't I of mine," cries Guster.


She is repressing symptoms favourable to the fit when she seems to take alarm at something and vanishes down the stairs.

She then seems to take alarm at something and vanishes.


"Jo," whispers the law-stationer softly as the boy lingers on the step.

"Jo," whispers the law-stationer softly as the boy lingers.


"I didn't know you were gone--there's another half-crown, Jo.


It was quite right of you to say nothing about the lady the other night when we were out together.

It was quite right of you to say nothing about the lady the other night.


A ghostly shade, frilled and night-capped, follows the law-stationer to the room he came from and glides higher up.

A ghostly shade, frilled and night-capped, follows the law-stationer to the room he came from and then glides higher up.


And henceforth he begins, go where he will, to be attended by another shadow than his own, hardly less constant than his own, hardly less quiet than his own.

And henceforth, go where he will, he is attended by a shadow hardly less constant than his own.


And into whatsoever atmosphere of secrecy his own shadow may pass, let all concerned in the secrecy beware!

And into whatever secrecy his own shadow may pass, let all concerned in the secrecy beware!


For the watchful Mrs. Snagsby is there too--bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh, shadow of his shadow.

For the watchful Mrs. Snagsby is there too - bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh, shadow of his shadow.


It matters little now how much I thought of my living mother who had told me evermore to consider her dead.

I thought much of my living mother who had told me to consider her dead.


I could not venture to approach her or to communicate with her in writing, for my sense of the peril in which her life was passed was only to be equalled by my fears of increasing it.

I could not venture to approach her or write to her, for my sense of her peril was only equalled by my fears of increasing it.


Knowing that my mere existence as a living creature was an unforeseen danger in her way, I could not always conquer that terror of myself which had seized me when I first knew the secret.

Knowing that my mere existence was an unforeseen danger to her, I could not always conquer that terror of myself which had seized me when I first knew the secret.


At no time did I dare to utter her name.


I felt as if I did not even dare to hear it.


If the conversation anywhere, when I was present, took that direction, as it sometimes naturally did, I tried not to hear: I mentally counted, repeated something that I knew, or went out of the room.

If the conversation anywhere took that direction, I tried not to hear: I mentally counted, or went out of the room.


I am conscious now that I often did these things when there can have been no danger of her being spoken of, but I did them in the dread I had of hearing anything that might lead to her betrayal, and to her betrayal through me.


It matters little now how often I recalled the tones of my mother's voice, wondered whether I should ever hear it again as I so longed to do, and thought how strange and desolate it was that it should be so new to me.

Often I recalled the tones of my mother's voice, and wondered whether I should ever hear it again as I so longed to do.


It matters little that I watched for every public mention of my mother's name; that I passed and repassed the door of her house in town, loving it, but afraid to look at it; that I once sat in the theatre when my mother was there and saw me, and when we were so wide asunder before the great company of all degrees that any link or confidence between us seemed a dream.

I passed and repassed the door of her house in town, loving it, but afraid to look at it; once I sat in the theatre when my mother was there and she saw me, when we were so wide asunder that any link between us seemed a dream.


My lot has been so blest that I can relate little of myself which is not a story of goodness and generosity in others.


When we were settled at home again, Ada and I had many conversations with my guardian of which Richard was the theme.

When we were settled at home again, Ada and I had many conversations with my guardian about Richard.


My dear girl was deeply grieved that he should do their kind cousin so much wrong, but she was so faithful to Richard that she could not bear to blame him even for that.

My dear girl was deeply grieved that he should do their kind cousin so much wrong, but she was so faithful to Richard that she could not bear to blame him.


My guardian was assured of it, and never coupled his name with a word of reproof.


"Rick is mistaken, my dear," he would say to her.


We have all been mistaken over and over again.


We must trust to you and time to set him right."


We knew afterwards what we suspected then, that he did not trust to time until he had often tried to open Richard's eyes.

We knew afterwards what we suspected then, that he had often tried to open Richard's eyes.


That he had written to him, gone to him, talked with him, tried every gentle and persuasive art his kindness could devise.


Our poor devoted Richard was deaf and blind to all.

Our poor Richard was deaf and blind to all.


If he were wrong, he would make amends when the Chancery suit was over.


If he were groping in the dark, he could not do better than do his utmost to clear away those clouds in which so much was confused and obscured.


Suspicion and misunderstanding were the fault of the suit?


Then let him work the suit out and come through it to his right mind.


Jarndyce and Jarndyce had obtained such possession of his whole nature that it was impossible to place any consideration before him which he did not, with a distorted kind of reason, make a new argument in favour of his doing what he did.

Jarndyce and Jarndyce had obtained possession of his whole nature.


"So that it is even more mischievous," said my guardian once to me, "to remonstrate with the poor dear fellow than to leave him alone."


I took one of these opportunities of mentioning my doubts of Mr. Skimpole as a good adviser for Richard.

I mentioned to my guardian my doubts of Mr. Skimpole as a good adviser for Richard.


returned my guardian, laughing, "My dear, who would advise with Skimpole?"

returned my guardian, laughing, "My dear, who would ask advice from Skimpole?"


"Encourager would perhaps have been a better word," said I.


"Such an unworldly, uncalculating, gossamer creature is a relief to him and an amusement.

"Such an unworldly, uncalculating, gossamer creature is a relief, an amusement to Richard.


But as to advising or encouraging or occupying a serious station towards anybody or anything, it is simply not to be thought of in such a child as Skimpole."

But as to advising or encouraging anybody, it is simply not to be thought of in such a child as Skimpole."


"Pray, cousin John," said Ada, who had just joined us and now looked over my shoulder, "what made him such a child?"

"Pray, cousin John," said Ada, "what made him such a child?"


inquired my guardian, rubbing his head, a little at a loss.


"Why," he slowly replied, roughening his head more and more, "he is all sentiment, and--and susceptibility, and--and sensibility, and--and imagination.

"Why," he slowly replied, rubbing his head, "he is all sentiment, and - susceptibility, and - imagination.


And these qualities are not regulated in him, somehow.


I suppose the people who admired him for them in his youth attached too much importance to them and too little to any training that would have balanced and adjusted them, and so he became what he is.

I suppose in his youth he was given too little training that would have balanced and adjusted them, and so he became what he is."


said my guardian, stopping short and looking at us hopefully.


Ada, glancing at me, said she thought it was a pity he should be an expense to Richard.


"So it is, so it is," returned my guardian hurriedly.

"So it is," returned my guardian hurriedly.


And I said I thought it was to be regretted that he had ever introduced Richard to Mr. Vholes for a present of five pounds.


said my guardian with a passing shade of vexation on his face.


There is nothing mercenary in that with him.


He introduces Rick, and then he is good friends with Mr. Vholes and borrows five pounds of him.


He means nothing by it and thinks nothing of it.


He told you himself, I'll be bound, my dear?"


If he had meant any harm by it or was conscious of any harm in it, he wouldn't tell it.

If he was conscious of any harm in it, he wouldn't tell it.


He tells it as he does it in mere simplicity.

He tells it as he does it, in mere simplicity.


But you shall see him in his own home, and then you'll understand him better.


We must pay a visit to Harold Skimpole and caution him on these points.


Lord bless you, my dears, an infant, an infant!"


In pursuance of this plan, we went into London on an early day and presented ourselves at Mr. Skimpole's door.

So, soon afterwards, we went into London and presented ourselves at Mr. Skimpole's door.


He lived in a place called the Polygon, in Somers Town, where there were at that time a number of poor Spanish refugees walking about in cloaks, smoking little paper cigars.

He lived in a place called the Polygon, in Somers Town, where there were at that time a number of poor Spanish refugees walking about in cloaks, smoking little cigars.


Whether he was a better tenant than one might have supposed, in consequence of his friend Somebody always paying his rent at last, or whether his inaptitude for business rendered it particularly difficult to turn him out, I don't know; but he had occupied the same house some years.

Whether he was a better tenant than one might have supposed, in consequence of his friend Somebody always paying his rent, I don't know; but he had occupied the same house some years.


It was in a state of dilapidation quite equal to our expectation.


Two or three of the area railings were gone, the water-butt was broken, the knocker was loose, the bell-handle had been pulled off a long time to judge from the rusty state of the wire, and dirty footprints on the steps were the only signs of its being inhabited.

Two or three of the area railings were gone, the knocker was loose, the bell-handle had been pulled off, and dirty footprints on the steps were the only signs of its being inhabited.


A slatternly full-blown girl who seemed to be bursting out at the rents in her gown and the cracks in her shoes like an over-ripe berry answered our knock by opening the door a very little way and stopping up the gap with her figure.

A slatternly girl who seemed to be bursting out at the rips in her gown like an over-ripe berry answered our knock by opening the door a very little way.


As she knew Mr. Jarndyce (indeed Ada and I both thought that she evidently associated him with the receipt of her wages), she immediately relented and allowed us to pass in.


The lock of the door being in a disabled condition, she then applied herself to securing it with the chain, which was not in good action either, and said would we go upstairs?


We went upstairs to the first floor, still seeing no other furniture than the dirty footprints.


Mr. Jarndyce without further ceremony entered a room there, and we followed.

Mr. Jarndyce entered a room, and we followed.


It was dingy enough and not at all clean, but furnished with an odd kind of shabby luxury, with a large footstool, a sofa, and plenty of cushions, an easy-chair, and plenty of pillows, a piano, books, drawing materials, music, newspapers, and a few sketches and pictures.

It was dingy and not at all clean, but furnished with an odd kind of shabby luxury, with a large footstool, a sofa, and plenty of cushions, an easy-chair, a piano, books, drawing materials, music, newspapers, and a few sketches.


A broken pane of glass in one of the dirty windows was papered and wafered over, but there was a little plate of hothouse nectarines on the table, and there was another of grapes, and another of sponge-cakes, and there was a bottle of light wine.

A broken pane of glass in one of the dirty windows was papered over, but there was a little plate of hothouse nectarines on the table, and another of grapes, and another of sponge-cakes, and there was a bottle of light wine.


Mr. Skimpole himself reclined upon the sofa in a dressing-gown, drinking some fragrant coffee from an old china cup--it was then about mid-day--and looking at a collection of wallflowers in the balcony.

Mr. Skimpole himself reclined upon the sofa in a dressing-gown, drinking coffee from an old china cup - it was then about mid-day - and looking at a collection of wallflowers in the balcony.


He was not in the least disconcerted by our appearance, but rose and received us in his usual airy manner.

He rose and received us in his usual airy manner.


he said when we were seated, not without some little difficulty, the greater part of the chairs being broken.

he said when we were seated, not without some difficulty, most of the chairs being broken.


Some men want legs of beef and mutton for breakfast; I don't.


Give me my peach, my cup of coffee, and my claret; I am content."


I don't want them for themselves, but they remind me of the sun.


There's nothing solar about legs of beef and mutton.


"This is our friend's consulting-room (or would be, if he ever prescribed), his sanctum, his studio," said my guardian to us.

"This is our friend's sanctum, his studio," said my guardian to us.


"Yes," said Mr. Skimpole, turning his bright face about, "this is the bird's cage.


They pluck his feathers now and then and clip his wings, but he sings, he sings!"


He handed us the grapes, repeating in his radiant way, "He sings!"


Not an ambitious note, but still he sings."


"These are very fine," said my guardian.


His man wanted to know, when he brought them last evening, whether he should wait for the money.


'Really, my friend,' I said, 'I think not--if your time is of any value to you.'

'Really, my friend,' I said, 'I think not - if your time is of any value to you.'


My guardian looked at us with a smile, as though he asked us, "Is it possible to be worldly with this baby?"


"This is a day," said Mr. Skimpole, gaily taking a little claret in a tumbler, "that will ever be remembered here.

"This is a day," said Mr. Skimpole, gaily taking a little claret, "that will ever be remembered here.


We shall call it Saint Clare and Saint Summerson day.


I have a blue-eyed daughter who is my Beauty daughter, I have a Sentiment daughter, and I have a Comedy daughter.


He was going to summon them when my guardian interposed and asked him to pause a moment, as he wished to say a word to him first.

He was going to summon them when my guardian asked him to pause a moment, as he wished to say a word to him first.


"My dear Jarndyce," he cheerfully replied, going back to his sofa, "as many moments as you please.


We never know what o'clock it is, and we never care.


Not the way to get on in life, you'll tell me?


My guardian looked at us again, plainly saying, "You hear him?"


"Now, Harold," he began, "the word I have to say relates to Rick."

"Now, Harold," my guardian began, "the word I have to say relates to Rick."


"I suppose he ought not to be my dearest friend, as he is not on terms with you.


But he is, I can't help it; he is full of youthful poetry, and I love him.

But I can't help it; he is full of youthful poetry, and I love him."


The engaging frankness with which he made this declaration really had a disinterested appearance and captivated my guardian, if not, for the moment, Ada too.

The engaging frankness with which he declared this captivated my guardian, if not, for the moment, Ada too.


"You are welcome to love him as much as you like," returned Mr. Jarndyce, "but we must save his pocket, Harold."


Now you are coming to what I don't understand."


Taking a little more claret and dipping one of the cakes in it, he shook his head and smiled at Ada and me with an ingenuous foreboding that he never could be made to understand.

Dipping one of the cakes in his claret, he shook his head and smiled at us as if predicting that he never could be made to understand.


"If you go with him here or there," said my guardian plainly, "you must not let him pay for both."

"If you go with him here or there," said my guardian plainly, "you must not let him pay for you both."


"My dear Jarndyce," returned Mr. Skimpole, his genial face irradiated by the comicality of this idea, "what am I to do?

"My dear Jarndyce," returned Mr. Skimpole genially, "what am I to do?


If I had any money, I don't know anything about it.


Suppose the man says to me seven and sixpence?


I know nothing about seven and sixpence.


It is impossible for me to pursue the subject with any consideration for the man.


I don't go about asking busy people what seven and sixpence is in Moorish--which I don't understand.


Why should I go about asking them what seven and sixpence is in Money--which I don't understand?"


"Well," said my guardian, by no means displeased with this artless reply, "if you come to any kind of journeying with Rick, you must borrow the money of me (never breathing the least allusion to that circumstance), and leave the calculation to him."

"Well," said my guardian, by no means displeased with this artless reply, "if you do any journeying with Rick, you must borrow the money from me (without telling him), and leave the calculation to him."


"My dear Jarndyce," returned Mr. Skimpole, "I will do anything to give you pleasure, but it seems an idle form--a superstition.


Besides, I give you my word, Miss Clare and my dear Miss Summerson, I thought Mr. Carstone was immensely rich.

upon my word, I thought Mr. Carstone was immensely rich.


I thought he had only to make over something, or to sign a bond, or a draft, or a cheque, or a bill, or to put something on a file somewhere, to bring down a shower of money."

I thought he had only to sign a bond, or a draft, or a cheque, or something, to bring down a shower of money."


returned Mr. Skimpole with his bright smile.


"And not being the richer for trusting in a rotten reed," said my guardian, laying his hand emphatically on the sleeve of Mr. Skimpole's dressing-gown, "be you very careful not to encourage him in that reliance, Harold."

"And not being the richer for trusting in a rotten reed," said my guardian, laying his hand emphatically on the sleeve of Mr. Skimpole's dressing-gown, "be very careful not to encourage him in that reliance, Harold."


"My dear good friend," returned Mr. Skimpole, "and my dear Miss Simmerson, and my dear Miss Clare, how can I do that?

"My dear good friend," returned Mr. Skimpole, "how can I do that?


It's business, and I don't know business.


He emerges from great feats of business, presents the brightest prospects before me as their result, and calls upon me to admire them.

He emerges from great feats of business, and calls upon me to admire them.


But I know no more about them, and I tell him so."

But I know nothing about them, and I tell him so."


The helpless kind of candour with which he presented this before us, the light-hearted manner in which he was amused by his innocence, the fantastic way in which he took himself under his own protection and argued about that curious person, combined with the delightful ease of everything he said exactly to make out my guardian's case.

The helpless light-hearted candour with which he said this seemed to prove my guardian's case.


The more I saw of him, the more unlikely it seemed to me, when he was present, that he could design, conceal, or influence anything; and yet the less likely that appeared when he was not present, and the less agreeable it was to think of his having anything to do with any one for whom I cared.

When he was present, it seemed unlikely that he could design, conceal, or influence anything; and yet when he was not present, the more likely it seemed, and the less agreeable it was to think of his having anything to do with anyone for whom I cared.


Hearing that his examination (as he called it) was now over, Mr. Skimpole left the room with a radiant face to fetch his daughters (his sons had run away at various times), leaving my guardian quite delighted by the manner in which he had vindicated his childish character.

Mr. Skimpole then left the room with a radiant face to fetch his daughters (his sons had run away at various times).


He soon came back, bringing with him the three young ladies and Mrs. Skimpole, who had once been a beauty but was now a delicate high-nosed invalid suffering under a complication of disorders.

He came back bringing with him three young ladies and Mrs. Skimpole, who had once been a beauty but was now a delicate invalid suffering under a complication of disorders.


"This," said Mr. Skimpole, "is my Beauty daughter, Arethusa--plays and sings odds and ends like her father.

"This," said Mr. Skimpole, "is my Beauty daughter, Arethusa - plays and sings odds and ends like her father.


This is my Sentiment daughter, Laura--plays a little but don't sing.

This is my Sentiment daughter, Laura - plays a little but don't sing.


This is my Comedy daughter, Kitty--sings a little but don't play.

This is my Comedy daughter, Kitty - sings a little but don't play.


We all draw a little and compose a little, and none of us have any idea of time or money."


Mrs. Skimpole sighed, I thought, as if she would have been glad to strike out this item in the family attainments.


I also thought that she rather impressed her sigh upon my guardian and that she took every opportunity of throwing in another.


"It is pleasant," said Mr. Skimpole, turning his sprightly eyes from one to the other of us, "and it is whimsically interesting to trace peculiarities in families.


In this family we are all children, and I am the youngest."


The daughters, who appeared to be very fond of him, were amused by this droll fact, particularly the Comedy daughter.


"My dears, it is true," said Mr. Skimpole, "is it not?


So it is, and so it must be, because like the dogs in the hymn, 'it is our nature to.'


Now, here is Miss Summerson with a fine administrative capacity and a knowledge of details perfectly surprising.

Now, here is Miss Summerson with a knowledge of details perfectly surprising.


It will sound very strange in Miss Summerson's ears, I dare say, that we know nothing about chops in this house.

It will sound very strange to Miss Summerson, I dare say, that we know nothing about chops in this house.


A needle and thread we don't know how to use.


We admire the people who possess the practical wisdom we want, but we don't quarrel with them.


Live upon your practical wisdom, and let us live upon you!"


He laughed, but as usual seemed quite candid and really to mean what he said.


"We have sympathy, my roses," said Mr. Skimpole, "sympathy for everything.


"In fact, that is our family department," said Mr. Skimpole, "in this hurly-burly of life.


We are capable of looking on and of being interested, and we DO look on, and we ARE interested.

We are capable of looking on and of being interested," said Mr. Skimpole, "in this hurly-burly of life, and we do look on, and we are interested.


Here is my Beauty daughter, married these three years.


Now I dare say her marrying another child, and having two more, was all wrong in point of political economy, but it was very agreeable.

Now I dare say her marrying another child, and having two more, was all wrong in point of economy, but it was very agreeable.


We had our little festivities on those occasions and exchanged social ideas.


She brought her young husband home one day, and they and their young fledglings have their nest upstairs.

Her young husband and their young fledglings have their nest upstairs."


I dare say at some time or other Sentiment and Comedy will bring THEIR husbands home and have THEIR nests upstairs too.


So we get on, we don't know how, but somehow."


She looked very young indeed to be the mother of two children, and I could not help pitying both her and them.


It was evident that the three daughters had grown up as they could and had had just as little haphazard instruction as qualified them to be their father's playthings in his idlest hours.

It was evident that the three daughters had grown up with just as little haphazard instruction as qualified them to be their father's playthings.


His pictorial tastes were consulted, I observed, in their respective styles of wearing their hair, the Beauty daughter being in the classic manner, the Sentiment daughter luxuriant and flowing, and the Comedy daughter in the arch style, with a good deal of sprightly forehead, and vivacious little curls dotted about the corners of her eyes.


They were dressed to correspond, though in a most untidy and negligent way.


Ada and I conversed with these young ladies and found them wonderfully like their father.


In the meanwhile Mr. Jarndyce (who had been rubbing his head to a great extent, and hinted at a change in the wind) talked with Mrs. Skimpole in a corner, where we could not help hearing the chink of money.


Mr. Skimpole had previously volunteered to go home with us and had withdrawn to dress himself for the purpose.

Mr. Skimpole had volunteered to go home with us and had withdrawn to dress himself for the purpose.


"My roses," he said when he came back, "take care of mama.


By going home with Mr. Jarndyce for a day or two, I shall hear the larks sing and preserve my amiability.


It has been tried, you know, and would be tried again if I remained at home."


"At the very time when he knew papa was lying ill by his wallflowers, looking at the blue sky," Laura complained.

"At the very time when he knew papa was lying ill by his wallflowers," Laura complained.


"And when the smell of hay was in the air!"


"It showed a want of poetry in the man," Mr. Skimpole assented, but with perfect good humour.

"It showed a want of poetry in the man," Mr. Skimpole assented, with perfect good humour.


There was an absence of the finer touches of humanity in it!


My daughters have taken great offence," he explained to us, "at an honest man--"

"My daughters have taken great offence," he explained to us, "at an honest man-"


"At a rough kind of fellow--a sort of human hedgehog rolled up," said Mr. Skimpole, "who is a baker in this neighbourhood and from whom we borrowed a couple of arm-chairs.

"At a rough kind of fellow," said Mr. Skimpole, "who is a baker in this neighbourhood and from whom we borrowed a couple of arm-chairs.


We wanted a couple of arm-chairs, and we hadn't got them, and therefore of course we looked to a man who HAD got them, to lend them.

We wanted a couple of arm-chairs, and we hadn't got them, and therefore of course we looked for a man who had got them, to lend them.


This morose person lent them, and we wore them out.


When they were worn out, he wanted them back.


I reasoned with him, and pointed out his mistake.


I said, 'Can you, at your time of life, be so headstrong, my friend, as to persist that an arm-chair is a thing to put upon a shelf and look at?


That it is an object to contemplate, to survey from a distance, to consider from a point of sight?


Don't you KNOW that these arm-chairs were borrowed to be sat upon?'

Don't you know that these arm-chairs were borrowed to be sat upon?'


He was unreasonable and unpersuadable and used intemperate language.

He was unreasonable and used intemperate language.


Being as patient as I am at this minute, I addressed another appeal to him.


I said, 'Now, my good man, however our business capacities may vary, we are all children of one great mother, Nature.

I said, 'My good man, we are all children of one great mother, Nature.


On this blooming summer morning here you see me' (I was on the sofa) 'with flowers before me, fruit upon the table, the cloudless sky above me, the air full of fragrance, contemplating Nature.


I entreat you, by our common brotherhood, not to interpose between me and a subject so sublime, the absurd figure of an angry baker!'

I entreat you, by our brotherhood, not to stand before me in the absurd figure of an angry baker!'


But he did," said Mr. Skimpole, raising his laughing eyes in playful astonishment; "he did interpose that ridiculous figure, and he does, and he will again.

But he did," said Mr. Skimpole in playful astonishment.


"And therefore I am very glad to get out of his way and to go home with my friend Jarndyce."


It seemed to escape his consideration that Mrs. Skimpole and the daughters remained behind to encounter the baker, but this was so old a story to all of them that it had become a matter of course.


He took leave of his family with a tenderness as airy and graceful as any other aspect in which he showed himself and rode away with us in perfect harmony of mind.

He took leave of his family with an airy tenderness and rode away with us.


We had an opportunity of seeing through some open doors, as we went downstairs, that his own apartment was a palace to the rest of the house.


I could have no anticipation, and I had none, that something very startling to me at the moment, and ever memorable to me in what ensued from it, was to happen before this day was out.

I could have no anticipation that something very startling and memorable was to happen before this day was out.


Our guest was in such spirits on the way home that I could do nothing but listen to him and wonder at him; nor was I alone in this, for Ada yielded to the same fascination.

Our guest was in such spirits on the way home that I could do nothing but wonder at him; and Ada yielded to the same fascination.


As to my guardian, the wind, which had threatened to become fixed in the east when we left Somers Town, veered completely round before we were a couple of miles from it.


Whether of questionable childishness or not in any other matters, Mr. Skimpole had a child's enjoyment of change and bright weather.


In no way wearied by his sallies on the road, he was in the drawing-room before any of us; and I heard him at the piano while I was yet looking after my housekeeping, singing refrains of barcaroles and drinking songs, Italian and German, by the score.

In no way wearied by the journey, Mr. Skimpole was in the drawing-room before any of us; and I heard him at the piano while I was looking after my housekeeping, singing refrains of barcaroles and drinking songs.


We were all assembled shortly before dinner, and he was still at the piano idly picking out in his luxurious way little strains of music, and talking between whiles of finishing some sketches of the ruined old Verulam wall to-morrow, which he had begun a year or two ago and had got tired of, when a card was brought in and my guardian read aloud in a surprised voice, "Sir Leicester Dedlock!"

We were all assembled shortly before dinner, and he was still at the piano idly picking out little strains of music, when a calling-card was brought in and my guardian read aloud in a surprised voice, "Sir Leicester Dedlock!"


The visitor was in the room while it was yet turning round with me and before I had the power to stir.

The visitor was in the room before I had the power to stir.


If I had had it, I should have hurried away.


I had not even the presence of mind, in my giddiness, to retire to Ada in the window, or to see the window, or to know where it was.

I had not even the presence of mind, in my giddiness, to retire to the window with Ada, or to know where the window was.


I heard my name and found that my guardian was presenting me before I could move to a chair.

I heard my name and found that my guardian was presenting me before I could move.


"Mr. Jarndyce," said Sir Leicester in reply as he bowed and seated himself, "I do myself the honour of calling here--"

"Mr. Jarndyce," said Sir Leicester as he bowed and seated himself, "I do myself the honour of calling here-"


"Thank you--of calling here on my road from Lincolnshire to express my regret that any cause of complaint, however strong, that I may have against a gentleman who--who is known to you and has been your host, and to whom therefore I will make no farther reference, should have prevented you, still more ladies under your escort and charge, from seeing whatever little there may be to gratify a polite and refined taste at my house, Chesney Wold."

"Thank you - of calling here on my way from Lincolnshire to express my regret that any cause of complaint I may have against a gentleman who has been your host, should have prevented you, and the ladies under your charge, from visiting my house, Chesney Wold."


"You are exceedingly obliging, Sir Leicester, and on behalf of those ladies (who are present) and for myself, I thank you very much."

"You are exceedingly obliging, Sir Leicester, and on behalf of those ladies, I thank you."


"It is possible, Mr. Jarndyce, that the gentleman to whom, for the reasons I have mentioned, I refrain from making further allusion--it is possible, Mr. Jarndyce, that that gentleman may have done me the honour so far to misapprehend my character as to induce you to believe that you would not have been received by my local establishment in Lincolnshire with that urbanity, that courtesy, which its members are instructed to show to all ladies and gentlemen who present themselves at that house.

"It is possible, Mr. Jarndyce, that the gentleman to whom I have referred may have led you to believe that you would not have been received at my house with courtesy.


I merely beg to observe, sir, that the fact is the reverse."

I beg to observe, sir, that the fact is the reverse.


My guardian delicately dismissed this remark without making any verbal answer.


"It has given me pain, Mr. Jarndyce," Sir Leicester weightily proceeded.


"I assure you, sir, it has given--me--pain--to learn from the housekeeper at Chesney Wold that a gentleman who was in your company in that part of the county, and who would appear to possess a cultivated taste for the fine arts, was likewise deterred by some such cause from examining the family pictures with that leisure, that attention, that care, which he might have desired to bestow upon them and which some of them might possibly have repaid."

It has given me pain, Mr. Jarndyce, to learn from the housekeeper at Chesney Wold that a gentleman who was with you, and who would appear to possess a cultivated taste for the fine arts, was likewise deterred from examining the family pictures with that leisure which he might have desired to bestow upon them."


Here he produced a card and read, with much gravity and a little trouble, through his eye-glass, "Mr. Hirrold--Herald--Harold--Skampling--Skumpling--I beg your pardon--Skimpole."

Here he produced a card and read, with much gravity, through his eye-glass, "Mr. Herald - Harold - Skumpling - I beg your pardon - Skimpole."


"This is Mr. Harold Skimpole," said my guardian, evidently surprised.

"This is Mr. Harold Skimpole," said my guardian, surprised.


exclaimed Sir Leicester, "I am happy to meet Mr. Skimpole and to have the opportunity of tendering my personal regrets.

exclaimed Sir Leicester. "I am happy to meet Mr. Skimpole.


I hope, sir, that when you again find yourself in my part of the county, you will be under no similar sense of restraint."


"You are very obliging, Sir Leicester Dedlock.


So encouraged, I shall certainly give myself the pleasure and advantage of another visit to your beautiful house.

I shall certainly give myself the pleasure of another visit to your beautiful house.


The owners of such places as Chesney Wold," said Mr. Skimpole with his usual happy and easy air, "are public benefactors.

The owners of such places as Chesney Wold," said Mr. Skimpole with his usual easy air, "are public benefactors.


They are good enough to maintain a number of delightful objects for the admiration and pleasure of us poor men; and not to reap all the admiration and pleasure that they yield is to be ungrateful to our benefactors."

They are good enough to maintain a number of delightful objects for the admiration and pleasure of us poor men; and not to reap all the pleasure that they yield is to be ungrateful to our benefactors."


Sir Leicester seemed to approve of this sentiment highly.


Sir Leicester seemed to approve of this even more.


He hoped he might have the good fortune to be at Chesney Wold when Mr. Skimpole next came down into Lincolnshire.

He hoped he might have the good fortune to be at Chesney Wold when Mr. Skimpole next came into Lincolnshire.


Mr. Skimpole professed himself much flattered and honoured.

Mr. Skimpole professed himself much honoured.


"Mr. Skimpole mentioned," pursued Sir Leicester, addressing himself again to my guardian, "mentioned to the housekeeper, who, as he may have observed, is an old and attached retainer of the family--"

"Mr. Skimpole mentioned to the housekeeper," pursued Sir Leicester, "that he had been staying with Mr. Jarndyce."


("That is, when I walked through the house the other day, on the occasion of my going down to visit Miss Summerson and Miss Clare," Mr. Skimpole airily explained to us.)

"That is, when I walked through the house the other day, on the occasion of my going down to visit you," Mr. Skimpole airily explained to us.


"--That the friend with whom he had formerly been staying there was Mr. Jarndyce."


Sir Leicester bowed to the bearer of that name.


"And hence I became aware of the circumstance for which I have professed my regret.

"Hence I became aware of the circumstance.


That this should have occurred to any gentleman, Mr. Jarndyce, but especially a gentleman formerly known to Lady Dedlock, and indeed claiming some distant connexion with her, and for whom (as I learn from my Lady herself) she entertains a high respect, does, I assure you, give--me--pain."

That this should have happened to Mr. Jarndyce, a gentleman with some distant connexion to Lady Dedlock, and for whom she entertains a high respect, does, I assure you, give me pain."


"Pray say no more about it, Sir Leicester," returned my guardian.


"I am very sensible, as I am sure we all are, of your consideration.


Indeed the mistake was mine, and I ought to apologize for it."


I had not seen the visitor and had not even appeared to myself to hear the conversation.


It surprises me to find that I can recall it, for it seemed to make no impression on me as it passed.

It surprises me to find that I can recall the conversation, for


I heard them speaking, but my mind was so confused and my instinctive avoidance of this gentleman made his presence so distressing to me that I thought I understood nothing, through the rushing in my head and the beating of my heart.

my mind was so confused and the gentleman's presence so distressing that I thought I understood nothing through the rushing in my head and the beating of my heart.


"I mentioned the subject to Lady Dedlock," said Sir Leicester, rising, "and my Lady informed me that she had had the pleasure of exchanging a few words with Mr. Jarndyce and his wards on the occasion of an accidental meeting during their sojourn in the vicinity.

"I mentioned the subject to Lady Dedlock," said Sir Leicester, rising, "and she informed me that she had had the pleasure of exchanging a few words with Mr. Jarndyce and his wards on an accidental meeting.


Permit me, Mr. Jarndyce, to repeat to yourself, and to these ladies, the assurance I have already tendered to Mr. Skimpole.

Permit me, Mr. Jarndyce, to repeat to yourself, and to these ladies, the assurance I have already given Mr. Skimpole."


Circumstances undoubtedly prevent my saying that it would afford me any gratification to hear that Mr. Boythorn had favoured my house with his presence, but those circumstances are confined to that gentleman himself and do not extend beyond him."


"You know my old opinion of him," said Mr. Skimpole, lightly appealing to us.


"An amiable bull who is determined to make every colour scarlet!"


Sir Leicester Dedlock coughed as if he could not possibly hear another word in reference to such an individual and took his leave with great ceremony and politeness.

Sir Leicester Dedlock took his leave with great ceremony.


I got to my own room with all possible speed and remained there until I had recovered my self-command.


It had been very much disturbed, but I was thankful to find when I went downstairs again that they only rallied me for having been shy and mute before the great Lincolnshire baronet.

I was thankful to find when I went downstairs that they only rallied me for having been shy before the great Lincolnshire baronet.


By that time I had made up my mind that the period was come when I must tell my guardian what I knew.

But I had made up my mind that I must tell my guardian what I knew.


The possibility of my being brought into contact with my mother, of my being taken to her house, even of Mr. Skimpole's, however distantly associated with me, receiving kindnesses and obligations from her husband, was so painful that I felt I could no longer guide myself without his assistance.

The possibility of my being brought into contact with my mother, of my being taken to her house, was so painful that I felt I could no longer guide myself without his assistance.


When we had retired for the night, and Ada and I had had our usual talk in our pretty room, I went out at my door again and sought my guardian among his books.

When we had retired for the night, and Ada and I had had our usual talk, I went and sought my guardian among his books.


I knew he always read at that hour, and as I drew near I saw the light shining out into the passage from his reading-lamp.


I thought I would like to take this quiet time of saying a word to you about myself."


He put a chair for me, shut his book, and put it by, and turned his kind attentive face towards me.

He shut his book, and turned his kind attentive face towards me.


I could not help observing that it wore that curious expression I had observed in it once before--on that night when he had said that he was in no trouble which I could readily understand.

I could not help observing that it wore that curious expression I had seen in it once before - on that night when he had said that he was in no trouble which I could readily understand.


"What concerns you, my dear Esther," said he, "concerns us all.


You cannot be more ready to speak than I am to hear."


But I have such need of your advice and support.


You don't know how much need I have to-night."


He looked unprepared for my being so earnest, and even a little alarmed.


"Or how anxious I have been to speak to you," said I, "ever since the visitor was here to-day."


He folded his arms and sat looking at me with an air of the profoundest astonishment, awaiting what I should say next.

He sat looking at me with an air of the profoundest astonishment.


"Why, Esther," said he, breaking into a smile, "our visitor and you are the two last persons on earth I should have thought of connecting together!"


The smile passed from his face, and he became graver than before.

The smile passed from his face, and he became grave.


He crossed to the door to see that it was shut (but I had seen to that) and resumed his seat before me.

He crossed to the door to see that it was shut and resumed his seat before me.


"Guardian," said I, "do you remember, when we were overtaken by the thunder-storm, Lady Dedlock's speaking to you of her sister?"


"And reminding you that she and her sister had differed, had gone their several ways?"

"And reminding you that she and her sister had gone their different ways?"


His face quite altered as he looked at me.


No one but themselves ever did know, I believe.


Who could tell what the secrets of those two handsome and proud women were!


If you had ever seen her sister, you would know her to have been as resolute and haughty as she."


"Oh, guardian, I have seen her many and many a time!"

"Oh, guardian, I have seen her many a time!"


"Then, Esther, when you spoke to me long ago of Boythorn, and when I told you that he was all but married once, and that the lady did not die, but died to him, and that that time had had its influence on his later life--did you know it all, and know who the lady was?"

"Then, Esther, when you spoke to me long ago of Boythorn, and when I told you that he was all but married once - did you know it all, and know who the lady was?"


"No, guardian," I returned, fearful of the light that dimly broke upon me.


"And why," I could scarcely ask him, "why, guardian, pray tell me why were THEY parted?"

"Guardian, pray tell me, why were they parted?"


"It was her act, and she kept its motives in her inflexible heart.

"It was her act, and she kept its motives secret.


He afterwards did conjecture (but it was mere conjecture) that some injury which her haughty spirit had received in her cause of quarrel with her sister had wounded her beyond all reason, but she wrote him that from the date of that letter she died to him--as in literal truth she did--and that the resolution was exacted from her by her knowledge of his proud temper and his strained sense of honour, which were both her nature too.

He afterwards did wonder if some quarrel with her sister had wounded her haughty spirit beyond all reason, but she wrote to tell him that from that date she died to him, and that she resolved on this through her knowledge of his proud temper and his sense of honour.


In consideration for those master points in him, and even in consideration for them in herself, she made the sacrifice, she said, and would live in it and die in it.

In consideration for those points in him, and also in herself, she made the sacrifice, she said.


She did both, I fear; certainly he never saw her, never heard of her from that hour.


I cried, giving way to my grief; "what sorrow have I innocently caused!"


That secluded sister is my first remembrance."


I would have told him all my mother's letter, but he would not hear it then.


He spoke so tenderly and wisely to me, and he put so plainly before me all I had myself imperfectly thought and hoped in my better state of mind, that, penetrated as I had been with fervent gratitude towards him through so many years, I believed I had never loved him so dearly, never thanked him in my heart so fully, as I did that night.

He spoke so tenderly and wisely to me, that, full as I had been with fervent gratitude towards him through so many years, I believed I had never loved him so dearly, never thanked him in my heart so fully, as I did that night.


And when he had taken me to my room and kissed me at the door, and when at last I lay down to sleep, my thought was how could I ever be busy enough, how could I ever be good enough, how in my little way could I ever hope to be forgetful enough of myself, devoted enough to him, and useful enough to others, to show him how I blessed and honoured him.

And when he had taken me to my room and kissed me at the door, and when at last I lay down to sleep, my thought was how could I ever be busy enough, good enough, forgetful enough of myself, devoted enough to him, and useful enough to others, to show him how I blessed and honoured him.


It was interesting when I dressed before daylight to peep out of window, where my candles were reflected in the black panes like two beacons, and finding all beyond still enshrouded in the indistinctness of last night, to watch how it turned out when the day came on.

When I dressed before daylight, it was interesting to peep out of the window at the indistinctness of night, and watch the day come.


As the prospect gradually revealed itself and disclosed the scene over which the wind had wandered in the dark, like my memory over my life, I had a pleasure in discovering the unknown objects that had been around me in my sleep.

The prospect gradually revealed the scene over which the wind had wandered in the dark, like my memory over my life.


At first they were faintly discernible in the mist, and above them the later stars still glimmered.


That pale interval over, the picture began to enlarge and fill up so fast that at every new peep I could have found enough to look at for an hour.


Imperceptibly my candles became the only incongruous part of the morning, the dark places in my room all melted away, and the day shone bright upon a cheerful landscape, prominent in which the old Abbey Church, with its massive tower, threw a softer train of shadow on the view than seemed compatible with its rugged character.

The dark places in my room all melted away, and the day shone bright upon a cheerful landscape, in which the old Abbey Church, with its massive, rugged tower, threw a soft train of shadow on the view.


But so from rough outsides (I hope I have learnt), serene and gentle influences often proceed.

But so from rough outsides, serene and gentle influences often come.


Every part of the house was in such order, and every one was so attentive to me, that I had no trouble with my two bunches of keys, though what with trying to remember the contents of each little store-room drawer and cupboard; and what with making notes on a slate about jams, and pickles, and preserves, and bottles, and glass, and china, and a great many other things; and what with being generally a methodical, old-maidish sort of foolish little person, I was so busy that I could not believe it was breakfast-time when I heard the bell ring.

Every part of the house was in such order, and everyone was so attentive to me, that I had no trouble with my two bunches of keys; though what with trying to remember the contents of each store-room drawer and cupboard, and making notes about jams, pickles, and china, and a great many other things; and what with being generally a methodical, old-maidish sort of foolish little person, I was so busy that I could not believe it when breakfast-time came.


Away I ran, however, and made tea, as I had already been installed into the responsibility of the tea-pot; and then, as they were all rather late and nobody was down yet, I thought I would take a peep at the garden and get some knowledge of that too.

Away I ran, and made tea; and then, as nobody was down yet, I thought I would take a peep at the garden.


I found it quite a delightful place--in front, the pretty avenue and drive by which we had approached (and where, by the by, we had cut up the gravel so terribly with our wheels that I asked the gardener to roll it); at the back, the flower-garden, with my darling at her window up there, throwing it open to smile out at me, as if she would have kissed me from that distance.

I found it quite a delightful place - in front, the pretty avenue and drive by which we had approached (and where our wheels had cut up the gravel so terribly that I asked the gardener to roll it); at the back, the flower-garden, with my darling Ada at her window, smiling out at me.


Beyond the flower-garden was a kitchen-garden, and then a paddock, and then a snug little rick-yard, and then a dear little farm-yard.

Beyond the flower-garden was a kitchen-garden, and then a paddock, and a snug little rick-yard, and a dear little farm-yard.


As to the house itself, with its three peaks in the roof; its various-shaped windows, some so large, some so small, and all so pretty; its trellis-work, against the south-front for roses and honey-suckle, and its homely, comfortable, welcoming look--it was, as Ada said when she came out to meet me with her arm through that of its master, worthy of her cousin John, a bold thing to say, though he only pinched her dear cheek for it.

As for the house itself, with its gables, its various-shaped windows, its trellis-work for roses and honey-suckle, and its homely, welcoming look - it was, as Ada said when she came out to meet me with Mr. Jarndyce, worthy of her cousin John; a bold thing to say, though he only pinched her cheek for it.


Mr. Skimpole was as agreeable at breakfast as he had been overnight.


There was honey on the table, and it led him into a discourse about bees.


He had no objection to honey, he said (and I should think he had not, for he seemed to like it), but he protested against the overweening assumptions of bees.

He had no objection to honey, he said, but


He didn't at all see why the busy bee should be proposed as a model to him; he supposed the bee liked to make honey, or he wouldn't do it--nobody asked him.

he didn't see why the busy bee should be proposed as a model to him; he supposed the bee liked to make honey, or it wouldn't do it.


It was not necessary for the bee to make such a merit of his tastes.


If every confectioner went buzzing about the world banging against everything that came in his way and egotistically calling upon everybody to take notice that he was going to his work and must not be interrupted, the world would be quite an unsupportable place.


Then, after all, it was a ridiculous position to be smoked out of your fortune with brimstone as soon as you had made it.


You would have a very mean opinion of a Manchester man if he spun cotton for no other purpose.


He must say he thought a drone the embodiment of a pleasanter and wiser idea.


The drone said unaffectedly, "You will excuse me; I really cannot attend to the shop!


I find myself in a world in which there is so much to see and so short a time to see it in that I must take the liberty of looking about me and begging to be provided for by somebody who doesn't want to look about him."


This appeared to Mr. Skimpole to be the drone philosophy, and he thought it a very good philosophy, always supposing the drone to be willing to be on good terms with the bee, which, so far as he knew, the easy fellow always was, if the consequential creature would only let him, and not be so conceited about his honey!

He thought the drone to have a pleasanter philosophy, always supposing the drone to be willing to be on good terms with the bee, which was so conceited about its honey!


He pursued this fancy with the lightest foot over a variety of ground and made us all merry, though again he seemed to have as serious a meaning in what he said as he was capable of having.

He pursued this fancy lightly and made us all merry.


I left them still listening to him when I withdrew to attend to my new duties.

I left them listening to him and withdrew to attend to my new duties.


They had occupied me for some time, and I was passing through the passages on my return with my basket of keys on my arm when Mr. Jarndyce called me into a small room next his bed-chamber, which I found to be in part a little library of books and papers and in part quite a little museum of his boots and shoes and hat-boxes.

I was passing through the passages with my basket of keys on my arm, when Mr. Jarndyce called me into a small room next to his bedroom, which I found to be in part a little library of books and papers and in part a little museum of his shoes and hat-boxes.


When I am out of humour, I come and growl here."


"You must be here very seldom, sir," said I.


"When I am deceived or disappointed in--the wind, and it's easterly, I take refuge here.

"When I am deceived or disappointed in - the wind, and it's easterly, I take refuge here.


The growlery is the best-used room in the house.


You are not aware of half my humours yet.


I could not help it; I tried very hard, but being alone with that benevolent presence, and meeting his kind eyes, and feeling so happy and so honoured there, and my heart so full--I kissed his hand.

I could not help it; being alone with him, and meeting his kind eyes, and feeling so happy and so honoured, and my heart so full - I kissed his hand.


I don't know what I said, or even that I spoke.


He was disconcerted and walked to the window; I almost believed with an intention of jumping out, until he turned and I was reassured by seeing in his eyes what he had gone there to hide.


He gently patted me on the head, and I sat down.


"It shall not happen again, sir," I returned, "but at first it is difficult--"

"It shall not happen again, sir," I returned, "but at first it is difficult-"


I hear of a good little orphan girl without a protector, and I take it into my head to be that protector.


She grows up, and more than justifies my good opinion, and I remain her guardian and her friend.

She grows up, and justifies my good opinion, and I remain her guardian and her friend.


Now, we have cleared off old scores, and I have before me thy pleasant, trusting, trusty face again."


I said to myself, "Esther, my dear, you surprise me!


This really is not what I expected of you!"

this really is not what I expected of you!"


And it had such a good effect that I folded my hands upon my basket and quite recovered myself.

And I folded my hands upon my basket and recovered myself.


Mr. Jarndyce, expressing his approval in his face, began to talk to me as confidentially as if I had been in the habit of conversing with him every morning for I don't know how long.

Mr. Jarndyce, expressing his approval in his face, began to talk to me as confidentially as if I had been in the habit of conversing with him every morning.


"Of course, Esther," he said, "you don't understand this Chancery business?"


"The lawyers have twisted it into such a state of bedevilment that the original merits of the case have long disappeared from the face of the earth.


It's about a will and the trusts under a will--or it was once.

It's about a will and the trusts under a will - or it was once.


We are always appearing, and disappearing, and swearing, and interrogating, and filing, and cross-filing, and arguing, and sealing, and motioning, and referring, and reporting, and revolving about the Lord Chancellor and all his satellites, and equitably waltzing ourselves off to dusty death, about costs.

We are always appearing, and filing, and cross-filing, and arguing, and sealing, and referring, and revolving about the Lord Chancellor, and waltzing ourselves off to dusty death, about costs.


All the rest, by some extraordinary means, has melted away."


"But it was, sir," said I, to bring him back, for he began to rub his head, "about a will?"


"Why, yes, it was about a will when it was about anything," he returned.


"A certain Jarndyce, in an evil hour, made a great fortune, and made a great will.


In the question how the trusts under that will are to be administered, the fortune left by the will is squandered away; the legatees under the will are reduced to such a miserable condition that they would be sufficiently punished if they had committed an enormous crime in having money left them, and the will itself is made a dead letter.

In arguing how the trusts under that will are to be administered, the fortune left by the will is squandered away, and the will itself is made a dead letter.


All through the deplorable cause, everything that everybody in it, except one man, knows already is referred to that only one man who don't know, it to find out--all through the deplorable cause, everybody must have copies, over and over again, of everything that has accumulated about it in the way of cartloads of papers (or must pay for them without having them, which is the usual course, for nobody wants them) and must go down the middle and up again through such an infernal country-dance of costs and fees and nonsense and corruption as was never dreamed of in the wildest visions of a witch's Sabbath.

All through the deplorable cause, everybody must have copies, over and over again, of everything that has accumulated about it. Cartloads of papers must go up and down through such an infernal country-dance of costs and fees and nonsense and corruption as was never dreamed of.


Equity sends questions to law, law sends questions back to equity; law finds it can't do this, equity finds it can't do that; neither can so much as say it can't do anything, without this solicitor instructing and this counsel appearing for A, and that solicitor instructing and that counsel appearing for B; and so on through the whole alphabet, like the history of the apple pie.


And thus, through years and years, and lives and lives, everything goes on, constantly beginning over and over again, and nothing ever ends.

and thus, through years and years, everything is constantly beginning over and over again, and nothing ever ends.


And we can't get out of the suit on any terms, for we are made parties to it, and MUST BE parties to it, whether we like it or not.

And we can't get out of the suit, for we must take part in it, whether we like it or not.


When my great uncle, poor Tom Jarndyce, began to think of it, it was the beginning of the end!"


"The Mr. Jarndyce, sir, whose story I have heard?"


"I was his heir, and this was his house, Esther.


He had left the signs of his misery upon it."


"It had been called, before his time, the Peaks.


He gave it its present name and lived here shut up, day and night poring over the wicked heaps of papers in the suit and hoping against hope to disentangle it from its mystification and bring it to a close.

"He gave it its name and lived here shut up, day and night poring over the wicked heaps of papers in the suit and hoping against hope to disentangle it.


In the meantime, the place became dilapidated, the wind whistled through the cracked walls, the rain fell through the broken roof, the weeds choked the passage to the rotting door.

In the meantime, the place became dilapidated, the wind whistled through the cracked walls, and the rain fell through the broken roof.


When I brought what remained of him home here, the brains seemed to me to have been blown out of the house too, it was so shattered and ruined."

When I brought his remains home here, the brains seemed to me to have been blown out of the house too, it was so shattered and ruined."


He walked a little to and fro after saying this to himself with a shudder, and then looked at me, and brightened, and came and sat down again with his hands in his pockets.

He walked a little to and fro after saying this, and then looked at me, and brightened, and came and sat down again with his hands in his pockets.


"I told you this was the growlery, my dear.


I reminded him, at the hopeful change he had made in Bleak House.

I reminded him, at the change he had made in Bleak House.


There is, in that city of London there, some property of ours which is much at this day what Bleak House was then; I say property of ours, meaning of the suit's, but I ought to call it the property of costs, for costs is the only power on earth that will ever get anything out of it now or will ever know it for anything but an eyesore and a heartsore.

There is, in that city of London there, some property of ours which is much what Bleak House was then; I say property of ours, meaning of the law-suit's.


It is a street of perishing blind houses, with their eyes stoned out, without a pane of glass, without so much as a window-frame, with the bare blank shutters tumbling from their hinges and falling asunder, the iron rails peeling away in flakes of rust, the chimneys sinking in, the stone steps to every door (and every door might be death's door) turning stagnant green, the very crutches on which the ruins are propped decaying.

It is a street of blind houses, with their eyes stoned out, without a pane of glass, with the bare blank shutters tumbling from their hinges, the iron rails peeling away in flakes of rust, the chimneys sinking in, the very foundations decaying.


Although Bleak House was not in Chancery, its master was, and it was stamped with the same seal.

Although Bleak House was not in Chancery, that street it, and is stamped with the same seal.


These are the Great Seal's impressions, my dear, all over England--the children know them!"

These are the Great Seal's impressions, my dear, all over England!"


"Why, so it is," he answered much more cheerfully; "and it is wisdom in you to keep me to the bright side of the picture."

"Why, so it is," he answered much more cheerfully; "and you are wise to keep me to the bright side of the picture."


"These are things I never talk about or even think about, excepting in the growlery here.

"These are things I never think about, except in the growlery here.


If you consider it right to mention them to Rick and Ada," looking seriously at me, "you can.

If you consider it right to mention them to Rick and Ada, you can.


"I think you had better call me guardian, my dear."


I felt that I was choking again--I taxed myself with it, "Esther, now, you know you are!"


--when he feigned to say this slightly, as if it were a whim instead of a thoughtful tenderness.


But I gave the housekeeping keys the least shake in the world as a reminder to myself, and folding my hands in a still more determined manner on the basket, looked at him quietly.

But I gave the housekeeping keys a small shake as a reminder to myself, and looked at him quietly.


"I hope, guardian," said I, "that you may not trust too much to my discretion.


I am afraid it will be a disappointment to you to know that I am not clever, but it really is the truth, and you would soon find it out if I had not the honesty to confess it."

I am afraid it will be a disappointment to you to know that I am not clever; but it is the truth."


He did not seem at all disappointed; quite the contrary.