room；　take　it　up　and　read　it。
  He　said　nothing　about　it　all　the　morning；　but　before　he　went
  away　in　the　afternoon　he　called　me　in；　and　told　me　that　I　need　not
  make　myself　at　all　uneasy　about　his　daughter’s　happiness。　He　had
  assured　her；　he　said；　that　it　was　all　nonsense；　and　he　had　nothing
  more　to　say　to　her。　He　believed　he　was　an　indulgent　father　（as
  indeed　he　was）；　and　I　might　spare　myself　any　solicitude　on　her
  account。
  ‘You　may　make　it　necessary；　if　you　are　foolish　or　obstinate；　Mr。
  Copperfield；’　he　observed；　‘for　me　to　send　my　daughter　abroad
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  again；　for　a　term；　but　I　have　a　better　opinion　of　you。　I　hope　you　will
  be　wiser　than　that；　in　a　few　days。　As　to　Miss　Murdstone；’　for　I　had
  alluded　to　her　in　the　letter；　‘I　respect　that　lady’s　vigilance；　and　feel
  obliged　to　her；　but　she　has　strict　charge　to　avoid　the　subject。　All　I
  desire；　Mr。　Copperfield；　is；　that　it　should　be　forgotten。　All　you　have
  got　to　do；　Mr。　Copperfield；　is　to　forget　it。’
  All！　In　the　note　I　wrote　to　Miss　Mills；　I　bitterly　quoted　this
  sentiment。　All　I　had　to　do；　I　said；　with　gloomy　sarcasm；　was　to
  forget　Dora。　That　was　all；　and　what　was　that！　I　entreated　Miss
  Mills　to　see　me；　that　evening。　If　it　could　not　be　done　with　Mr。
  Mills’s　sanction　and　concurrence；　I　besought　a　clandestine
  interview　in　the　back　kitchen　where　the　Mangle　was。　I　informed
  her　that　my　reason　was　tottering　on　its　throne；　and　only　she；　Miss
  Mills；　could　prevent　its　being　deposed。　I　signed　myself；　hers
  distractedly；　and　I　couldn’t　help　feeling；　while　I　read　this
  composition　over；　before　sending　it　by　a　porter；　that　it　was
  something　in　the　style　of　Mr。　Micawber。
  However；　I　sent　it。　At　night　I　repaired　to　Miss　Mills’s　street；　and
  walked　up　and　down；　until　I　was　stealthily　fetched　in　by　Miss
  Mills’s　maid；　and　taken　the　area　way　to　the　back　kitchen。　I　have
  since　seen　reason　to　believe　that　there　was　nothing　on　earth　to
  prevent　my　going　in　at　the　front　door；　and　being　shown　up　into　the
  drawing…room；　except　Miss　Mills’s　love　of　the　romantic　and
  mysterious。
  In　the　back　kitchen；　I　raved　as　became　me。　I　went　there；　I
  suppose；　to　make　a　fool　of　myself；　and　I　am　quite　sure　I　did　it。　Miss
  Mills　had　received　a　hasty　note　from　Dora；　telling　her　that　all　was
  discovered；　and　saying。　‘Oh　pray　come　to　me；　Julia；　do；　do！’　But
  Miss　Mills；　mistrusting　the　acceptability　of　her　presence　to　the
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  higher　powers；　had　not　yet　gone；　and　we　were　all　benighted　in　the
  Desert　of　Sahara。
  Miss　Mills　had　a　wonderful　flow　of　words；　and　liked　to　pour
  them　out。　I　could　not　help　feeling；　though　she　mingled　her　tears
  with　mine；　that　she　had　a　dreadful　luxury　in　our　afflictions。　She
  petted　them；　as　I　may　say；　and　made　the　most　of　them。　A　deep
  gulf；　she　observed；　had　opened　between　Dora　and　me；　and　Love
  could　only　span　it　with　its　rainbow。　Love　must　suffer　in　this　stern
  world；　it　ever　had　been　so；　it　ever　would　be　so。　No　matter；　Miss
  Mills　remarked。　Hearts　confined　by　cobwebs　would　burst　at　last；
  and　then　Love　was　avenged。
  This　was　small　consolation；　but　Miss　Mills　wouldn’t　encourage
  fallacious　hopes。　She　made　me　much　more　wretched　than　I　was
  before；　and　I　felt　（and　told　her　with　the　deepest　gratitude）　that　she
  was　indeed　a　friend。　We　resolved　that　she　should　go　to　Dora　the
  first　thing　in　the　morning；　and　find　some　means　of　assuring　her；
  either　by　looks　or　words；　of　my　devotion　and　misery。　We　parted；
  overwhelmed　with　grief；　and　I　think　Miss　Mills　enjoyed　herself
  completely。
  I　confided　all　to　my　aunt　when　I　got　home；　and　in　spite　of　all　she
  could　say　to　me；　went　to　bed　despairing。　I　got　up　despairing；　and
  went　out　despairing。　It　was　Saturday　morning；　and　I　went　straight
  to　the　Commons。
  I　was　surprised；　when　I　came　within　sight　of　our　office…door；　to
  see　the　ticket…porters　standing　outside　talking　together；　and　some
  half…dozen　stragglers　gazing　at　the　windows　which　were　shut　up。　I
  quickened　my　pace；　and；　passing　among　them；　wondering　at　their
  looks；　went　hurriedly　in。
  The　clerks　were　there；　but　nobody　was　doing　anything。　Old
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  Tiffey；　for　the　first　time　in　his　life　I　should　think；　was　sitting　on
  somebody　else’s　stool；　and　had　not　hung　up　his　hat。
  ‘This　is　a　dreadful　calamity；　Mr。　Copperfield；’　said　he；　as　I
  entered。
  ‘What　is？’　I　exclaimed。　‘What’s　the　matter？’
  ‘Don’t　you　know？’　cried　Tiffey；　and　all　the　rest　of　them；　coming
  round　me。
  ‘No！’　said　I；　looking　from　face　to　face。
  ‘Mr。　Spenlow；’　said　Tiffey。
  ‘What　about　him！’
  ‘Dead！’　I　thought　it　was　the　office　reeling；　and　not　I；　as　one　of
  the　clerks　caught　hold　of　me。　They　sat　me　down　in　a　chair；　untied
  my　neck…cloth；　and　brought　me　some　water。　I　have　no　idea
  whether　this　took　any　time。
  ‘Dead？’　said　I。
  ‘He　dined　in　town　yesterday；　and　drove　down　in　the　phaeton　by
  himself；’　said　Tiffey；　‘having　sent　his　own　groom　home　by　the
  coach；　as　he　sometimes　did；　you　know—’
  ‘Well？’
  ‘The　phaeton　went　home　without　him。　The　horses　stopped　at
  the　stable…gate。　The　man　went　out　with　a　lantern。　Nobody　in　the
  carriage。’
  ‘Had　they　run　away？’
  ‘They　were　not　hot；’　said　Tiffey；　putting　on　his　glasses；　‘no
  hotter；　I　understand；　than　they　would　have　been；　going　down　at
  the　usual　pace。　The　reins　were　broken；　but　they　had　been
  dragging　on　the　ground。　The　house　was　roused　up　directly；　and
  three　of　them　went　out　along　the　road。　They　found　him　a　mile　off。’
  ‘More　than　a　mile　off；　Mr。　Tiffey；’　interposed　a　junior。
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  ‘Was　it？　I　believe　you　are　right；’　said　Tiffey；—‘more　than　a　mile
  off—not　far　from　the　church—lying　partly　on　the　roadside；　and
  partly　on　the　path；　upon　his　face。　Whether　he　fell　out　in　a　fit；　or　got
  out；　feeling　ill　before　the　fit　came　on—or　even　whether　he　was
  quite　dead　then；　though　there　is　no　doubt　he　was　quite
  insensible—no　one　appears　to　know。　If　he　breathed；　certainly　he
  never　spoke。　Medical　assistance　was　got　as　soon　as　possible；　but　it
  was　quite　useless。’
  I　cannot　describe　the　state　of　mind　into　which　I　was　thrown　by
  this　intelligence。　The　shock　of　such　an　event　happening　so
  suddenly；　and　happening　to　one　with　whom　I　had　been　in　any
  respect　at　variance—the　appalling　vacancy　in　the　room　he　had
  occupied　so　lately；　where　his　chair　and　table　seemed　to　wait　for
  him；　and　his　handwriting　of　yesterday　was　like　a　ghost—the　indefinable　impossibility　of　separating　him　from　the　place；　and
  feeling；　when　the　door　opened；　as　if　he　might　come　in—the　lazy
  hush　and　rest　there　was　in　the　office；　and　the　insatiable　relish　with
  which　our　people　talked　about　it；　and　other　people　came　in　and
  out　all　day；　and　gorged　themselves　with　the　subject—this　is　easily
  intelligible　to　anyone。　What　I　cannot　describe　is；　how；　in　the
  innermost　recesses　of　my　own　heart；　I　had　a　lurking　jealousy　even
  of　Death。　How　I　felt　as　if　its　might　would　push　me　from　my　ground
  in　Dora’s　thoughts。　How　I　was；　in　a　grudging　way　I　have　no　words
  for；　envious　of　her　grief。　How　it　made　me　restless　to　think　of　her
  weeping　to　others；　or　being　consoled　by　others。　How　I　had　a
  grasping；　avaricious　wish　to　shut　out　everybody　from　her　but
  myself；　and　to　be　all　in　all　to　her；　at　that　unseasonable　time　of　all
  times。
  In　the　trouble　of　this　state　of　mind—not　exclusively　my　own；　I
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  hope；　but　known　to　others—I　went　down　to　Norwood　that　night；
  and　finding　from　one　of　the　servants；　when　I　made　my　inquiries　at
  the　door；　that　Miss　Mills　was　there；　got　my　aunt　to　direct　a　letter　to
  her；　which　I　wrote。　I　deplored　the　untimely　death　of　Mr。　Spenlow；
  most　sincerely；　and　shed　tears　in　doing　so。　I　entreated　her　to　tell
  Dora；　if　Dora　were　in　a　state　to　hear　it；　that　he　had　spoken　to　me
  with　the　utmost　kindness　and　consideration；　and　had　coupled
  nothing　but　tenderness；　not　a　single　or　reproachful　word；　with　her
  name。　I　know　I　did　this　selfishly；　to　have　my　name　brought　before
  her；　but　I　tried　to　believe　it　was　an　act　of　justice　to　his　memory。
  Perhaps　I　did　believe　it。
  My　aunt　received　a　few　lines　next　day　in　reply；　addressed；
  outside；　to　her；　within；　to　me。　Dora　was　overcome　by　grief；　and
  when　her　friend　had　asked　her　should　she　send　her　love　to　me；
  had　only　cried；　as　she　was　always　crying；　‘Oh；　dear　papa！　oh；　poor
  papa！’　But　she　had　not　said　No；　and　that　I　made　the　most　of。
  Mr。　Jorkins；　who　had　been　at　Norwood　since　the　occurrence；
  came　to　the　office　a　few　days　afterwards。　He　and　Tiffey　were
  closeted　together　for　some　few　moments；　and　then　Tiffey　looked
  out　at　the　door　and　beckoned　me　in。
  ‘Oh！’　said　Mr。　Jorkins。　‘Mr。　Tiffey　and　myself；　Mr。　Copperfield；
  are　about　to　examine　the　desks；　the　drawers；　and　other　such
  repositories　of　the　deceased；　with　the　view　of　sealing　up　his　private
  papers；　and　searching　for　a　Will。　There　is　no　trace　of　any；
  elsewhere。　It　may　be　as