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think I prefer to sit upon this property of mine tonight?’

I shook my head, unable to guess.

‘Because,’ said my aunt, ‘it’s all I have. Because I’m ruined, my dear!’

If the house, and every one of us, had tumbled out into the river

together, I could hardly have received a greater shock.

‘Dick knows it,’ said my aunt, laying her hand calmly on my shoulder. ‘I

am ruined, my dear Trot! All I have in the world is in this room, except

the cottage; and that I have left Janet to let. Barkis, I want to get a

bed for this gentleman tonight. To save expense, perhaps you can make

up something here for myself. Anything will do. It’s only for tonight.

We’ll talk about this, more, tomorrow.’

I was roused from my amazement, and concern for her--I am sure, for

her--by her falling on my neck, for a moment, and crying that she only

grieved for me. In another moment she suppressed this emotion; and said

with an aspect more triumphant than dejected:

‘We must meet reverses boldly, and not suffer them to frighten us, my

dear. We must learn to act the play out. We must live misfortune down,

Trot!’

CHAPTER 35. DEPRESSION

As soon as I could recover my presence of mind, which quite deserted me

in the first overpowering shock of my aunt’s intelligence, I proposed

to Mr. Dick to come round to the chandler’s shop, and take possession of

the bed which Mr. Peggotty had lately vacated. The chandler’s shop being

in Hungerford Market, and Hungerford Market being a very different place

in those days, there was a low wooden colonnade before the door (not

very unlike that before the house where the little man and woman used

to live, in the old weather-glass), which pleased Mr. Dick mightily. The

glory of lodging over this structure would have compensated him, I dare

say, for many inconveniences; but, as there were really few to bear,

beyond the compound of flavours I have already mentioned, and perhaps

the want of a little more elbow-room, he was perfectly charmed with his

accommodation. Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn’t

room to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick justly observed to me,

sitting down on the foot of the bed, nursing his leg, ‘You know,

Trotwood, I don’t want to swing a cat. I never do swing a cat.

Therefore, what does that signify to ME!’

I tried to ascertain whether Mr. Dick had any understanding of the

causes of this sudden and great change in my aunt’s affairs. As I might

have expected, he had none at all. The only account he could give of it

was, that my aunt had said to him, the day before yesterday, ‘Now, Dick,

are you really and truly the philosopher I take you for?’ That then

he had said, Yes, he hoped so. That then my aunt had said, ‘Dick, I

am ruined.’ That then he had said, ‘Oh, indeed!’ That then my aunt had

praised him highly, which he was glad of. And that then they had come to

me, and had had bottled porter and sandwiches on the road.

Mr. Dick was so very complacent, sitting on the foot of the bed, nursing

his leg, and telling me this, with his eyes wide open and a surprised

smile, that I am sorry to say I was provoked into explaining to him

that ruin meant distress, want, and starvation; but I was soon bitterly

reproved for this harshness, by seeing his face turn pale, and tears

course down his lengthened cheeks, while he fixed upon me a look of such

unutterable woe, that it might have softened a far harder heart than

mine. I took infinitely greater pains to cheer him up again than I had

taken to depress him; and I soon understood (as I ought to have known at

first) that he had been so confident, merely because of his faith in

the wisest and most wonderful of women, and his unbounded reliance on my

intellectual resources. The latter, I believe, he considered a match for

any kind of disaster not absolutely mortal.

‘What can we do, Trotwood?’ said Mr. Dick. ‘There’s the Memorial-’

‘To be sure there is,’ said I. ‘But all we can do just now, Mr. Dick,

is to keep a cheerful countenance, and not let my aunt see that we are

thinking about it.’

He assented to this in the most earnest manner; and implored me, if I

should see him wandering an inch out of the right course, to recall him

by some of those superior methods which were always at my command. But I

regret to state that the fright I had given him proved too much for his

best attempts at concealment. All the evening his eyes wandered to my

aunt’s face, with an expression of the most dismal apprehension, as if

he saw her growing thin on the spot. He was conscious of this, and put

a constraint upon his head; but his keeping that immovable, and sitting

rolling his eyes like a piece of machinery, did not mend the matter at

all. I saw him look at the loaf at supper (which happened to be a small

one), as if nothing else stood between us and famine; and when my aunt

insisted on his making his customary repast, I detected him in the act

of pocketing fragments of his bread and cheese; I have no doubt for the

purpose of reviving us with those savings, when we should have reached

an advanced stage of attenuation.

My aunt, on the other hand, was in a composed frame of mind, which was

a lesson to all of us--to me, I am sure. She was extremely gracious

to Peggotty, except when I inadvertently called her by that name; and,

strange as I knew she felt in London, appeared quite at home. She was

to have my bed, and I was to lie in the sitting-room, to keep guard over

her. She made a great point of being so near the river, in case of a

conflagration; and I suppose really did find some satisfaction in that

circumstance.

‘Trot, my dear,’ said my aunt, when she saw me making preparations for

compounding her usual night-draught, ‘No!’

‘Nothing, aunt?’

‘Not wine, my dear. Ale.’

‘But there is wine here, aunt. And you always have it made of wine.’

‘Keep that, in case of sickness,’ said my aunt. ‘We mustn’t use it

carelessly, Trot. Ale for me. Half a pint.’

I thought Mr. Dick would have fallen, insensible. My aunt being

resolute, I went out and got the ale myself. As it was growing late,

Peggotty and Mr. Dick took that opportunity of repairing to the

chandler’s shop together. I parted from him, poor fellow, at the corner

of the street, with his great kite at his back, a very monument of human

misery.

My aunt was walking up and down the room when I returned, crimping the

borders of her nightcap with her fingers. I warmed the ale and made the

toast on the usual infallible principles. When it was ready for her, she

was ready for it, with her nightcap on, and the skirt of her gown turned

back on her knees.

‘My dear,’ said my aunt, after taking a spoonful of it; ‘it’s a great

deal better than wine. Not half so bilious.’

I suppose I looked doubtful, for she added:

‘Tut, tut, child. If nothing worse than Ale happens to us, we are well

off.’

‘I should think so myself, aunt, I am sure,’ said I.

‘Well, then, why DON’T you think so?’ said my aunt.

‘Because you and I are very different people,’ I returned.

‘Stuff and nonsense, Trot!’ replied my aunt.

My aunt went on with a quiet enjoyment, in which there was very little

affectation, if any; drinking the warm ale with a tea-spoon, and soaking

her strips of toast in it.

‘Trot,’ said she, ‘I don’t care for strange faces in general, but I

rather like that Barkis of yours, do you know!’

‘It’s better than a hundred pounds to hear you say so!’ said I.

‘It’s a most extraordinary world,’ observed my aunt, rubbing her nose;

‘how that woman ever got into it with that name, is unaccountable to me.

It would be much more easy to be born a Jackson, or something of that

sort, one would think.’

‘Perhaps she thinks so, too; it’s not her fault,’ said I.

‘I suppose not,’ returned my aunt, rather grudging the admission; ‘but

it’s very aggravating. However, she’s Barkis now. That’s some comfort.

Barkis is uncommonly fond of you, Trot.’

‘There is nothing she would leave undone to prove it,’ said I.

‘Nothing, I believe,’ returned my aunt. ‘Here, the poor fool has been

begging and praying about handing over some of her money--because she

has got too much of it. A simpleton!’

My aunt’s tears of pleasure were positively trickling down into the warm

ale.

‘She’s the most ridiculous creature that ever was born,’ said my aunt.

‘I knew, from the first moment when I saw her with that poor dear

blessed baby of a mother of yours, that she was the most ridiculous of

mortals. But there are good points in Barkis!’

Affecting to laugh, she got an opportunity of putting her hand to

her eyes. Having availed herself of it, she resumed her toast and her

discourse together.

‘Ah! Mercy upon us!’ sighed my aunt. ‘I know all about it, Trot! Barkis

and myself had quite a gossip while you were out with Dick. I know all

about it. I don’t know where these wretched girls expect to go to, for

my part. I wonder they don’t knock out their brains against--against

mantelpieces,’ said my aunt; an idea which was probably suggested to her

by her contemplation of mine.

‘Poor Emily!’ said I.

‘Oh, don’t talk to me about poor,’ returned my aunt. ‘She should have

thought of that, before she caused so much misery! Give me a kiss, Trot.

I am sorry for your early experience.’

As I bent forward, she put her tumbler on my knee to detain me, and

said:

‘Oh, Trot, Trot! And so you fancy yourself in love! Do you?’

‘Fancy, aunt!’ I exclaimed, as red as I could be. ‘I adore her with my

whole soul!’

‘Dora, indeed!’ returned my aunt. ‘And you mean to say the little thing

is very fascinating, I suppose?’

‘My dear aunt,’ I replied, ‘no one can form the least idea what she is!’

‘Ah! And not silly?’ said my aunt.

‘Silly, aunt!’

I seriously believe it had never once entered my head for a single

moment, to consider whether she was or not. I resented the idea, of

course; but I was in a manner struck by it, as a new one altogether.

‘Not light-headed?’ said my aunt.

‘Light-headed, aunt!’ I could only repeat this daring speculation

with the same kind of feeling with which I had repeated the preceding

question.

‘Well, well!’ said my aunt. ‘I only ask. I don’t depreciate her. Poor

little couple! And so you think you were formed for one another, and are

to go through a party-supper-table kind of life, like two pretty pieces

of confectionery, do you, Trot?’

She asked me this so kindly, and with such a gentle air, half playful

and half sorrowful, that I was quite touched.

‘We are young and inexperienced, aunt, I know,’ I replied; ‘and I dare

say we say and think a good deal that is rather foolish. But we love

one another truly, I am sure. If I thought Dora could ever love anybody

else, or cease to love me; or that I could ever love anybody else, or

cease to love her; I don’t know what I should do--go out of my mind, I

think!’

‘Ah, Trot!’ said my aunt, shaking her head, and smiling gravely; ‘blind,

blind, blind!’

‘Someone that I know, Trot,’ my aunt pursued, after a pause, ‘though of

a very pliant disposition, has an earnestness of affection in him that

reminds me of poor Baby. Earnestness is what that Somebody must look

for, to sustain him and improve him, Trot. Deep, downright, faithful

earnestness.’

‘If you only knew the earnestness of Dora, aunt!’ I cried.

‘Oh, Trot!’ she said again; ‘blind, blind!’ and without knowing why,

I felt a vague unhappy loss or want of something overshadow me like a

cloud.

‘However,’ said my aunt, ‘I don’t want to put two young creatures out

of conceit with themselves, or to make them unhappy; so, though it is a

girl and boy attachment, and girl and boy attachments very often--mind!

I don’t say always!--come to nothing, still we’ll be serious about it,

and hope for a prosperous issue one of these days. There’s time enough

for it to come to anything!’

This was not upon the whole very comforting to a rapturous lover; but

I was glad to have my aunt in my confidence, and I was mindful of

her being fatigued. So I thanked her ardently for this mark of her

affection, and for all her other kindnesses towards me; and after a

tender good night, she took her nightcap into my bedroom.

How miserable I was, when I lay down! How I thought and thought about my

being poor, in Mr. Spenlow’s eyes; about my not being what I thought I

was, when I proposed to Dora; about the chivalrous necessity of

telling Dora what my worldly condition was, and releasing her from her

engagement if she thought fit; about how I should contrive to live,

during the long term of my articles, when I was earning nothing; about

doing something to assist my aunt, and seeing no way of doing anything;

about coming down to have no money in my pocket, and to wear a shabby

coat, and to be able to carry Dora no little presents, and to ride no

gallant greys, and to show myself in no agreeable light! Sordid and

selfish as I knew it was, and as I tortured myself by knowing that it

was, to let my mind run on my own distress so much, I was so devoted

to Dora that I could not help it. I knew that it was base in me not to

think more of my aunt, and less of myself; but, so far, selfishness

was inseparable from Dora, and I could not put Dora on one side for any

mortal creature. How exceedingly miserable I was, that night!

As to sleep, I had dreams of poverty in all sorts of shapes, but I

seemed to dream without the previous ceremony of going to sleep. Now I

was ragged, wanting to sell Dora matches, six bundles for a halfpenny;

now I was at the office in a nightgown and boots, remonstrated with by

Mr. Spenlow on appearing before the clients in that airy attire; now

I was hungrily picking up the crumbs that fell from old Tiffey’s

daily biscuit, regularly eaten when St. Paul’s struck one; now I was

hopelessly endeavouring to get a licence to marry Dora, having nothing

but one of Uriah Heep’s gloves to offer in exchange, which the whole

Commons rejected; and still, more or less conscious of my own room, I

was always tossing about like a distressed ship in a sea of bed-clothes.

My aunt was restless, too, for I frequently heard her walking to and

fro. Two or three times in the course of the night, attired in a long