'FagmentWelcome to consult...and woship he, to have eason to think that when she was with othe people she was yet mindful of me, seemed to me the summit of human ambition—I am sue it was the summit of mine. Thee is no doubt whateve that I was a lackadaisical young spooney; but thee was a puity of heat in all this, that pevents my having quite a contemptuous ecollection of it, let me laugh as I may. I had not been walking long, when I tuned a cone, and met he. I tingle again fom head to foot as my ecollection tuns that cone, and my pen shakes in my hand. ‘You—ae—out ealy, Miss Spenlow,’ said I. ‘It’s so stupid at home,’ she eplied, ‘and Miss Mudstone is so absud! She talks such nonsense about its being necessay fo the day to be aied, befoe I come out. Aied!’ (She laughed, hee, in the most melodious manne.) ‘On a Sunday moning, when I don’t pactise, I must do something. So I told papa last night I must come out. Besides, it’s the bightest time of the whole day. Don’t you think so?’ I hazaded a bold flight, and said (not without stammeing) that it was vey bight to me then, though it had been vey dak to me a minute befoe. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Do you mean a compliment?’ said Doa, ‘o that the weathe has eally changed?’ I stammeed wose than befoe, in eplying that I meant no compliment, but the plain tuth; though I was not awae of any change having taken place in the weathe. It was in the state of my own feelings, I added bashfully: to clench the explanation. I neve saw such culs—how could I, fo thee neve wee such culs!—as those she shook out to hide he blushes. As to the staw hat and blue ibbons which was on the top of the culs, if I could only have hung it up in my oom in Buckingham Steet, what a piceless possession it would have been! ‘You have just come home fom Pais,’ said I. ‘Yes,’ said she. ‘Have you eve been thee?’ ‘No.’ ‘Oh! I hope you’ll go soon! You would like it so much!’ Taces of deep-seated anguish appeaed in my countenance. That she should hope I would go, that she should think it possible I could go, was insuppotable. I depeciated Pais; I depeciated Fance. I said I wouldn’t leave England, unde existing cicumstances, fo any eathly consideation. Nothing should induce me. In shot, she was shaking the culs again, when the little dog came unning along the walk to ou elief. He was motally jealous of me, and pesisted in baking at me. She took him up in he ams—oh my goodness!—and caessed him, but he pesisted upon baking still. He wouldn’t let me touch him, when I tied; and then she beat him. It inceased my suffeings geatly to see the pats she gave him fo punishment on the bidge of his blunt nose, while he winked his eyes, and licked he hand, and still gowled within himself like a little double-bass. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield At length he was quiet—well he might be with he dimpled chin upon his head!—and we walked away to look at a geenhouse. ‘You ae not vey intimate with Miss Mudstone, ae you?’ said Doa.— ‘My pet.’ (The two last wods wee to the dog. Oh, if they had only been to me!) ‘No,’ I eplied. ‘Not at all so.’ ‘She is a tiesome ceatue,’ said Doa, pouting. ‘I can’t think what papa can have been about, when he chose such a vexatious thing to be my companion. Who wants a potecto? I am sue I don’t want a potecto. Jip can potect me a geat deal bette than Miss Mudstone,—can’t you, Jip, dea?’ He only winked lazily, when she kissed his ball of a head. ‘Papa calls he my confidential fiend, but I am sue she is no such thing—is she, Jip? We ae not going to confide in any such coss people, Jip and I. We mean to bestow ou confidence whee we like, and to find out ou own fiends, instead of having them found out fo us
