The Adelphi - TWO: A Letter from Agnes.

A ticket-porter came and delivered a letter by Agnes.  Trotwood Copperfield opened the letter.

'My dear Trotwood.  I am staying at the house of Papa's agent, Mr Waterbrook in Ely Place, Holborn.  Will you come and see me today, at any time you may like to appoint?  Ever yours affectionately, AGNES.'

Trotwood wanted the ticket-porter to wait.  He was not satisfied with the letter he wrote.  Then he wrote another one, but was not satisfied.  After several attempts he wrote:

'My dear Agnes.  Your letter is like you.  What could I say of it that would be higher praise than that?  I will come at four o'clock.  Affectionately and sorrowfully, T.C.

Although he left Doctors' Commons at half past three, and reached Holborn within a few minutes, he was wary of entering the premises, and loitered here and there for sometime, but finally mustered courage to pull the private bell handle of Mr Waterbrook's office.

He was shown into the drawing room of Mr Waterbrook, where Agnes had been netting a purse.

She looked so quiet and reminded Trotwood of his school days at Canterbury.  It also brought his wretched state the other day to his memory and he felt ashamed.

'If it had been anyone but you, Agnes,' said Trotwood, turning his head away, 'I should not have minded.  I wished I had been dead.'

She held his hand, and said cheerfully, 'don't be unhappy Trotwood, if you cannot trust me, whom will you trust?'

'Ah, Agnes!' You are my good Angel!'

She smiled rather sadly, and shook her head.  

'If I were indeed, Trot,' she said, 'there is one thing I should set my heart on very much.'

He looked at her inquringly.

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

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

'I do, Trotwood,' she returned.

'Then Agnes, you wrong him very much.  It's unjust 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 said

'From what, then?'

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

It seemed to strike a chord with Trotwood.  He sat looking at her as she cast her eyes down on her work.  In spite of all his attachment to Steerforth, darkness fell on him for the first time.  But he did not make any effort to know other sources on which Agnes based her opinion of his friend.  It appears he was ready to accept the other part blindly. 

'Trotwood,' said Agnes looking up again, 'I lived in seclusion and can know so little of world, but I am bold to give you my advice confidently.  But I know what it is engendered, Trotwood - in our having grown up together, and how true my interest in all relating to you.  I am certain that what I say is right.  I feel as if it were someone else speaking to you, and not I, when I caution you that you have made a dangerous friend.'

'I am not unreasonable as to expect,' continued Agnes, resuming her usual tone, after a little while, 'that you will, or that 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 you, Trotwood, if you ever think of me, to think what I have said.  Do you forgive me for all this?'

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

'Not until then,' said Agnes.

He saw a passing shadow on her face, but she returned his smile. 

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

'No one, Agnes.'

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

There were not many in his limited circle, other than Emily of whom Agnes already knew, and Rosa Dartle. When the latter was mentioned, Agnes told that she would better keep a register.

Agnes told that Uriah Heep had been visiting Mr Waterbrook's office downstairs to discuss a partnership with Mr Wickfield, her papa.  Wickfield, though he was not in favour of it was compelled to consent. He was under the influence of Uriah Heep.

'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 use of his power.

'He threatened papa that he would leave, that he had better prospects.  Papa was depressed by these threats, and then came the proposal of partnership.  Papa was much relieved, but he was hurt and ashamed.'

'And how did you receive it, Agnes?'

'It was necessary for Papa's peace that I should make the sacrifices.  I have entreated him to make the partnership.  For my own sake papa has limited his circles and sympathies.  I don't know, I could ever set this right! Whether I could ever work out his restoration, as I have so innocently been the cause of his decline.' 

Trotwood had seen never before Agnes cry.  He had never seen grieve her like this.  Agnes was superior to him in character and purpose.  She was calm again as if a cloud had passed away from serene sky. 

'We are not likely to remain alone much longer,' said Agnes, 'and let me earnestly entreat you, Trotwood, to be friendly to Uriah.  Don't repel him.  He may not deserve it, for we know no ill of him.  In any case, first think of papa and me!'

Agnes had no time to say more. The door opened and Mrs Waterbrook came in.  He had a dim recollection of having seen her at the theatre, as if he had seen her in a pale magic lantern; but she appeared to remember him perfectly, and still to suspect him of being in a state of intoxication.  Finding however that he was sober Mrs Waterbrook softened.  She inquired him whether he went to park regularly, or that he went much into society.  She invited him to a dinner next day.  He accepted the invitation and took leave, making a call on Uriah in the office, and leaving a card for him in his absence. 

The premises of Mr Waterbrook.   Ticket-porter was engaged to receive the guests.  Mr Waterbrook was a middle aged gentleman, with a short throat, and a good deal of shirt-collar, who wanted a black nose to be the portrait of a pug-dog.  Mrs Waterbrook introduced Trotwood to an awful lady in black velvet, who looked like Hamlet's aunt. She was Mrs Henry Spiker.  Mr Spiker was also present.  His head, instead of being grey, seemed sprinkled with hoar-frost.  Mr Henry Spiker being a solicitor to something or somebody, much respect was shown to the couple.  Uriah Heep was in black, and in ostentatious humility.  He hovered about Trotwood in humility all the rest of the evening, and whenever Trotwood had a word with Agnes, he gauntly looked at upon them from behind, with his shadowless dead eyes.

All the guests were iced for the occasion, but the name as it was announced attracted the attention of Trotwood- Traddles, but he was not sure it was Tommy Traddles, who used to draw skeletons, in times of grief at Salem House.

Even after close observation, Trotwood was not sure he was Traddles.  So he approached Mr Waterbrook, and said that he had the pleasure of seeing an old schoolfellow there.  

'Indeed!' said Waterbrook surprised, 'you are too young to have been at school with Mr Henry Spiker?'

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

'Oh! Aye aye! Indeed!' said Mr Waterbrook with much diminished interest.  Possibly.'

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

'Oh, yes, Traddles is a good fellow,' returned Mr Waterbrook.  'Traddles is quite  a good fellow.' 

'It's a curious coincidence,' said Trotwood 

'Quite a coincidence that he should be here.  He was only invited this morning when the place at the table intended for the brother of Mrs Henry Spiker fell vacant because of his indisposition.  A very gentlemanly man, Mrs Spiker's brother,'

It was very difficult to get what he wanted, thought Trotwood.  But he assured his assent, and inquired what Mr Traddles was by profession .

'Traddles is a young man reading for the bar. Yes. He is quite a good man - nobody's enemy but his own.'

'Is he his own enemy?' said Trotwood, sorry to hear this.

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

Dinner was announced and Mr Waterbrook went down with Hamlet's aunt, and Mr Henry Spiker took Mrs Waterbrook.  Agnes, whom Trotwood should have liked to take, was given to simpering fellow with weak legs.

Trotwood was able to make himself known to Traddles on the stairs, but they were at separate tables.

In the midst of discussions and arguments Trotwood found time to meet Traddles and introduced him to Agnes.  Since Traddles was obliged to leave early, they exchanged their addresses and promised to meet in future.

After dinner, while leaving the house, Uriah was close behind him.  Though he was not at all inclined to speak to Uriah, he remembered Agnes's words - 'be friend to him, don't repel him'.  So he invited Uriah to the Adelphi and the latter accepted it, though with the exhibition of his humility.

They went the nearest way, without talking much upon the road.  Trotwood led him up the dark stairs to prevent him knocking his head against anything.  Trotwood lighted the candle and prepared a coffee.  In his room Trotwood found that he disliked Uriah very much. He was very uncomfortable when he realised that he hated Uriah. The very physical features of him repulsed Trotwood, and was not able to disguise it.

Uriah hinted about the partnership with Mr Wickfield, and also of the fact that Trotwood himself brought this idea to him.  He said that Mr Wickfield was an imprudent man.  If anyone had been in his place during the last few years, by this time he would have had Mr Wickfield under his thumb.

'Master Copperfield,' he said, 'am I keeping you up?'

'No. You are not keeping me up, said Trotwood, 'I generally go to bed late.'

'Thank you, Master Copperfield, I have risen from my humble station, but I am humble still. But I never shall be otherwise than humble.  You will not think the worse of my humbleness, if I make a little confidence to you Master Copperfield, will you?'

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

'Thank you!' he took out his pocket handker-chief and began wiping the palms 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,' Trotwood returned.

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

'Not at all,' Trotwood said loftily. 'There is no reason why you should thank me.'

'Why that, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'is in fact is the confidence I repose in you.  Humble as I am,' he wiped his hands harder and looked at them and at the fire by turns, 'humble as my mother is, and lowly as our poor but honest roof has been, the image of Miss Agnes has been in my breast for years.  Oh, Master Copperfield, with what a pure affection do I love the ground my Agnes walks on!'

Trotwood had a delirous idea of seizing the red-hot poker out of the fire, and running him through with it.  It went like a shock, like a ball fired from a rifle: but the image of Agnes, outraged by so much of a thought of this red-headed animal, remained in his mind, when looked at him, sitting all awry, as if his mean soul gripped his body.  Trotwood felt giddy.  Uriah seemed to swell and grow in his eyes.  The room seemed full of echoes of his voice.  Trotwood's repulsion to Uriah was equally matched by his blind devotion to Steerforth.  Agnes was aware of this and she tried to bring a correction in it.  The power that Uriah used on Mr Wickfield was on his face now.  The remembrance of entreaty of Agnes brought back the composure in Trotwood.

'She is so much attached to his father, that I think she may come, on his account, to be kind to me.'

Trotwood fathomed the depth of Uriah's whole scheme.

'If you have the goodness to keep my secret, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'and not go against me, I shall take it as a favour.  Do not go against me, with my Agnes. I call her mine, you see Master Copperfield.  There's a song that says, "I'd crowns resign, to call her mine!" I hope to do it, one of these days.'

'There is no hurry at present, you know, Master Copperfield,' continued Uriah, 'My Agnes is very young still; and mother and me will have to work our way upwards, and make a good many new arrangements, before it would be quite convenient.  So I shall have time gradually to make her familiar with my hopes.  I am so much obliged to you for this confidence!'

He took the hand of Trotwood, and having given it a damp squeeze, said 'dear me! it's almost half past one!'

Trotwood sat in silence, but found it was late.

'Dear me,' he continued, 'the house that I am stopping at New River Bed will have gone to sleep these two hours.'

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

'Oh, don't think of bed,' he rejoined ecstatically, drawing up one leg.  'But would you have any objection to my laying down before the fire?'

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

His shrilly repudiation of the matter might have reached Mrs Crupp then sleeping.  Trotwood had put the mattress of the sofa before the fire. It was too short for his lank figure.  Sofa pillows, a blanket, the table cover, a clean break-fast cloth, and a great-coat, made him a bed covering.  Having lent him a night-cap which he put on at once, and in which he made such an awful figure, Trotwood left him to rest.

Trotwood never shall forget that night. He turned and tumbled thinking about Agnes and Uriah.  When he awoke, the recollection that Uriah was lying in the next room, sat heavy on him like a nightmare.  

Trotwood saw him going downstairs early in the morning, as if the night was going away in his person. While leaving for the Commons, he charged Mrs Crupp with direction to leave the window open that the sitting-room might be aired and purged of Uriah's presence.

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