No More Learning

I was a boyish husband as to years. I had known the softening influence
of no other sorrows or experiences than those recorded in these leaves.
If I did any wrong, as I may have done much, I did it in mistaken love,
and in my want of wisdom. I write the exact truth. It would avail me
nothing to extenuate it now.

Thus it was that I took upon myself the toils and cares of our life,
and had no partner in them. We lived much as before, in reference to our
scrambling household arrangements; but I had got used to those, and Dora
I was pleased to see was seldom vexed now. She was bright and cheerful
in the old childish way, loved me dearly, and was happy with her old
trifles.

When the debates were heavy--I mean as to length, not quality, for in
the last respect they were not often otherwise--and I went home late,
Dora would never rest when she heard my footsteps, but would always come
downstairs to meet me. When my evenings were unoccupied by the pursuit
for which I had qualified myself with so much pains, and I was engaged
in writing at home, she would sit quietly near me, however late the
hour, and be so mute, that I would often think she had dropped asleep.
But generally, when I raised my head, I saw her blue eyes looking at me
with the quiet attention of which I have already spoken.

'Oh, what a weary boy! ' said Dora one night, when I met her eyes as I
was shutting up my desk.

'What a weary girl! ' said I. 'That's more to the purpose. You must go to
bed another time, my love. It's far too late for you. '

'No, don't send me to bed! ' pleaded Dora, coming to my side. 'Pray,
don't do that! '

'Dora! ' To my amazement she was sobbing on my neck. 'Not well, my dear!
not happy! '

'Yes! quite well, and very happy! ' said Dora. 'But say you'll let me
stop, and see you write. '

'Why, what a sight for such bright eyes at midnight! ' I replied.

'Are they bright, though? ' returned Dora, laughing. 'I'm so glad they're
bright. ' 'Little Vanity! ' said I.

But it was not vanity; it was only harmless delight in my admiration. I
knew that very well, before she told me so.

'If you think them pretty, say I may always stop, and see you write! '
said Dora. 'Do you think them pretty? '

'Very pretty. '

'Then let me always stop and see you write. '

'I am afraid that won't improve their brightness, Dora. '

'Yes, it will! Because, you clever boy, you'll not forget me then, while
you are full of silent fancies. Will you mind it, if I say something
very, very silly? ---more than usual? ' inquired Dora, peeping over my
shoulder into my face.

'What wonderful thing is that? ' said I.

'Please let me hold the pens,' said Dora. 'I want to have something to
do with all those many hours when you are so industrious. May I hold the
pens? '

The remembrance of her pretty joy when I said yes, brings tears into my
eyes. The next time I sat down to write, and regularly afterwards,
she sat in her old place, with a spare bundle of pens at her side. Her
triumph in this connexion with my work, and her delight when I wanted a
new pen--which I very often feigned to do--suggested to me a new way of
pleasing my child-wife. I occasionally made a pretence of wanting a
page or two of manuscript copied. Then Dora was in her glory. The
preparations she made for this great work, the aprons she put on, the
bibs she borrowed from the kitchen to keep off the ink, the time she
took, the innumerable stoppages she made to have a laugh with Jip as if
he understood it all, her conviction that her work was incomplete unless
she signed her name at the end, and the way in which she would bring it
to me, like a school-copy, and then, when I praised it, clasp me round
the neck, are touching recollections to me, simple as they might appear
to other men.

She took possession of the keys soon after this, and went jingling about
the house with the whole bunch in a little basket, tied to her slender
waist. I seldom found that the places to which they belonged were
locked, or that they were of any use except as a plaything for Jip--but
Dora was pleased, and that pleased me. She was quite satisfied that a
good deal was effected by this make-belief of housekeeping; and was as
merry as if we had been keeping a baby-house, for a joke.

So we went on. Dora was hardly less affectionate to my aunt than to me,
and often told her of the time when she was afraid she was 'a cross old
thing'. I never saw my aunt unbend more systematically to anyone. She
courted Jip, though Jip never responded; listened, day after day, to the
guitar, though I am afraid she had no taste for music; never attacked
the Incapables, though the temptation must have been severe; went
wonderful distances on foot to purchase, as surprises, any trifles that
she found out Dora wanted; and never came in by the garden, and missed
her from the room, but she would call out, at the foot of the stairs, in
a voice that sounded cheerfully all over the house:

'Where's Little Blossom? '



CHAPTER 45. MR. DICK FULFILS MY AUNT'S PREDICTIONS


It was some time now, since I had left the Doctor. Living in his
neighbourhood, I saw him frequently; and we all went to his house on two
or three occasions to dinner or tea. The Old Soldier was in permanent
quarters under the Doctor's roof. She was exactly the same as ever, and
the same immortal butterflies hovered over her cap.

Like some other mothers, whom I have known in the course of my life,
Mrs. Markleham was far more fond of pleasure than her daughter was.
She required a great deal of amusement, and, like a deep old soldier,
pretended, in consulting her own inclinations, to be devoting herself
to her child. The Doctor's desire that Annie should be entertained,
was therefore particularly acceptable to this excellent parent; who
expressed unqualified approval of his discretion.

I have no doubt, indeed, that she probed the Doctor's wound without
knowing it. Meaning nothing but a certain matured frivolity and
selfishness, not always inseparable from full-blown years, I think she
confirmed him in his fear that he was a constraint upon his young
wife, and that there was no congeniality of feeling between them, by so
strongly commending his design of lightening the load of her life.

'My dear soul,' she said to him one day when I was present, 'you know
there is no doubt it would be a little pokey for Annie to be always shut
up here. '

The Doctor nodded his benevolent head. 'When she comes to her mother's
age,' said Mrs. Markleham, with a flourish of her fan, 'then it'll be
another thing. You might put ME into a Jail, with genteel society and
a rubber, and I should never care to come out. But I am not Annie, you
know; and Annie is not her mother. '

'Surely, surely,' said the Doctor.

'You are the best of creatures--no, I beg your pardon! ' for the Doctor
made a gesture of deprecation, 'I must say before your face, as I always
say behind your back, you are the best of creatures; but of course you
don't--now do you? ---enter into the same pursuits and fancies as Annie? '

'No,' said the Doctor, in a sorrowful tone.

'No, of course not,' retorted the Old Soldier. 'Take your Dictionary,
for example. What a useful work a Dictionary is! What a necessary work!
The meanings of words! Without Doctor Johnson, or somebody of that sort,
we might have been at this present moment calling an Italian-iron,
a bedstead. But we can't expect a Dictionary--especially when it's
making--to interest Annie, can we? '

The Doctor shook his head.

'And that's why I so much approve,' said Mrs. Markleham, tapping him
on the shoulder with her shut-up fan, 'of your thoughtfulness. It shows
that you don't expect, as many elderly people do expect, old heads on
young shoulders. You have studied Annie's character, and you understand
it. That's what I find so charming! '

Even the calm and patient face of Doctor Strong expressed some little
sense of pain, I thought, under the infliction of these compliments.

'Therefore, my dear Doctor,' said the Old Soldier, giving him several
affectionate taps, 'you may command me, at all times and seasons. Now,
do understand that I am entirely at your service. I am ready to go with
Annie to operas, concerts, exhibitions, all kinds of places; and you
shall never find that I am tired. Duty, my dear Doctor, before every
consideration in the universe! '

She was as good as her word. She was one of those people who can bear
a great deal of pleasure, and she never flinched in her perseverance
in the cause. She seldom got hold of the newspaper (which she settled
herself down in the softest chair in the house to read through an
eye-glass, every day, for two hours), but she found out something that
she was certain Annie would like to see. It was in vain for Annie to
protest that she was weary of such things. Her mother's remonstrance
always was, 'Now, my dear Annie, I am sure you know better; and I must
tell you, my love, that you are not making a proper return for the
kindness of Doctor Strong. '

This was usually said in the Doctor's presence, and appeared to me to
constitute Annie's principal inducement for withdrawing her objections
when she made any. But in general she resigned herself to her mother,
and went where the Old Soldier would.

It rarely happened now that Mr. Maldon accompanied them. Sometimes
my aunt and Dora were invited to do so, and accepted the invitation.
Sometimes Dora only was asked. The time had been, when I should have
been uneasy in her going; but reflection on what had passed that
former night in the Doctor's study, had made a change in my mistrust. I
believed that the Doctor was right, and I had no worse suspicions.

My aunt rubbed her nose sometimes when she happened to be alone with
me, and said she couldn't make it out; she wished they were happier; she
didn't think our military friend (so she always called the Old Soldier)
mended the matter at all. My aunt further expressed her opinion, 'that
if our military friend would cut off those butterflies, and give 'em to
the chimney-sweepers for May-day, it would look like the beginning of
something sensible on her part. '

But her abiding reliance was on Mr. Dick. That man had evidently an
idea in his head, she said; and if he could only once pen it up into a
corner, which was his great difficulty, he would distinguish himself in
some extraordinary manner.

Unconscious of this prediction, Mr. Dick continued to occupy precisely
the same ground in reference to the Doctor and to Mrs. Strong. He seemed
neither to advance nor to recede. He appeared to have settled into his
original foundation, like a building; and I must confess that my faith
in his ever Moving, was not much greater than if he had been a building.

But one night, when I had been married some months, Mr. Dick put his
head into the parlour, where I was writing alone (Dora having gone out
with my aunt to take tea with the two little birds), and said, with a
significant cough:

'You couldn't speak to me without inconveniencing yourself, Trotwood, I
am afraid? '

'Certainly, Mr. Dick,' said I; 'come in! '

'Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick, laying his finger on the side of his nose,
after he had shaken hands with me. 'Before I sit down, I wish to make an
observation. You know your aunt? '

'A little,' I replied.

'She is the most wonderful woman in the world, sir! '

After the delivery of this communication, which he shot out of himself
as if he were loaded with it, Mr. Dick sat down with greater gravity
than usual, and looked at me.

'Now, boy,' said Mr. Dick, 'I am going to put a question to you. '

'As many as you please,' said I.

'What do you consider me, sir? ' asked Mr. Dick, folding his arms.

'A dear old friend,' said I. 'Thank you, Trotwood,' returned Mr. Dick,
laughing, and reaching across in high glee to shake hands with me. 'But
I mean, boy,' resuming his gravity, 'what do you consider me in this
respect? ' touching his forehead.

I was puzzled how to answer, but he helped me with a word.

'Weak? ' said Mr. Dick.

'Well,' I replied, dubiously. 'Rather so. '

'Exactly! ' cried Mr. Dick, who seemed quite enchanted by my reply. 'That
is, Trotwood, when they took some of the trouble out of you-know-who's
head, and put it you know where, there was a--' Mr. Dick made his two
hands revolve very fast about each other a great number of times, and
then brought them into collision, and rolled them over and over one
another, to express confusion. 'There was that sort of thing done to me
somehow. Eh? '

I nodded at him, and he nodded back again.

'In short, boy,' said Mr. Dick, dropping his voice to a whisper, 'I am
simple. '

I would have qualified that conclusion, but he stopped me.

'Yes, I am! She pretends I am not. She won't hear of it; but I am. I
know I am. If she hadn't stood my friend, sir, I should have been shut
up, to lead a dismal life these many years. But I'll provide for her!
I never spend the copying money. I put it in a box. I have made a will.
I'll leave it all to her. She shall be rich--noble! '

Mr. Dick took out his pocket-handkerchief, and wiped his eyes. He then
folded it up with great care, pressed it smooth between his two hands,
put it in his pocket, and seemed to put my aunt away with it.

'Now you are a scholar, Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick. 'You are a fine
scholar. You know what a learned man, what a great man, the Doctor is.
You know what honour he has always done me. Not proud in his wisdom.
Humble, humble--condescending even to poor Dick, who is simple and knows
nothing. I have sent his name up, on a scrap of paper, to the kite,
along the string, when it has been in the sky, among the larks. The kite
has been glad to receive it, sir, and the sky has been brighter with
it. '

I delighted him by saying, most heartily, that the Doctor was deserving
of our best respect and highest esteem.

'And his beautiful wife is a star,' said Mr. Dick. 'A shining star. I
have seen her shine, sir. But,' bringing his chair nearer, and laying
one hand upon my knee--'clouds, sir--clouds.
'

I answered the solicitude which his face expressed, by conveying the
same expression into my own, and shaking my head.

'What clouds? ' said Mr. Dick.

He looked so wistfully into my face, and was so anxious to understand,
that I took great pains to answer him slowly and distinctly, as I might
have entered on an explanation to a child.

'There is some unfortunate division between them,' I replied. 'Some
unhappy cause of separation. A secret. It may be inseparable from the
discrepancy in their years. It may have grown up out of almost nothing. '

Mr. Dick, who had told off every sentence with a thoughtful nod, paused
when I had done, and sat considering, with his eyes upon my face, and
his hand upon my knee.

'Doctor not angry with her, Trotwood? ' he said, after some time.

'No. Devoted to her. '

'Then, I have got it, boy! ' said Mr. Dick.

The sudden exultation with which he slapped me on the knee, and leaned
back in his chair, with his eyebrows lifted up as high as he could
possibly lift them, made me think him farther out of his wits than
ever. He became as suddenly grave again, and leaning forward as before,
said--first respectfully taking out his pocket-handkerchief, as if it
really did represent my aunt:

'Most wonderful woman in the world, Trotwood. Why has she done nothing
to set things right? '

'Too delicate and difficult a subject for such interference,' I replied.

'Fine scholar,' said Mr. Dick, touching me with his finger. 'Why has HE
done nothing? '

'For the same reason,' I returned.

'Then, I have got it, boy! ' said Mr. Dick. And he stood up before me,
more exultingly than before, nodding his head, and striking himself
repeatedly upon the breast, until one might have supposed that he had
nearly nodded and struck all the breath out of his body.

'A poor fellow with a craze, sir,' said Mr. Dick, 'a simpleton, a
weak-minded person--present company, you know! ' striking himself again,
'may do what wonderful people may not do. I'll bring them together, boy.
I'll try. They'll not blame me. They'll not object to me. They'll not
mind what I do, if it's wrong. I'm only Mr. Dick. And who minds Dick?
Dick's nobody! Whoo! ' He blew a slight, contemptuous breath, as if he
blew himself away.

It was fortunate he had proceeded so far with his mystery, for we heard
the coach stop at the little garden gate, which brought my aunt and Dora
home.

'Not a word, boy! ' he pursued in a whisper; 'leave all the blame with
Dick--simple Dick--mad Dick. I have been thinking, sir, for some time,
that I was getting it, and now I have got it. After what you have said
to me, I am sure I have got it. All right! ' Not another word did Mr.
Dick utter on the subject; but he made a very telegraph of himself for
the next half-hour (to the great disturbance of my aunt's mind), to
enjoin inviolable secrecy on me.

To my surprise, I heard no more about it for some two or three weeks,
though I was sufficiently interested in the result of his endeavours;
descrying a strange gleam of good sense--I say nothing of good feeling,
for that he always exhibited--in the conclusion to which he had come. At
last I began to believe, that, in the flighty and unsettled state of his
mind, he had either forgotten his intention or abandoned it.

One fair evening, when Dora was not inclined to go out, my aunt and I
strolled up to the Doctor's cottage. It was autumn, when there were no
debates to vex the evening air; and I remember how the leaves smelt like
our garden at Blunderstone as we trod them under foot, and how the old,
unhappy feeling, seemed to go by, on the sighing wind.

It was twilight when we reached the cottage. Mrs. Strong was just coming
out of the garden, where Mr. Dick yet lingered, busy with his knife,
helping the gardener to point some stakes. The Doctor was engaged with
someone in his study; but the visitor would be gone directly, Mrs.
Strong said, and begged us to remain and see him. We went into the
drawing-room with her, and sat down by the darkening window. There was
never any ceremony about the visits of such old friends and neighbours
as we were.

We had not sat here many minutes, when Mrs. Markleham, who usually
contrived to be in a fuss about something, came bustling in, with her
newspaper in her hand, and said, out of breath, 'My goodness gracious,
Annie, why didn't you tell me there was someone in the Study! '

'My dear mama,' she quietly returned, 'how could I know that you desired
the information? '

'Desired the information! ' said Mrs. Markleham, sinking on the sofa. 'I
never had such a turn in all my life! '

'Have you been to the Study, then, mama? ' asked Annie.

'BEEN to the Study, my dear! ' she returned emphatically. 'Indeed I have!
I came upon the amiable creature--if you'll imagine my feelings, Miss
Trotwood and David--in the act of making his will. '

Her daughter looked round from the window quickly.

'In the act, my dear Annie,' repeated Mrs. Markleham, spreading the
newspaper on her lap like a table-cloth, and patting her hands upon it,
'of making his last Will and Testament. The foresight and affection of
the dear! I must tell you how it was. I really must, in justice to the
darling--for he is nothing less! --tell you how it was. Perhaps you know,
Miss Trotwood, that there is never a candle lighted in this house, until
one's eyes are literally falling out of one's head with being stretched
to read the paper. And that there is not a chair in this house, in which
a paper can be what I call, read, except one in the Study. This took me
to the Study, where I saw a light. I opened the door. In company with
the dear Doctor were two professional people, evidently connected with
the law, and they were all three standing at the table: the
darling Doctor pen in hand. "This simply expresses then," said the
Doctor--Annie, my love, attend to the very words--"this simply expresses
then, gentlemen, the confidence I have in Mrs. Strong, and gives her all
unconditionally? " One of the professional people replied, "And gives her
all unconditionally. " Upon that, with the natural feelings of a mother,
I said, "Good God, I beg your pardon! " fell over the door-step, and came
away through the little back passage where the pantry is. '

Mrs. Strong opened the window, and went out into the verandah, where she
stood leaning against a pillar.

'But now isn't it, Miss Trotwood, isn't it, David, invigorating,' said
Mrs. Markleham, mechanically following her with her eyes, 'to find a man
at Doctor Strong's time of life, with the strength of mind to do this
kind of thing? It only shows how right I was. I said to Annie, when
Doctor Strong paid a very flattering visit to myself, and made her the
subject of a declaration and an offer, I said, "My dear, there is no
doubt whatever, in my opinion, with reference to a suitable provision
for you, that Doctor Strong will do more than he binds himself to do. "'

Here the bell rang, and we heard the sound of the visitors' feet as they
went out.

'It's all over, no doubt,' said the Old Soldier, after listening; 'the
dear creature has signed, sealed, and delivered, and his mind's at rest.
Well it may be! What a mind! Annie, my love, I am going to the Study
with my paper, for I am a poor creature without news. Miss Trotwood,
David, pray come and see the Doctor. '

I was conscious of Mr. Dick's standing in the shadow of the room,
shutting up his knife, when we accompanied her to the Study; and of my
aunt's rubbing her nose violently, by the way, as a mild vent for her
intolerance of our military friend; but who got first into the Study, or
how Mrs. Markleham settled herself in a moment in her easy-chair, or how
my aunt and I came to be left together near the door (unless her eyes
were quicker than mine, and she held me back), I have forgotten, if I
ever knew. But this I know,--that we saw the Doctor before he saw us,
sitting at his table, among the folio volumes in which he delighted,
resting his head calmly on his hand. That, in the same moment, we saw
Mrs. Strong glide in, pale and trembling. That Mr. Dick supported her on
his arm. That he laid his other hand upon the Doctor's arm, causing him
to look up with an abstracted air. That, as the Doctor moved his head,
his wife dropped down on one knee at his feet, and, with her hands
imploringly lifted, fixed upon his face the memorable look I had never
forgotten. That at this sight Mrs. Markleham dropped the newspaper,
and stared more like a figure-head intended for a ship to be called The
Astonishment, than anything else I can think of.

The gentleness of the Doctor's manner and surprise, the dignity that
mingled with the supplicating attitude of his wife, the amiable concern
of Mr. Dick, and the earnestness with which my aunt said to herself,
'That man mad! ' (triumphantly expressive of the misery from which she
had saved him)--I see and hear, rather than remember, as I write about
it.

'Doctor! ' said Mr. Dick. 'What is it that's amiss? Look here! '

'Annie! ' cried the Doctor. 'Not at my feet, my dear! '

'Yes! ' she said. 'I beg and pray that no one will leave the room! Oh, my
husband and father, break this long silence. Let us both know what it is
that has come between us! '

Mrs. Markleham, by this time recovering the power of speech, and seeming
to swell with family pride and motherly indignation, here exclaimed,
'Annie, get up immediately, and don't disgrace everybody belonging to
you by humbling yourself like that, unless you wish to see me go out of
my mind on the spot! '

'Mama! ' returned Annie. 'Waste no words on me, for my appeal is to my
husband, and even you are nothing here. '

'Nothing! ' exclaimed Mrs. Markleham. 'Me, nothing! The child has taken
leave of her senses. Please to get me a glass of water! '

I was too attentive to the Doctor and his wife, to give any heed to this
request; and it made no impression on anybody else; so Mrs. Markleham
panted, stared, and fanned herself.

'Annie! ' said the Doctor, tenderly taking her in his hands. 'My dear!
If any unavoidable change has come, in the sequence of time, upon our
married life, you are not to blame. The fault is mine, and only mine.
There is no change in my affection, admiration, and respect. I wish to
make you happy. I truly love and honour you. Rise, Annie, pray! '

But she did not rise. After looking at him for a little while, she sank
down closer to him, laid her arm across his knee, and dropping her head
upon it, said:

'If I have any friend here, who can speak one word for me, or for my
husband in this matter; if I have any friend here, who can give a voice
to any suspicion that my heart has sometimes whispered to me; if I have
any friend here, who honours my husband, or has ever cared for me, and
has anything within his knowledge, no matter what it is, that may help
to mediate between us, I implore that friend to speak! '

There was a profound silence. After a few moments of painful hesitation,
I broke the silence.

'Mrs. Strong,' I said, 'there is something within my knowledge, which
I have been earnestly entreated by Doctor Strong to conceal, and have
concealed until tonight. But, I believe the time has come when it would
be mistaken faith and delicacy to conceal it any longer, and when your
appeal absolves me from his injunction. '

She turned her face towards me for a moment, and I knew that I was
right. I could not have resisted its entreaty, if the assurance that it
gave me had been less convincing.

'Our future peace,' she said, 'may be in your hands. I trust it
confidently to your not suppressing anything. I know beforehand that
nothing you, or anyone, can tell me, will show my husband's noble heart
in any other light than one. Howsoever it may seem to you to touch me,
disregard that. I will speak for myself, before him, and before God
afterwards. '

Thus earnestly besought, I made no reference to the Doctor for his
permission, but, without any other compromise of the truth than a little
softening of the coarseness of Uriah Heep, related plainly what had
passed in that same room that night. The staring of Mrs. Markleham
during the whole narration, and the shrill, sharp interjections with
which she occasionally interrupted it, defy description.

When I had finished, Annie remained, for some few moments, silent, with
her head bent down, as I have described. Then, she took the Doctor's
hand (he was sitting in the same attitude as when we had entered the
room), and pressed it to her breast, and kissed it. Mr. Dick softly
raised her; and she stood, when she began to speak, leaning on him, and
looking down upon her husband--from whom she never turned her eyes.

'All that has ever been in my mind, since I was married,' she said in a
low, submissive, tender voice, 'I will lay bare before you. I could not
live and have one reservation, knowing what I know now. '

'Nay, Annie,' said the Doctor, mildly, 'I have never doubted you, my
child. There is no need; indeed there is no need, my dear. '

'There is great need,' she answered, in the same way, 'that I should
open my whole heart before the soul of generosity and truth, whom, year
by year, and day by day, I have loved and venerated more and more, as
Heaven knows! '

'Really,' interrupted Mrs. Markleham, 'if I have any discretion at
all--'

('Which you haven't, you Marplot,' observed my aunt, in an indignant
whisper. ) --'I must be permitted to observe that it cannot be requisite
to enter into these details. '

'No one but my husband can judge of that, mama,' said Annie without
removing her eyes from his face, 'and he will hear me. If I say anything
to give you pain, mama, forgive me. I have borne pain first, often and
long, myself. '

'Upon my word! ' gasped Mrs. Markleham.

'When I was very young,' said Annie, 'quite a little child, my first
associations with knowledge of any kind were inseparable from a patient
friend and teacher--the friend of my dead father--who was always dear
to me. I can remember nothing that I know, without remembering him. He
stored my mind with its first treasures, and stamped his character upon
them all. They never could have been, I think, as good as they have been
to me, if I had taken them from any other hands. '

'Makes her mother nothing! ' exclaimed Mrs. Markleham.

'Not so mama,' said Annie; 'but I make him what he was. I must do that.