Bleak House Charles Dickens (classic books to read .TXT) 📖

He rose and raised me with him. We were no longer alone. My husband⁠—I have called him by that name full seven happy years now⁠—stood at my side.

“Allan,” said my guardian, “take from me a willing gift, the best wife that ever man had. What more can I say for you than that I know you deserve her! Take with her the little home she brings you. You know what she will make it, Allan; you know what she has made its namesake. Let me share its felicity sometimes, and what do I sacrifice? Nothing, nothing.”

He kissed me once again, and now the tears were in his eyes as he said more softly, “Esther, my dearest, after so many years, there is a kind of parting in this too. I know that my mistake has caused you some distress. Forgive your old guardian, in restoring him to his old place in your affections; and blot it out of your memory. Allan, take my dear.”

He moved away from under the green roof of leaves, and stopping in the sunlight outside and turning cheerfully towards us, said, “I shall be found about here somewhere. It’s a west wind, little woman, due west! Let no one thank me any more, for I am going to revert to my bachelor habits, and if anybody disregards this warning, I’ll run away and never come back!”

What happiness was ours that day, what joy, what rest, what hope, what gratitude, what bliss! We were to be married before the month was out, but when we were to come and take possession of our own house was to depend on Richard and Ada.

We all three went home together next day. As soon as we arrived in town, Allan went straight to see Richard and to carry our joyful news to him and my darling. Late as it was, I meant to go to her for a few minutes before lying down to sleep, but I went home with my guardian first to make his tea for him and to occupy the old chair by his side, for I did not like to think of its being empty so soon.

When we came home we found that a young man had called three times in the course of that one day to see me and that having been told on the occasion of his third call that I was not expected to return before ten o’clock at night, he had left word that he would call about then. He had left his card three times. Mr. Guppy.

As I naturally speculated on the object of these visits, and as I always associated something ludicrous with the visitor, it fell out that in laughing about Mr. Guppy I told my guardian of his old proposal and his subsequent retraction. “After that,” said my guardian, “we will certainly receive this hero.” So instructions were given that Mr. Guppy should be shown in when he came again, and they were scarcely given when he did come again.

He was embarrassed when he found my guardian with me, but recovered himself and said, “How de do, sir?”

“How do you do, sir?” returned my guardian.

“Thank you, sir, I am tolerable,” returned Mr. Guppy. “Will you allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs. Guppy of the Old Street Road, and my particular friend, Mr. Weevle. That is to say, my friend has gone by the name of Weevle, but his name is really and truly Jobling.”

My guardian begged them to be seated, and they all sat down.

“Tony,” said Mr. Guppy to his friend after an awkward silence. “Will you open the case?”

“Do it yourself,” returned the friend rather tartly.

“Well, Mr. Jarndyce, sir,” Mr. Guppy, after a moment’s consideration, began, to the great diversion of his mother, which she displayed by nudging Mr. Jobling with her elbow and winking at me in a most remarkable manner, “I had an idea that I should see Miss Summerson by herself and was not quite prepared for your esteemed presence. But Miss Summerson has mentioned to you, perhaps, that something has passed between us on former occasions?”

“Miss Summerson,” returned my guardian, smiling, “has made a communication to that effect to me.”

“That,” said Mr. Guppy, “makes matters easier. Sir, I have come out of my articles at Kenge and Carboy’s, and I believe with satisfaction to all parties. I am now admitted (after undergoing an examination that’s enough to badger a man blue, touching a pack of nonsense that he don’t want to know) on the roll of attorneys and have taken out my certificate, if it would be any satisfaction to you to see it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Guppy,” returned my guardian. “I am quite willing⁠—I believe I use a legal phrase⁠—to admit the certificate.”

Mr. Guppy therefore desisted from taking something out of his pocket and proceeded without it.

“I have no capital myself, but my mother has a little property which takes the form of an annuity”⁠—here Mr. Guppy’s mother rolled her head as if she never could sufficiently enjoy the observation, and put her handkerchief to her mouth, and again winked at me⁠—“and a few pounds for expenses out of pocket in conducting business will never be wanting, free of interest, which is an advantage, you know,” said Mr. Guppy feelingly.

“Certainly an advantage,” returned my guardian.

“I have some connection,” pursued Mr. Guppy, “and it lays in the direction of Walcot Square, Lambeth. I have therefore taken a ’ouse in that locality, which, in the opinion of my friends, is a hollow bargain (taxes ridiculous, and use of fixtures included in the rent), and intend setting up professionally for myself there forthwith.”

Here Mr. Guppy’s mother fell into an extraordinary passion of rolling her head and smiling waggishly at anybody who would look at her.

“It’s a six-roomer, exclusive of kitchens,” said Mr. Guppy, “and in the opinion of my friends, a commodious tenement. When I mention my friends, I refer principally to my friend Jobling, who I believe has known me,” Mr. Guppy looked at him with a sentimental air, “from boyhood’s hour.”

Mr. Jobling confirmed this with a sliding movement of his