I was equally at a loss to express my emotions. I was quite unable to speak, at first.
"My dear fellow!" said Traddles. "And grown so famous! My glorious Copperfield! Good gracious me, when did you come, where have you come from, what have you been doing?" ,
Never pausing for an answer to anything he said, Traddles, who had clapped me into an easy-chair by the fire, all this time impetuously stirred the fire with one hand, and pulled at my neckerchief with the other, under'some wild delusion that it was a greatcoat. Without putting down the poker, he now hugged me again, and I hugged him, and, both laughing, and both wiping our eyes, we both sat down, and shook hands across the hearth.
"To think," said Traddles, "that you should have been so nearly coming home as you must have been, my dear old boy, and not at the ceremony!"
"What ceremony, my dear Traddles?"
"Good gracious me!" cried Traddles, opening his eyes in his old way. "Didn't you get my last letter?"
"Certainly not, if it referred to any ceremony."
"Why, my dear Copperfield," said Traddles, sticking his hair upright with both hands, and then putting his hands on my knees, "I am married!"
"Married!" I cried joyfully.
"Lord bless me, yes!" said Traddles--"by the Rev. Horace --to Sophy--down in Devonshire. Why, my dear boy, she's behind the window curtain! Look here!"
To my amazement, the dearest girl in the world came at that same instant, laughing and blushing, from her place of concealment. And a more cheerful, amiable, honest, happy, bright-looking bride, I believe (as I could not help saying on the spot) the world never saw. I kissed her as an old acquaintance should, and wished them joy with all my might of heart.
"Dear me," said Traddles, "what a delightful reunion this is! You are so extremely brown, my dear Copperfield! God bless my soul, how happy I am!"
"And so am I," said I.
"And I am sure I am!" said the blushing and laughing Sophy.
"We are all as happy as possible!" said Traddles. "Even the girls are happy. Dear me, I declare I forgot them!"
"Forgot?" said I.
"The girls," said Traddles. "Sophy's sisters. They are staying with us. They have come to have a peep at London. The fact is, when--was it you that tumbled upstairs, Copperfield?"
"It was," said I, laughing.
"Well then, when you tumbled upstairs," said Traddles, "I was romping with the girls. In point of fact, we were playing at Puss in the Corner. But as that wouldn't do in Westminster Hall, and as it wouldn't look quite professional if they were seen by a client, they decamped. And they are now --listening, I have no doubt," said Traddles, glancing at the door of another room.
"I am sorry," said I, laughing afresh, "to have occasioned such a dispersion."
"Upon my word," rejoined Traddles, greatly delighted, "if you had seen them running away, and running back again, after you had knocked, to pick up the combs they had dropped out of their hair, and going on in the maddest manner, you wouldn't have said so. My love, will you fetch the girls?"
Sophy tripped away, and we heard her received in the adjoining room with a peal of laughter.
"Really musical, isn't it, my dear Copperfield?" said Traddles. "It's very agreeable to hear. It quite lights up these old rooms. To an unfortunate bachelor of a fellow who has lived alone all his life, you know, it's positively delicious. It's charming. Poor things, they have had a great loss in Sophy--who, I do assure you, Copperfield, is, and ever was, the dearest girl!--and it gratifies me beyond expression to find them in such good spirits. The society of girls is a very delightful thing, Copperfield. It's not professional, but it's very delightful."
Observing that he slightly faltered, and comprehending that in the goodness of his heart he was fearful of giving me some pain by what he had said, I expressed my concurrence with a heartiness that evidently relieved and pleased him greatly.
"But then," said Traddles, "our domestic arrangements are, to say the truth, quite unprofessional altogether, my dear Copperfield. Even Sophy's being here is unprofessional. And we have no other place of abode. We have put to sea in a cockboat, but we are quite prepared to rough it. And Sophy's an extraordinary manager! You'll be surprised how those girls are stowed away. I am sure I hardly know how it's done."
"Are many of the young ladies with you?" I inquired.
"The eldest, the Beauty is here," said Traddles, in a low confidential voice, "Caroline. And Sarah's here--the one I mentioned to you as having something the matter with her spine, you know. Immensely better! And the two youngest that Sophy educated are with us. And Louisa's here."
"Indeed!" cried I.
"Yes," said Traddles. "Now the whole set--I mean the chambers--is only three rooms, but Sophy arranges for the girls in the most wonderful way, and they sleep as comfortably as possible. Three in that room," said Traddles, pointing. "Two in that."
I could not help glancing round, in search of the accommodation remaining for Mr. and Mrs. Traddles. Traddles understood me.
"Well!" said Traddles, "we are prepared to rough it, as I said just now, and we did improvise a bed last week, upon the floor here. But there's a little room in the roof--a very nice room, when you're up there--which Sophy papered herself, to surprise me, and that's our room at present. It's a capital little gipsy sort of place. There's quite a view from it."
'And you are happily married at last, my dear Traddles!" said L "How rejoiced I am!"
"Thank you, my dear Copperfield," said Traddles, as we shook hands once more. "Yes, I am as happy as it's possible to be. There's your old friend, you see," said Traddles, nodding triumphantly at the flower-pot and stand, "and there's the table with the marble top! All the other furniture is plain and serviceable, you perceive. And as to plate, Lord bless you, we haven't so much as a teaspoon."
"All to be earned?" said I, cheerfully.
"Exactly so," replied Traddles, "all to be earned. Of course we have something in the shape of teaspoons, because we stir our tea. But they're Britannia metal."
"The silver will be the brighter when it comes," said L
"The very thing we say!" cried Traddles. "You see, my dear Copperfield," falling again into the low confidential tone, "after I had delivered by argument in DOE dem. JIPES versus WIGZELL, which did me great service with the profession, I went down into Devonshire, and had some serious conversation in private with the Reverend Horace. I dwelt upon the fact that Sophy--who I do assure you, Copperfield, is the dearest girl!--"
"I am certain she is!" said L
"She is, indeed!" rejoined Traddles. "But I am afraid I am wandering from the subject. Did I mention the Reverend Horace?"
"You said that you dwelt upon the fact--"
"True! Upon the fact that Sophy and I had been engaged for a long period, and that Sophy, with the permission of her parents, was more than content to take me--in short," said Traddles, with his old frank smile, "on our present Britannia metal footing. Very well. I then proposed to the Reverend Horace--who is a most excellent clergyman, Copperfield, and ought to be a Bishop, or at least ought to have enough to live upon, without pinching himself--that if I could turn the comer, say of two hundred and fifty pounds, in one year, and could see my way pretty clearly to that, or something better, next year, and could plainly furnish a little place like this, besides, then, and in that case, Sophy and I should be united. I took the liberty of representing that we had been patient for a good many years, and that the circumstance of Sophy's being extraordinarily useful at home, ought not to operate with her affectionate parents, against her establishment in life--don't you see?"
"Certainly it ought not," said I.
"I am glad you think so, Copperfield," rejoined Traddles, "because, without any imputation on the Reverend Horace, I do think parents, and brothers, and so forth, are sometimes rather selfish in such cases. Well! I also pointed out that my most earnest desire was to be useful to the family, and that if I got on in the world, and anything should happen to him--I refer to t
he Reverend Horace--"
"I understand," said I.
"--Or to Mrs. Crewler--it would be the utmost gratification of my wishes, to be a parent to the girls. He replied in a most admirable manner, exceedingly flattering to my feelings, and undertook to obtain the consent of Mrs. Crewler to this arrangement. They had a dreadful time of it with her. It mounted from her legs into her chest, and then into her head--"
"What mounted?" I asked.
"Her grief," replied Traddles, with a serious look. "Her feelings generally. As I mentioned on a former occasion, she is a very superior woman, but has lost the use of her limbs. Whatever occurs to harass her, usually settles in her legs, but on this occasion it mounted to the chest, and then to the head, and, in short, pervaded the whole system in a most alarming manner. However, they brought her through it by unremitting and affectionate attention, and we were married yesterday six weeks. You have no idea what a Monster I felt, Copperfield, when I saw the whole family crying and fainting away in every direction! Mrs. Crewler couldn't see me before we left--couldn't forgive me, then, for depriving her of her child--but she is a good creature, and has done so since. I had a delightful letter from her, only this morning."
"And in short, my dear friend," said I, "you feel as blest as you deserve to feel!"
"Oh! That's your partiality!" laughed Traddles. "But, indeed, I am in a most enviable state. I work hard, and read Law insatiably. I get up at five every morning, and don't mind it at all. I hide the girls in the day-time, and make merry with them in the evening. And I assure you I am quite sorry that they are going home on Tuesday, which is the day before the first day of Michaelmas Term. But here," said Traddles, breaking off in his confidence, and speaking aloud, "are the girls! Mr. Copperfield, Miss Crewier--Miss Sarah--Miss Louisa--Margaret and Lucy!"
They were a perfect nest of roses, they looked so wholesome and fresh. They were all pretty, and Miss Caroline was very handsome, but there was a loving, cheerful, fireside quality in Sophy's bright looks, which was better than that, and which assured me that my friend had chosen well. We all sat round the fire, while the sharp boy, who I now divined had lost his breath in putting the papers out, cleared them away again, and produced the tea-things. After that, he retired for the night, shutting the outer door upon us with a bang. Mrs. Traddles, with perfect pleasure and composure beaming from her household eyes, having made the tea, then quietly made the toast as she sat in a corner by the fire.
She had seen Agnes, she told me, while she was toasting. "Tom" had taken her down into Kent for a wedding trip, and there she had seen my aunt, too, and both my aunt and Agnes were well, and they had all talked of nothing but me. "Tom" had never had me out of his thoughts, she really believed, all the time I had been away. "Tom" was the authority for everything. "Tom" was evidently the idol of her life, never to be shaken on his pedestal by any commotion, always to be believed in, and done homage to with the whole faith of her heart, come what might.
The deference which both she and Traddles showed towards the Beauty pleased me very much. I don't know that I thought it very reasonable, but I thought it very delightful, and essentially a part of their character. If Traddles ever for an instant missed the teaspoons that were still to be won, I have no doubt it was when he handed the Beauty her tea. If his sweet-tempered wife could have got up any self-assertion against any one, I am satisfied it could only have been because she was the Beauty's sister. A few slight indications of a rather petted and capricious manner, which I observed in the Beauty, were manifestly considered, by Traddles and his wife, as her birthright and natural endowment. If she had been born a Queen Bee, and they labouring Bees, they could not have been more satisfied of that.
But their self-forgetfulness charmed me. Their pride in these girls, and their submission of themselves to all their whims, was the pleasantest little testimony to their own worth I could have desired to see. If Traddles were addressed as "a darling," once in the course of that evening, and besought to bring something here, or carry something there, or take something up, or put something down, or find something, or fetch something, he was so addressed, by one or other of his sisters-in-law, at least twelve times in an hour. Neither could they do anything without Sophy. Somebody's hair fell down, and nobody but Sophy could put it up. Somebody forgot how a particular tune went, and nobody but Sophy could hum that tune right. Somebody wanted to recall the name of a place in Devonshire, and only Sophy knew it. Something was wanted to be written home, and Sophy alone could be trusted to write before breakfast in the morning. Somebody broke down in a piece of knitting, and no one but Sophy was able to put the defaulter in the right direction. They were entire mistresses of the place, and Sophy and Traddles waited on them. How many children Sophy could have taken care of in her time, I can't imagine, but she seemed to be famous for knowing every sort of song that ever was addressed to a child in the English tongue, and she sang dozens to order with the clearest little voice in the world, one after another (every sister issuing directions for a different tune, and the Beauty generally striking in last), so that I was quite fascinated. The best of all was that, in the midst of their exactions, all the sisters had a great tenderness and respect both for Sophy and Traddles. I am sure, when I took my leave, and Traddles was coming out to walk with me to the coffee-house, I thought I had never seen an obstinate head of hair, or any other head of hair, rolling about in such a shower of kisses.
Altogether, it was a scene I could not help dwelling on with pleasure, for a long time after I got back and had wished Traddles good night. If I had beheld a thousand roses blowing in a top set of chambers, in that withered Gray's Inn, they could not have brightened it half so much. The idea of those Devonshire girls, among the dry law-stationers and the attorneys' offices, and of the tea and toast, and children's songs, in that grim atmosphere of pounce and parchment, red-tape, dusty wafers, ink-jars, brief and draft paper, law reports, writs, declarations, and bills of costs, seemed almost as pleasantly fanciful as if I had dreamed that the Sultan's famous family had been admitted on the roll of attorneys, and had brought the talking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water into Gray's Inn Hall. Somehow, I found that I had taken leave of Traddles for the night, and come back to the coffee-house, with a great change in my despondency about him. I began to think he would get on, in spite of all the many orders of chief waiters in England.
Drawing a chair before one of the coffee-room fires to think about him at my leisure, I gradually fell from the consideration of his happiness to tracing prospects in the live-coals, and to thinking, as they broke and changed, of the principal vicissitudes and separations that had marked my life. I had not seen a coal fire since I had left England three years ago, though many a wood fire had I watched, as it crumbled into hoary ashes, and mingled with the feathery heap upon the hearth, which not inaptly figured to me, in my despondency, my own dead hopes.
I could think of the past now, gravely, but not bitterly, and could contemplate the future in a brave spirit. Home, in its best sense, was for me no more. [In my headlong passion and caprice, I had had a home before I was worthy of it, and it was lost--lost, even as I had heard from my child-wife on her death-bed, for the best!] She in whom I might have inspired a dearer love, I had taught to be my sister. She would marry, and would have new claimants on her tenderness, and in doing it, would never know the love for her that had grown up in my heart. It was right that I should pay the forfeit of my headlong passion. What I reaped, I had sown.
I was thinking, and had I truly disciplined my heart to this, and could I resolutely bear it, and calmly hold the place in her home which she had calmly held in mine--when I found my eyes resting on a countenance that might have arisen out of the fire, in its association with my early remembrances.
Little Mr. Chillip the Doctor, to whose good offices I was indebted in the very first chapter of this history, sat reading a newspaper in the shadow of an opposite corner. He was tolerably stricken in years by this time, but, being a mild, me
ek, calm little man, had worn so easily, that I thought he looked at that moment just as he might have looked when he sat in our parlour, waiting for me to be born.
Mr. Chillip had left Blunderstone six or seven years ago, and I had never seen him since. He sat placidly perusing the newspaper, with his little head on one side, and a glass of warm sherry negus at his elbow. He was so extremely conciliatory in his manner that he seemed to apologize to the very newspaper for taking the liberty of reading it.
I walked up to where he was sitting, and said, "How do you do, Mr. Chillip?"
He was greatly fluttered by this unexpected address from a stranger, and replied, in his slow way, "I thank you, sir, you are very good. Thank you, sir. I hope you are well."
"You don't remember me?" said I.
"Well, sir," returned Mr. Chillip, smiling very meekly, and shaking his head as he surveyed me, "I have a kind of an impression that something in your countenance is familiar to me, sir, but I couldn't lay my hand upon your name, really."
"And yet you knew it, long before I knew it myself," I returned.
"Did I indeed, sir?" said Mr. Chillip. "Is it possible that I had the honour, sir, of officiating when--?"
"Yes," said I.
"Dear me!" cried Mr. Chillip. "But no doubt you are a good deal changed since then, sir?"
"Probably," said I.
"Well, sir," observed Mr. Chillip, "I hope you'll excuse me, if I am compelled to ask the favour of your name?"
On my telling him my name, he was really moved. He quite shook hands with me--which was a violent proceeding for him, his usual course being to slide a tepid little fish-slice, an inch or two in advance of his hip, and evince the greatest discomposure when anybody grappled with it. Even now, he put his hand in his coat pocket as soon as he could disengage it, and seemed relieved when he had got it safe back.
"Dear me, sir!" said Mr. Chillip, surveying me with his head on one side. "And it's Mr. Copperfield, is it? Well, sir, I think I should have known you, if I had taken the liberty of looking more closely at you. There's a strong resemblance between you and your poor father, sir,"