No More Learning

Our conversation, afterwards, took a more worldly turn; Mr. Micawber
telling us that he found Camden Town inconvenient, and that the first
thing he contemplated doing, when the advertisement should have been the
cause of something satisfactory turning up, was to move. He mentioned
a terrace at the western end of Oxford Street, fronting Hyde Park, on
which he had always had his eye, but which he did not expect to attain
immediately, as it would require a large establishment. There would
probably be an interval, he explained, in which he should content
himself with the upper part of a house, over some respectable place of
business--say in Piccadilly,--which would be a cheerful situation for
Mrs. Micawber; and where, by throwing out a bow-window, or carrying up
the roof another story, or making some little alteration of that sort,
they might live, comfortably and reputably, for a few years. Whatever
was reserved for him, he expressly said, or wherever his abode might be,
we might rely on this--there would always be a room for Traddles, and a
knife and fork for me. We acknowledged his kindness; and he begged us
to forgive his having launched into these practical and business-like
details, and to excuse it as natural in one who was making entirely new
arrangements in life.

Mrs. Micawber, tapping at the wall again to know if tea were ready,
broke up this particular phase of our friendly conversation. She made
tea for us in a most agreeable manner; and, whenever I went near her, in
handing about the tea-cups and bread-and-butter, asked me, in a whisper,
whether D. was fair, or dark, or whether she was short, or tall: or
something of that kind; which I think I liked. After tea, we discussed a
variety of topics before the fire; and Mrs. Micawber was good enough
to sing us (in a small, thin, flat voice, which I remembered to have
considered, when I first knew her, the very table-beer of acoustics) the
favourite ballads of 'The Dashing White Sergeant', and 'Little Tafflin'.
For both of these songs Mrs. Micawber had been famous when she lived at
home with her papa and mama. Mr. Micawber told us, that when he heard
her sing the first one, on the first occasion of his seeing her beneath
the parental roof, she had attracted his attention in an extraordinary
degree; but that when it came to Little Tafflin, he had resolved to win
that woman or perish in the attempt.

It was between ten and eleven o'clock when Mrs. Micawber rose to replace
her cap in the whitey-brown paper parcel, and to put on her bonnet. Mr.
Micawber took the opportunity of Traddles putting on his great-coat, to
slip a letter into my hand, with a whispered request that I would read
it at my leisure. I also took the opportunity of my holding a candle
over the banisters to light them down, when Mr. Micawber was going
first, leading Mrs. Micawber, and Traddles was following with the cap,
to detain Traddles for a moment on the top of the stairs.

'Traddles,' said I, 'Mr. Micawber don't mean any harm, poor fellow: but,
if I were you, I wouldn't lend him anything. '

'My dear Copperfield,' returned Traddles, smiling, 'I haven't got
anything to lend. '

'You have got a name, you know,' said I.

'Oh! You call THAT something to lend? ' returned Traddles, with a
thoughtful look.

'Certainly. '

'Oh! ' said Traddles. 'Yes, to be sure! I am very much obliged to you,
Copperfield; but--I am afraid I have lent him that already. '

'For the bill that is to be a certain investment? ' I inquired.

'No,' said Traddles. 'Not for that one. This is the first I have heard
of that one. I have been thinking that he will most likely propose that
one, on the way home. Mine's another. '

'I hope there will be nothing wrong about it,' said I. 'I hope not,'
said Traddles. 'I should think not, though, because he told me, only the
other day, that it was provided for. That was Mr. Micawber's expression,
"Provided for. "'

Mr. Micawber looking up at this juncture to where we were standing, I
had only time to repeat my caution. Traddles thanked me, and descended.
But I was much afraid, when I observed the good-natured manner in which
he went down with the cap in his hand, and gave Mrs. Micawber his arm,
that he would be carried into the Money Market neck and heels.

I returned to my fireside, and was musing, half gravely and half
laughing, on the character of Mr. Micawber and the old relations between
us, when I heard a quick step ascending the stairs. At first, I thought
it was Traddles coming back for something Mrs. Micawber had left behind;
but as the step approached, I knew it, and felt my heart beat high, and
the blood rush to my face, for it was Steerforth's.

I was never unmindful of Agnes, and she never left that sanctuary in my
thoughts--if I may call it so--where I had placed her from the first.
But when he entered, and stood before me with his hand out, the darkness
that had fallen on him changed to light, and I felt confounded and
ashamed of having doubted one I loved so heartily. I loved her none the
less; I thought of her as the same benignant, gentle angel in my life; I
reproached myself, not her, with having done him an injury; and I would
have made him any atonement if I had known what to make, and how to make
it.

'Why, Daisy, old boy, dumb-foundered! ' laughed Steerforth, shaking
my hand heartily, and throwing it gaily away. 'Have I detected you in
another feast, you Sybarite! These Doctors' Commons fellows are the
gayest men in town, I believe, and beat us sober Oxford people all to
nothing! ' His bright glance went merrily round the room, as he took
the seat on the sofa opposite to me, which Mrs. Micawber had recently
vacated, and stirred the fire into a blaze.

'I was so surprised at first,' said I, giving him welcome with all
the cordiality I felt, 'that I had hardly breath to greet you with,
Steerforth. '

'Well, the sight of me is good for sore eyes, as the Scotch say,'
replied Steerforth, 'and so is the sight of you, Daisy, in full bloom.
How are you, my Bacchanal? '

'I am very well,' said I; 'and not at all Bacchanalian tonight, though I
confess to another party of three. '

'All of whom I met in the street, talking loud in your praise,' returned
Steerforth. 'Who's our friend in the tights? '

I gave him the best idea I could, in a few words, of Mr. Micawber. He
laughed heartily at my feeble portrait of that gentleman, and said he
was a man to know, and he must know him. 'But who do you suppose our
other friend is? ' said I, in my turn.

'Heaven knows,' said Steerforth. 'Not a bore, I hope? I thought he
looked a little like one. '

'Traddles! ' I replied, triumphantly.

'Who's he? ' asked Steerforth, in his careless way.

'Don't you remember Traddles? Traddles in our room at Salem House? '

'Oh! That fellow! ' said Steerforth, beating a lump of coal on the top
of the fire, with the poker. 'Is he as soft as ever? And where the deuce
did you pick him up? '

I extolled Traddles in reply, as highly as I could; for I felt that
Steerforth rather slighted him. Steerforth, dismissing the subject with
a light nod, and a smile, and the remark that he would be glad to see
the old fellow too, for he had always been an odd fish, inquired if I
could give him anything to eat? During most of this short dialogue, when
he had not been speaking in a wild vivacious manner, he had sat idly
beating on the lump of coal with the poker. I observed that he did the
same thing while I was getting out the remains of the pigeon-pie, and so
forth.

'Why, Daisy, here's a supper for a king! ' he exclaimed, starting out of
his silence with a burst, and taking his seat at the table. 'I shall do
it justice, for I have come from Yarmouth. '

'I thought you came from Oxford? ' I returned.

'Not I,' said Steerforth. 'I have been seafaring--better employed. '

'Littimer was here today, to inquire for you,' I remarked, 'and I
understood him that you were at Oxford; though, now I think of it, he
certainly did not say so. '

'Littimer is a greater fool than I thought him, to have been inquiring
for me at all,' said Steerforth, jovially pouring out a glass of wine,
and drinking to me. 'As to understanding him, you are a cleverer fellow
than most of us, Daisy, if you can do that. '

'That's true, indeed,' said I, moving my chair to the table. 'So you
have been at Yarmouth, Steerforth! ' interested to know all about it.
'Have you been there long? '

'No,' he returned. 'An escapade of a week or so. '

'And how are they all? Of course, little Emily is not married yet? '

'Not yet. Going to be, I believe--in so many weeks, or months, or
something or other. I have not seen much of 'em. By the by'; he laid
down his knife and fork, which he had been using with great diligence,
and began feeling in his pockets; 'I have a letter for you. '

'From whom? '

'Why, from your old nurse,' he returned, taking some papers out of his
breast pocket. "'J. Steerforth, Esquire, debtor, to The Willing
Mind"; that's not it. Patience, and we'll find it presently. Old
what's-his-name's in a bad way, and it's about that, I believe. '

'Barkis, do you mean? '

'Yes! ' still feeling in his pockets, and looking over their contents:
'it's all over with poor Barkis, I am afraid. I saw a little apothecary
there--surgeon, or whatever he is--who brought your worship into the
world. He was mighty learned about the case, to me; but the upshot of
his opinion was, that the carrier was making his last journey rather
fast. ---Put your hand into the breast pocket of my great-coat on the
chair yonder, and I think you'll find the letter. Is it there? '

'Here it is! ' said I.

'That's right! '

It was from Peggotty; something less legible than usual, and brief. It
informed me of her husband's hopeless state, and hinted at his being
'a little nearer' than heretofore, and consequently more difficult
to manage for his own comfort. It said nothing of her weariness
and watching, and praised him highly. It was written with a plain,
unaffected, homely piety that I knew to be genuine, and ended with 'my
duty to my ever darling'--meaning myself.

While I deciphered it, Steerforth continued to eat and drink.

'It's a bad job,' he said, when I had done; 'but the sun sets every day,
and people die every minute, and we mustn't be scared by the common lot.
If we failed to hold our own, because that equal foot at all men's doors
was heard knocking somewhere, every object in this world would slip from
us. No! Ride on! Rough-shod if need be, smooth-shod if that will do, but
ride on! Ride on over all obstacles, and win the race! '

'And win what race? ' said I.

'The race that one has started in,' said he. 'Ride on! '

I noticed, I remember, as he paused, looking at me with his handsome
head a little thrown back, and his glass raised in his hand, that,
though the freshness of the sea-wind was on his face, and it was ruddy,
there were traces in it, made since I last saw it, as if he had applied
himself to some habitual strain of the fervent energy which, when
roused, was so passionately roused within him. I had it in my thoughts
to remonstrate with him upon his desperate way of pursuing any fancy
that he took--such as this buffeting of rough seas, and braving of hard
weather, for example--when my mind glanced off to the immediate subject
of our conversation again, and pursued that instead.

'I tell you what, Steerforth,' said I, 'if your high spirits will listen
to me--'

'They are potent spirits, and will do whatever you like,' he answered,
moving from the table to the fireside again.

'Then I tell you what, Steerforth. I think I will go down and see my
old nurse. It is not that I can do her any good, or render her any real
service; but she is so attached to me that my visit will have as much
effect on her, as if I could do both. She will take it so kindly that it
will be a comfort and support to her. It is no great effort to make,
I am sure, for such a friend as she has been to me. Wouldn't you go a
day's journey, if you were in my place? '

His face was thoughtful, and he sat considering a little before he
answered, in a low voice, 'Well! Go. You can do no harm. '

'You have just come back,' said I, 'and it would be in vain to ask you
to go with me? '

'Quite,' he returned. 'I am for Highgate tonight. I have not seen
my mother this long time, and it lies upon my conscience, for
it's something to be loved as she loves her prodigal son. ---Bah!
Nonsense! --You mean to go tomorrow, I suppose? ' he said, holding me out
at arm's length, with a hand on each of my shoulders.

'Yes, I think so. '

'Well, then, don't go till next day. I wanted you to come and stay a
few days with us. Here I am, on purpose to bid you, and you fly off to
Yarmouth! '

'You are a nice fellow to talk of flying off, Steerforth, who are always
running wild on some unknown expedition or other! '

He looked at me for a moment without speaking, and then rejoined, still
holding me as before, and giving me a shake:

'Come! Say the next day, and pass as much of tomorrow as you can with
us! Who knows when we may meet again, else? Come! Say the next day! I
want you to stand between Rosa Dartle and me, and keep us asunder. '

'Would you love each other too much, without me? '

'Yes; or hate,' laughed Steerforth; 'no matter which. Come! Say the next
day! '

I said the next day; and he put on his great-coat and lighted his cigar,
and set off to walk home. Finding him in this intention, I put on my own
great-coat (but did not light my own cigar, having had enough of that
for one while) and walked with him as far as the open road: a dull road,
then, at night. He was in great spirits all the way; and when we parted,
and I looked after him going so gallantly and airily homeward, I thought
of his saying, 'Ride on over all obstacles, and win the race! ' and
wished, for the first time, that he had some worthy race to run.

I was undressing in my own room, when Mr. Micawber's letter tumbled on
the floor. Thus reminded of it, I broke the seal and read as follows. It
was dated an hour and a half before dinner. I am not sure whether I
have mentioned that, when Mr. Micawber was at any particularly desperate
crisis, he used a sort of legal phraseology, which he seemed to think
equivalent to winding up his affairs.


'SIR--for I dare not say my dear Copperfield,

'It is expedient that I should inform you that the undersigned is
Crushed. Some flickering efforts to spare you the premature knowledge of
his calamitous position, you may observe in him this day; but hope has
sunk beneath the horizon, and the undersigned is Crushed.

'The present communication is penned within the personal range (I cannot
call it the society) of an individual, in a state closely bordering
on intoxication, employed by a broker. That individual is in legal
possession of the premises, under a distress for rent. His inventory
includes, not only the chattels and effects of every description
belonging to the undersigned, as yearly tenant of this habitation, but
also those appertaining to Mr. Thomas Traddles, lodger, a member of the
Honourable Society of the Inner Temple.

'If any drop of gloom were wanting in the overflowing cup, which is now
"commended" (in the language of an immortal Writer) to the lips of the
undersigned, it would be found in the fact, that a friendly acceptance
granted to the undersigned, by the before-mentioned Mr.
Thomas Traddles,
for the sum Of 23l 4s 9 1/2d is over due, and is NOT provided for. Also,
in the fact that the living responsibilities clinging to the undersigned
will, in the course of nature, be increased by the sum of one more
helpless victim; whose miserable appearance may be looked for--in round
numbers--at the expiration of a period not exceeding six lunar months
from the present date.

'After premising thus much, it would be a work of supererogation to add,
that dust and ashes are for ever scattered

'On
'The
'Head
'Of
'WILKINS MICAWBER. '


Poor Traddles! I knew enough of Mr. Micawber by this time, to foresee
that he might be expected to recover the blow; but my night's rest was
sorely distressed by thoughts of Traddles, and of the curate's daughter,
who was one of ten, down in Devonshire, and who was such a dear girl,
and who would wait for Traddles (ominous praise! ) until she was sixty,
or any age that could be mentioned.



CHAPTER 29. I VISIT STEERFORTH AT HIS HOME, AGAIN


I mentioned to Mr. Spenlow in the morning, that I wanted leave of
absence for a short time; and as I was not in the receipt of any salary,
and consequently was not obnoxious to the implacable Jorkins, there was
no difficulty about it. I took that opportunity, with my voice sticking
in my throat, and my sight failing as I uttered the words, to express
my hope that Miss Spenlow was quite well; to which Mr. Spenlow replied,
with no more emotion than if he had been speaking of an ordinary human
being, that he was much obliged to me, and she was very well.

We articled clerks, as germs of the patrician order of proctors, were
treated with so much consideration, that I was almost my own master at
all times. As I did not care, however, to get to Highgate before one
or two o'clock in the day, and as we had another little excommunication
case in court that morning, which was called The office of the judge
promoted by Tipkins against Bullock for his soul's correction, I passed
an hour or two in attendance on it with Mr. Spenlow very agreeably.
It arose out of a scuffle between two churchwardens, one of whom was
alleged to have pushed the other against a pump; the handle of which
pump projecting into a school-house, which school-house was under a
gable of the church-roof, made the push an ecclesiastical offence.
It was an amusing case; and sent me up to Highgate, on the box of the
stage-coach, thinking about the Commons, and what Mr. Spenlow had said
about touching the Commons and bringing down the country.

Mrs. Steerforth was pleased to see me, and so was Rosa Dartle. I was
agreeably surprised to find that Littimer was not there, and that we
were attended by a modest little parlour-maid, with blue ribbons in her
cap, whose eye it was much more pleasant, and much less disconcerting,
to catch by accident, than the eye of that respectable man. But what I
particularly observed, before I had been half-an-hour in the house, was
the close and attentive watch Miss Dartle kept upon me; and the lurking
manner in which she seemed to compare my face with Steerforth's, and
Steerforth's with mine, and to lie in wait for something to come out
between the two. So surely as I looked towards her, did I see that eager
visage, with its gaunt black eyes and searching brow, intent on mine; or
passing suddenly from mine to Steerforth's; or comprehending both of us
at once. In this lynx-like scrutiny she was so far from faltering when
she saw I observed it, that at such a time she only fixed her piercing
look upon me with a more intent expression still. Blameless as I was,
and knew that I was, in reference to any wrong she could possibly
suspect me of, I shrunk before her strange eyes, quite unable to endure
their hungry lustre.

All day, she seemed to pervade the whole house. If I talked to
Steerforth in his room, I heard her dress rustle in the little gallery
outside. When he and I engaged in some of our old exercises on the lawn
behind the house, I saw her face pass from window to window, like a
wandering light, until it fixed itself in one, and watched us. When we
all four went out walking in the afternoon, she closed her thin hand on
my arm like a spring, to keep me back, while Steerforth and his mother
went on out of hearing: and then spoke to me.

'You have been a long time,' she said, 'without coming here. Is your
profession really so engaging and interesting as to absorb your whole
attention? I ask because I always want to be informed, when I am
ignorant. Is it really, though? '

I replied that I liked it well enough, but that I certainly could not
claim so much for it.

'Oh! I am glad to know that, because I always like to be put right when
I am wrong,' said Rosa Dartle. 'You mean it is a little dry, perhaps? '

'Well,' I replied; 'perhaps it was a little dry. '

'Oh! and that's a reason why you want relief and change--excitement and
all that? ' said she. 'Ah! very true! But isn't it a little--Eh? --for
him; I don't mean you? '

A quick glance of her eye towards the spot where Steerforth was walking,
with his mother leaning on his arm, showed me whom she meant; but beyond
that, I was quite lost. And I looked so, I have no doubt.

'Don't it--I don't say that it does, mind I want to know--don't it
rather engross him? Don't it make him, perhaps, a little more remiss
than usual in his visits to his blindly-doting--eh? ' With another
quick glance at them, and such a glance at me as seemed to look into my
innermost thoughts.

'Miss Dartle,' I returned, 'pray do not think--'

'I don't! ' she said. 'Oh dear me, don't suppose that I think anything!
I am not suspicious. I only ask a question. I don't state any opinion. I
want to found an opinion on what you tell me. Then, it's not so? Well! I
am very glad to know it. '

'It certainly is not the fact,' said I, perplexed, 'that I am
accountable for Steerforth's having been away from home longer than
usual--if he has been: which I really don't know at this moment, unless
I understand it from you. I have not seen him this long while, until
last night. '

'No? '

'Indeed, Miss Dartle, no! '

As she looked full at me, I saw her face grow sharper and paler, and the
marks of the old wound lengthen out until it cut through the disfigured
lip, and deep into the nether lip, and slanted down the face. There was
something positively awful to me in this, and in the brightness of her
eyes, as she said, looking fixedly at me:

'What is he doing? '

I repeated the words, more to myself than her, being so amazed.

'What is he doing? ' she said, with an eagerness that seemed enough to
consume her like a fire. 'In what is that man assisting him, who never
looks at me without an inscrutable falsehood in his eyes? If you are
honourable and faithful, I don't ask you to betray your friend. I ask
you only to tell me, is it anger, is it hatred, is it pride, is it
restlessness, is it some wild fancy, is it love, what is it, that is
leading him? '

'Miss Dartle,' I returned, 'how shall I tell you, so that you will
believe me, that I know of nothing in Steerforth different from what
there was when I first came here? I can think of nothing. I firmly
believe there is nothing. I hardly understand even what you mean. '

As she still stood looking fixedly at me, a twitching or throbbing,
from which I could not dissociate the idea of pain, came into that cruel
mark; and lifted up the corner of her lip as if with scorn, or with a
pity that despised its object. She put her hand upon it hurriedly--a
hand so thin and delicate, that when I had seen her hold it up before
the fire to shade her face, I had compared it in my thoughts to fine
porcelain--and saying, in a quick, fierce, passionate way, 'I swear you
to secrecy about this! ' said not a word more.

Mrs. Steerforth was particularly happy in her son's society, and
Steerforth was, on this occasion, particularly attentive and respectful
to her. It was very interesting to me to see them together, not only on
account of their mutual affection, but because of the strong personal
resemblance between them, and the manner in which what was haughty or
impetuous in him was softened by age and sex, in her, to a gracious
dignity. I thought, more than once, that it was well no serious cause of
division had ever come between them; or two such natures--I ought rather
to express it, two such shades of the same nature--might have been
harder to reconcile than the two extremest opposites in creation. The
idea did not originate in my own discernment, I am bound to confess, but
in a speech of Rosa Dartle's.

She said at dinner:

'Oh, but do tell me, though, somebody, because I have been thinking
about it all day, and I want to know. '

'You want to know what, Rosa? ' returned Mrs. Steerforth. 'Pray, pray,
Rosa, do not be mysterious. '

'Mysterious! ' she cried. 'Oh! really? Do you consider me so? '

'Do I constantly entreat you,' said Mrs. Steerforth, 'to speak plainly,
in your own natural manner? '

'Oh! then this is not my natural manner? ' she rejoined. 'Now you must
really bear with me, because I ask for information. We never know
ourselves. '

'It has become a second nature,' said Mrs. Steerforth, without any
displeasure; 'but I remember,--and so must you, I think,--when your
manner was different, Rosa; when it was not so guarded, and was more
trustful. '

'I am sure you are right,' she returned; 'and so it is that bad habits
grow upon one! Really? Less guarded and more trustful? How can I,
imperceptibly, have changed, I wonder! Well, that's very odd! I must
study to regain my former self. '

'I wish you would,' said Mrs. Steerforth, with a smile.

'Oh! I really will, you know! ' she answered. 'I will learn frankness
from--let me see--from James. '

'You cannot learn frankness, Rosa,' said Mrs. Steerforth quickly--for
there was always some effect of sarcasm in what Rosa Dartle said,
though it was said, as this was, in the most unconscious manner in the
world--'in a better school. '

'That I am sure of,' she answered, with uncommon fervour. 'If I am sure
of anything, of course, you know, I am sure of that. '

Mrs. Steerforth appeared to me to regret having been a little nettled;
for she presently said, in a kind tone:

'Well, my dear Rosa, we have not heard what it is that you want to be
satisfied about? '

'That I want to be satisfied about? ' she replied, with provoking
coldness. 'Oh! It was only whether people, who are like each other in
their moral constitution--is that the phrase? '

'It's as good a phrase as another,' said Steerforth.

'Thank you:--whether people, who are like each other in their moral
constitution, are in greater danger than people not so circumstanced,
supposing any serious cause of variance to arise between them, of being
divided angrily and deeply? '

'I should say yes,' said Steerforth.

'Should you? ' she retorted. 'Dear me! Supposing then, for instance--any
unlikely thing will do for a supposition--that you and your mother were
to have a serious quarrel. '

'My dear Rosa,' interposed Mrs. Steerforth, laughing good-naturedly,
'suggest some other supposition! James and I know our duty to each other
better, I pray Heaven! '

'Oh! ' said Miss Dartle, nodding her head thoughtfully. 'To be sure. That
would prevent it? Why, of course it would. Exactly. Now, I am glad I
have been so foolish as to put the case, for it is so very good to know
that your duty to each other would prevent it! Thank you very much. '

One other little circumstance connected with Miss Dartle I must
not omit; for I had reason to remember it thereafter, when all the
irremediable past was rendered plain. During the whole of this day, but
especially from this period of it, Steerforth exerted himself with his
utmost skill, and that was with his utmost ease, to charm this singular
creature into a pleasant and pleased companion. That he should succeed,
was no matter of surprise to me. That she should struggle against the
fascinating influence of his delightful art--delightful nature I thought
it then--did not surprise me either; for I knew that she was sometimes
jaundiced and perverse. I saw her features and her manner slowly change;
I saw her look at him with growing admiration; I saw her try, more and
more faintly, but always angrily, as if she condemned a weakness in
herself, to resist the captivating power that he possessed; and finally,
I saw her sharp glance soften, and her smile become quite gentle, and I
ceased to be afraid of her as I had really been all day, and we all sat
about the fire, talking and laughing together, with as little reserve as
if we had been children.

Whether it was because we had sat there so long, or because Steerforth
was resolved not to lose the advantage he had gained, I do not know; but
we did not remain in the dining-room more than five minutes after her
departure. 'She is playing her harp,' said Steerforth, softly, at the
drawing-room door, 'and nobody but my mother has heard her do that, I
believe, these three years. ' He said it with a curious smile, which was
gone directly; and we went into the room and found her alone.

'Don't get up,' said Steerforth (which she had already done)' my dear
Rosa, don't! Be kind for once, and sing us an Irish song. '

'What do you care for an Irish song? ' she returned.

'Much! ' said Steerforth. 'Much more than for any other. Here is Daisy,
too, loves music from his soul. Sing us an Irish song, Rosa! and let me
sit and listen as I used to do. '

He did not touch her, or the chair from which she had risen, but sat
himself near the harp. She stood beside it for some little while, in a
curious way, going through the motion of playing it with her right hand,
but not sounding it. At length she sat down, and drew it to her with one
sudden action, and played and sang.

I don't know what it was, in her touch or voice, that made that song the
most unearthly I have ever heard in my life, or can imagine. There was
something fearful in the reality of it. It was as if it had never been
written, or set to music, but sprung out of passion within her; which
found imperfect utterance in the low sounds of her voice, and crouched
again when all was still. I was dumb when she leaned beside the harp
again, playing it, but not sounding it, with her right hand.

A minute more, and this had roused me from my trance:--Steerforth had
left his seat, and gone to her, and had put his arm laughingly about
her, and had said, 'Come, Rosa, for the future we will love each other
very much! ' And she had struck him, and had thrown him off with the fury
of a wild cat, and had burst out of the room.

'What is the matter with Rosa? ' said Mrs. Steerforth, coming in.

'She has been an angel, mother,' returned Steerforth, 'for a little
while; and has run into the opposite extreme, since, by way of
compensation. '

'You should be careful not to irritate her, James. Her temper has been
soured, remember, and ought not to be tried. '

Rosa did not come back; and no other mention was made of her, until I
went with Steerforth into his room to say Good night. Then he laughed
about her, and asked me if I had ever seen such a fierce little piece of
incomprehensibility.

I expressed as much of my astonishment as was then capable of
expression, and asked if he could guess what it was that she had taken
so much amiss, so suddenly.

'Oh, Heaven knows,' said Steerforth. 'Anything you like--or nothing!
I told you she took everything, herself included, to a grindstone, and
sharpened it. She is an edge-tool, and requires great care in dealing
with. She is always dangerous. Good night! '

'Good night! ' said I, 'my dear Steerforth! I shall be gone before you
wake in the morning. Good night! '

He was unwilling to let me go; and stood, holding me out, with a hand on
each of my shoulders, as he had done in my own room.

'Daisy,' he said, with a smile--'for though that's not the name your
godfathers and godmothers gave you, it's the name I like best to call
you by--and I wish, I wish, I wish, you could give it to me! '

'Why so I can, if I choose,' said I.

'Daisy, if anything should ever separate us, you must think of me at my
best, old boy. Come! Let us make that bargain. Think of me at my best,
if circumstances should ever part us! '

'You have no best to me, Steerforth,' said I, 'and no worst. You are
always equally loved, and cherished in my heart. '

So much compunction for having ever wronged him, even by a shapeless
thought, did I feel within me, that the confession of having done so was
rising to my lips. But for the reluctance I had to betray the confidence
of Agnes, but for my uncertainty how to approach the subject with no
risk of doing so, it would have reached them before he said, 'God bless
you, Daisy, and good night! ' In my doubt, it did NOT reach them; and we
shook hands, and we parted.