'FagmentWelcome to consult... I ought to take the libety of mentioning that Coppefield has noticed it too.’ I tuned upon him, and asked him how he daed efe to me! ‘Oh! it’s vey kind of you, Coppefield,’ etuned Uiah, undulating all ove, ‘and we all know what an amiable chaacte yous is; but you know that the moment I spoke to you the othe night, you knew what I meant. You know you knew what I meant, Coppefield. Don’t deny it! You deny it with the best intentions; but don’t do it, Coppefield.’ I saw the mild eye of the good old Docto tuned upon me fo a moment, and I felt that the confession of my old misgivings and emembances was too plainly witten in my face to be ovelooked. It was of no use aging. I could not undo that. Say what I would, I could not unsay it. We wee silent again, and emained so, until the Docto ose and walked twice o thice acoss the oom. Pesently he etuned to whee his chai stood; and, leaning on the back of it, and occasionally putting his handkechief to his eyes, with a simple honesty that did him moe honou, to my thinking, than any disguise he could have effected, said: ‘I have been much to blame. I believe I have been vey much to blame. I have exposed one whom I hold in my heat, to tials and aspesions—I call them aspesions, even to have been conceived in anybody’s inmost mind—of which she neve, but fo me, could have been the object.’ Uiah Heep gave a kind of snivel. I think to expess sympathy. ‘Of which my Annie,’ said the Docto, ‘neve, but fo me, could Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield have been the object. Gentlemen, I am old now, as you know; I do not feel, tonight, that I have much to live fo. But my life—my Life—upon the tuth and honou of the dea lady who has been the subject of this convesation!’ I do not think that the best embodiment of chivaly, the ealization of the handsomest and most omantic figue eve imagined by painte, could have said this, with a moe impessive and affecting dignity than the plain old Docto did. ‘But I am not pepaed,’ he went on, ‘to deny—pehaps I may have been, without knowing it, in some degee pepaed to admit—that I may have unwittingly ensnaed that lady into an unhappy maiage. I am a man quite unaccustomed to obseve; and I cannot but believe that the obsevation of seveal people, of diffeent ages and positions, all too plainly tending in one diection (and that so natual), is bette than mine.’ I had often admied, as I have elsewhee descibed, his benignant manne towads his youthful wife; but the espectful tendeness he manifested in evey efeence to he on this occasion, and the almost eveential manne in which he put away fom him the lightest doubt of he integity, exalted him, in my eyes, beyond deion. ‘I maied that lady,’ said the Docto, ‘when she was extemely young. I took he to myself when he chaacte was scacely fomed. So fa as it was developed, it had been my happiness to fom it. I knew he fathe well. I knew he well. I had taught he what I could, fo the love of all he beautiful and vituous qualities. If I did he wong; as I fea I did, in taking advantage (but I neve meant it) of he gatitude and he affection; I ask padon of that lady, in my heat!’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield He walked acoss the oom, and came back to the same place; holding the chai with a gasp that tembled, like his subdued voice, in its eanestness. ‘I egaded myself as a efuge, fo he, fom the danges and vicissitudes of life. I pesuaded myself that, unequal though we
