Chapter XIV. Deportment

by Charles Dickens

　　Richard left us on the very next evening to begin his new career,and committed Ada to my charge with great love for her and greattrust in me. It touched me then to reflect, and it touches me now,more nearly, to remember (having what I have to tell) how they boththought of me, even at that engrossing time. I was a part of alltheir plans, for the present and the future, I was to write Richardonce a week, making my faithful report of Ada, who was to write tohim every alternate day. I was to be informed, under his own hand,of all his labours and successes; I was to observe how resolute andpersevering he would be; I was to be Ada's bridesmaid when theywere married; I was to live with them afterwards; I was to keep allthe keys of their house; I was to be made happy for ever and a day."And if the suit should make us rich, Esther--which it may, youknow!" said Richard to crown all.A shade crossed Ada's face."My dearest Ada," asked Richard, "why not?""It had better declare us poor at once," said Ada."Oh! I don't know about that," returned Richard, "but at allevents, it won't declare anything at once. It hasn't declaredanything in heaven knows how many years.""Too true," said Ada."Yes, but," urged Richard, answering what her look suggested ratherthan her words, "the longer it goes on, dcar cousin, the nearer itmust be to a settlement one way or other. Now, is not thatreasonable?""You know best, Richard. But I am afraid if we trust to it, itwill make us unhappy.""But, my Ada, we are not going to trust to it!" cried Richardgaily. "We know it better than to trust to it. We only say thatif it should make us rich, we have no constitutional objection tobeing rich. The court is, by solemn settlement of law, our grimold guardian, and we are to suppose that what it gives us (when itgives us anything) is our right. It is not necessary to quarrelwith our right.""No," Said Ada, "but it may be better to forget all about it.""Well, well," cried Richard, "then we will forget all about it! Weconsign the whole thing to oblivion. Dame Durden puts on herapproving face, and it's done!""Dame Durden's approving face," said I, looking out of the box inwhich I was packing his books, "was not very visible when youcalled it by that name; but it does approve, and she thinks youcan't do better."So, Richard said there was an end of it, and immediately began, onno other foundation, to build as many castles in the air as wouldman the Great Wall of China. He went away in high spirits. Adaand I, prepared to miss him very much, commenced our quietercareer.On our arrival in London, we had called with Mr. Jarndyce at Mrs.Jellyby's but had not been so fortunate as to find her at home. Itappeared that she had gone somewhere to a tea-drinking and hadtaken Miss Jellyby with her. Besides the tea-drinking, there wasto be some considerable speech-making and letter-writing on thegeneral merits of the cultivation of coffee, conjointly withnatives, at the Settlement of Borrioboola-Gha. All this involved,no doubt, sufficient active exercise of pen and ink to make herdaughter's part in the proceedings anything but a holiday.It being now beyond the time appointed for Mrs. Jellyby's return,we called again. She was in town, but not at home, having gone toMile End directly after breakfast on some Borrioboolan business,arising out of a society called the East London Branch AidRamification. As I had not seen Peepy on the occasion of our lastcall (when he was not to be found anywhere, and when the cookrather thought he must have strolled away with the dustman's cart),I now inquired for him again. The oyster shells he had beenbuilding a house with were still in the passage, but he was nowherediscoverable, and the cook supposed that he had "gone after thesheep." When we repeated, with some surprise, "The sheep?" shesaid, Oh, yes, on market days he sometimes followed them quite outof town and came back in such a state as never was!I was sitting at the window with my guardian on the followingmorning, and Ada was busy writing-of course to Richard--when MissJellyby was announced, and entered, leading the identical Peepy,whom she had made some endeavours to render presentable by wipingthe dirt into corners of his face and hands and making his hairvery wet and then violently frizzling it with her fingers.Everything the dear child wore was either too large for him or toosmall. Among his other contradictory decorations he had the hat ofa bishop and the little gloves of a baby. His boots were, on asmall scale, the boots of a ploughman, while his legs, so crossedand recrossed with scratches that they looked like maps, were barebelow a very short pair of plaid drawers finished off with twofrills of perfectly different patterns. The deficient buttons onhis plaid frock had evidently been supplied from one of Mr.Jellyby's coats, they were so extremely brazen and so much toolarge. Most extraordinary specimens of needlework appeared onseveral parts of his dress, where it had been hastily mended, and Irecognized the same hand on Miss Jellyby's. She was, however,unaccountably improved in her appearance and looked very pretty.She was conscious of poor little Peepy being but a failure afterall her trouble, and she showed it as she came in by the way inwhich she glanced first at him and then at us."Oh, dear me!" said my guardian. "Due east!"Ada and I gave her a cordial welcome and presented her to Mr.Jarndyce, to whom she said as she sat down, "Ma's compliments, andshe hopes you'll excuse her, because she's correcting proofs of theplan. She's going to put out five thousand new circulars, and sheknows you'll be interested to hear that. I have brought one ofthem with me. Ma's compliments." With which she presented itsulkily enough."Thank you," said my guardian. "I am much obliged to Mrs. Jellyby.Oh, dear me! This is a very trying wind!"We were busy with Peepy, taking off his clerical hat, asking him ifhe remembered us, and so on. Peepy retired behind his elbow atfirst, but relented at the sight of sponge-cake and allowed me totake him on my lap, where he sat munching quietly. Mr. Jarndycethen withdrawing into the temporary growlery, Miss Jellyby opened aconversation with her usual abruptness."We are going on just as bad as ever in Thavies Inn," said she. "Ihave no peace of my life. Talk of Africa! I couldn't be worse offif I was a what's-his-name--man and a brother!"I tried to say something soothing."Oh, it's of no use, Miss Summerson," exclaimed Miss Jellyby,"though I thank you for the kind intention all the same. I knowhow I am used, and I am not to be talked over. You wouldn't betalked over if you were used so. Peepy, go and play at Wild Beastsunder the piano!""I shan't!" said Peepy."Very well, you ungrateful, naughty, hard-hearted boy!" returnedMiss Jellyby with tears in her eyes. "I'll never take pains todress you any more.""Yes, I will go, Caddy!" cried Peepy, who was really a good childand who was so moved by his sister's vexation that he went at once."It seems a little thing to cry about," said poor Miss Jellybyapologetically, "but I am quite worn out. I was directing the newcirculars till two this morning. I detest the whole thing so thatthat alone makes my head ache till I can't see out of my eyes. Andlook at that poor unfortunate child! Was there ever such a frightas he is!"Peepy, happily unconscious of the defects in his appearance, sat onthe carpet behind one of the legs of the piano, looking calmly outof his den at us while he ate his cake."I have sent him to the other end of the room," observed MissJellyby, drawing her chair nearer ours, "because I don't want himto hear the conversation. Those little things are so sharp! I wasgoing to say, we really are going on worse than ever. Pa will be abankrupt before long, and then I hope Ma will be satisfied.There'll he nobody but Ma to thank for it."We said we hoped Mr. Jellyby's affairs were not in so bad a stateas that."It's of no use hoping, though it's very kind of you," returnedMiss Jellyby, shaking her head. "Pa told me only yesterday morning(and dreadfully unhappy he is) that he couldn't weather the storm.I should be surprised if he could. When all our tradesmen sendinto our house any stuff they like, and the servants do what theylike with it, and I have no time to improve things if I knew how,and Ma don't care about anything, I should like to make out how Pais to weather the storm. I declare if I was Pa, I'd run away.""My dear!" said I, smiling. "Your papa, no doubt, considers hisfamily.""Oh, yes, his family is all very fine, Miss Summerson," repliedMiss Jellyby; "but what comfort is his family to him? His familyis nothing but bills, dirt, waste, noise, tumbles downstairs,confusion, and wretchedness. His scrambling home, from week's endto week's end, is like one great washing-day--only nothing'swashed!"Miss Jellyby tapped her foot upon the floor and wiped her eyes."I am sure I pity Pa to that degree," she said, "and am so angrywith Ma that I can't find words to express myself! However, I amnot going to bear it, I am determined. I won't be a slave all mylife, and I won't submit to be proposed to by Mr. Quale. A prettything, indeed, to marry a philanthropist. As if I hadn't had enoughof that!" said poor Miss Jellyby.I must confess that I could not help feeling rather angry with Mrs.Jellyby myself, seeing and hearing this neglected girl and knowinghow much of bitterly satirical truth there was in what she said."If it wasn't that we had been intimate when you stopped at ourhouse," pursued Miss Jellyby, "I should have been ashamed to comehere to-day, for I know what a figure I must seem to you two. Butas it is, I made up my mind to call, especially as I am not likelyto see you again the next time you come to town."She said this with such great significance that Ada and I glancedat one another, foreseeing something more."No!" said Miss Jellyby, shaking her head. "Not at all likely! Iknow I may trust you two. I am sure you won't betray me. I amengaged.""Without their knowledge at home?" said I."Why, good gracious me, Miss Summerson," she returned, justifyingherself in a fretful but not angry manner, "how can it beotherwise? You know what Ma is--and I needn't make poor Pa moremiserable by telling him.""But would it not he adding to his unhappiness to marry without hisknowledge or consent, my dear?" said I."No," said Miss Jellyby, softening. ""I hope not. I should try tomake him happy and comfortable when he came to see me, and Peepyand the others should take it in turns to come and stay with me,and they should have some care taken of them then."There was a good deal of affection in poor Caddy. She softenedmore and more while saying this and cried so much over the unwontedlittle home-picture she had raised in her mind that Peepy, in hiscave under the piano, was touched, and turned himself over on hisback with loud lamentations. It was not until I had brought him tokiss his sister, and had restored him to his place on my lap, andhad shown him that Caddy was laughing (she laughed expressly forthe purpose), that we could recall his peace of mind; even then itwas for some time conditional on his taking us in turns by the chinand smoothing our faces all over with his hand. At last, as hisspirits were not equal to the piano, we put him on a chair to lookout of window; and Miss Jellyby, holding him by one leg, resumedher confidence."It began in your coming to our house," she said.We naturally asked how."I felt I was so awkward," she replied, "that I made up my mind tobe improved in that respect at all events and to learn to dance. Itold Ma I was ashamed of myself, and I must be taught to dance. Malooked at me in that provoking way of hers as if I wasn't in sight,but I was quite determined to be taught to dance, and so I went toMr. Turveydrop's Academy in Newman Street.""And was it there, my dear--" I began."Yes, it was there," said Caddy, "and I am engaged to Mr.Turveydrop. There are two Mr. Turveydrops, father and son. My Mr.Turveydrop is the son, of course. I only wish I had been betterbrought up and was likely to make him a better wife, for I am veryfond of him.""I am sorry to hear this," said I, "I must confess.""I don't know why you should be sorry," she retorted a littleanxiously, "but I am engaged to Mr. Turveydrop, whether or no, andhe is very fond of me. It's a secret as yet, even on his side,because old Mr. Turveydrop has a share in the connexion and itmight break his heart or give him some other shock if he was toldof it abruptly. Old Mr. Turveydrop is a very gentlemanly manindeed--very gentlemanly.""Does his wife know of it?" asked Ada."Old Mr. Turveydrop's wife, Miss Clare?" returned Miss Jellyby,opening her eyes. "There's no such person. He is a widower."We were here interrupted by Peepy, whose leg had undergone so muchon account of his sister's unconsciously jerking it like a bell-rope whenever she was emphatic that the afflicted child nowbemoaned his sufferings with a very low-spirited noise. As heappealed to me for compassion, and as I was only a listener, Iundertook to hold him. Miss Jellyby proceeded, after beggingPeepy's pardon with a kiss and assuring him that she hadn't meantto do it."That's the state of the case," said Caddy. "If I ever blamemyself, I still think it's Ma's fault. We are to be marriedwhenever we can, and then I shall go to Pa at the office and writeto Ma. It won't much agitate Ma; I am only pen and ink to her.One great comfort is," said Caddy with a sob, "that I shall neverhear of Africa after I am married. Young Mr. Turveydrop hates itfor my sake, and if old Mr. Turveydrop knows there is such a place,it's as much as he does.""It was he who was very gentlemanly, I think!" said I."Very gentlemanly indeed," said Caddy. "He is celebrated almosteverywhere for his deportment.""Does he teach?" asked Ada."No, he don't teach anything in particular," replied Caddy. "Buthis deportment is beautiful."Caddy went on to say with considerable hesitation and reluctancethat there was one thing more she wished us to know, and felt weought to know, and which she hoped would not offend us. It wasthat she had improved her acquaintance with Miss Flite, the littlecrazy old lady, and that she frequently went there early in themorning and met her lover for a few minutes before breakfast--onlyfor a few minutes. "I go there at other times," said Caddy, "butPrince does not come then. Young Mr. Turveydrop's name is Prince;I wish it wasn't, because it sounds like a dog, but of course bedidn't christen himself. Old Mr. Turveydrop had him christenedPrince in remembrance of the Prince Regent. Old Mr. Turveydropadored the Prince Regent on account of his deportment. I hope youwon't think the worse of me for having made these littleappointments at Miss Flite's, where I first went with you, becauseI like the poor thing for her own sake and I believe she likes me.If you could see young Mr. Turveydrop, I am sure you would thinkwell of him--at least, I am sure you couldn't possibly think anyill of him. I am going there now for my lesson. I couldn't askyou to go with me, Miss Summerson; but if you would," said Caddy,who had said all this earnestly and tremblingly, "I should be veryglad--very glad."It happened that we had arranged with my guardian to go to MissFlite's that day. We had told him of our former visit, and ouraccount had interested him; but something had always happened toprevent our going there again. As I trusted that I might havesufficient influence with Miss Jellyby to prevent her taking anyvery rash step if I fully accepted the confidence she was sowilling to place in me, poor girl, I proposed that she and I andPeepy should go to the academy and afterwards meet my guardian andAda at Miss Flite's, whose name I now learnt for the first time.This was on condition that Miss Jellyby and Peepy should come backwith us to dinner. The last article of the agreement beingjoyfully acceded to by both, we smartened Peepy up a little withthe assistance of a few pins, some soap and water, and a hair-brush, and went out, bending our steps towards Newman Street, whichwas very near.I found the academy established in a sufficiently dingy house atthe corner of an archway, with busts in all the staircase windows.In the same house there were also established, as I gathered fromthe plates on the door, a drawing-master, a coal-merchant (therewas, certainly, no room for his coals), and a lithographic artist.On the plate which, in size and situation, took precedence of allthe rest, I read, Mr. Turveydrop. The door was open, and the hallwas blocked up by a grand piano, a harp, and several other musicalinstruments in cases, all in progress of removal, and all lookingrakish in the daylight. Miss Jellyby informed me that the academyhad been lent, last night, for a concert.We went upstairs--it had been quite a fine house once, when it wasanybody's business to keep it clean and fresh, and nobody'sbusiness to smoke in it all day--and into Mr. Turveydrop's greatroom, which was built out into a mews at the back and was lightedby a skylight. It was a bare, resounding room smelling of stables,with cane forms along the walls, and the walls ornamented atregular intervals with painted lyres and little cut-glass branchesfor candles, which seemed to be shedding their old-fashioned dropsas other branches might shed autumn leaves. Several young ladypupils, ranging from thirteen or fourteen years of age to two orthree and twenty, were assembled; and I was looking among them fortheir instructor when Caddy, pinching my arm, repeated the ceremonyof introduction. "Miss Summerson, Mr. Prince Turveydrop!"I curtsied to a little blue-eyed fair man of youthful appearancewith flaxen hair parted in the middle and curling at the ends allround his head. He had a little fiddle, which we used to call atschool a kit, under his left arm, and its little bow in the samehand. His little dancing-shoes were particularly diminutive, andhe had a little innocent, feminine manner which not only appealedto me in an amiable way, but made this singular effect upon me,that I received the impression that he was like his mother and thathis mother had not been much considered or well used."I am very happy to see Miss Jellyby's friend," he said, bowing lowto me. "I began to fear," with timid tenderness, "as it was pastthe usual time, that Miss Jellyby was not coming.""I beg you will have the goodness to attribute that to me, who havedetained her, and to receive my excuses, sir," said I."Oh, dear!" said he."And pray," I entreated, "do not allow me to be the cause of anymore delay."With that apology I withdrew to a seat between Peepy (who, beingwell used to it, had already climbed into a corner place) and anold lady of a censorious countenance whose two nieces were in theclass and who was very indignant with Peepy's boots. PrinceTurveydrop then tinkled the strings of his kit with his fingers,and the young ladies stood up to dance. Just then there appearedfrom a side-door old Mr. Turveydrop, in the full lustre of hisdeportment.He was a fat old gentleman with a false complexion, false teeth,false whiskers, and a wig. He had a fur collar, and he had apadded breast to his coat, which only wanted a star or a broad blueribbon to be complete. He was pinched in, and swelled out, and gotup, and strapped down, as much as he could possibly bear. He hadsuch a neckcloth on (puffing his very eyes out of their naturalshape), and his chin and even his ears so sunk into it, that itseemed as though be must inevitably double up if it were castloose. He had under his arm a hat of great size and weight,shelving downward from the crown to the brim, and in his hand apair of white gloves with which he flapped it as he stood poised onone leg in a high-shouldered, round-elbowed state of elegance notto be surpassed. He had a cane, he had an eye-glass, he had asnuff-box, he had rings, he had wristbands, he had everything butany touch of nature; he was not like youth, he was not like age, hewas not like anything in the world but a model of deportment."Father! A visitor. Miss Jellyby's friend, Miss Summerson.""Distinguished," said Mr. Turveydrop, "by Miss Summerson'spresence." As he bowed to me in that tight state, I almost believeI saw creases come into the whites of his eyes."My father," said the son, aside, to me with quite an affectingbelief in him, "is a celebrated character. My father is greatlyadmired.""Go on, Prince! Go on!" said Mr. Turveydrop, standing with hisback to the fire and waving his gloves condescendingly. "Go on, myson!"At this command, or by this gracious permission, the lesson wenton. Prince Turveydrop sometimes played the kit, dancing; sometimesplayed the piano, standing; sometimes hummed the tune with whatlittle breath he could spare, while he set a pupil right; alwaysconscientiously moved with the least proficient through every stepand every part of the figure; and never rested for an instant. Hisdistinguished father did nothing whatever but stand before thefire, a model of deportment."And he never does anything else," said the old lady of thecensorious countenance. "Yet would you believe that it's his nameon the door-plate?""His son's name is the same, you know," said I."He wouldn't let his son have any name if he could take it fromhim," returned the old lady. "Look at the son's dress!" Itcertainly was plain--threadbare--almost shabby. "Yet the fathermust be garnished and tricked out," said the old lady, "because ofhis deportment. I'd deport him! Transport him would be better!"I felt curious to know more concerning this person. I asked, "Doeshe give lessons in deportment now?""Now!" returned the old lady shortly. "Never did."After a moment's consideration, I suggested that perhaps fencinghad been his accomplishment."I don't believe he can fence at all, ma'am," said the old lady.I looked surprised and inquisitive. The old lady, becoming moreand more incensed against the master of deportment as she dweltupon the subject, gave me some particulars of his career, withstrong assurances that they were mildly stated.He had married a meek little dancing-mistress, with a tolerableconnexion (having never in his life before done anything but deporthimself), and had worked her to death, or had, at the best,suffered her to work herself to death, to maintain him in thoseexpenses which were indispensable to his position. At once toexhibit his deportment to the best models and to keep the bestmodels constantly before himself, he had found it necessary tofrequent all public places of fashionable and lounging resort, tobe seen at Brighton and elsewhere at fashionable times, and to leadan idle life in the very best clothes. To enable him to do this,the affectionate little dancing-mistress had toiled and labouredand would have toiled and laboured to that hour if her strength hadlasted so long. For the mainspring of the story was that in spiteof the man's absorbing selfishness, his wife (overpowered by hisdeportment) had, to the last, believed in him and had, on herdeath-bed, in the most moving terms, confided him to their son asone who had an inextinguishable claim upon him and whom he couldnever regard with too much pride and deference. The son,inheriting his mother's belief, and having the deportment alwaysbefore him, had lived and grown in the same faith, and now, atthirty years of age, worked for his father twelve hours a day andlooked up to him with veneration on the old imaginary pinnacle."The airs the fellow gives himself!" said my informant, shaking herhead at old Mr. Turveydrop with speechless indignation as he drewon his tight gloves, of course unconscious of the homage she wasrendering. "He fully believes he is one of the aristocracy! Andhe is so condescending to the son he so egregiously deludes thatyou might suppose him the most virtuous of parents. Oh!" said theold lady, apostrophizing him with infinite vehemence. "I couldbite you!"I could not help being amused, though I heard the old lady out withfeelings of real concern. It was difficult to doubt her with thefather and son before me. What I might have thought of themwithout the old lady's account, or what I might have thought of theold lady's account without them, I cannot say. There was a fitnessof things in the whole that carried conviction with it.My eyes were yet wandering, from young Mr. Turveydrop working sohard, to old Mr. Turveydrop deporting himself so beautifully, whenthe latter came ambling up to me and entered into conversation.He asked me, first of all, whether I conferred a charm and adistinction on London by residing in it? I did not think itnecessary to reply that I was perfectly aware I should not do that,in any case, but merely told him where I did reside."A lady so graceful and accomplished," he said, kissing his rightglove and afterwards extending it towards the pupils, "will lookleniently on the deficiencies here. We do our best to polish--polish--polish!"He sat down beside me, taking some pains to sit on the form. Ithought, in imitation of the print of his illustrious model on thesofa. And really he did look very like it."To polish--polish--polish!" he repeated, taking a pinch of snuffand gently fluttering his fingers. "But we are not, if I may sayso to one formed to be graceful both by Nature and Art--" with thehigh-shouldered bow, which it seemed impossible for him to makewithout lifting up his eyebrows and shutting his eyes "--we are notwhat we used to be in point of deportment.""Are we not, sir?" said I."We have degenerated," he returned, shaking his head, which hecould do to a very limited extent in his cravat. "A levelling ageis not favourable to deportment. It develops vulgarity. Perhaps Ispeak with some little partiality. It may not be for me to saythat I have been called, for some years now, Gentleman Turveydrop,or that his Royal Highness the Prince Regent did me the honour toinquire, on my removing my hat as he drove out of the Pavilion atBrighton (that fine building), 'Who is he? Who the devil is he?Why don't I know him? Why hasn't he thirty thousand a year?' Butthese are little matters of anecdote--the general property, ma'am--still repeated occasionally among the upper classes.""Indeed?" said I.He replied with the high-shouldered bow. "Where what is left amongus of deportment," he added, "still lingers. England--alas, mycountry!--has degenerated very much, and is degenerating every day.She has not many gentlemen left. We are few. I see nothing tosucceed us but a race of weavers.""One might hope that the race of gentlemen would be perpetuatedhere," said I."You are very good." He smiled with a high-shouldered bow again."You flatter me. But, no--no! I have never been able to imbue mypoor boy with that part of his art. Heaven forbid that I shoulddisparage my dear child, but he has--no deportment.""He appears to be an excellent master," I observed."Understand me, my dear madam, he is an excellent master. All thatcan be acquired, he has acquired. All that can be imparted, he canimpart. But there are things--" He took another pinch of snuffand made the bow again, as if to add, "This kind of thing, forinstance."I glanced towards the centre of the room, where Miss Jellyby'slover, now engaged with single pupils, was undergoing greaterdrudgery than ever."My amiable child," murmured Mr. Turveydrop, adjusting his cravat."Your son is indefatigable," said I."It is my reward," said Mr. Turveydrop, "to hear you say so. Insome respects, he treads in the footsteps of his sainted mother.She was a devoted creature. But wooman, lovely wooman," said Mr.Turveydrop with very disagreeable gallantry, "what a sex you are!"I rose and joined Miss Jellyby, who was by this time putting on herbonnet. The time allotted to a lesson having fully elapsed, therewas a general putting on of bonnets. When Miss Jellyby and theunfortunate Prince found an opportunity to become betrothed I don'tknow, but they certainly found none on this occasion to exchange adozen words."My dear," said Mr. Turveydrop benignly to his son, "do you knowthe hour?""No, father." The son had no watch. The father had a handsomegold one, which he pulled out with an air that was an example tomankind."My son," said he, "it's two o'clock. Recollect your school atKensington at three.""That's time enough for me, father," said Prince. "I can take amorsel of dinner standing and be off.""My dear boy," returned his father, "you must be very quick. Youwill find the cold mutton on the table.""Thank you, father. Are you off now, father?""Yes, my dear. I suppose," said Mr. Turveydrop, shutting his eyesand lifting up his shoulders with modest consciousness, "that Imust show myself, as usual, about town.""You had better dine out comfortably somewhere," said his son."My dear child, I intend to. I shall take my little meal, I think,at the French house, in the Opera Colonnade.""That's right. Good-bye, father!" said Prince, shaking hands."Good-bye, my son. Bless you!"Mr. Turveydrop said this in quite a pious manner, and it seemed todo his son good, who, in parting from him, was so pleased with him,so dutiful to him, and so proud of him that I almost felt as if itwere an unkindness to the younger man not to be able to believeimplicitly in the elder. The few moments that were occupied byPrince in taking leave of us (and particularly of one of us, as Isaw, being in the secret), enhanced my favourable impression of hisalmost childish character. I felt a liking for him and acompassion for him as he put his little kit in his pocket--and withit his desire to stay a little while with Caddy--and went awaygood-humouredly to his cold mutton and his school at Kensington,that made me scarcely less irate with his father than thecensorious old lady.The father opened the room door for us and bowed us out in amanner, I must acknowledge, worthy of his shining original. In thesame style he presently passed us on the other side of the street,on his way to the aristocratic part of the town, where he was goingto show himself among the few other gentlemen left. For somemoments, I was so lost in reconsidering what I had heard and seenin Newman Street that I was quite unable to talk to Caddy or evento fix my attention on what she said to me, especially when I beganto inquire in my mind whether there were, or ever had been, anyother gentlemen, not in the dancing profession, who lived andfounded a reputation entirely on their deportment. This became sobewildering and suggested the possibility of so many Mr.Turveydrops that I said, "Esther, you must make up your mind toabandon this subject altogether and attend to Caddy." Iaccordingly did so, and we chatted all the rest of the way toLincoln's Inn.Caddy told me that her lover's education had been so neglected thatit was not always easy to read his notes. She said if he were notso anxious about his spelling and took less pains to make it clear,he would do better; but he put so many unnecessary letters intoshort words that they sometimes quite lost their Englishappearance. "He does it with the best intention," observed Caddy,"but it hasn't the effect he means, poor fellow!" Caddy then wenton to reason, how could he be expected to be a scholar when he hadpassed his whole life in the dancing-school and had done nothingbut teach and fag, fag and teach, morning, noon, and night! Andwhat did it matter? She could write letters enough for both, asshe knew to her cost, and it was far better for him to be amiablethan learned. "Besides, it's not as if I was an accomplished girlwho had any right to give herself airs," said Caddy. "I knowlittle enough, I am sure, thanks to Ma!"There's another thing I want to tell you, now we are alone,"continued Caddy, "which I should not have liked to mention unlessyou had seen Prince, Miss Summerson. You know what a house oursis. It's of no use my trying to learn anything that it would beuseful for Prince's wife to know in our house. We live in such astate of muddle that it's impossible, and I have only been moredisheartened whenever I have tried. So I get a little practicewith--who do you think? Poor Miss Flite! Early in the morning Ihelp her to tidy her room and clean her birds, and I make her cupof coffee for her (of course she taught me), and I have learnt tomake it so well that Prince says it's the very best coffee he evertasted, and would quite delight old Mr. Turveydrop, who is veryparticular indeed about his coffee. I can make little puddingstoo; and I know how to buy neck of mutton, and tea, and sugar, andbutter, and a good many housekeeping things. I am not clever at myneedle, yet," said Caddy, glancing at the repairs on Peepy's frock,"but perhaps I shall improve, and since I have been engaged toPrince and have been doing all this, I have felt better-tempered, Ihope, and more forgiving to Ma. It rather put me out at first thismorning to see you and Miss Clare looking so neat and pretty and tofeel ashamed of Peepy and myself too, but on the whole I hope I ambetter-tempered than I was and more forgiving to Ma."The poor girl, trying so hard, said it from her heart, and touchedmine. "Caddy, my love," I replied, "I begin to have a greataffection for you, and I hope we shall become friends.""Oh, do you?" cried Caddy. "How happy that would make me!""My dear Caddy," said I, "let us be friends from this time, and letus often have a chat about these matters and try to find the rightway through them." Caddy was overjoyed. I said everything I couldin my old-fashioned way to comfort and encourage her, and I wouldnot have objected to old Mr. Turveydrop that day for any smallerconsideration than a settlement on his daughter-in-law.By this time we were come to Mr. Krook's, whose private door stoodopen. There was a bill, pasted on the door-post, announcing a roomto let on the second floor. It reminded Caddy to tell me as weproceeded upstairs that there had been a sudden death there and aninquest and that our little friend had been ill of the fright. Thedoor and window of the vacant room being open, we looked in. Itwas the room with the dark door to which Miss Flite had secretlydirected my attention when I was last in the house. A sad anddesolate place it was, a gloomy, sorrowful place that gave me astrange sensation of mournfulness and even dread. "You look pale,"said Caddy when we came out, "and cold!" I felt as if the room hadchilled me.We had walked slowly while we were talking, and my guardian and Adawere here before us. We found them in Miss Flite's garret. Theywere looking at the birds, while a medical gentleman who was sogood as to attend Miss Flite with much solicitude and compassionspoke with her cheerfully by the fire."I have finished my professional visit," he said, coming forward."Miss Flite is much better and may appear in court (as her mind isset upon it) to-morrow. She has been greatly missed there, Iunderstand."Miss Flite received the compliment with complacency and dropped ageneral curtsy to us."Honoured, indeed," said she, "by another visit from the wards inJarndyce! Ve-ry happy to receive Jarndyce of Bleak House beneathmy humble roof!" with a special curtsy. "Fitz-Jarndyce, my dear"--she had bestowed that name on Caddy, it appeared, and always calledher by it--"a double welcome!""Has she been very ill?" asked Mr. Jarndyce of the gentleman whomwe had found in attendance on her. She answered for herselfdirectly, though he had put the question in a whisper."Oh, decidedly unwell! Oh, very unwell indeed," she saidconfidentially. "Not pain, you know--trouble. Not bodily so muchas nervous, nervous! The truth is," in a subdued voice andtrembling, "we have had death here. There was poison in the house.I am very susceptible to such horrid things. It frightened me.Only Mr. Woodcourt knows how much. My physician, Mr, Woodcourt!"with great stateliness. "The wards in Jarndyce--Jarndyce of BleakHouse--Fitz-Jarndyce!""Miss Flite," said Mr. Woodcourt in a grave kind of voice, as if hewere appealing to her while speaking to us, and laying his handgently on her arm, "Miss Flite describes her illness with her usualaccuracy. She was alarmed by an occurrence in the house whichmight have alarmed a stronger person, and was made ill by thedistress and agitation. She brought me here in the first hurry ofthe discovery, though too late for me to be of any use to theunfortunate man. I have compensated myself for that disappointmentby coming here since and being of some small use to her.""The kindest physician in the college," whispered Miss Flite to me."I expect a judgment. On the day of judgment. And shall thenconfer estates.""She will be as well in a day or two," said Mr. Woodcourt, lookingat her with an observant smile, "as she ever will be. In otherwords, quite well of course. Have you heard of her good fortune?""Most extraordinary!" said Miss Flite, smiling brightly. "Younever heard of such a thing, my dear! Every Saturday, ConversationKenge or Guppy (clerk to Conversation K.) places in my hand a paperof shillings. Shillings. I assure you! Always the same number inthe paper. Always one for every day in the week. Now you know,really! So well-timed, is it not? Ye-es! From whence do thesepapers come, you say? That is the great question. Naturally.Shall I tell you what I think? I think," said Miss Flite, drawingherself back with a very shrewd look and shaking her rightforefinger in a most significant manner, "that the Lord Chancellor,aware of the length of time during which the Great Seal has beenopen (for it has been open a long time!), forwards them. Until thejudgment I expect is given. Now that's very creditable, you know.To confess in that way that he is a little slow for human life. Sodelicate! Attending court the other day--I attend it regularly,with my documents--I taxed him with it, and he almost confessed.That is, I smiled at him from my bench, and he smiled at me fromhis bench. But it's great good fortune, is it not? And Fitz-Jarndyce lays the money out for me to great advantage. Oh, Iassure you to the greatest advantage!"I congratulated her (as she addressed herself to me) upon thisfortunate addition to her income and wished her a long continuanceof it. I did not speculate upon the source from which it came orwonder whose humanity was so considerate. My guardian stood beforeme, contemplating the birds, and I had no need to look beyond him."And what do you call these little fellows, ma'am?" said he in hispleasant voice. "Have they any names?""I can answer for Miss Elite that they have," said I, "for shepromised to tell us what they were. Ada remembers?"Ada remembered very well."Did I?" said Miss Elite. "Who's that at my door? What are youlistening at my door for, Krook?"The old man of the house, pushing it open before him, appearedthere with his fur cap in his hand and his cat at his heels."I warn't listening, Miss Flite," he said, "I was going to give arap with my knuckles, only you're so quick!""Make your cat go down. Drive her away!" the old lady angrilyexclaimed."Bah, bah! There ain't no danger, gentlefolks," said Mr. Krook,looking slowly and sharply from one to another until he had lookedat all of us; "she'd never offer at the birds when I was hereunless I told her to it.""You will excuse my landlord," said the old lady with a dignifiedair. "M, quite M! What do you want, Krook, when I have company?""Hi!" said the old man. "You know I am the Chancellor.""Well?" returned Miss Elite. "What of that?""For the Chancellor," said the old man with a chuckle, "not to beacquainted with a Jarndyce is queer, ain't it, Miss Flite?Mightn't I take the liberty? Your servant, sir. I know Jarndyceand Jarndyce a'most as well as you do, sir. I knowed old SquireTom, sir. I never to my knowledge see you afore though, not evenin court. Yet, I go there a mortal sight of times in the course ofthe year, taking one day with another.""I never go there," said Mr. Jarndyce (which he never did on anyconsideration). "I would sooner go--somewhere else.""Would you though?" returned Krook, grinning. "You're bearing hardupon my noble and learned brother in your meaning, sir, thoughperhaps it is but nat'ral in a Jarndyce. The burnt child, sir!What, you're looking at my lodger's birds, Mr. Jarndyce?" The oldman had come by little and little into the room until he nowtouched my guardian with his elbow and looked close up into hisface with his spectacled eyes. "It's one of her strange ways thatshe'll never tell the names of these birds if she can help it,though she named 'em all." This was in a whisper. "Shall I run'em over, Flite?" he asked aloud, winking at us and pointing at heras she turned away, affecting to sweep the grate."If you like," she answered hurriedly.The old man, looking up at the cages after another look at us, wentthrough the list."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. That'sthe whole collection," said the old man, "all cooped up together,by my noble and learned brother.""This is a bitter wind!" muttered my guardian."When my noble and learned brother gives his judgment, they're tobe let go free," said Krook, winking at us again. "And then," headded, whispering and grinning, "if that ever was to happen--whichit won't--the birds that have never been caged would kill 'em.""If ever the wind was in the east," said my guardian, pretending tolook out of the window for a weathercock, "I think it's there to-day!"We found it very difficult to get away from the house. It was notMiss Flite who detained us; she was as reasonable a little creaturein consulting the convenience of others as there possibly could be.It was Mr. Krook. He seemed unable to detach himself from Mr.Jarndyce. If he had been linked to him, he could hardly haveattended him more closely. He proposed to show us his Court ofChancery and all the strange medley it contained; during the wholeof our inspection (prolonged by himself) he kept close to Mr.Jarndyce and sometimes detained him under one pretence or otheruntil we had passed on, as if he were tormented by an inclinationto enter upon some secret subject which he could not make up hismind to approach. I cannot imagine a countenance and manner moresingularly expressive of caution and indecision, and a perpetualimpulse to do something he could not resolve to venture on, thanMr. Krook's was that day. His watchfulness of my guardian wasincessant. He rarely removed his eyes from his face. If he wenton beside him, he observed him with the slyness of an old whitefox. If he went before, he looked back. When we stood still, hegot opposite to him, and drawing his hand across and across hisopen mouth with a curious expression of a sense of power, andturning up his eyes, and lowering his grey eyebrows until theyappeared to be shut, seemed to scan every lineament of his face.At last, having been (always attended by the cat) all over thehouse and having seen the whole stock of miscellaneous lumber,which was certainly curious, we came into the back part of theshop. Here on the head of an empty barrel stood on end were anink-bottle, some old stumps of pens, and some dirty playbills; andagainst the wall were pasted several large printed alphabets inseveral plain hands."What are you doing here?" asked my guardian."Trying to learn myself to read and write," said Krook."And how do you get on?""Slow. Bad," returned the old man impatiently. "It's hard at mytime of life.""It would be easier to be taught by some one," said my guardian."Aye, but they might teach me wrong!" returned the old man with awonderfully suspicious flash of his eye. "I don't know what I mayhave lost by not being learned afore. I wouldn't like to loseanything by being learned wrong now.""Wrong?" said my guardian with his good-humoured smile. "Who doyou suppose would teach you wrong?""I don't know, Mr. Jarndyce of Bleak House!" replied the old man,turning up his spectacles on his forehead and rubbing his hands."I don't suppose as anybody would, but I'd rather trust my own selfthan another!"These answers and his manner were strange enough to cause myguardian to inquire of Mr. Woodcourt, as we all walked acrossLincoln's Inn together, whether Mr. Krook were really, as hislodger represented him, deranged. The young surgeon replied, no,he had seen no reason to think so. He was exceedingly distrustful,as ignorance usually was, and he was always more or less under theinfluence of raw gin, of which he drank great quantities and ofwhich he and his back-shop, as we might have observed, smeltstrongly; but he did not think him mad as yet.On our way home, I so conciliated Peepy's affections by buying hima windmill and two flour-sacks that he would suffer nobody else totake off his hat and gloves and would sit nowhere at dinner but atmy side. Caddy sat upon the other side of me, next to Ada, to whomwe imparted the whole history of the engagement as soon as we gotback. We made much of Caddy, and Peepy too; and Caddy brightenedexceedingly; and my guardian was as merry as we were; and we wereall very happy indeed until Caddy went home at night in a hackney-coach, with Peepy fast asleep, but holding tight to the windmill.I have forgotten to mention--at least I have not mentioned--thatMr. Woodcourt was the same dark young surgeon whom we had met atMr. Badger's. Or that Mr. Jarndyce invited him to dinner that day.Or that he came. Or that when they were all gone and I said toAda, "Now, my darling, let us have a little talk about Richard!"Ada laughed and said--But I don't think it matters what my darling said. She was alwaysmerry.