merry； I know； but it was hollow merriment。 I attached myself to a
young creature in pink； with little eyes； and flirted with her
desperately。 She received my attentions with favour； but whether
on my account solely； or because she had any designs on Red
Whisker； I can’t say。 Dora’s health was drunk。 When I drank it； I
affected to interrupt my conversation for that purpose； and to
resume it immediately afterwards。 I caught Dora’s eye as I bowed
to her； and I thought it looked appealing。 But it looked at me over
the head of Red Whisker； and I was adamant。
The young creature in pink had a mother in green； and I rather
think the latter separated us from motives of policy。 Howbeit；
there was a general breaking up of the party； while the remnants
of the dinner were being put away； and I strolled off by myself
among the trees； in a raging and remorseful state。 I was debating
whether I should pretend that I was not well； and fly—I don’t
know where—upon my gallant grey； when Dora and Miss Mills
met me。
‘Mr。 Copperfield；’ said Miss Mills； ‘you are dull。’
I begged her pardon。 Not at all。
‘And Dora；’ said Miss Mills； ‘you are dull。’
Oh dear no！ Not in the least。
‘Mr。 Copperfield and Dora；’ said Miss Mills； with an almost
venerable air。 ‘Enough of this。 Do not allow a trivial
misunderstanding to wither the blossoms of spring； which； once
put forth and blighted； cannot be renewed。 I speak；’ said Miss
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David Copperfield
Mills； ‘from experience of the past—the remote； irrevocable past。
The gushing fountains which sparkle in the sun； must not be
stopped in mere caprice； the oasis in the desert of Sahara must not
be plucked up idly。’
I hardly knew what I did； I was burning all over to that
extraordinary extent； but I took Dora’s little hand and kissed it—
and she let me！ I kissed Miss Mills’s hand； and we all seemed； to
my thinking； to go straight up to the seventh heaven。 We did not
come down again。 We stayed up there all the evening。 At first we
strayed to and fro among the trees： I with Dora’s shy arm drawn
through mine： and Heaven knows； folly as it all was； it would have
been a happy fate to have been struck immortal with those foolish
feelings； and have stayed among the trees for ever！
But； much too soon； we heard the others laughing and talking；
and calling ‘where’s Dora？’ So we went back； and they wanted
Dora to sing。 Red Whisker would have got the guitar…case out of
the carriage； but Dora told him nobody knew where it was； but I。
So Red Whisker was done for in a moment； and I got it； and I
unlocked it； and I took the guitar out； and I sat by her； and I held
her handkerchief and gloves； and I drank in every note of her dear
voice； and she sang to me who loved her； and all the others might
applaud as much as they liked； but they had nothing to do with it！
I was intoxicated with joy。 I was afraid it was too happy to be
real； and that I should wake in Buckingham Street presently； and
hear Mrs。 Crupp clinking the teacups in getting breakfast ready。
But Dora sang； and others sang； and Miss Mills sang—about the
slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory； as if she were a
hundred years old—and the evening came on； and we had tea；
with the kettle boiling gipsy…fashion； and I was still as happy as
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ever。
I was happier than ever when the party broke up； and the other
people； defeated Red Whisker and all； went their several ways；
and we went ours through the still evening and the dying light；
with sweet scents rising up around us。 Mr。 Spenlow being a little
drowsy after the champagne—honour to the soil that grew the
grape； to the grape that made the wine； to the sun that ripened it；
and to the merchant who adulterated it！—and being fast asleep in
a corner of the carriage； I rode by the side and talked to Dora。 She
admired my horse and patted him—oh； what a dear little hand it
looked upon a horse！—and her shawl would not keep right； and
now and then I drew it round her with my arm； and I even fancied
that Jip began to see how it was； and to understand that he must
make up his mind to be friends with me。
That sagacious Miss Mills； too； that amiable； though quite used
up； recluse； that little patriarch of something less than twenty；
who had done with the world； and mustn’t on any account have
the slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory awakened； what
a kind thing she did！
‘Mr。 Copperfield；’ said Miss Mills； ‘come to this side of the
carriage a moment—if you can spare a moment。 I want to speak to
you。’
Behold me； on my gallant grey； bending at the side of Miss
Mills； with my hand upon the carriage door！
‘Dora is coming to stay with me。 She is coming home with me
the day after tomorrow。 If you would like to call； I am sure papa
would be happy to see you。’ What could I do but invoke a silent
blessing on Miss Mills’s head； and store Miss Mills’s address in the
securest corner of my memory！ What could I do but tell Miss Mills；
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David Copperfield
with grateful looks and fervent words； how much I appreciated her
good offices； and what an inestimable value I set upon her
friendship！
Then Miss Mills benignantly dismissed me； saying； ‘Go back to
Dora！’ and I went； and Dora leaned out of the carriage to talk to
me； and we talked all the rest of the way； and I rode my gallant
grey so close to the wheel that I grazed his near fore leg against it；
and ‘took the bark off’； as his owner told me； ‘to the tune of three
pun’ sivin’—which I paid； and thought extremely cheap for so
much joy。 What time Miss Mills sat looking at the moon；
murmuring verses—and recalling； I suppose； the ancient days
when she and earth had anything in common。
Norwood was many miles too near； and we reached it many
hours too soon； but Mr。 Spenlow came to himself a little short of it；
and said； ‘You must come in； Copperfield； and rest！’ and I
consenting； we had sandwiches and wine…and…water。 In the light
room； Dora blushing looked so lovely； that I could not tear myself
away； but sat there staring； in a dream； until the snoring of Mr。
Spenlow inspired me with sufficient consciousness to take my
leave。 So we parted； I riding all the way to London with the
farewell touch of Dora’s hand still light on mine； recalling every
incident and word ten thousand times； lying down in my own bed
at last； as enraptured a young noodle as ever was carried out of his
five wits by love。
When I awoke next morning； I was resolute to declare my
passion to Dora； and know my fate。 Happiness or misery was now
the question。 There was no other question that I knew of in the
world； and only Dora could give the answer to it。 I passed three
days in a luxury of wretchedness； torturing myself by putting
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
every conceivable variety of discouraging construction on all that
ever had taken place between Dora and me。 At last； arrayed for
the purpose at a vast expense； I went to Miss Mills’s； fraught with
a declaration。
How many times I went up and down the street； and round the
square—painfully aware of being a much better answer to the old
riddle than the original one—before I could persuade myself to go
up the steps and knock； is no matter now。 Even when； at last； I had
knocked； and was waiting at the door； I had some flurried thought
of asking if that were Mr。 Blackboy’s （in imitation of poor Barkis）；
begging pardon； and retreating。 But I kept my ground。
Mr。 Mills was not at home。 I did not expect he would be。
Nobody wanted him。 Miss Mills was at home。 Miss Mills would do。
I was shown into a room upstairs； where Miss Mills and Dora
were。 Jip was there。 Miss Mills was copying music （I recollect； it
was a new song； called ‘Affection’s Dirge’）； and Dora was painting
flowers。 What were my feelings； when I recognized my own
flowers； the identical Covent Garden Market purchase！ I cannot
say that they were very like； or that they particularly resembled
any flowers that have ever come under my observation； but I knew
from the paper round them which was accurately copied； what the
composition was。
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
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David Copperfield
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