David Copperfield Charles Dickens (100 best novels of all time .TXT) 📖

Miss Mills was very glad to see me, and very sorry her papa was not at home: though I thought we all bore that with fortitude. Miss Mills was conversational for a few minutes, and then, laying down her pen upon “Affection’s Dirge,” got up, and left the room.

I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

“I hope your poor horse was not tired, when he got home at night,” said Dora, lifting up her beautiful eyes. “It was a long way for him.”

I began to think I would do it today.

“It was a long way for him,” said I, “for he had nothing to uphold him on the journey.”

“Wasn’t he fed, poor thing?” asked Dora.

I began to think I would put it off till tomorrow.

“Ye-yes,” I said, “he was well taken care of. I mean he had not the unutterable happiness that I had in being so near you.”

Dora bent her head over her drawing and said, after a little while⁠—I had sat, in the interval, in a burning fever, and with my legs in a very rigid state⁠—

“You didn’t seem to be sensible of that happiness yourself, at one time of the day.”

I saw now that I was in for it, and it must be done on the spot.

“You didn’t care for that happiness in the least,” said Dora, slightly raising her eyebrows, and shaking her head, “when you were sitting by Miss Kitt.”

Kitt, I should observe, was the name of the creature in pink, with the little eyes.

“Though certainly I don’t know why you should,” said Dora, “or why you should call it a happiness at all. But of course you don’t mean what you say. And I am sure no one doubts your being at liberty to do whatever you like. Jip, you naughty boy, come here!”

I don’t know how I did it. I did it in a moment. I intercepted Jip. I had Dora in my arms. I was full of eloquence. I never stopped for a word. I told her how I loved her. I told her I should die without her. I told her that I idolized and worshipped her. Jip barked madly all the time.

When Dora hung her head and cried, and trembled, my eloquence increased so much the more. If she would like me to die for her, she had but to say the word, and I was ready. Life without Dora’s love was not a thing to have on any terms. I couldn’t bear it, and I wouldn’t. I had loved her every minute, day and night, since I first saw her. I loved her at that minute to distraction. I should always love her, every minute, to distraction. Lovers had loved before, and lovers would love again; but no lover had loved, might, could, would, or should ever love, as I loved Dora. The more I raved, the more Jip barked. Each of us, in his own way, got more mad every moment.

Well, well! Dora and I were sitting on the sofa by and by, quiet enough, and Jip was lying in her lap, winking peacefully at me. It was off my mind. I was in a state of perfect rapture. Dora and I were engaged.

I suppose we had some notion that this was to end in marriage. We must have had some, because Dora stipulated that we were never to be married without her papa’s consent. But, in our youthful ecstasy, I don’t think that we really looked before us or behind us; or had any aspiration beyond the ignorant present. We were to keep our secret from Mr. Spenlow; but I am sure the idea never entered my head, then, that there was anything dishonourable in that.

Miss Mills was more than usually pensive when Dora, going to find her, brought her back;⁠—I apprehend, because there was a tendency in what had passed to awaken the slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory. But she gave us her blessing, and the assurance of her lasting friendship, and spoke to us, generally, as became a Voice from the Cloister.

What an idle time it was! What an insubstantial, happy, foolish time it was!

When I measured Dora’s finger for a ring that was to be made of forget-me-nots, and when the jeweller, to whom I took the measure, found me out, and laughed over his order-book, and charged me anything he liked for the pretty little toy, with its blue stones⁠—so associated in my remembrance with Dora’s hand, that yesterday, when I saw such another, by chance, on the finger of my own daughter, there was a momentary stirring in my heart, like pain!

When I walked about, exalted with my secret, and full of my own interest, and felt the dignity of loving Dora, and of being beloved, so much, that if I had walked the air, I could not have been more above the people not so situated, who were creeping on the earth!

When we had those meetings in the garden of the square, and sat within the dingy summerhouse, so happy, that I love the London sparrows to this hour, for nothing else, and see the plumage of the tropics in their smoky feathers! When we had our first great quarrel (within a week of our betrothal), and when Dora sent me back the ring, enclosed in a despairing cocked-hat note, wherein she used the terrible expression that “our love had begun in folly, and ended in madness!” which dreadful words occasioned me to tear my hair, and cry that all was over!

When, under cover of the night, I flew to Miss Mills, whom I saw by stealth in a back kitchen where there was a mangle, and implored Miss Mills to interpose between us and avert insanity. When Miss Mills undertook the office and returned with Dora, exhorting us, from the pulpit of her own bitter youth, to mutual concession, and the avoidance of the Desert of Sahara!

When we cried,