with　all　kinds　of　subjects。　I　don’t　know　now；　exactly；　what　it　has　to
  do　with　me；　or　what　right　it　has　to　crush　me；　on　an　infinite　variety
  of　occasions；　but　whenever　I　see　my　old　friend　the　bushel　brought
  in　by　the　head　and　shoulders　（as　he　always　is；　I　observe）；　I　give　up
  a　subject　for　lost。
  This　is　a　digression。　I　was　not　the　man　to　touch　the　Commons；
  and　bring　down　the　country。　I　submissively　expressed；　by　my
  silence；　my　acquiescence　in　all　I　had　heard　from　my　superior　in
  years　and　knowledge；　and　we　talked　about　“The　Stranger”　and　the
  Drama；　and　the　pairs　of　horses；　until　we　came　to　Mr。　Spenlow’s
  gate。
  There　was　a　lovely　garden　to　Mr。　Spenlow’s　house；　and　though
  that　was　not　the　best　time　of　the　year　for　seeing　a　garden；　it　was　so
  beautifully　kept；　that　I　was　quite　enchanted。　There　was　a
  charming　lawn；　there　were　clusters　of　trees；　and　there　were
  perspective　walks　that　I　could　just　distinguish　in　the　dark；　arched
  over　with　trellis…work；　on　which　shrubs　and　flowers　grew　in　the
  growing　season。　‘Here　Miss　Spenlow　walks　by　herself；’　I　thought。
  ‘Dear　me！’
  We　went　into　the　house；　which　was　cheerfully　lighted　up；　and
  into　a　hall　where　there　were　all　sorts　of　hats；　caps；　great…coats；
  plaids；　gloves；　whips；　and　walking…sticks。　‘Where　is　Miss　Dora？’
  said　Mr。　Spenlow　to　the　servant。　‘Dora！’　I　thought。　‘What　a
  beautiful　name！’
  We　turned　into　a　room　near　at　hand　（I　think　it　was　the　identical
  breakfast…room；　made　memorable　by　the　brown　East　Indian
  sherry）；　and　I　heard　a　voice　say；　‘Mr。　Copperfield；　my　daughter
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  Dora；　and　my　daughter　Dora’s　confidential　friend！’　It　was；　no
  doubt；　Mr。　Spenlow’s　voice；　but　I　didn’t　know　it；　and　I　didn’t　care
  whose　it　was。　All　was　over　in　a　moment。　I　had　fulfilled　my　destiny。
  I　was　a　captive　and　a　slave。　I　loved　Dora　Spenlow　to　distraction！
  She　was　more　than　human　to　me。　She　was　a　Fairy；　a　Sylph；　I
  don’t　know　what　she　was—anything　that　no　one　ever　saw；　and
  everything　that　everybody　ever　wanted。　I　was　swallowed　up　in　an
  abyss　of　love　in　an　instant。　There　was　no　pausing　on　the　brink；　no
  looking　down；　or　looking　back；　I　was　gone；　headlong；　before　I　had
  sense　to　say　a　word　to　her。
  ‘I；’　observed　a　well…remembered　voice；　when　I　had　bowed　and
  murmured　something；　‘have　seen　Mr。　Copperfield　before。’
  The　speaker　was　not　Dora。　No；　the　confidential　friend；　Miss
  Murdstone！
  I　don’t　think　I　was　much　astonished。　To　the　best　of　my
  judgement；　no　capacity　of　astonishment　was　left　in　me。　There　was
  nothing　worth　mentioning　in　the　material　world；　but　Dora
  Spenlow；　to　be　astonished　about。　I　said；　‘How　do　you　do；　Miss
  Murdstone？　I　hope　you　are　well。’　She　answered；　‘Very　well。’　I　said；
  ‘How　is　Mr。　Murdstone？’　She　replied；　‘My　brother　is　robust；　I　am
  obliged　to　you。’
  Mr。　Spenlow；　who；　I　suppose；　had　been　surprised　to　see　us
  recognize　each　other；　then　put　in　his　word。
  ‘I　am　glad　to　find；’　he　said；　‘Copperfield；　that　you　and　Miss
  Murdstone　are　already　acquainted。’
  ‘Mr。　Copperfield　and　myself；’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　with　severe
  composure；　‘are　connexions。　We　were　once　slightly　acquainted。　It
  was　in　his　childish　days。　Circumstances　have　separated　us　since。　I
  should　not　have　known　him。’
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  I　replied　that　I　should　have　known　her；　anywhere。　Which　was
  true　enough。
  ‘Miss　Murdstone　has　had　the　goodness；’　said　Mr。　Spenlow　to
  me；　‘to　accept　the　office—if　I　may　so　describe　it—of　my　daughter
  Dora’s　confidential　friend。　My　daughter　Dora　having；　unhappily；
  no　mother；　Miss　Murdstone　is　obliging　enough　to　become　her
  companion　and　protector。’
  A　passing　thought　occurred　to　me　that　Miss　Murdstone；　like　the
  pocket　instrument　called　a　life…preserver；　was　not　so　much
  designed　for　purposes　of　protection　as　of　assault。　But　as　I　had
  none　but　passing　thoughts　for　any　subject　save　Dora；　I　glanced　at
  her；　directly　afterwards；　and　was　thinking　that　I　saw；　in　her
  prettily　pettish　manner；　that　she　was　not　very　much　inclined　to　be
  particularly　confidential　to　her　companion　and　protector；　when　a
  bell　rang；　which　Mr。　Spenlow　said　was　the　first　dinner…bell；　and　so
  carried　me　off　to　dress。
  The　idea　of　dressing　one’s　self；　or　doing　anything　in　the　way　of
  action；　in　that　state　of　love；　was　a　little　too　ridiculous。　I　could　only
  sit　down　before　my　fire；　biting　the　key　of　my　carpet…bag；　and　think
  of　the　captivating；　girlish；　bright…eyed　lovely　Dora。　What　a　form
  she　had；　what　a　face　she　had；　what　a　graceful；　variable；　enchanting
  manner！
  The　bell　rang　again　so　soon　that　I　made　a　mere　scramble　of　my
  dressing；　instead　of　the　careful　operation　I　could　have　wished
  under　the　circumstances；　and　went　downstairs。　There　was　some
  company。　Dora　was　talking　to　an　old　gentleman　with　a　grey　head。
  Grey　as　he　was—and　a　great…grandfather　into　the　bargain；　for　he
  said　so—I　was　madly　jealous　of　him。
  What　a　state　of　mind　I　was　in！　I　was　jealous　of　everybody。　I
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  couldn’t　bear　the　idea　of　anybody　knowing　Mr。　Spenlow　better
  than　I　did。　It　was　torturing　to　me　to　hear　them　talk　of　occurrences
  in　which　I　had　had　no　share。　When　a　most　amiable　person；　with　a
  highly　polished　bald　head；　asked　me　across　the　dinner　table；　if　that
  were　the　first　occasion　of　my　seeing　the　grounds；　I　could　have
  done　anything　to　him　that　was　savage　and　revengeful。
  I　don’t　remember　who　was　there；　except　Dora。　I　have　not　the
  least　idea　what　we　had　for　dinner；　besides　Dora。　My　impression　is；
  that　I　dined　off　Dora；　entirely；　and　sent　away　half…a…dozen　plates
  untouched。　I　sat　next　to　her。　I　talked　to　her。　She　had　the　most
  delightful　little　voice；　the　gayest　little　laugh；　the　pleasantest　and
  most　fascinating　little　ways；　that　ever　led　a　lost　youth　into　hopeless
  slavery。　She　was　rather　diminutive　altogether。　So　much　the　more
  precious；　I　thought。
  When　she　went　out　of　the　room　with　Miss　Murdstone　（no　other
  ladies　were　of　the　party）；　I　fell　into　a　reverie；　only　disturbed　by　the
  cruel　apprehension　that　Miss　Murdstone　would　disparage　me　to
  her。　The　amiable　creature　with　the　polished　head　told　me　a　long
  story；　which　I　think　was　about　gardening。　I　think　I　heard　him　say；
  ‘my　gardener’；　several　times。　I　seemed　to　pay　the　deepest　attention
  to　him；　but　I　was　wandering　in　a　garden　of　Eden　all　the　while；　with
  Dora。
  My　apprehensions　of　being　disparaged　to　the　object　of　my
  engrossing　affection　were　revived　when　we　went　into　the　drawing…
  room；　by　the　grim　and　distant　aspect　of　Miss　Murdstone。　But　I　was
  relieved　of　them　in　an　unexpected　manner。
  ‘David　Copperfield；’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　beckoning　me　aside
  into　a　window。　‘A　word。’
  I　confronted　Miss　Murdstone　alone。
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  ‘David　Copperfield；’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　‘I　need　not　enlarge
  upon　family　circumstances。　They　are　not　a　tempting　subject。’
  ‘Far　from　it；　ma’am；’　I　returned。
  ‘Far　from　it；’　assented　Miss　Murdstone。　‘I　do　not　wish　to　revive
  the　memory　of　past　differences；　or　of　past　outrages。　I　have
  received　outrages　from　a　person—a　female　I　am　sorry　to　say；　for
  the　credit　of　my　sex—who　is　not　to　be　mentioned　without　scorn
  and　disgust；　and　therefore　I　would　rather　not　mention　her。’
  I　felt　very　fiery　on　my　aunt’s　account；　but　I　said　it　would
  certainly　be　better；　if　Miss　Murdstone　pleased；　not　to　mention　her。
  I　could　not　hear　her　disrespectfully　mentioned；　I　added；　without
  expressing　my　opinion　in　a　decided　tone。
  Miss　Murdstone　shut　her　eyes；　and　disdainfully　inclined　her
  head；　then；　slowly　opening　her　eyes；　resumed：
  ‘David　Copperfield；　I　shall　not　attempt　to　disguise　the　fact；　that
  I　formed　an　unfavourable　opinion　of　you　in　your　childhood。　It　may
  have　been　a　mistaken　one；　or　you　may　have　ceased　to　justify　it。
  That　is　not　in　question　between　us　now。　I　belong　to　a　family
  remarkable；　I　believe；　for　some　firmness；　and　I　am　not　the
  creature　of　circumstance　or　change。　I　may　have　my　opinion　of　you。
  You　may　have　your　opinion　of　me。’
  I　inclined　my　head；　in　my　turn。
  ‘But　it　is　not　necessary；’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　‘that　these
  opinions　should　come　into　collision　here。　Under　existing
  circumstances；　it　is　as　well　on　all　accounts　that　they　should　not。　As
  the　chances　of　life　have　brought　us　together　again；　and　may　bring
  us　together　on　other　occasions；　I　would　say；　let　us　meet　here　as
  distant　acquaintances。　Family　circumstances　are　a　sufficient
  reason　for　our　only　meeting　on　that　footing；　and　it　is　quite
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  unnecessary　that　either　of　us　should　make　the　other　the　subject　of
  remark。　Do　you　approve　of　this？’
  ‘Miss　Murdstone；’　I　returned；　‘I　think　you　and　Mr。　Murdstone
  used　me　very　cruelly；　and　treated　my　mother　with　great
  unkindness。　I　shall　always　think　so；　as　long　as　I　live。　But　I　quite
  agree　in　what　you　propose。’
  Miss　Murdstone　shut　her　eyes　again；　and　bent　her　head。　Then；
  just　touching　the　b