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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  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
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  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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  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　did　it　in　a　moment。　I　intercepted　Jip。
  I　had　Dora　in　my　arms。　I　was　full　of　eloquence。　I　never　stopped　for
  a　word。　I　told　her　how　I　loved　her。　I　told　her　I　should　die　without
  her。　I　told　her　that　I　idolized　and　worshipped　her。　Jip　barked
  madly　all　the　time。
  When　Dora　hung　her　head　and　cried；　and　trembled；　my
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  eloquence　increased　so　much　the　more。　If　she　would　like　me　to　die
  for　her；　she　had　but　to　say　the　word；　and　I　was　ready。　Life　without
  Dora’s　love　was　not　a　thing　to　have　on　any　terms。　I　couldn’t　bear　it；
  and　I　wouldn’t。　I　had　loved　her　every　minute；　day　and　night；　since
  I　first　saw　her。　I　loved　her　at　that　minute　to　distraction。　I　should
  always　love　her；　every　minute；　to　distraction。　Lovers　had　loved
  before；　and　lovers　would　love　again；　but　no　lover　had　loved；　might；
  could；　would；　or　should　ever　love；　as　I　loved　Dora。　The　more　I
  raved；　the　more　Jip　barked。　Each　of　us；　in　his　own　way；　got　more
  mad　every　moment。
  Well；　well！　Dora　and　I　were　sitting　on　the　sofa　by　and　by；　quiet
  enough；　and　Jip　was　lying　in　her　lap；　winking　peacefully　at　me。　It
  was　off　my　mind。　I　was　in　a　state　of　perfect　rapture。　Dora　and　I
  were　engaged。
  I　suppose　we　had　some　notion　that　this　was　to　end　in　marriage。
  We　must　have　had　some；　because　Dora　stipulated　that　we　were
  never　to　be　married　without　her　papa’s　consent。　But；　in　our
  youthful　ecstasy；　I　don’t　think　that　we　really　looked　before　us　or
  behind　us；　or　had　any　aspiration　beyond　the　ignorant　present。　We
  were　to　keep　our　secret　from　Mr。　Spenlow；　but　I　am　sure　the　idea
  never　entered　my　head；　then；　that　there　was　anything
  dishonourable　in　that。
  Miss　Mills　was　more　than　usually　pensive　when　Dora；　going　to
  find　her；　brought　her　back；—I　apprehend；　because　there　was　a
  tendency　in　what　had　passed　to　awaken　the　slumbering　echoes　in
  the　caverns　of　Memory。　But　she　gave　us　her　blessing；　and　the
  assurance　of　her　lasting　friendship；　and　spoke　to　us；　generally；　as
  became　a　Voice　from　the　Cloister。