I never shall forget those two seated side by side
in the lantern’s light, Richard all flush and
fire and laughter, with the reins in his hand; Mr.
Vholes quite still, black-gloved, and buttoned up,
looking at him as if he were looking at his prey and
charming it. I have before me the whole picture
of the warm dark night, the summer lightning, the
dusty track of road closed in by hedgerows and high
trees, the gaunt pale horse with his ears pricked up,
and the driving away at speed to Jarndyce and Jarndyce.
My dear girl told me that night how Richard’s
being thereafter prosperous or ruined, befriended
or deserted, could only make this difference to her,
that the more he needed love from one unchanging heart,
the more love that unchanging heart would have to give
him; how he thought of her through his present errors,
and she would think of him at all times—never
of herself if she could devote herself to him, never
of her own delights if she could minister to his.
And she kept her word?
I look along the road before me, where the distance
already shortens and the journey’s end is growing
visible; and true and good above the dead sea of the
Chancery suit and all the ashy fruit it cast ashore,
I think I see my darling.
A Struggle
When our time came for returning to Bleak House again,
we were punctual to the day and were received with
an overpowering welcome. I was perfectly restored
to health and strength, and finding my housekeeping
keys laid ready for me in my room, rang myself in as
if I had been a new year, with a merry little peal.
“Once more, duty, duty, Esther,” said
I; “and if you are not overjoyed to do it, more
than cheerfully and contentedly, through anything and
everything, you ought to be. That’s all
I have to say to you, my dear!”
The first few mornings were mornings of so much bustle
and business, devoted to such settlements of accounts,
such repeated journeys to and fro between the growlery
and all other parts of the house, so many rearrangements
of drawers and presses, and such a general new beginning
altogether, that I had not a moment’s leisure.
But when these arrangements were completed and everything
was in order, I paid a visit of a few hours to London,
which something in the letter I had destroyed at Chesney
Wold had induced me to decide upon in my own mind.
I made Caddy Jellyby—her maiden name was
so natural to me that I always called her by it—the
pretext for this visit and wrote her a note previously
asking the favour of her company on a little business
expedition. Leaving home very early in the morning,
I got to London by stage-coach in such good time that
I got to Newman Street with the day before me.
Caddy, who had not seen me since her wedding-day,
was so glad and so affectionate that I was half inclined
to fear I should make her husband jealous. But
he was, in his way, just as bad—I mean as
good; and in short it was the old story, and nobody
would leave me any possibility of doing anything meritorious.
