Chapter LX. Perspective

by Charles Dickens

　　I proceed to other passages of my narrative. From the goodness ofall about me I derived such consolation as I can never think ofunmoved. I have already said so much of myself, and so much stillremains, that I will not dwell upon my sorrow. I had an illness,but it was not a long one; and I would avoid even this mention ofit if I could quite keep down the recollection of their sympathy.I proceed to other passages of my narrative.During the time of my illness, we were still in London, where Mrs.Woodcourt had come, on my guardian's invitation, to stay with us.When my guardian thought me well and cheerful enough to talk withhim in our old way--though I could have done that sooner if hewould have believed me--I resumed my work and my chair beside his.He had appointed the time himself, and we were alone."Dame Trot," said he, receiving me with a kiss, "welcome to thegrowlery again, my dear. I have a scheme to develop, little woman.I propose to remain here, perhaps for six months, perhaps for alonger time--as it may be. Quite to settle here for a while, inshort.""And in the meanwhile leave Bleak House?" said I."Aye, my dear? Bleak House," he returned, "must learn to take careof itself."I thought his tone sounded sorrowful, but looking at him, I saw hiskind face lighted up by its pleasantest smile."Bleak House," he repeated--and his tone did not sound sorrowful, Ifound--"must learn to take care of itself. It is a long way fromAda, my dear, and Ada stands much in need of you.""It's like you, guardian," said I, "to have been taking that intoconsideration for a happy surprise to both of us.""Not so disinterested either, my dear, if you mean to extol me forthat virtue, since if you were generally on the road, you could beseldom with me. And besides, I wish to hear as much and as oftenof Ada as I can in this condition of estrangement from poor Rick.Not of her alone, but of him too, poor fellow.""Have you seen Mr. Woodcourt, this morning, guardian?""I see Mr. Woodcourt every morning, Dame Durden.""Does he still say the same of Richard?""Just the same. He knows of no direct bodily illness that he has;on the contrary, he believes that he has none. Yet he is not easyabout him; who can be?"My dear girl had been to see us lately every day, some times twicein a day. But we had foreseen, all along, that this would onlylast until I was quite myself. We knew full well that her ferventheart was as full of affection and gratitude towards her cousinJohn as it had ever been, and we acquitted Richard of laying anyinjunctions upon her to stay away; but we knew on the other handthat she felt it a part of her duty to him to be sparing of hervisits at our house. My guardian's delicacy had soon perceivedthis and had tried to convey to her that he thought she was right."Dear, unfortunate, mistaken Richard," said I. "When will he awakefrom his delusion!""He is not in the way to do so now, my dear," replied my guardian."The more he suffers, the more averse he will be to me, having mademe the principal representative of the great occasion of hissuffering."I could not help adding, "So unreasonably!""Ah, Dame Trot, Dame Trot," returned my guardian, "what shall wefind reasonable in Jarndyce and Jarndyce! Unreason and injusticeat the top, unreason and injustice at the heart and at the bottom,unreason and injustice from beginning to end--if it ever has anend--how should poor Rick, always hovering near it, pluck reasonout of it? He no more gathers grapes from thorns or figs fromthistles than older men did in old times."His gentleness and consideration for Richard whenever we spoke ofhim touched me so that I was always silent on this subject verysoon."I suppose the Lord Chancellor, and the Vice Chancellors, and thewhole Chancery battery of great guns would be infinitely astonishedby such unreason and injustice in one of their suitors," pursued myguardian. "When those learned gentlemen begin to raise moss-rosesfrom the powder they sow in their wigs, I shall begin to beastonished too!"He checked himself in glancing towards the window to look where thewind was and leaned on the back of my chair instead."Well, well, little woman! To go on, my dear. This rock we mustleave to time, chance, and hopeful circumstance. We must notshipwreck Ada upon it. She cannot afford, and he cannot afford,the remotest chance of another separation from a friend. ThereforeI have particularly begged of Woodcourt, and I now particularly begof you, my dear, not to move this subject with Rick. Let it rest.Next week, next month, next year, sooner or later, he will see mewith clearer eyes. I can wait."But I had already discussed it with him, I confessed; and so, Ithought, had Mr. Woodcourt."So he tells me," returned my guardian. "Very good. He has madehis protest, and Dame Durden has made hers, and there is nothingmore to be said about it. Now I come to Mrs. Woodcourt. How doyou like her, my dear?"In answer to this question, which was oddly abrupt, I said I likedher very much and thought she was more agreeable than she used tobe."I think so too," said my guardian. "Less pedigree? Not so muchof Morgan ap--what's his name?"That was what I meant, I acknowledged, though he was a veryharmless person, even when we had had more of him."Still, upon the whole, he is as well in his native mountains,"said my guardian. "I agree with you. Then, little woman, can I dobetter for a time than retain Mrs. Woodcourt here?"No. And yet--My guardian looked at me, waiting for what I had to say.I had nothing to say. At least I had nothing in my mind that Icould say. I had an undefined impression that it might have beenbetter if we had had some other inmate, but I could hardly haveexplained why even to myself. Or, if to myself, certainly not toanybody else."You see," said my guardian, "our neighbourhood is in Woodcourt'sway, and he can come here to see her as often as he likes, which isagreeable to them both; and she is familiar to us and fond of you."Yes. That was undeniable. I had nothing to say against it. Icould not have suggested a better arrangement, but I was not quiteeasy in my mind. Esther, Esther, why not? Esther, think!"It is a very good plan indeed, dear guardian, and we could not dobetter.""Sure, little woman?"Quite sure. I had had a moment's time to think, since I had urgedthat duty on myself, and I was quite sure."Good," said my guardian. "It shall be done. Carriedunanimously.""Carried unanimously," I repeated, going on with my work.It was a cover for his book-table that I happened to beornamenting. It had been laid by on the night preceding my sadjourney and never resumed. I showed it to him now, and he admiredit highly. After I had explained the pattern to him and all thegreat effects that were to come out by and by, I thought I would goback to our last theme."You said, dear guardian, when we spoke of Mr. Woodcourt before Adaleft us, that you thought he would give a long trial to anothercountry. Have you been advising him since?""Yes, little woman, pretty often.""Has he decided to do so?""I rather think not.""Some other prospect has opened to him, perhaps?" said I."Why--yes--perhaps," returned my guardian, beginning his answer ina very deliberate manner. "About half a year hence or so, there isa medical attendant for the poor to be appointed at a certain placein Yorkshire. It is a thriving place, pleasantly situated--streamsand streets, town and country, mill and moor--and seems to presentan opening for such a man. I mean a man whose hopes and aims maysometimes lie (as most men's sometimes do, I dare say) above theordinary level, but to whom the ordinary level will be high enoughafter all if it should prove to be a way of usefulness and goodservice leading to no other. All generous spirits are ambitious, Isuppose, but the ambition that calmly trusts itself to such a road,instead of spasmodically trying to fly over it, is of the kind Icare for. It is Woodcourt's kind.""And will he get this appointment?" I asked."Why, little woman," returned my guardian, smiling, "not being anoracle, I cannot confidently say, but I think so. His reputationstands very high; there were people from that part of the countryin the shipwreck; and strange to say, I believe the best man hasthe best chance. You must not suppose it to be a fine endowment.It is a very, very commonplace affair, my dear, an appointment to agreat amount of work and a small amount of pay; but better thingswill gather about it, it may be fairly hoped.""The poor of that place will have reason to bless the choice if itfalls on Mr. Woodcourt, guardian.""You are right, little woman; that I am sure they will."We said no more about it, nor did he say a word about the future ofBleak House. But it was the first time I had taken my seat at hisside in my mourning dress, and that accounted for it, I considered.I now began to visit my dear girl every day in the dull dark cornerwhere she lived. The morning was my usual time, but whenever Ifound I had an hour or so to spare, I put on my bonnet and bustledoff to Chancery Lane. They were both so glad to see me at allhours, and used to brighten up so when they heard me opening thedoor and coming in (being quite at home, I never knocked), that Ihad no fear of becoming troublesome just yet.On these occasions I frequently found Richard absent. At othertimes he would be writing or reading papers in the cause at thattable of his, so covered with papers, which was never disturbed.Sometimes I would come upon him lingering at the door of Mr.Vholes's office. Sometimes I would meet him in the neighbourhoodlounging about and biting his nails. I often met him wandering inLincoln's Inn, near the place where I had first seen him, oh howdifferent, how different!That the money Ada brought him was melting away with the candles Iused to see burning after dark in Mr. Vholes's office I knew verywell. It was not a large amount in the beginning, he had marriedin debt, and I could not fail to understand, by this time, what wasmeant by Mr. Vholes's shoulder being at the wheel--as I still heardit was. My dear made the best of housekeepers and tried hard tosave, but I knew that they were getting poorer and poorer everyday.She shone in the miserable corner like a beautiful star. Sheadorned and graced it so that it became another place. Paler thanshe had been at home, and a little quieter than I had thoughtnatural when she was yet so cheerful and hopeful, her face was sounshadowed that I half believed she was blinded by her love forRichard to his ruinous career.I went one day to dine with them while I was under this impression.As I turned into Symond's Inn, I met little Miss Flite coming out.She had been to make a stately call upon the wards in Jarndyce, asshe still called them, and had derived the highest gratificationfrom that ceremony. Ada had already told me that she called everyMonday at five o'clock, with one little extra white bow in herbonnet, which never appeared there at any other time, and with herlargest reticule of documents on her arm."My dear!" she began. "So delighted! How do you do! So glad tosee you. And you are going to visit our interesting Jarndycewards? To be sure! Our beauty is at home, my dear, and will becharmed to see you.""Then Richard is not come in yet?" said I. "I am glad of that, forI was afraid of being a little late.""No, he is not come in," returned Miss Flite. "He has had a longday in court. I left him there with Vholes. You don't likeVholes, I hope? Don't like Vholes. Dan-gerous man!""I am afraid you see Richard oftener than ever now," said I."My dearest," returned Miss Flite, "daily and hourly. You knowwhat I told you of the attraction on the Chancellor's table? Mydear, next to myself he is the most constant suitor in court. Hebegins quite to amuse our little party. Ve-ry friendly littleparty, are we not?"It was miserable to hear this from her poor mad lips, though it wasno surprise."In short, my valued friend," pursued Miss Flite, advancing herlips to my ear with an air of equal patronage and mystery, "I musttell you a secret. I have made him my executor. Nominated,constituted, and appointed him. In my will. Ye-es.""Indeed?" said I."Ye-es," repeated Miss Flite in her most genteel accents, "myexecutor, administrator, and assign. (Our Chancery phrases, mylove.) I have reflected that if I should wear out, he will be ableto watch that judgment. Being so very regular in his attendance."It made me sigh to think of him."I did at one time mean," said Miss Flite, echoing the sigh, "tonominate, constitute, and appoint poor Gridley. Also very regular,my charming girl. I assure you, most exemplary! But he wore out,poor man, so I have appointed his successor. Don't mention it.This is in confidence."She carefully opened her reticule a little way and showed me afolded piece of paper inside as the appointment of which she spoke."Another secret, my dear. I have added to my collection of birds.""Really, Miss Flite?" said I, knowing how it pleased her to haveher confidence received with an appearance of interest.She nodded several times, and her face became overcast and gloomy."Two more. I call them the Wards in Jarndyce. They are caged upwith all the others. With Hope, Joy, Youth, Peace, Rest, Life,Dust, Ashes, Waste, Want, Ruin, Despair, Madness, Death, Cunning,Folly, Words, Wigs, Rags, Sheepskin, Plunder, Precedent, Jargon,Gammon, and Spinach!"The poor soul kissed me with the most troubled look I had ever seenin her and went her way. Her manner of running over the names ofher birds, as if she were afraid of hearing them even from her ownlips, quite chilled me.This was not a cheering preparation for my visit, and I could havedispensed with the company of Mr. Vholes, when Richard (who arrivedwithin a minute or two after me) brought him to share our dinner.Although it was a very plain one, Ada and Richard were for someminutes both out of the room together helping to get ready what wewere to eat and drink. Mr. Vholes took that opportunity of holdinga little conversation in a low voice with me. He came to thewindow where I was sitting and began upon Symond's Inn."A dull place, Miss Summerson, for a life that is not an officialone," said Mr. Vholes, smearing the glass with his black glove tomake it clearer for me."There is not much to see here," said I."Nor to hear, miss," returned Mr. Vholes. "A little music doesoccasionally stray in, but we are not musical in the law and sooneject it. I hope Mr. Jarndyce is as well as his friends could wishhim?"I thanked Mr. Vholes and said he was quite well."I have not the pleasure to be admitted among the number of hisfriends myself," said Mr. Vholes, "and I am aware that thegentlemen of our profession are sometimes regarded in such quarterswith an unfavourable eye. Our plain course, however, under goodreport and evil report, and all kinds of prejudice (we are thevictims of prejudice), is to have everything openly carried on.How do you find Mr. C. looking, Miss Summerson?""He looks very ill. Dreadfully anxious.""Just so," said Mr. Vholes.He stood behind me with his long black figure reaching nearly tothe ceiling of those low rooms, feeling the pimples on his face asif they were ornaments and speaking inwardly and evenly as thoughthere were not a human passion or emotion in his nature."Mr. Woodcourt is in attendance upon Mr. C., I believe?" heresumed."Mr. Woodcourt is his disinterested friend," I answered."But I mean in professional attendance, medical attendance.""That can do little for an unhappy mind," said I."Just so," said Mr. Vholes.So slow, so eager, so bloodless and gaunt, I felt as if Richardwere wasting away beneath the eyes of this adviser and there weresomething of the vampire in him."Miss Summerson," said Mr. Vholes, very slowly rubbing his glovedhands, as if, to his cold sense of touch, they were much the samein black kid or out of it, "this was an ill-advised marriage of Mr.C.'s."I begged he would excuse me from discussing it. They had beenengaged when they were both very young, I told him (a littleindignantly) and when the prospect before them was much fairer andbrighter. When Richard had not yielded himself to the unhappyinfluence which now darkened his life."Just so," assented Mr. Vholes again. "Still, with a view toeverything being openly carried on, I will, with your permission,Miss Summerson, observe to you that I consider this a very ill-advised marriage indeed. I owe the opinion not only to Mr. C.'sconnexions, against whom I should naturally wish to protect myself,but also to my own reputation--dear to myself as a professional manaiming to keep respectable; dear to my three girls at home, forwhom I am striving to realize some little independence; dear, Iwill even say, to my aged father, whom it is my privilege tosupport.""It would become a very different marriage, a much happier andbetter marriage, another marriage altogether, Mr. Vholes," said I,"if Richard were persuaded to turn his back on the fatal pursuit inwhich you are engaged with him."Mr. Vholes, with a noiseless cough--or rather gasp--into one of hisblack gloves, inclined his head as if he did not wholly disputeeven that."Miss Summerson," he said, "it may be so; and I freely admit thatthe young lady who has taken Mr. C.'s name upon herself in so ill-advised a manner--you will I am sure not quarrel with me forthrowing out that remark again, as a duty I owe to Mr. C.'sconnexions--is a highly genteel young lady. Business has preventedme from mixing much with general society in any but a professionalcharacter; still I trust I am competent to perceive that she is ahighly genteel young lady. As to beauty, I am not a judge of thatmyself, and I never did give much attention to it from a boy, but Idare say the young lady is equally eligible in that point of view.She is considered so (I have heard) among the clerks in the Inn,and it is a point more in their way than in mine. In reference toMr. C.'s pursult of his interests--""Oh! His interests, Mr. Vholes!""Pardon me," returned Mr. Vholes, going on in exactly the sameinward and dispassionate manner. "Mr. C. takes certain interestsunder certain wills disputed in the suit. It is a term we use. Inreference to Mr. C,'s pursuit of his interests, I mentioned to you,Miss Summerson, the first time I had the pleasure of seeing you, inmy desire that everything should he openly carried on--I used thosewords, for I happened afterwards to note them in my diary, which isproducible at any time--I mentioned to you that Mr. C. had laiddown the principle of watching his own interests, and that when aclient of mine laid down a principle which was not of an immoral(that is to say, unlawful) nature, it devolved upon me to carry itout. I have carried it out; I do carry it out. But I will notsmooth things over to any connexion of Mr. C.'s on any account. Asopen as I was to Mr. Jarndyce, I am to you. I regard it in thelight of a professional duty to be so, though it can be charged tono one. I openly say, unpalatable as it may be, that I considerMr. C.'s affairs in a very bad way, that I consider Mr. C. himselfin a very bad way, and that I regard this as an exceedingly ill-advised marriage. Am I here, sir? Yes, I thank you; I am here,Mr. C., and enjoying the pleasure of some agreeable conversationwith Miss Summerson, for which I have to thank you very much, sir!"He broke off thus in answer to Richard, who addressed him as hecame into the room. By this time I too well understood Mr.Vholes's scrupulous way of saving himself and his respectabilitynot to feel that our worst fears did but keep pace with hisclient's progress.We sat down to dinner, and I had an opportunity of observingRichard, anxiously. I was not disturbed by Mr. Vholes (who tookoff his gloves to dine), though he sat opposite to me at the smalltable, for I doubt if, looking up at all, he once removed his eyesfrom his host's face. I found Richard thin and languid, slovenlyin his dress, abstracted in his manner, forcing his spirits now andthen, and at other intervals relapsing into a dull thoughtfulness.About his large bright eyes that used to be so merry there was awanness and a restlessness that changed them altogether. 1 cannotuse the expression that he looked old. There is a ruin of youthwhich is not like age, and into such a ruin Richard's youth andyouthful beauty had all fallen away.He ate little and seemed indifferent what it was, showed himself tobe much more impatient than he used to be, and was quick even withAda. I thought at first that his old light-hearted manner was allgone, but it shone out of him sometimes as I had occasionally knownlittle momentary glimpses of my own old face to look out upon mefrom the glass. His laugh had not quite left him either, but itwas like the echo of a joyful sound, and that is always sorrowful.Yet he was as glad as ever, in his old affectionate way, to have methere, and we talked of the old times pleasantly. These did notappear to be interesting to Mr. Vholes, though he occasionally madea gasp which I believe was his smile. He rose shortly after dinnerand said that with the permission of the ladies he would retire tohis office."Always devoted to business, Vholes!" cried Richard."Yes, Mr. C.," he returned, "the interests of clients are never tobe neglected, sir. They are paramount in the thoughts of aprofessional man like myself, who wishes to preserve a good nameamong his fellow-practitioners and society at large. My denyingmyself the pleasure of the present agreeable conversation may notbe wholly irrespective of your own interests, Mr. C."Richard expressed himself quite sure of that and lighted Mr. Vholesout. On his return he told us, more than once, that Vholes was agood fellow, a safe fellow, a man who did what he pretended to do,a very good fellow indeed! He was so defiant about it that itstruck me he had begun to doubt Mr. Vholes.Then he threw himself on the sofa, tired out; and Ada and I putthings to rights, for they had no other servant than the woman whoattended to the chambers. My dear girl had a cottage piano thereand quietly sat down to sing some of Richard's favourites, the lampbeing first removed into the next room, as he complained of itshurting his eyes.I sat between them, at my dear girl's side, and felt verymelancholy listening to her sweet voice. I think Richard did too;I think he darkened the room for that reason. She had been singingsome time, rising between whiles to bend over him and speak to him,when Mr. Woodcourt came in. Then he sat down by Richard and halfplayfully, half earnestly, quite naturally and easily, found outhow he felt and where he had been all day. Presently he proposedto accompany him in a short walk on one of the bridges, as it was amoonlight airy night; and Richard readily consenting, they went outtogether.They left my dear girl still sitting at the piano and me stillsitting beside her. When they were gone out, I drew my arm roundher waist. She put her left hand in mine (I was sitting on thatside), but kept her right upon the keys, going over and over themwithout striking any note."Esther, my dearest," she said, breaking silence, "Richard is neverso well and I am never so easy about him as when he is with AllanWoodcourt. We have to thank you for that."I pointed out to my darling how this could scarcely be, because Mr.Woodcourt had come to her cousin John's house and had known us allthere, and because he had always liked Richard, and Richard hadalways liked him, and--and so forth."All true," said Ada, "but that he is such a devoted friend to uswe owe to you."I thought it best to let my dear girl have her way and to say nomore about it. So I said as much. I said it lightly, because Ifelt her trembling."Esther, my dearest, I want to be a good wife, a very, very goodwife indeed. You shall teach me."I teach! I said no more, for I noticed the hand that wasfluttering over the keys, and I knew that it was not I who ought tospeak, that it was she who had something to say to me."When I married Richard I was not insensible to what was beforehim. I had been perfectly happy for a long time with you, and Ihad never known any trouble or anxiety, so loved and cared for, butI understood the danger he was in, dear Esther.""I know, I know, my darling.""When we were married I had some little hope that I might be ableto convince him of his mistake, that he might come to regard it ina new way as my husband and not pursue it all the more desperatelyfor my sake--as he does. But if I had not had that hope, I wouldhave married him just the same, Esther. Just the same!"In the momentary firmness of the hand that was never still--afirmness inspired by the utterance of these last words, and dyingaway with them--I saw the confirmation of her earnest tones."You are not to think, my dearest Esther, that I fail to see whatyou see and fear what you fear. No one can understand him betterthan I do. The greatest wisdom that ever lived in the world couldscarcely know Richard better than my love does."She spoke so modestly and softly and her trembling hand expressedsuch agitation as it moved to and fro upon the silent notes! Mydear, dear girl!"I see him at his worst every day. I watch him in his sleep. Iknow every change of his face. But when I married Richard I wasquite determined, Esther, if heaven would help me, never to showhim that I grieved for what he did and so to make him more unhappy.I want him, when he comes home, to find no trouble in my face. Iwant him, when he looks at me, to see what he loved in me. Imarried him to do this, and this supports me."I felt her trembling more. I waited for what was yet to come, andI now thought I began to know what it was."And something else supports me, Esther."She stopped a minute. Stopped speaking only; her hand was still inmotion."I look forward a little while, and I don't know what great aid maycome to me. When Richard turns his eyes upon me then, there may besomething lying on my breast more eloquent than I have been, withgreater power than mine to show him his true course and win himback."Her hand stopped now. She clasped me in her arms, and I claspedher in mine."If that little creature should fail too, Esther, I still lookforward. I look forward a long while, through years and years, andthink that then, when I am growing old, or when I am dead perhaps,a beautiful woman, his daughter, happily married, may be proud ofhim and a blessing to him. Or that a generous brave man, ashandsome as he used to be, as hopeful, and far more happy, may walkin the sunshine with him, honouring his grey head and saying tohimself, 'I thank God this is my father! Ruined by a fatalinheritance, and restored through me!'"Oh, my sweet girl, what a heart was that which beat so fast againstme!"These hopes uphold me, my dear Esther, and I know they will.Though sometimes even they depart from me before a dread thatarises when I look at Richard."I tried to cheer my darling, and asked her what it was. Sobbingand weeping, she replied, "That he may not live to see his child."