25. CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 25: GOOD AND BAD ANGELS

I was going out at my door on the morning after that deplorable day of head ache, sickness, and repentance with an odd confusion in my mind relative to the date of my dinner party, as if the body of Titans had taken an enormous lever and pushed the day before yesterday some months back, when I saw a ticket porter coming upstairs, with a letter in his hand.  He was taking his time about his errand; but when he saw me on the top of the staircase, looking at him over the banisters, he swung into a trot, and came up panting as if he had run himself into a state of exhaustion.

'T. Copperfield, Esquire,' said the ticket porter, touching his hat with his little cane.  

I could scarcely lay claim to the name: I was so disturbed by the conviction that the letter came from Agnes.  However, I told him, I was T. Copperfield, Esquire, and he believed it, and gave me the letter, which he said required an answer.  I shut him out on the landing to wait for the answer, and went to my chambers again, in such a nervous state that I was fain to lay down the letter on my breakfast table, and familiarise myself with the outside of it a little, before I could resolve to break the seal.

I found, when I did open it, that it was a kind note, containing no reference to my condition at the theatre.  All it said was 'My dear Trotwood, I am staying at the house of Papa's agent, Mr Waterbrook ln Ely Place, Halborn.  Will you come and see me today at any time you like to appoint? Ever yours affectionately, AGNES.' 

It took me such a long time to answer at all to my satisfaction, that I don't know what the ticket porter can have thought unless he thought I was learning to write.  I must have written half a dozen answers at least.  I began one, 'How can I ever hope, my dear Agnes, to efface from your remembrance the disgusting  impression' -there I didn't like it, and then tore it up.  I began another, Shakespeare has observed, my dear Agnes how strange it is that a man should put an enemy into his mouth' - that reminded me of Markham, and it got no farther. I never tried poetry.  I began one note, in six syllable line, Oh, do not remember' but that associated with the fifth of November, and became an absurdity.  After many attempts, I wrote, 'My dear Agnes, your letter is like you, and what could I say of it that would be a higher praise than that?  I will come at four o'clock.  Affectionately and sorrowfully, T.C.  With this missive ( I was in twenty minds about recalling it), but the ticket-porter had left immediately. 

Although I left the office at half past three, and was prowling about the place of appointment within a few minutes afterwards, the appointed time exceeded by a full quarter of an hour, according to the clock of St. Andrew's Holborn, before I could muster up sufficient desperation to pull the private bell-handle let into the left hand door post of Mr Waterbrook's house.  

The professional business of Mr Waterbrook's establishment was on the ground floor, and the genteel business in the upper part of the building.  I was shown into a pretty but rather close drawing room, and there sat Agnes netting a purse.

She looked so quiet and good, and reminded me so strongly of my airy fresh school days at Canterbury, and the sodden smoky, stupid wretch I had been the other night, nobody being by, I yielded to my self reproach and shame and - in short made a fool'of myself, I cannot deny that I shed tears.  To this hour I am undecided whether it was upon the whole of the wisest thing I could have done, or the most ridiculous.

'If it had been anyone but you, Agnes,' said I, turning away my head, 'I should not have minded it half so much.  But that it should have been you who saw me! I almost wished I had been dead, first.'  

She put her hand - its touch was like no other hand - upon my arm for a moment, and I felt so befriended and comforted, that I could not help moving it to my lips and gradually kissing it.

'Sit down,' said Agnes, cheerfully.  'Don't be unhappy, Trotwood.  If you cannot confidently trust me, whom will you trust?'

'Ah! Agnes,' I returned, 'you are my good angel!'

She smiled rather sadly, and shook her head.

'Yes, Agnes, my good Angel!  Always my good Angel!'

'If I were, indeed, Trotwood,' she returned, there is one thing that I should set my heart on very much.'

I looked at her enquiring, but already a knowledge of her meaning. 

'On warning you,' said Agnes, with a steady glance,' against your bad Angel.'

'My dear Agnes,' I began, 'if you mean Steerforth -'

'I do, Trotwood.' she returned.

'Then, Agnes, you wrong him very much.  He my bad Angel, or anyone's!  He, anything but a guide, a support, a friend to me.  My dear Agnes!  Now is it not unjust, and unlike you, to judge him from what you saw of me the other night?'

'I do not judge him from what I saw of you the other night.' she quietly replied.

'From what then?'

'From many things - Trifles in themselves, but they do not seem to be so, when they are put together.  I judge him partly from your account of him, Trotwood, and your character, and the influence he has over you.' 

There was always something in her modest voice that seemed to touch a chord within me, answering to that sound alone.  It was always earnest; but when it was very earnest, as it was now, there was a thrill in it that quite subdued me.  I sat looking at her as she cast her eyes down on her work, I sat seeming still to listen to her; and Steerforth, inspite of all my attachment to him, darkened in that tone.

It is very bold in me,' said Agnes, looking up again, who have lived in such seclusion, and can know so little of the world, to give you my advice so confidently, or even to have this strong opinion.  But I know in what it is engendered, Trotwood, - in how true a remembrance of how our having grown up together, and in how true an interest in all relating to you.  It is that which makes me bold.  I am certain that what I say is right.  I am quite sure it is.  I feel as if it is someone else speaking to you, and not I, when I caution you that you have made a dangerous friend.'

Again I looked at her, again I listened to her when she was silent, and again his image, though it was still fixed in my heart, darkened.

'I am not so unreasonable as to expect,' said Agnes resuming her usual tone, after a little while, 'that you will, or you can, at once, change any sentiment that has become a conviction to you; least of all a sentiment that is rooted in your trusting disposition.  You ought not hastily do that.  I only ask to you, Trotwood, if you ever think of me - I mean,' with a quite smile, for I was going to interrupt her, and she knew why, ' as often as you think of me - to think of what I have said - Do you forgive me for all this?' 

'I will forgive you Agnes,' I replied, 'when you come to do Steerforth justice, and to like him as I do.'

'Not until then?' said Agnes. 

I saw passing shadow on her face when I made this mention of him, but she returned my smile, and we are again unreserved in our mutual confidence as of old. 

'And when, Agnes, 'will you forgive me the other night?'

'When I recall it.' 

She would have dismissed the subject so, but I was too full of it to allow that, and insisted on telling her how it happened that I had disgraced myself, and what chain of accidental circumstances had had the theatre for its final link.  It was a great relief to me to do this, and to enlarge on the obligation that I owed to Steerforth for his care of me, when I was unable to take care of myself. 

'You must not forget,' said Agnes, changing the conversation as soon as I concluded, 'that you are always to tell me, not only when you fall into trouble, but when you fall in love.  Who has succeeded Miss Larkins, Trotwood?'

'No one, Agnes.' 

Some one, Trotwood,' said Agnes, laughing , and holding up her finger. 

'No one, Agnes, upon my word!  There is a lady, certainly, at Mrs Steerforth's house, who is clever, and to whom I like to talk - Miss Dartle - but I don't adore her.'

Agnes laughed again at her own penetration, and told me that if I were faithful to her in my confidence she thought that she should keep a register of my violent attachments, with date, duration, and the termination of each, like the of reign of kings and queens in the history England.  Then she asked if I had seen Uriah. 

'Uria Heep?' said I, 'is he in London? 

'He comes to the office downstairs every day.' returned Agnes.  He was in London  a week before me.  I am afraid on disagreeable business, Trotwood.' 

'On some business that makes you uneasy, Agnes.  I see.' said I.  'What can that be?'

Agnes laid aside her work, and replied, folding her hands upon one another, and looking pensively at me out of those beautiful eyes of hers: 

'I believe he is going to enter into partnership with papa.' 

'What?  Uriah?  That fawning, mean fellow, worm himself into such a promotion!' I cried indignantly.  'Have you made no remonstrance about it, Agnes.  Consider what a connection it is likely to be.  You must speak out.  You must not allow your father to make such a bad step.  You must prevent it, Agnes, while there's enough time.'

Still looking at me, Agnes shook her head while I was speaking with a faint smile at my warmth; and then replied: 

'You remember our last conversation about papa?  It was not long after that - not more than two or three days - when he gave me the first intimation of what I tell you.  It was sad to see him struggling between his desire to represent it to me as a matter of choice on his part, and his inability to conceal that it was forced upon him.  I felt very sorry.' 

'Forced upon him, Agnes!  Who forces it upon him?'

'Uriah,' she replied after a moment's hesitation, 'has made himself indispensable to papa.  He is subtle and watchful.  He has mastered papa's weakness, fostered them, and taken advantage of them, until- to say that I mean in a word, Trotwood, - until papa is afraid of him.' 

There was more that she might have said; more that she knew, or that she suspected: I clearly saw.  I could not give her pain by asking what it was, for I knew that she withheld it from me, to spare her father.  It had long been going on this, I was sensible; Yes I could not but feel on the least reflection that it had been going on for a long time.  I remained silent.

'His ascendancy over papa,' said Agnes, 'is very great.  He professes humility and gratitude -with truth, perhaps: I hope so - but his position is really one of power, and I fear he makes hard use of power.' 

I said he was a hound, which at the moment was a great satisfaction to me. 

'At time I speak of, as the time when papa spoke to me,' pursued Agnes, 'he had told papa that he was going away; that he was very sorry, and unwilling to leave, but he had better prospects.  Papa was very much depressed then, and more bowed down by care than ever you or I have seen him; but he seemed relieved by this expedient of partnership, though at the same time he seemed hurt by it and ashamed of it.' 

'And how did you receive it, Agnes?' 

'I did, Trotwood,' she replied, 'What I hope was right.  Feeling sure that it was necessary for Papa's peace that the sacrifice should be made, I entreated him to make it.  I said it would lighten the load of his life - I hope it will- and that it would give me increased opportunities of being his companion. Oh, Trotwood,' cried Agnes, putting her hands before her face, as her tears started on it, 'I almost feel as if I had been Papa's enemy, instead of his loving child.  I know how he has altered, in his devotion to me.  I know how he has narrowed the circle of his sympathies and duties, in the concentration of his whole mind upon me.  I know what a multitude of things he has shut out for my sake, and how his anxious thoughts of me had shadowed his life and weakened his strength and energy by turning them always upon one idea.  If I could ever set this right!  If I could ever work out his restoration, as I have so innocently been the cause of his decline.'

I had never before seen Agnes cry.  I had seen tears in her eyes when I had brought new honours home from school and I had seen them there when we last spoke about her father, and I had seen her turn her gentle head aside when we took leave of one another; but I have never seen her grieve like this.  It made me so sorry that I could only say, in a foolish, helpless manner, 'Pray Agnes don't! Don't my sister!' 

But Agnes was too superior to me in character and purpose, as I know well now whatever I might know or not know then, to be long in need of my entreaties.  The beautiful, calm manner, which makes her so different in my remembrance from everybody else, came back again as if a cloud has passed from a serene sky.   

'We are not likely to remain much longer,' said Agnes, and while I have an opportunity, let me earnestly entreat you, Trotwood, to be friendly with Uriah.  Don't repel him.  Don't resent ( as I think you have a general disposition to do ) what may be not congenial to you in him.  He may not deserve it.  We know no certain ill of him.   In any case think first of papa and me!'

Agnes had no time to say more, for the door opened, and Mrs Waterbrook, who was a large lady - or who wore a large dress; I don't exactly know which, for I don't know which was dress and which was lady - came sailing in.  I had a dim recollection of having seen her at the theatre, as if I had seen her in a pale magic lantern, but she appeared to remember me perfectly, so still to suspect me in a state of intoxication.

Finding by degrees, however, that I was sober, and that I was a modest young gentleman, softened, and inquired, firstly, if I went much into park, secondly if I went much into society.  On my replying to both these questions in the negative, it occurred to me that I fell again in her good opinion; but she concealed the fact gracefully, and invited me to dinner next day.  I accepted the invitation, and took my leave, making a call on Uriah in the office as I went out, and leaving a card for him in his absence. 

When I went to dinner next day, and on street door being opened, plunged into a vapour- bath of haunch mutton, I divine that I was not the only guest, for I immediately identified the ticket porter in disguise, assisting the family servant, and waiting at the foot of the stairs to carry up my name.  He looked to the best of his ability when he asked me for it confidentially, as if he had never seen me before, but well did I know him and well did he know me.  Conscience made cowards of us both.

I found Mr Waterbrook to be a middle aged gentleman, with a short throat and a good deal of shirt collar, who only wanted a black nose to be the portrait of a pug-dog.  He told me he was happy to have the honour of making my acquaintance, and when I had paid my homage to Mrs Waterbrook, presented me with much ceremony, presented me to a very awful lady in black velvet dress and a great black velvet hat, whom I remember as a near relation of Hamlet's aunt.

Mrs Henry Spiker was this lady's name, and her husband was there too: so cold a man, that his head instead of being grey, seemed to be sprinkled with hoar-frost.  Immense deference was shown to the Henry Spikers, male and female, which Agnes told me on account of Mr Henry Spiker being solicitor to something or somebody, I forget what or which, remotely connected with a Treasury.

I found Uriah Heep among the company in a suit of black and in deep humility.  He told me when I shook hands with him, that he was proud to be noticed by me, and that he really felt obliged to me for my condescension.  I could have wished he had been less obliged to me, for he hovered about me in his gratitude all the rest of the evening; and whenever I said a word to Agnes, was sure, with his shadowless eyes and cadaverous face to be looking gaunt down upon us from behind.

There were other guests, all iced for the occasion, as it striked me, like the wine.  But there was one who attracted my attention, before he came in, on account of my hearing him announced as Mr Traddles!  My mind flew back to Salem House; and could it be Tommy Traddles, I thought, who used to draw the skeletons. 

I looked for Traddles with unusual interest.  He was a sober steady looking man of retiring manners' with a comic head of hair, and eyes that were rather wide open, and he got into an obscure corner so soon, that I had some difficulty in making him out.  At length I had a good view of him, either my vision deceived me, or it was the old unfortunate Tommy.

I made my way to Mr Waterbrook, and said, that I believed I had the pleasure of seeing an old school fellow there.

'Indeed!' said Waterbrook surprised.  'You are too young to have been at school with Mr Henry Spikes.'

'Oh, I don't mean him!' I mean the gentleman named Traddles.' 

'Oh! Aye, aye!  Indeed!' said my host, with much diminished interest.  'Possibly.' 

'If it is really the same person,' said I, glancing towards him, 'It was at a place called Salem House where we were, and  together, and he was an excellent fellow.'

'Oh, yes.  Traddles is a good fellow,' returned my host, nodding his head with an air of toleration.  'Traddles is quite a good fellow.'

'It's quite a curious coincidence,' said I.

'It is really,' returned my host, 'quite a coincidence, that Traddles should be here at all; as Traddles was really invited this morning, when the place at table, intended to be accepted by Mrs Henry Spiker's brother, became vacant, in consequence of his being indisposed. A very gentleman, Mrs Henry Spiker's brother, Mr Copperfield.' 

I murmured an assent, which was full of feeling, considering that I knew nothing at all about him, and I inquired what Mr Traddles by profession. 

'Traddles,' returned Mr Waterbrook, 'is a young man reading for the bar.  Yes, he is quite a good fellow - nobody's enemy, but his own.

'Is he his own enemy?.' said I, Sorry to hear this. 

'Well,' returned Mr Waterbrook, pursing up his mouth, and playing with his watch chain, in a comfortable, prosperous sort of way.  'I should say he was one of those men who stand in their own light.  Yes, I should say, he would never, for example, be worth five hundred pounds.  Traddles was recommended to me by a professional friend.  Oh yes. Yes. He has a kind of talent for drawing briefs, and stating a case in writing plainly.  I am able to throw something in Traddles way, in the course of the year; something- for him - considerable. Oh, yes. Yes.'

I was much impressed by the extremely comfortable and satisfied manner in which Mr Waterbrook delivered himself of this little word  'yes', every now and then.  There was wonderful expression in it.  It completely conveyed the idea of a man who had been born, not to say with a silver spoon, but with a scaling ladder and had gone on mounting all the heights of life one after another, until now he looked, from the top of the fortifications, with the eye of a philosopher and patron, on people down in the trenches.

My reflections on this theme were still in progress when dinner was announced.  Mr Waterbrook went out with Hamlet's aunt.  Mr Henry Spiker took Mrs Waterbrook.  Agnes, whom I should have liked to take myself, was given to a simpering fellow with weak legs.  Uriah, Traddles and I, as the junior part of the company, went down last, how we could.  I was not vexed at losing Agnes as I might have been, since it gave me an opportunity of making myself known to Traddles on the stairs, who greeted me with great fervour, while Uriah writhed with such obtrusive satisfaction and self abasement, that I could gladly have pitched him over the banisters.  Traddles and I were separated at table, being billeted in two remote corners; he in the glare of a red velvet lady; I, in the gloom of Hamlet's aunt.  The dinner was very long; and the conversation was about the Aristocracy - and Blood.  Mrs Waterbrook repeatedly told us, that if she had a weakness, it was Blood. 

It occured to me several times that we should have gone better, if we had not been quite genteel.  We were so exceedingly genteel, that our scope was very limited.  A Mr and Mrs Gulpidge were of the party, who had something to do at second hand with the law business of the Bank; and what with the Bank and what with the Treasury, we were as exclusive as Court Circular.  To mend the matter Hamlet's aunt had the family failing of indulging in soliloquy, and held forth in a desultory manner, by herself on every topic that was introduced.  These were few enough, to be sure, but as we always fell back upon Blood she had as wide a field for abstract speculation as her nephew himself.

We might have been a party of Orges, the conversation assumed such sanguine complexion 

'I confess I am of Mrs Waterbrook's opinion,' said Mr Waterbrook, with his wine glass at his eye.  'Other things are all very well on their way, but give me Blood.' 

'Oh!  There is nothing,' observed Hamlet's aunt, so satisfactory to one!  There is nothing that is so much one's beau- ideal- of all that sort of thing, speaking generally.  There are some low minds that would prefer to do what I should call bow before idols.  Positively idols!  Before service, intellect, and so on.  But these are intangible points.  But Blood is not so.  We see blood in a nose, and we know it.  We meet with it in a chin, and we say, there it is!  That is Blood!  It is an actual matter of fact.  We point it out.  It admits of no doubt.'

The simpering fellow with weak legs, who had taken Agnes down, stated the question more decisively yet, I thought.

'Oh, you know, deuce take it,' said this  gentleman, looking round the board with an imbecile smile, 'we can't forego Blood, you know, we must have Blood, you know.  Some young fellows, you know, a little behind their station, perhaps, in point of education and behaviour and may go a little wrong, you know, and get themselves and other people into a variety of fixes -and all that- but deuce take it, it's delightful to reflect that they have got Blood in 'em!  Myself, I would rather at any time be knocked down by a man who had got Blood in him, than I would be picked up by a man who hadn't!'

This sentiment as compressing the general question into a nutshell gave the utmost satisfaction, and brought the gentleman into great notice until the ladies retired.  After that Mr Gulpidge and Mr Henry Spiker who had hitherto been very distant, entered into a defensive alliance against us, the common enemy and exchanged a mysterious dialogue accross the table for our defeat and overthrow. 

'That affair of the first bond for our thousand five hundred pounds has not taken the course that was expected Spiker,' said Mr Gulpidge

 'Do you mean D of A's?' said Mr Spiker 

'The C of B's,' said Mr Gulpidge.

Mr Spiker raised his eyebrows, and looked much concerned.

'When the question was referred to Lord, I need not name him,' said Mr Gulpidge, checking himself- 

'I understand,' said Mr Spiker, 'N' 

Mr Gulpidge darkly nodded - 'his answer was "Money or no release" '

'Lord bless my soul!' cried Mr Spiker.

"Money or no release" repeated Mr Gulpidge firmly.  'The next in reversion - you understand me?' 

'K,' said Mr Spiker with an ominous look.

'-K then refused to sign.  He was attended at New Market for that purpose, and he point blank refused to do it.'

Mr Spiker was so interested, that he became quite stony.

'So the matter rests at this hour,' said Mr Gulpidge throwing himself back in his chair.  'Our friend Waterbrook will excuse me, if I forbear to explain myself generally, on account of the magnitude of interest involved.'

Mr Waterbrook was only too happy,  as it appeared to me, to have such interests, and such names, even hinted at accross his table.  He assumed an expression of gloomy intelligence (though l think he knew no more about the discussion than I did) and highly approved of the discretion that had been observed.  Mr Spiker after the receipt of such confidence, naturally decided to favour his friend with a confidence of his own; therefore the foregoing dialogue was succeeded by another, in which it was Mr Gulpidge's turn to be surprised, and that by another in which the surprise came round to Mr Spiker's turn again, so on, turn and turn about.  All this time, we the outsiders remained oppressed by the tremendous interest involved in the conversation; and our host regarded us with pride; as the victims of a salutary awe and astonishment.

I was very glad indeed to get upstairs to Agnes and talk with her in a corner and to introduce Traddles to her, who was, shy but agreeable, and the same good natured creature still.  As he was obliged to leave early, on account of going away next morning for a month, I had not much conversation with him; but we exchanged addresses and promised ourselves the pleasure of another meeting when he should come back to town.  He was greatly interested to hear that Steerforth was still in my contact, and spoke of him with much warmth that I made him tell Agnes what he thought of Steerforth.  But Agnes only looked at me the while, and very slightly shook her head, only when I observed her. 

As she was not among people, with whom she could be very much at home, I was glad to hear that she was going away within a few days.  But I was sorry at the prospect of her parting away so soon.  I remained till all the company were gone.  Talking with her and hearing her sing, which was a delightful reminder to me of the old days in Mr Wickfield's house.  When the lights of Mr Mr Waterbrook's house were fully snuffed out, I took my leave very much against my inclination.  I felt, more than ever, Agnes was my best Angel. 

The company were all gone.  Uriah was close behind me, when I went downstairs.  He was close beside me when I walked away from the house, slowly fitting his long skeleton fingers into still longer fingers of Great Fawkes pair of gloves.

I was in no disposition of Uriah's company, but for the request of Agnes, I asked him, if he would come home to my rooms, and have some coffee.

'Oh, really Master Copperfield,' he rejoined, 'I beg your pardon Master Copperfield, I don't like that you should put a constraint on yourself, to ask an umble person like me to your ouse.' 

'There is no constraint in the case, will you come?' I said.

'I should like to, very much,'  replied Uriah with a writhe.

'Well then, come along!' said I.

We went the nearest way, without talking much; and he was so humble in respect of that scarecrow gloves, that he was still putting them on, and seemed to have made no advance in that labour, when we got to my place. 

I led him up the dark stairs, to prevent his knocking his head against anything, and his damp cold hand felt so like a frog in mine, that I was tempted to drop it and run away.  Agnes and hospitality prevented, however, that I conducted him to my fireside. 

When I lighted my candle he meekly carried himself to my room, and when I heated the coffee in the shaving pot, offered to me by Mrs Crupp, he professed, so much emotion that I could have scalded him. 

'Oh, really Master Copperfield, - I mean Mister Copperfield,' said Mr Uriah, 'to see you waiting upon me, I could never have expected!  But by one way and another so many things happen to me, which I never could have expected, in my umble station that it seems rain blessings on me.  You have heard something, of a change in my expectations, Master Copperfield - I should say Mr Copperfield?' 

As he sat on my sofa, with his long knees drawn under his coffee cup, his hat and gloves upon the ground close to him, his spoon going softly round and round, his shadowless red eyes, which looked as if they had scorched their lashes off, turned towards me without looking at me, the disagreeable dints in his nostrils, coming and going with his breath, and a snaky undulation pervading his frame from his chin to his boots, I decided in my mind, that I disliked him intensely.  It made me very uncomfortable to have him for a guest, for I was young then, and unused to disguise what I strongly felt.

'You have heard something, I dare say, of a change in my expectations, Master Copperfield, I should say Mister Copperfield?' observed Uriah 

'Yes,' said I, 'something.' 

'Ah! I thought Miss Agnes would know of it!' he quietly returned.  'I am glad to find Miss Agnes knows of it. Oh, thank you Master, Mister Copperfield!'

I could have thrown my bootjack at him, for having entrapped me into the disclosure of anything concerning Agnes, however immaterial.  But I only drank my coffee.

'What a prophet you have shown yourself, Mister Copperfield!' pursued Uriah.  'Dear me what a prophet you have proved yourself to be!  Don't you remember saying to me once, that perhaps I should be a partner in Mr Wickfield's business, and perhaps it might be Wickfield and Heep?  You may not recollect it, but when a person is umble, Master Copperfield, a person treasures such things up.  

'I recollect talking about it,' said I, 'though I did not think it very likely then.' 

'Oh!  Who would have thought it likely, Master Copperfield?' returned Uriah enthusiastically.  'I am sure, I didn't myself.  I recollect saying with my own lips that I was too much umble.  So I considered myself really and truly.' 

He sat with a carved grin on his face, looking at fire, as I looked at him.

'But the umblest persons, Master Copperfield,' he presently resumed, 'may be the instruments of good to Mr Wickfield, and that I may be more so.  Oh, what a worthy man he is, but how imprudent he has been!' 

'I am sorry to hear it,' said I.  I could not help adding rather pointedly, 'on all accounts.' 

'Decidedly so, Mister Copperfield,' replied Uriah.  'On all accounts.  Miss Agnes's above all! You don't remember your own eloquent expressions, Master Copperfield, but I remember how you said one day that everybody must admire her, and I thanked you for it!  You forgot that, I have no doubt, Master Copperfield?'

'No,' said I drily.

'Oh how glad I am you have not!' exclaimed Uriah.  'To think that you should be the first to kindle the sparks of ambition in my umble breast, and that you have not forgot it!  Oh- would you excuse me asking for a cup more of coffee?'

Something in the emphasis he laid upon the kindling of those sparks, and something in the glance he directed at me as he said it had made me start as if I had seen him illuminated by a blaze of light.  Recalled by his request, preferred in quite another tone of voice, I did the honours of shaving pot; but I did them with an unsteady hand, a sudden sense of being no match for him and a perplexed suspicious anxiety as to what he might be going to say next, which I felt could not escape his observation. 

He said nothing at all.  He stirred his coffee round and round, he sipped it, he felt his chin softly with his grisly hand, he looked at the fire, he looked about the room, he gasped rather than smiled at me, he writhed and undulated about in his deferential servility, he stirred and sipped again, but he left the renewal of conversation to me.

'So, Mr Wickfield,' said I, at last, 'who is worth five hundred of you - or me; for my life, I think I could not have helped dividing that part of the sentence with an awkward jerk, has been imprudent, has he Mr Heep?'

'Oh, very imprudent indeed Master Copperfield,' returned Uriah, sighing modestly. 'Oh, very much so!  But I wish you would call me Uriah, if you please, it's like old times.' 

'Well, Uriah,' said I, bolting it out with some difficulty.

'Thank you,' he returned with fervour.  'Thank you, Master Copperfield! It's like the blowing of old breezes or the ringing of old bells to hear you say Uriah.  I beg your pardon.  Was I making any observation?'

'About Mr Wickfield.' I suggested.

'Oh! Yes, truly,' said Uriah.  

'Great imprudence, Master Copperfield.  It's a topic that I wouldn't touch upon, to any soul, but you.  Even to you, I can only touch upon it, and no more.  If any one had been in my place during the last few years, he would have had Mr Wickfield (oh what a worthy man he is, Master Copperfield) under his thumb.  Under his thumb.' said Uriah, very slowly, as he stretched out his cruel looking hand above my table, and pressed his own thumb upon it, until it shook, and shook the room.

If I had been obliged to look at him, with him splay foot on Mr Wickfield's head, I think I could scarcely have hated him more. 

'Oh yes, dear Master Copperfield,' he proceeded in a soft voice, 'there is no doubt of it.  There would have been loss, disgrace, I don't know what all.  Mr Wickfield knows it.  I am the umble instrument of umbly serving him, and he puts me on an eminence I hardly could have hoped to reach.  How thankful should I be!' With his face turned towards me, but without looking at me, he took his crooked thumb off the spot where he had planted it, and slowly and thoughtfully scraped his lanked jaw with it as if he were shaving himself.

I recollect well now how indignantly my heart beat, as I saw his crafty face with red light of the fire upon it, preparing for something else.

'Master Copperfield,' he began - but am I keeping you up?'

'You are not keeping me up,' I said, 'I generally go to bed late.'

'Thank you, Master Copperfield!  I have risen from my umble station, since first you used to address me, it is true, but I am umble still.  I hope never shall be otherwise than umble.  You will not think the worse of my umbleness, if I make a little confidence to you, Master Copperfield? Will you?'

'Oh, no,' said I with an effort.

'Thank you!'  He took out his pocket handkerchief, and began wiping the palm of his hands.  'Miss Agnes, Master Copperfield -'

'Well Uriah?' 

'Oh, how pleasant to be called Uriah, spontaneously!' he cried and gave himself a jerk, like a convulsive fish.  'You thought her looking very beautiful tonight, Master Copperfield?' 

'I thought her looking as she always does: superior in all respects, to everyone around her,' I returned.

'Oh, thank you it's so true!'  he cried, 'Oh, thank you very much for that!'

'Not at all,' I said loftily.  'There's no reason you should thank me.'

'Why that, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'is, in fact, the confidence I am going to take the liberty of reposing.  Umble as I am.'  He wiped his hands harder, and looked at them and at the fire by turns, 'umble as my mother is, and lowly as our poor but honest roof has ever been, the image of Miss Agnes (I don't mind trusting you with my secret, Master Copperfield, for I have always overflowed towards you since the first moment I had the pleasure of beholding you in a pony-shay ) has been in my breast for years.  Oh, Master Copperfield, with what a pure affection for I love the ground my Agnes walk on!'

I believe I had a delicious idea of seizing the red hot poker out of the fire and running him through with it.  It went from me with a shock, like a ball fired from a rifle: but the image of Agnes outraged by so much as a thought of this red headed animal remained in my mind when I looked at him sitting all awry as if his mean soul gripped his body, and made me giddy.  He seemed swell and grow before my eyes; the room seemed full of the echoes of his voice; and the strange feeling (to which no one is quite a stranger) that all this had occurred before, at some infinite time, and that I knew what he was going to say next, took possession of me.

A timely observation of the sense of power that there was in his face did more to bring back to my remembrance the entreaty of Agnes, in its full force, than any effort I could have made.  I asked him with a better appearance of composure than I could have thought possible a minute before, whether he had made his feelings known to Agnes.

'Oh, no, Master Copperfield!' he returned, 'oh, not to anyone but to you.  You Know I am just emerging from my low station.  I rest a good deal of hope on her observing how useful I am to her father, and how I smooth the way for him, and keep him straight.  She is so much attached to her father, Master Copperfield, that she may come, on his account, to be kind to me.

I fathomed the depth of the whole scheme, and understood why he had laid it bare.

'If you will have the goodness to keep my secret, Master Copperfield,' he pursued, 'and not in general to go against me, I shall take it as a particular favour.  You wouldn't wish to make unpleasant moves.  I know what a friendly heart you have got, but having only known me on my umble footing, you might not go against me rather, with my Agnes.  I call her mine, you see, Master Copperfield.  There is a song that says "I'd crowns resign, to call her mine!" I hope to do this one of these days.'

Dear Agnes!  So much too loving and too good for anyone that I could think of, was it possible that she was reserved to be the wife of such a wretch as this!

'There is no hurry at present, you know, Master Copperfield,' Uriah proceeded in his slimy way, as I sat gazing at him.  'My Agnes is very young still.  Mother and me will have to work our way upwards.  So I shall have time to make her familiar with my hopes.  Oh, I am so much obliged to you for this confidence.  Oh, it is such a relief that you will not go against me.' 

He took my hand, which I dared not withheld, and having given it a damp squeeze, referred to his pale faced watch.

'Dear me,' he said, 'it is past one.  The moments slip away so, in the confidence of old times, Master Copperfield, that it's almost half past one!' 

'Dear me,' he said considering.  'The ouse I am stopping at- a sort of private hotel  and boarding house, Master Copperfield, near the New River ed - will have gone to bed these hours.'

'I am sorry,' I returned, 'that there is only one bed here and that I -'

'Oh, don't think of mentioning beds, Master Copperfield!,' he rejoined ecstatically, drawing up one leg, 'but would you have any objections to my laying down before the fire?'

'If it comes to that,' I said, 'pray take my bed, and I will lie down before the fire.'

His repudiation of this offer was almost shrill enough in the excess of its surprise and humility to have penetrated to the ears of Mrs Crupp.   She used to sleep in a distant chamber situated at the level of low water-mark.  The ticking of an incorrigible clock soothed her in her slumber.  By every morning it would be three quarters of an hour lost in its running, and every morning she would set it right to my clock.  My requests to Uriah to accept my bedroom were declined.  At last, the mattress of the sofa, which was short of his height, the sofa pillows, a blanket, the table cover, a clean breakfast cloth, and a great-coat made him a bed and covering for which he was more than thankful.  Having lent him a night cap which he put on at once, and in which he made an awful figure, I left him to rest.

I never shall forget the night.  I turned and tumbled; weary myself, thinking about Agnes and the creature.   What could I do? What ought I to do? I came to the conclusion that the best course was to leave it as such, and do nothing.  In my broken sleep, Agnes with her tender eyes, and her father looking fondly on her would come before me with appealing eyes, and filled me with vague terror. The recollection that Uriah was lying before the fire sat heavy on me like a waking nightmare.  The red-hot poker got into my thoughts, between sleeping and waking.  I saw Uriah lying on his back, his long legs extending to I don't know where.  His gurgling throat, sloppy nose, and his mouth opened like a post office, presented a much worse reality than that in my fancy. .The night seemed long and heavy and hopeless as ever, and no promise of the day was in murky sky.

When I saw him going downstairs in the morning - thank heaven, he did not wait to breakfast - it appeared to me that the night was going away in his person.  When I went out to the Commons, I charged Mrs Crupp with particular direction, to leave the windows open, that my sitting room might be aired and purged of his presence.

THE END OF CHAPTER 25