Chapter L. Esther's Narrative

by Charles Dickens

　　It happened that when I came home from Deal I found a note fromCaddy Jellyby (as we always continued to call her), informing methat her health, which had been for some time very delicate, wasworse and that she would be more glad than she could tell me if Iwould go to see her. It was a note of a few lines, written fromthe couch on which she lay and enclosed to me in another from herhusband, in which he seconded her entreaty with much solicitude.Caddy was now the mother, and I the godmother, of such a poorlittle baby--such a tiny old-faced mite, with a countenance thatseemed to be scarcely anything but cap-border, and a little lean,long-fingered hand, always clenched under its chin. It would liein this attitude all day, with its bright specks of eyes open,wondering (as I used to imagine) how it came to be so small andweak. Whenever it was moved it cried, but at all other times itwas so patient that the sole desire of its life appeared to be tolie quiet and think. It had curious little dark veins in its faceand curious little dark marks under its eyes like faintremembrances of poor Caddy's inky days, and altogether, to thosewho were not used to it, it was quite a piteous little sight.But it was enough for Caddy that she was used to it. The projectswith which she beguiled her illness, for little Esther's education,and little Esther's marriage, and even for her own old age as thegrandmother of little Esther's little Esthers, was so prettilyexpressive of devotion to this pride of her life that I should betempted to recall some of them but for the timely remembrance thatI am getting on irregularly as it is.To return to the letter. Caddy had a superstition about me whichhad been strengthening in her mind ever since that night long agowhen she had lain asleep with her head in my lap. She almost--Ithink I must say quite--believed that I did her good whenever I wasnear her. Now although this was such a fancy of the affectionategirl's that I am almost ashamed to mention it, still it might haveall the force of a fact when she was really ill. Therefore I setoff to Caddy, with my guardian's consent, post-haste; and she andPrince made so much of me that there never was anything like it.Next day I went again to sit with her, and next day I went again.It was a very easy journey, for I had only to rise a little earlierin the morning, and keep my accounts, and attend to housekeepingmatters before leaving home.But when I had made these three visits, my guardian said to me, onmy return at night, "Now, little woman, little woman, this willnever do. Constant dropping will wear away a stone, and constantcoaching will wear out a Dame Durden. We will go to London for awhile and take possession of our old lodgings.""Not for me, dear guardian," said I, "for I never feel tired,"which was strictly true. I was only too happy to be in suchrequest."For me then," returned my guardian, "or for Ada, or for both ofus. It is somebody's birthday to-morrow, I think.""Truly I think it is," said I, kissing my darling, who would betwenty-one to-morrow."Well," observed my guardian, half pleasantly, half seriously,"that's a great occasion and will give my fair cousin somenecessary business to transact in assertion of her independence,and will make London a more convenient place for all of us. So toLondon we will go. That being settled, there is another thing--howhave you left Caddy?""Very unwell, guardian. I fear it will be some time before sheregains her health and strength.""What do you call some time, now?" asked my guardian thoughtfully."Some weeks, I am afraid.""Ah!" He began to walk about the room with his hands in hispockets, showing that he had been thinking as much. "Now, what doyou say about her doctor? Is he a good doctor, my love?"I felt obliged to confess that I knew nothing to the contrary butthat Prince and I had agreed only that evening that we would likehis opinion to be confirmed by some one."Well, you know," returned my guardian quickly, "there'sWoodcourt."I had not meant that, and was rather taken by surprise. For amoment all that I had had in my mind in connexion with Mr.Woodcourt seemed to come back and confuse me."You don't object to him, little woman?""Object to him, guardian? Oh no!""And you don't think the patient would object to him?"So far from that, I had no doubt of her being prepared to have agreat reliance on him and to like him very much. I said that hewas no stranger to her personally, for she had seen him often inhis kind attendance on Miss Flite."Very good," said my guardian. "He has been here to-day, my dear,and I will see him about it to-morrow."I felt in this short conversation--though I did not know how, forshe was quiet, and we interchanged no look--that my dear girl wellremembered how merrily she had clasped me round the waist when noother hands than Caddy's had brought me the little parting token.This caused me to feel that I ought to tell her, and Caddy too,that I was going to be the mistress of Bleak House and that if Iavoided that disclosure any longer I might become less worthy in myown eyes of its master's love. Therefore, when we went upstairsand had waited listening until the clock struck twelve in orderthat only I might be the first to wish my darling all good wisheson her birthday and to take her to my heart, I set before her, justas I had set before myself, the goodness and honour of her cousinJohn and the happy life that was in store for for me. If ever mydarling were fonder of me at one time than another in all ourintercourse, she was surely fondest of me that night. And I was sorejoiced to know it and so comforted by the sense of having doneright in casting this last idle reservation away that I was tentimes happier than I had been before. I had scarcely thought it areservation a few hours ago, but now that it was gone I felt as ifI understood its nature better.Next day we went to London. We found our old lodging vacant, andin half an hour were quietly established there, as if we had nevergone away. Mr. Woodcourt dined with us to celebrate my darling'sbirthday, and we were as pleasant as we could be with the greatblank among us that Richard's absence naturally made on such anoccasion. After that day I was for some weeks--eight or nine as Iremember--very much with Caddy, and thus it fell out that I sawless of Ada at this time than any other since we had first cometogether, except the time of my own illness. She often came toCaddy's, but our function there was to amuse and cheer her, and wedid not talk in our usual confidential manner. Whenever I wenthome at night we were together, but Caddy's rest was broken bypain, and I often remained to nurse her.With her husband and her poor little mite of a baby to love andtheir home to strive for, what a good creature Caddy was! So self-denying, so uncomplaining, so anxious to get well on their account,so afraid of giving trouble, and so thoughtful of the unassistedlabours of her husband and the comforts of old Mr. Turveydrop; Ihad never known the best of her until now. And it seemed socurious that her pale face and helpless figure should be lyingthere day after day where dancing was the business of life, wherethe kit and the apprentices began early every morning in the ball-room, and where the untidy little boy waltzed by himself in thekitchen all the afternoon.At Caddy's request I took the supreme direction of her apartment,trimmed it up, and pushed her, couch and all, into a lighter andmore airy and more cheerful corner than she had yet occupied; then,every day, when we were in our neatest array, I used to lay mysmall small namesake in her arms and sit down to chat or work orread to her. It was at one of the first of these quiet times thatI told Caddy about Bleak House.We had other visitors besides Ada. First of all we had Prince, whoin his hurried intervals of teaching used to come softly in and sitsoftly down, with a face of loving anxiety for Caddy and the verylittle child. Whatever Caddy's condition really was, she neverfailed to declare to Prince that she was all but well--which I,heaven forgive me, never failed to confirm. This would put Princein such good spirits that he would sometimes take the kit from hispocket and play a chord or two to astonish the baby, which I neverknew it to do in the least degree, for my tiny namesake nevernoticed it at all.Then there was Mrs. Jellyby. She would come occasionally, with herusual distraught manner, and sit calmly looking miles beyond hergrandchild as if her attention were absorbed by a youngBorrioboolan on its native shores. As bright-eyed as ever, asserene, and as untidy, she would say, "Well, Caddy, child, and howdo you do to-day?" And then would sit amiably smiling and takingno notice of the reply or would sweetly glide off into acalculation of the number of letters she had lately received andanswered or of the coffee-bearing power of Borrioboola-Gha. Thisshe would always do with a serene contempt for our limited sphereof action, not to be disguised.Then there was old Mr. Turveydrop, who was from morning to nightand from night to morning the subject of innumerable precautions.If the baby cried, it was nearly stifled lest the noise should makehim uncomfortable. If the fire wanted stirring in the night, itwas surreptitiously done lest his rest should be broken. If Caddyrequired any little comfort that the house contained, she firstcarefully discussed whether he was likely to require it too. Inreturn for this consideration he would come into the room once aday, all but blessing it--showing a condescension, and a patronage,and a grace of manner in dispensing the light of his high-shouldered presence from which I might have supposed him (if I hadnot known better) to have been the benefactor of Caddy's life."My Caroline," he would say, making the nearest approach that hecould to bending over her. "Tell me that you are better to-day.""Oh, much better, thank you, Mr. Turveydrop," Caddy would reply."Delighted! Enchanted! And our dear Miss Summerson. She is notqulte prostrated by fatigue?" Here he would crease up his eyelidsand kiss his fingers to me, though I am happy to say he had ceasedto be particular in his attentions since I had been so altered."Not at all," I would assure him."Charming! We must take care of our dear Caroline, Miss Summerson.We must spare nothing that will restore her. We must nourish her.My dear Caroline"--he would turn to his daughter-in-law withinfinite generosity and protection--"want for nothing, my love.Frame a wish and gratify it, my daughter. Everything this housecontains, everything my room contains, is at your service, my dear.Do not," he would sometimes add in a burst of deportment, "evenallow my simple requirements to be considered if they should at anytime interfere with your own, my Caroline. Your necessities aregreater than mine."He had established such a long prescriptive right to thisdeportment (his son's inheritance from his mother) that I severaltimes knew both Caddy and her husband to be melted to tears bythese affectionate self-sacrifices."Nay, my dears," he would remonstrate; and when I saw Caddy's thinarm about his fat neck as he said it, I would be melted too, thoughnot by the same process. "Nay, nay! I have promised never toleave ye. Be dutiful and affectionate towards me, and I ask noother return. Now, bless ye! I am going to the Park."He would take the air there presently and get an appetite for hishotel dinner. I hope I do old Mr. Turveydrop no wrong, but I neversaw any better traits in him than these I faithfully record, exceptthat he certainly conceived a liking for Peepy and would take thechild out walking with great pomp, always on those occasionssending him home before he went to dinner himself, and occasionallywith a halfpenny in his pocket. But even this disinterestednesswas attended with no inconsiderable cost, to my knowledge, forbefore Peepy was sufficiently decorated to walk hand in hand withthe professor of deportment, he had to be newly dressed, at theexpense of Caddy and her husband, from top to toe.Last of our visitors, there was Mr. Jellyby. Really when he usedto come in of an evening, and ask Caddy in his meek voice how shewas, and then sit down with his head against the wall, and make noattempt to say anything more, I liked him very much. If he foundme bustling about doing any little thing, he sometimes half tookhis coat off, as if with an intention of helping by a greatexertion; but he never got any further. His sole occupation was tosit with his head against the wall, looking hard at the thoughtfulbaby; and I could not quite divest my mind of a fancy that theyunderstood one another.I have not counted Mr. Woodcourt among our visitors because he wasnow Caddy's regular attendant. She soon began to improve under hiscare, but he was so gentle, so skilful, so unwearying in the painshe took that it is not to be wondered at, I am sure. I saw a gooddeal of Mr. Woodcourt during this time, though not so much as mightbe supposed, for knowing Caddy to be safe in his hands, I oftenslipped home at about the hours when he was expected. Wefrequently met, notwithstanding. I was quite reconciled to myselfnow, but I still felt glad to think that he was sorry for me, andhe still was sorry for me I believed. He helped Mr. Badger in hisprofessional engagements, which were numerous, and had as yet nosettled projects for the future.It was when Caddy began to recover that I began to notice a changein my dear girl. I cannot say how it first presented itself to me,because I observed it in many slight particulars which were nothingin themselves and only became something when they were piecedtogether. But I made it out, by putting them together, that Adawas not so frankly cheerful with me as she used to be. Hertenderness for me was as loving and true as ever; I did not for amoment doubt that; but there was a quiet sorrow about her which shedid not confide to me, and in which I traced some hidden regret.Now, I could not understand this, and I was so anxious for thehappiness of my own pet that it caused me some uneasiness and setme thinking often. At length, feeling sure that Ada suppressedthis something from me lest it should make me unhappy too, it cameinto my head that she was a little grieved--for me--by what I hadtold her about Bleak House.How I persuaded myself that this was likely, I don't know. I hadno idea that there was any selfish reference in my doing so. I wasnot grieved for myself: I was quite contented and quite happy.Still, that Ada might be thinking--for me, though I had abandonedall such thoughts--of what once was, but was now all changed,seemed so easy to believe that I believed it.What could I do to reassure my darling (I considered then) and showher that I had no such feelings? Well! I could only be as briskand busy as possible, and that I had tried to be all along.However, as Caddy's illness had certainly interfered, more or less,with my home duties--though I had always been there in the morningto make my guardian's breakfast, and he had a hundred times laughedand said there must be two little women, for his little woman wasnever missing--I resolved to be doubly diligent and gay. So I wentabout the house humming all the tunes I knew, and I sat working andworking in a desperate manner, and I talked and talked, morning,noon, and night.And still there was the same shade between me and my darling."So, Dame Trot," observed my guardian, shutting up his book onenight when we were all three together, "so Woodcourt has restoredCaddy Jellyby to the full enjoyment of life again?""Yes," I said; "and to be repaid by such gratitude as hers is to bemade rich, guardian.""I wish it was," he returned, "with all my heart."So did I too, for that matter. I said so."Aye! We would make him as rich as a Jew if we knew how. Would wenot, little woman?"I laughed as I worked and replied that I was not sure about that,for it might spoil him, and he might not be so useful, and theremight be many who could ill spare him. As Miss Flite, and Caddyherself, and many others."True," said my guardian. "I had forgotten that. But we wouldagree to make him rich enough to live, I suppose? Rich enough towork with tolerable peace of mind? Rich enough to have his ownhappy home and his own household gods--and household goddess, too,perhaps?"That was quite another thing, I said. We must all agree in that."To be sure," said my guardian. "All of us. I have a great regardfor Woodcourt, a high esteem for him; and I have been sounding himdelicately about his plans. It is difficult to offer aid to anindependent man with that just kind of pride which he possesses.And yet I would be glad to do it if I might or if I knew how. Heseems half inclined for another voyage. But that appears likecasting such a man away.""It might open a new world to him," said I.''So it might, little woman," my guardian assented. ''I doubt ifhe expects much of the old world. Do you know I have fancied thathe sometimes feels some particular disappointment or misfortuneencountered in it. You never heard of anything of that sort?"I shook my head."Humph," said my guardian. "I am mistaken, I dare say." As therewas a little pause here, which I thought, for my dear girl'ssatisfaction, had better be filled up, I hummed an air as I workedwhich was a favourite with my guardian."And do you think Mr. Woodcourt will make another voyage?" I askedhim when I had hummed it quietly all through."I don't quite know what to think, my dear, but I should say it waslikely at present that he will give a long trip to anothercountry.""I am sure he will take the best wishes of all our hearts with himwherever he goes," said I; "and though they are not riches, he willnever be the poorer for them, guardian, at least.""Never, little woman," he replied.I was sitting in my usual place, which was now beside my guardian'schair. That had not been my usual place before the letter, but itwas now. I looked up to Ada, who was sitting opposite, and I saw,as she looked at me, that her eyes were filled with tears and thattears were falling down her face. I felt that I had only to beplacid and merry once for all to undeceive my dear and set herloving heart at rest. I really was so, and I had nothing to do butto be myself.So I made my sweet girl lean upon my shoulder--how little thinkingwhat was heavy on her mind!--and I said she was not quite well, andput my arm about her, and took her upstairs. When we were in ourown room, and when she might perhaps have told me what I was sounprepared to hear, I gave her no encouragement to confide in me; Inever thought she stood in need of it."Oh, my dear good Esther," said Ada, "if I could only make up mymind to speak to you and my cousin John when you are together!""Why, my love!" I remonstrated. "Ada, why should you not speak tous!"Ada only dropped her head and pressed me closer to her heart."You surely don't forget, my beauty," said I, smiling, "what quiet,old-fashioned people we are and how I have settled down to be thediscreetest of dames? You don't forget how happily and peacefullymy life is all marked out for me, and by whom? I am certain thatyou don't forget by what a noble character, Ada. That can neverbe.""No, never, Esther.""Why then, my dear," said I, "there can be nothing amiss--and whyshould you not speak to us?""Nothing amiss, Esther?" returned Ada. "Oh, when I think of allthese years, and of his fatherly care and kindness, and of the oldrelations among us, and of you, what shall I do, what shall I do!"I looked at my child in some wonder, but I thought it better not toanswer otherwise than by cheering her, and so I turned off intomany little recollections of our life together and prevented herfrom saying more. When she lay down to sleep, and not before, Ireturned to my guardian to say good night, and then I came back toAda and sat near her for a little while.She was asleep, and I thought as I looked at her that she was alittle changed. I had thought so more than once lately. I couldnot decide, even looking at her while she was unconscious, how shewas changed, but something in the familiar beauty of her facelooked different to me. My guardian's old hopes of her and Richardarose sorrowfully in my mind, and I said to myself, "She has beenanxious about him," and I wondered how that love would end.When I had come home from Caddy's while she was ill, I had oftenfound Ada at work, and she had always put her work away, and I hadnever known what it was. Some of it now lay in a drawer near her,which was not quite closed. I did not open the drawer, but I stillrather wondered what the work could he, for it was evidentlynothing for herself.And I noticed as I kissed my dear that she lay with one hand underher pillow so that it was hidden.How much less amiable I must have been than they thought me, howmuch less amiable than I thought myself, to be so preoccupied withmy own cheerfulness and contentment as to think that it only restedwith me to put my dear girl right and set her mind at peace!But I lay down, self-deceived, in that belief. And I awoke in itnext day to find that there was still the same shade between me andmy darling.