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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hi there. Welcome back. This is the second of the two pre recorded episodes that are happening now. So after this episode I will be back this channel chapter, chapter 52 that we're reading today is a really long chapter. I think it's the longest chapter in the whole book. So it's actually kind of a good thing that this is one of the pre recorded ones because it means that we'll get quickly to the chapter and then I will be back to discuss everything that goes on in this super long chapter. And I can't wait, I can't wait to be back with you. I will save letters about chapters, finish 51 and 50 and come back around to those and then I will be with you again to talk about this chapter, chapter 52. So let's get right into it. We read, as I said last time, chapter 51. So let's remind ourselves of what happened in that chapter and then we will talk a little bit. I will share my thoughts as best I can without getting your thoughts first and then we'll get into the chapter. So please, just while I'm away, I would love it if you would subscribe if you haven't done that. I would love it if you would tap the five stars. I would love it if you left a positive review. I would love it if you scrolled into the show notes and maybe signed up for the drawing room if you haven't done that already, which is our online community or maybe clicked on the link for the merch store and see if there's anything there that interests you and pick up some merch. And if you're interested in supporting the show financially but you don't want to become a member, you don't want to sign up for the drawing room, you can just leave a donation if that is something that you are willing and able to do. So just check out all those links and hopefully you'll find something there that interests you. Okay, let's get into this episode. Here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off the next morning, David and Miss Betsy are walking in the garden when Mr. Peggotty shows up to talk to David. Miss Betsy says that she'll leave them to it, but Mr. Peggotty says that he wants her to stay and hear what he has to say. He. He tells them that Emily has told him everything that happened to her. She told him that after she ran away from Littimer, she ran along the beach until she fainted from exhaustion. She found herself with a family she knew from her times wandering along the beaches, and the woman of that family takes her in and nurses her through a fever. Her illness made her temporarily forget the Italian that she knew, so she couldn't communicate. But as she got stronger, she remembered and the family helped her to book passage to France. She tried to pay them for their care of her, but they refused her money. Emily got to France and took a job working at an inn. But one day she saw Lynamer there and so she left and fled to England. She intended to go home, but found that she felt too guilty to face anyone there. She was nearly tricked into becoming a prostitute by a woman claiming to be able to find her work as a seamstress. But Martha found her and intervened. Martha told her that Mr. Peggotty forgave her and then went to find Mr. Peggotty. Mr. Peggotty isn't sure how Ms. Dartle found her there. He then explains that he has decided to take Emily and go to Australia, where no one will know them and Emily can start over. Peggy won' go with them because she wants to stay near David and also to take care of ham. Mr. Peggy says he'll provide an allowance for Mrs. Gummage so she can stay and live on her own. Mr. Peggy then says that he plans to Send back to Mrs. Steerforth the money that Steerforth and Emily sent him because he doesn't want it. The only thing still worrying him is Ham, and he decides to go and visit him before he leaves. And he asks David to come with him, which David agrees to do. In Yarmouth, David stops by Mr. Omer's shop and finds that Mr. Omer is as cheerful as ever, but now confined to a wheelchair. David tells him about Em being found and Mr. Omer asks what will happen to Martha. David says he's not sure and Mr. Omer says he'd like to help her if he can. David goes and sees Peggy and Ham, who seems serene, but Peggy says that he's actually really heartbroken. David suspects that Ham wants to speak to him alone, so the next day he goes to find him. Ham tells him that he'd like Emily to know that he forgives her and that he will be okay and that she shouldn't worry about him. And he also asks David to express his love and his duty to Mr. Peggy, who he thinks he'll probably never see again. David. David then goes to say goodbye to the old boathouse where everything is now packed up. Mrs. Gummage suddenly asks Mr. Peggotty to take her with him to Australia, which he's initially surprised by, but then agrees to, and they go away together. Okay, so again, no questions. I'm going to just talk for a little bit, do the best I can. I'm going to be as brief as I can because this chapter is so long coming up, but there are some things that I want to touch on. So I said a while ago that now that we are in, like, the final quarter of the book, all the various plot threads that Dickens has spun out for us, they're starting to kind of tend downward toward their conclusions. And so this chapter, chapter 51, it marks, I think, basically the conclusion of the Mr. Peggotty and Little Emily plotline, which is not at all to say that we are done with little Emily or Mr. Peggotty, but the plot thread that has been spinning out for centuries, such a long time now. So Emily running off with Steerforth, Mr. Peggotty searching for her. That thread is essentially now complete. Emily is found. She's safely in Mr. Peggy's care. She has revealed what happened to her after she left Steerforth in Litomer and what her feelings were during the whole situation. And a plan is in place for how she will live from now on. Right? She is going with Mr. Peggy, and it turns out, Mrs. Gummage to Australia, where she will be far enough away from everyone who knows her to be able to start again and kind of start life that isn't colored by what has happened to her and what she has done. So in that sense, all the questions about this plotline have been answered. All the loose ends have been tucked away. We got to revisit Ham. We even had a little visit with Mr. Omer. We saw Peggy. We saw Mrs. Gummage. This aspect of the story, which has been one of the huge plot threads for most of the book, this aspect of the story has reached its conclusion. And none of this is to say that there aren't now new questions, because there are. What will become of ham? Will Mr. Peggot, Emily and Mrs. Gummage actually get to Australia? What will happen to them there? Will David and his friends ever hear from them or see them ever again? There's Much more that we want to know. But those are all sort of new plot threads, if you will. And the fact that these questions exist, it doesn't take away from the fact that the quest for Emily is now achieved. I mean, I suppose if there are any loose ends from the original narrative, they would be where is Stephen Steerforth now, right? And will we learn anything more about him? And I think that is still an open question, to be sure. But I really wish that I wasn't away for this episode because I am dying to know whether you guys think that this is a satisfying conclusion to this plot thread or not. I want to know whether you feel like everything is kind of nicely squared away or whether you are feeling unsatisfied. For me, I think it's satisfying, but I also think it's bittersweet. You know, I'm struck very much by Ham in all of this. In a way, I think that he is the real victim here. He's been kind of like off camera, if you will, for a while now, and we haven't had to really reckon too much with how this is all affecting him. But he's clearly a broken man. And while Mr. Peggotty's dream has come true and he has his niece back and Emily has what she never even dreamed was possible, which is forgiveness and love for Mr. Peggy, there's nothing for him. He has still been jilted. He still can't have the love of his life. And now he is losing the only father he's ever known as well, because Mr. Peggotty is going with Emily to Australia. But Ham forgives them all. You know, we've been saying how Mr. Paggetty is like a figure out of legend or a saint or something. But Ham, in his own kind of quiet way, is also a sort of saint or even a Christ like figure as well. When David walks with him on the beach and asks him if there's any sort of message that he would like to send to Emily, here's what he Tan't that I forgive her, tan't that so much? Tis more as I beg of her to forgive me for having pressed my affections upon her odd times. I think that if I hadn't had her promise for to marry me, sir, she was that trustful of me in a friendly way that she'd have told me what was struggling in her mind and would have counselled with me and I might have seen saved her. Okay, so he is not thinking of himself or what was done to him. He's thinking of Emily and how he might have helped her if he hadn't acted on his own feelings and asked her to marry him. I mean, that's selflessness. And it feels almost sort of too poignant to bear. And he also doesn't begrudge Mr. Peggotty for leaving him either. I mean, he could be like, hey, what about me? You know, Aren't I your beloved child too? Aren't I hurting? And also, haven't I been good and blameless all this time? Why are you leaving me here to go off with Emily? He could do that, but that never even seems to cross his mind, you know, like Mr. Peggotty, all he cares about is that Emily is safe and cared for and that she finds a way to live without the stain of what she's done on her. And he reveres Mr. Peggy as the saint that he has become in our eyes as well. You know, this is what he tells David. I am not like to see him again. I fare to feel sure on it. We don't say so, but twill be and better. So the last you see on him, the very last, will you give him the lovingest duty and thanks of the orphan as he was ever more than a father to. I mean, he's already lost his fiance, and now he's losing his father as well. And he's bearing it all with a kind of heroic understanding and acceptance that is really kind of hard to watch. I think you want to just kind of scoop him up and hug him, don't you? Or, like, find him a lovely girl to marry him and love him even though he swears that he's never going to marry. It's a beautiful picture of forgiveness, I think. But it does sting to see this kind of clear and concrete example of the harm that Emily's actions have caused. And we learn in this chapter as well, more about Emily's state of mind. And I'd love to know from you guys whether it exonerates her in your eyes or not. Because the thing that we learn about her, I think, is that essentially, almost right from the beginning, she regretted what she'd done, but she felt certain that her family could never forgive her for it because she couldn't forgive herself for it. You know, we learned in the last chapter that she did love Steerforth. We know that he told her he'd marry her. So her crime was believing him and letting him take her away without demanding he marry her. But also, and this is kind of hammered home in this chapter, but also, she left a good, loving Loyal, selfless man who would have moved heaven and earth to make her happy. And it seems now like she knows all of this. That she saw it pretty early on after running away. And that she kept away from her family and stayed with Steerforth because she couldn't believe that she would be welcomed home. But another way of looking at it might be. And this would be the sort of anti Emily view. But another way of looking at it might be that she. She didn't want to have to face the hurt and the anger that she'd caused. She couldn't bear to own up and face the consequences. She tells Mr. Peggy that when she got back to England she meant to go home, but she just couldn't bring herself to face it. Mr. Peggotty says this is a quote, but fear of not being forgive, fear of being pinted at, fear of some of us being dead along of her fear of many things turned her from it kinder by fear force upon the road. Okay. And Emily can't really imagine any life with her family. All she wants is to know that they forgive her and then she could die happy. She says I turned back when my art was full of prayers. That I might crawl to the old doorstep in the night, kiss it, lay my wicked face upon it and there be found dead in the morning. Which on the one hand is very sad. And it's such a wonderful thing that Mr. Peggotty is willing to forgive her. I. But the other side of that coin is that if she just got their forgiveness and then died, she wouldn't have to live with what she'd done to the people that she loves. Most. So I am imagining that some of you are feeling kindly toward Emily and that some of you are still feeling angry with her. So do write in and let me know and I'll come back to this. But the other person who makes an appearance in this chapter is Mr. Omer. And I've said before that I love Mr. Omer. And what I love about him is what he does in the story every time he shows up. He gives this kind of broader view to everything because as a character, he is all about life and death. He is all about the inevitability of death and the fact that we must find a way to live in the face of that. And I think it's lovely that Dickens brings him back here. As Emily is having to face the fact of her continued existence, she's having to deal with the fact that she hurt the people she loves. She isn't going to just curl up and die. But she will die one day, as we all will. And Mr. Omer reminds us that we may as well make the most of life while we have it. And this time we find him kind of reaching old age. He's confined to a wheelchair, his asthma is still plaguing him, but he is kind of happy as a clam. And we get the sense that he's happy because he knows what the alternative is. It's death. And he knows that death is coming, but it comes for us all. And he's seen that every day of his life and he is not afraid. And in a way he's telling us too to forgive, that there's no point holding a grudge or holding on to anger or blame. Life is too beautiful and too short for that. We have to just live and love as best we can and kind of muddle through as best we can. He says we are all drawing on to the bottom of the hill, whatever age we are, on account of time never standing still for a single moment. So let us always do a kindness and be over rejoiced to be sure, which is really so beautiful. And it's kind of like the sort of earthier, homier, almost more realistic version of Mr. Peggy. Mr. Peggotty has been elevated above the level of regular humanity. He is a legend or a saint and he represents love and forgiveness at all cost. But Mr. Ulmer represents that too, just kind of here on earth in a more, I guess, mundane way, which I think is lovely. It's sort of like the air of legend and mythology that has surrounded the storyline is being pulled back. And life must go on as life does in all its nitty gritty reality. And Mr. Peggotty himself maintains his saintliness. But there's a practicality to it now that goes along with this idea of sort of coming back down to earth. David says he forgot nobody. He thought of everybody's claims and strivings but his own. Okay, so he is still this character of legend, but now he's sorting out all the details and making sure that everyone is taken care of and that the house is packed up and things like that. And so now we have another ending, essentially another one of these doors closing and something new beginning that we've got periodically throughout the whole story. And the way that David describes it as really very touching. He says everything was gone down to the little mirror with the oyster shell frame. I thought of myself lying here when that first great chains was being wrought at home. I thought of the blue eyed child who had enchanted me, right? That child, that version of Emily. She is gone, but there is a new version of her who is being given a second chance and hopefully she will take it and be happy. And hopefully there's happiness in store for Ham as well. So let's stop there. This chapter coming up is very long, so let's get to it. We're going to stop there. Let's get back to this story, but please do write to me. It's faithkmore.com and then click on Contact. You can scroll into the show notes. That same link is there. And I will be back again. Hooray. I'll be back next time to discuss anything that came up for you guys that I didn't touch on in these last couple of chapters and to discuss this chapter that's coming up now. So please do write in and I can't wait to be back with you next time. All right, let's get started with chapter 52 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 52 I assist at an explosion when the time Mr. Micawber had appointed so mysteriously was within 4 and 20 hours of being come, my aunt and I consulted how we should proceed, for my aunt was very unwilling to leave Dora. Ah, how easily I carried Dora up and down stairs. Now we were disposed, notwithstanding Mr. Micawber's stipulation for my aunt's attendance, to arrange that she should stay at home and be represented by Mr. Dick and me. In short, we had resolved to take this course when Dora again unsettled us by declaring that she never would forgive herself and never would forgive her bad boy if my aunt remained behind on any pretence. I won't speak to you, said Dora, shaking her curls at my aunt. I'll be disagreeable. I'll make Jip bark at you all day. I shall be sure that you really are a cross old thing if you don't go. Tut blossom, laughed my aunt. You know you can't do without me. Yes, I can, said Dora. You are no use to me at all. You never run up and down stairs for me all day long. You never sit and tell me stories about me. Dody, when his shoes were worn out and he was covered with dust, oh, what a poor little mite of a fellow. You never do anything at all to please me, do you, dear? Dora made haste to kiss my aunt and say, yes, you do. I am only joking, lest my aunt should think she really meant it. But Aunt, said Dora coaxingly, now listen, you must Go. I shall tease you till you let me have my own way about it. I shall lead my naughty boy such a life if he don't make you go. I shall make myself so disagreeable, and so will Chip. You'll wish you had gone like a good thing for ever and ever so long if you don't go. Besides, said Dora, putting back her hair and looking wonderingly at my aunt and me, why shouldn't you both go? I am not very ill indeed, am I? Why, what a question. Cried my aunt. What a fancy. Said I. Yes, I know I am a silly little thing, said Dora slowly, looking from one of us to the other and then putting up her pretty lips to kiss us as she lay upon her couch. Well, then you must both go, or I shall not believe you. And then I shall cry. I saw in my aunt's face that she began to give way now, and Dora brightened again as she saw it too. You'll come back with so much to tell me that it'll take at least a week to make me understand, said Dora. Because I know I shan't understand for a length of time if there's any business in it. And there's sure to be some business in it if there's anything to add up besides, I don't know when I shall make it out. And my bad boy will look so miserable all the time. There now, you'll go, won't you? You'll only be gone one night. And Jip will take care of me while you are gone. Dodie will carry me upstairs before you go, and I won't come down again till you come back. And you shall take Agnes. A dreadfully scolding letter from me because she has never been to see us. We agreed without any more consultation that we would both go, and that Dora was a little impostor who feigned to be rather unwell because she liked to be petted. She was greatly pleased and very merry. And we four, that is to say, my aunt, Mr. Dick Traddles, and I went down to Canterbury by the Dover mail that night at the hotel where Mr. Micawber had requested us to await him, which we got into with some trouble in the middle of the night. I found a letter importing that he would appear in the morning, punctually at half past nine. After which we went shivering at that uncomfortable hour to our respective beds through various close passages which smelt as if they had been steeped for ages in a solution of soup and stables. Early in the morning I sauntered through the dear old tranquil streets, and again mingled with the shadows of the venerable gateways and churches. The rooks were sailing about the cathedral towers and the towers themselves, overlooking many a long unaltered mile of the rich country, and its pleasant streams were cutting the bright morning air as if there were no such thing as change on earth. Yet the bells, when they sounded, told me sorrowfully of change in everything, told me of their own age and my pretty Dora's youth, and of the many never old who had lived and loved and died while the reverberations of the bells had hummed through the rusty armour of the Black Prince hanging up within, and motes upon the deep of time had lost themselves in air as circles do in water. I looked at the old house from the corner of the street, but did not go nearer to it, lest, being observed, I might unwittingly do any harm to the design I had come to aid. Meaning he looks at Mr. Wickfield's house but doesn't want Mr. Wickfield or Uriah or anyone to see him, in case that would be a problem for whatever Mr. Micawber is going to tell him. The early sun was striking edgewise on its gables and lattice windows, touching them with gold, and some beams of its old piece seemed to touch my heart. I strolled into the country for an hour or so and then returned by the main street, which in the interval had shaken off its last night's sleep. Among those who were stirring in the shops I saw my ancient enemy, the butcher, now advanced to top boots and a baby, and in business for himself. He was nursing the baby and appeared to be a benignant member of society. We all became very anxious and impatient when we sat down to breakfast. As it approached nearer and nearer to half past nine o', clock, our restless expectation of Mr. Micawber increased taste at last. We made no more pretence of attending to the meal, which, except with Mr. Dick, had been a mere form from the first. But my aunt walked up and down the room. Traddles sat upon the sofa, affecting to read the paper with his eyes on the ceiling, and I looked out of the window to give early notice of Mr. Micawber's coming. Nor had I long to watch, for at the first chime of the half hour he appeared in the street. Here he is, said I, and not in his legal attire. My aunt tied the strings of her bonnet. She had come down to breakfast in it and put on her shawl as if she were ready for anything that was resolute and uncompromising. Traddles buttoned his coat with a determined air. Mr. Dick, disturbed by these formidable appearances, but feeling it necessary to imitate them, pulled his hat with both hands as firmly over his ears as he possibly could, and instantly took it off again to welcome Mr. Micawber. Gentlemen and madam, said Mr. Micawber, good morning, my dear sir. To Mr. Dick, who shook hands with him violently. You are extremely good. Have you breakfasted? Said Mr. Dick. Have a chop. Not for the world, my good sir, cried Mr. Micawber, stopping him on his way to the Bell. Appetite and myself, Mr. Dixon, have long been strangers. Mr. Dixon was so well pleased with his new name, and appeared to think it so obliging in Mr. Micawber to confer it upon him that he shook hands with him again and laughed rather childishly. Dick, said my aunt. Attention. Mr. Dick recovered himself with a blush. Now, sir, said my aunt to Mr. Micawber as she put on her gloves, and we are ready for Mount Vesuvius or anything else, as soon as you Please, madam, returned Mr. Micawber, I trust you will shortly witness an eruption. Mr. Traddles, I have your permission, I believe, to mention here that we have been in communication together. It is undoubtedly the fact, Copperfield, said Traddles, to whom I looked in surprise. Mr. Micawber has consulted me in reference to what he has in contemplation, and I have advised him to the best of my judgment, unless I deceive myself. Mr. Traddles, pursued Mr. Micawber. What I contemplate is a disclosure of an important nature. Highly so, said Traddles. Perhaps under such circumstances, Madam and gentleman, said Mr. Micawber, you will do me the favor to submit yourselves for the moment to the direction of one who, however unworthy to be regarded in any other light but as a waif and stray upon the shore of human nature, is still your fellow man, though crushed out of his original form by individual errors and the accumulative force of a combination of circumstances. We have perfect confidence in you, Mr. Macabre, said I, and will do as you please. Mr. Copperfield, returned Mr. Micawber, your confidence is not, at the existing juncture, ill bestowed. I would beg to be allowed a start of five minutes by the clock, and then to receive the present company inquiring for Miss Wickfield at the office of Wickfield and Heep, whose stipendiary I am. My aunt and I looked at Traddles, who nodded his approval. I have no more, observed Mr. Micawber, to say at present with which to my Infinite surprise. He included us all in a comprehensive bow and disappeared, his manner being extremely distant and his face extremely pale. So Mr. Micawber wants them to wait five minutes after he's gone and then show up at Mr. Wickfield's house and ask for Agnes. Traddles only smiled and shook his head, with his hair standing upright on the top of it when I looked to him for an explanation. So I took up my watch and as a last resource, counted off the five minutes. My aunt, with her own watch in her hand, did the like. When the time was expired, Traddles gave her his arm, and we all went out together to the old house without saying one word. On the way we found Mr. Micawber at his desk in the turret office on the ground floor, either writing or pretending to write hard. The large office ruler was stuck into his waistcoat and was not so well concealed, but that a foot or more of that instrument protruded from his bosom like a new kind of shirt frill. As it appeared to me that I was expected to speak, I said aloud, how do you do, Mr. Micawber? Mr. Copperfield, said Mr. Micawber gravely. I hope I see you well. Is. Is Miss Wickfield at home? Said I. Mr. Wickfield is unwell in bed, sir, of rheumatic fever, he returned. But Miss Wickfield, I have no doubt, will be happy to see old friends. Will you walk in, sir? He preceded us to the dining room, the first room I had entered in that house, and, flinging open the door of Mr. Wickfield's former office, said in a sonorous voice, Ms. Trotwood, Mr. David Copperfield, Mr. Thomas Traddles, and Mr. Dixon. I had not seen Uriah Heep since the time of the blow. Our visit astonished him, evidently not the less, I dare say, because it astonished ourselves he did not gather his eyebrows together, for he had none worth mentioning. But he frowned to that degree that he almost closed his small eyes, while the hurried raising of his grisly hand to his chin betrayed some trepidation or surprise. This was only when we were in the act of entering his room, and when I caught a glance at him over my aunt's shoulder a moment afterwards, he was as fawning and as humble as ever. Well, I am sure, he said, this is indeed indeed an unexpected pleasure. To have, as I may say, all friends round St Paul's at once is a treat unlooked for. Mr. Copperfield. I hope I see you well, and if I may humbly express myself, so friendly towards them as is ever your friends, whether or not. Not Mrs. Copperfield, sir. I hope she's getting on. We have been made quite uneasy by the poor accounts we have had for state lately, I do assure you. I felt ashamed to let him take my hand, but I did not know yet what else to do. Things are changed in this office, Ms. Trotwood, since I was an humble clerk. And hell your pony, ain't they? Said Uriah with his sickliest smile. But I am not changed, Ms. Trotwood. Well, sir, returned my aunt. To tell you the truth, I think you are pretty constant to the promise of your youth, if that's any satisfaction to you. Meaning you're the same awful person that you've always been. Thank you, Ms. Trotwood, said Uriah, writhing in his ungainly manner. For your good opinion, Micawber. Tell him to let Ms. Agnes know. And mother. Mother will be quite in a state when she sees the present company, said Uriah, setting chairs. You are not busy, Mr. Heep, said Traddles, whose eye the cunning red eye accidentally caught as it at once scrutinized and evaded us. No, Mr. Traddles, replied Uriah, resuming his official seat and squeezing his bony hands laid palm to palm between his bony knees. Not so much so as I could wish, but lawyers, sharks and leeches are not easily satisfied. You know not, but what? Myself and Micawber have our hands pretty full in general on account of Mr. Wickfield's being hardly fit for any occupations, sir. But it's a pleasure as well as a duty, I am sure, to work for him. You've not been intimate with Mr. Wickfield, I think, Mr. Traddles, I believe. I've only had the honour of seeing you once myself. No, I have not been intimate with Mr. Wickfield, returned Traddles. Or I might perhaps have waited on you long ago, Mr. Heep. There was something in the tone of this reply which made Uriah look at the speaker again with a very sinister and suspicious expression. But seeing only Traddles with his good natured face, simple manner and hair on end, he dismissed it as he replied with a jerk of his whole body, but especially his. I am sorry for that, Mr. Traddles. You would have admired him as much as we all do. His. His little failings would only have endeared him to you the more. But if you would like to hear my fellow partner eloquently spoken of, I should refer you to Copperfield. The family is a subject. He's very strong upon if you never heard him. I was prevented from disclaiming the compliment, if I should have done so. In any case, by the entrance of Agnes, now ushered in by Mr. Micawber, she was not quite so self possessed as usual, I thought, and had evidently undergone anxiety and fatigue but her earnest cordiality and her quiet beauty shone with the gentler lustre for it. I saw Uriah watch her while she greeted us, and he reminded me of an ugly and rebellious genie watching a good spirit. In the meanwhile some slight sign passed between Mr. Micawber and Traddles house and Traddles, unobserved except by me, went out. Don't wait, Micawber, said Uriah. Mr. Micawber, with his hand upon the ruler in his breast, stood erect before the door, most unmistakably contemplating one of his fellow men and that man his employer. What are you waiting for? Said Uriah Micawber. Did you hear me tell you not to wait? Yes, replied the immovable Mr. Micawber. Then why do you wait? Said Uriah. Because I in short choose, replied Mr. Micawber with a burst. Uriah's cheeks lost color, and an unwholesome paleness, still faintly tinged by his pervading red, overspread them. He looked at Mr. Micber attentively, with his whole face breathing short and quick in every feature. You are a dissipated fellow, as all the world knows, he said with an effort at a smile, and I am afraid you'll oblige me to get rid of you. Go along. I'll talk to you presently. If there is a scoundrel on this earth, said Mr. Micawber, suddenly breaking out again with the utmost vehemence with whom I have already talked too much. That scoundrel's name is Heep. Uriah fell back as if he had been struck or stung, looking slowly round upon us with the darkest and wickedest expression that his face could wear, he said in a lower voice, oho, this is a conspiracy. You have met here by appointment. You are playing booty with my clerk, are you, Copperfield? Now take care. You'll make nothing of this. We understand each other, you and me. There's no love between us. You were always a puppy with a proud stomach from your first coming here. And you envy me my rise, don't you? None of your plots against me. I'll counter plot you, Micawber. Be off. I'll talk to you presently. Mr. Micawber, said I. There is a sudden change in this fellow, in more respects than the extraordinary one of his speaking the truth in one particular, which assures me that he is brought to bay. Deal with him as he deserves. You are a precious set of people, ain't you? Said Uriah in the same low voice, and breaking out into a clammy heat which he wiped from his forehead with his long lean hand to buy over my clerk, who is the very scum of society as you yourself were, Copperfield. You know it before anyone had charity on you to defame me with his lies. Ms. Trotwood, you had better stop this, or I'll stop your husband surer than will be pleasant to you. I won't know your story professionally for Nothing, old lady. Ms. Wickfield, if you have any love for your father, you had better not join that gang. I'll ruin him if you do. Now come, I have got some of you under the harrow. Think twice before it goes over. You think twice, you macabre. If you don't want to be crushed, I recommend you to take yourself off and be talked to presently, you fool, while there's time to retreat. Okay, so Uriah's essentially saying that he's got something on everyone in the room, so no one had better mess with him. Where's Mother? He said, suddenly appearing to notice with alarm the absence of Traddles and pulling down the bell rope. Fine doings in a Parson's own house. Mrs. Heep is here, sir, said Traddles, returning with that worthy mother of a worthy son. I have taken the liberty of making myself known to her. Who are you to make yourself known? Retorted Uriah. And what do you want here? I am the agent and friend of Mr. Wickfield, sir, said Traddles, in a composed and business like way, and I have a power of attorney from him in my pocket to act for him in all matters. The old ass has drunk himself into a state of dotage, said Uriah, turning uglier than before, and it has been got from him by fraud. Something has been got from him by fraud. I know, returned Traddles quietly, and so do you, Mr. Heep. We will refer that question, if you please, to Mr. Micawber. Yuri, Mrs. Heap began with an anxious gesture. You hold your tongue, Mother, he returned, least said, soonest mended. But my Yuri. Will you hold your tongue, Mother, and leave it to me? Though I had long known that his servility was false, and all his pretences knavish and hollow, I had had no adequate conception of the extent of his hypocrisy until I now saw him with his mask off the suddenness with which he dropped it when he perceived that it was useless to him, the malice, insolence and hatred he revealed, the leer with which he exulted even at this moment in the evil he had done all this time, being desperate too and at his wits end, for the means of getting the better of us, though perfectly consistent with the experience I had of him at first, took even me by surprise, who had known him so long and disliked him so heartily. I say nothing of the look he conferred on me as he stood eyeing us one after another. For I had always understood that he hated me, me, and I remembered the marks of my hand upon his cheek. But when his eye passed on to Agnes, and I saw the rage with which he felt his power over her slipping away, and the exhibition in their disappointment of the odious passions that had led him to aspire to one whose virtues he could never appreciate or care for, I was shocked by the mere thought of her having lived an hour within sight of such a mat. After some rubbing of the lower part of his face and some looking at us with those bad eyes over his grisly fingers, he made one more address to me, half whining and half abusive. You think it justifiable, do you, Copperfield? You who pride yourself so much on your honour and all the rest of it, to sneak about my place eavesdropping with my clerk? If it had been me, I shouldn't have wondered, for I don't make myself out a gentleman, though I never was in the streets either, as you were, according to Micawber. But being you, and you're not afraid of doing this either, you don't think at all of what I shall do in return, or of getting yourself into trouble for conspiracy and so forth? Very well. We shall see. Mr. What's your name? You were going to refer some question to Micawber. There's your referee. Why don't you make him speak? He has learnt his lesson. I see. Seeing that what he said had no effect on me or on any of us, he sat on the edge of his table with his hands in his pockets and one of his splay feet twisted round the other leg, waiting doggedly for what might follow. Mr. Micawber, whose impetuosity I had restrained thus far with the greatest difficulty, and who had repeatedly interposed with the first syllable of scoundrel without getting to the second, now burst forward, drew the ruler from his breast, apparently as a defensive weapon, and produced from his pocket a foolscap document. Foolscap is just a Size of paper. It's 8 and a half by 13 and a half inches, folded in the form of a large letter. Opening this packet with his old flourish and glancing at the contents as if he cherished an artistic admiration of their style of composition he began to read as follows. Dear Ms. Trotwood and gentlemen, bless and save the man. Exclaimed my aunt in a low voice. He'd write letters by the ream if it was a capital offense. Mr. Micawber, without hearing her, went on in appearing before you to denounce probably the most consummate villain that has ever existed. Mr. Micawber, without looking off the letter pointed the ruler like a ghostly truncheon at Uriah Heep. I ask no consideration for myself, the victim from my cradle of pecuniary liabilities to which I have been unable to respond I have ever been the sport and toy of debasing circumstances. Ignominy, want, despair and madness have collectively or separately been the attendants of my career. The relish with which Mr. Micawber described himself as a prey to these dismal calamities was only to be equalled by the emphasis with which he read his letter and the kind of homage he rendered to it with a roll of his head when he thought he had hit a sentence very hard indeed in an accumulation of. Of ignominy, want, despair and madness. I entered the office, or as our lively neighbor the Gaul would term it, the bureau of the firm normally conducted under the appellation of Wickfield and Heap but in reality wielded by Heap alone. Heap and wheep. Only Heap is the mainspring of that machine. Heap, and only Heap is the forger and the cheat. Uriah, more blue than white at these words made a dart at the letter as if to tear it in pieces. Mr. Micawber, with a perfect miracle of dexterity or luck caught his advancing knuckles with the ruler and disabled his right hand. It dropped at the wrist as if it were broken. The blow sounded as if it had fallen on wood. The devil take you. Cried Uriah, writhing in a new pain. I'll be even with you. Approach me again, you. You. You heap of infamy. Gasped Mr. Micawber. And if your head is human, I'll break it. Come on, come on. I think I never saw anything more ridiculous. I was sensible of it, even at the time. Then Mr. Micawber, making broadsword guards with the ruler and crying, come on. While Traddles and I pushed him back into a corner from which, as often as we got him into it he persisted in emerging again, his enemy, muttering to himself, after wringing his wounded hand for some time slowly drew off his neckerchief and bound it up then held it in his other hand and sat upon his table with his sullen face looking down. Mr. Micawber, when he was sufficiently cool, proceeded with his letter. The stipendiary emoluments, in consideration of which I entered into the service of Heap always pausing before that word and uttering it with astonishing vigor, were not defined beyond the pittance of 22 shillings and 6 per week. The rest was left contingent on the value of my professional exertions in other and more expressive words, on the baseness of my nature, the cupidity of my motives, the poverty of my family the general moral, or rather immoral resemblance between myself and Heep. Need I say that it soon became necessary for me to solicit from Heap pecuniary advances towards the support of Mrs. Macawer and our blighted but rising family? Need I say that this necessity had been foreseen by Heap that those advancers were secured by IOUs and other similar acknowledgments known to the legal institutions of this country and that I thus became enmeshed in the web he had spun for my reception? Okay, so he's saying that Uriah hired him at a very low salary knowing that Mr. Macabre would then need to ask him for loans and advances and that this would cause Mr. Macawer to be beholden to him such that he could manipulate him. Mr. Macawer's enjoyment of his epistolary powers in describing this unfortunate state of things really seemed to outweigh any pain or anxiety that the reality could have caused him. He read on. Then it was that Heep began to favour me with just so much of his confidence as was necessary to the discharge of his infernal business. Then it was that I began, if I may so shakespearianly express myself, to dwindle, peak and pine. I found that my services were constantly called into requisition for the falsification of business and the mystification of an individual whom I will designate as Mr. W. That Mr. W was imposed upon, kept in ignorance and deluded in every possible way yet that all the while the ruffian Heap was professing unbounded gratitude to and unbounded from friendship for that much abused gentleman. This was bad enough. But, as the philosophic Dane observes with that universal applicability which distinguishes the illustrious ornament of the Elizabethan era worse remains behind. Okay, so he's saying that because Mr. McCawber was now in debt to Uriah and needed him to help pay for his family, Uriah felt it was safe to use him to help him with this scheme which involved falsifying documents and actively deluding Mr. Wickfield. Mr. Macawber was so very much struck by this happy rounding off with a quotation that he indulged himself and us with a second reading of the sentence under pretense of having lost his place. It is not my intention, he continued reading on, to enter on a detailed list within the compass of the present epistle, though it is ready elsewhere, of the various malpractices of a minor nature affecting the individual whom I have denominated, Mr. W. To which I have been a tacitly consenting party. My object, when the contest within myself between stipend and no stipend, baker and no baker, existence and non existence ceased, was to take advantage of my opportunities to discover and expose the major malpractices committed to that gentleman's grievous wrong and injury by hape. Stimulated by the silent monitor within and by a no less touching and appealing monitor within without, to whom I will briefly refer as Ms. W. I entered on a not unlaborious task of clandestine investigation protracted now to the best of my knowledge, information and belief, over a period exceeding 12 calendar months. He read this passage as if it were from an act of Parliament and appeared majestically refreshed by the sounds of the words. My charges against Heep, he read on, glancing at him and drawing the ruler into a convenient position under his left arm in case of need, are as follows. We all held our breath, I think I am sure Uriah held his first, said Mr. Micawber, when Mr. W. S faculties and memory for business became through causes into which it is not necessary or expedient for me to enter. Weakened and confused, Heap designedly perplexed and complicated the whole of the official transactions. When Mr. W. Was least fit to enter on business, Heap was always at hand to force him to enter on it. He obtained Mr. W's signature under such circumstances to documents of importance. Representing them to be other documents of no importance, he induced Mr. W. To empower him to draw out thus one particular sum of trust money amounting to 12, 6, 14, 2 and 9, and employed it to meet pretended business charges and deficiencies which were either un already provided for or had never really existed. He gave this proceeding throughout the appearance of having originated in Mr. W's own dishonest intention and of having been accomplished by Mr. W's own dishonest act, and has used it ever since to torture and constrain him. Okay, so essentially Uriah made it so that Mr. Wickfield is seemed to be purposefully swindling people out of their money, and then held that over Mr. Wickfield, saying that he would reveal it if he didn't do what he said. You shall prove this, you Copperfield, said Uriah with a threatening shake of the head. All in good time, ask Heep Mr. Traddles, who lived in this house after him, said Mr. Micawber, breaking off from the letter, will you? The fool himself and lives here now, said uriah disdainfully, meaning Mr. Micawber now lives in the house that Uriah once lived in. Ask Heep if he ever kept a pocketbook in that house, said Mr. Micawber, will you? I saw Uriah's lank hand stop involuntarily in the scraping of his chin. Or ask him, said Mr. Micawber, if he ever burnt one there. If he says yes, and asks you where the ashes are, refer him to Wilkins Micawber, and he will hear of something not at all to his advantage. The triumphant flourish with which Mr. Micawber delivered himself of these words had a powerful effect in alarming the mother, who cried out in much agitation. Yuri, Yuri, be umble and make terms, my dear mother, he retorted. Will you keep quiet? You're in a fright and don't know what you say or mean. Umble, he repeated, looking at me with a snarl, I've umbled some of em for a pretty long time back umble as I was. Mr. Micawber, genteelly adjusting his chin in his cravat, presently proceeded with his composition. Second Heep has on several occasions, to the best of my knowledge, information, and belief. But that won't do, muttered Uriah, relieved Mother, keep quiet. We will endeavour to provide something that will do and do for you. Finally, sir, very shortly, replied Mr. Micawber. Second heap has on several occasions, to the best of my knowledge, information and belief, systematically forged to various entries, books and documents the signature of Mr. W. And has distinctly done so in one instance capable of proof by me to witness in manner following. That is to say again, Mr. Micawber had a relish in this formal piling up of words, which, however ludicrously displayed in his case, was, I must say, not at all peculiar to him. I have observed it in the course of my life in numbers of men, it seems to me to be a general rule in the taking of legal oaths. For instance, deponents seem to enjoy themselves mightily when they come to several good words in succession for the expression of one idea, as that they utterly detest, abominate, and abjure, or so forth. And the old anathemas were made relishing on the same principle. We talk about tyranny of words, but we like to tyrannize over them too. We are fond of having a large superfluous establishment of words to wait upon us on great occasions. We think it looks impossible, important, and sounds well, as we are not particular about the meaning of our liveries on state occasions, if they be but fine and numerous enough, so the meaning or necessity of our words is a secondary consideration, if there be but a great parade of them. And as individuals get into trouble by making too great a show of liveries, or as slaves, when they are too numerous, rise against their masters. So I think I could mention a nation that has got into many great difficulties, and will get into many greater from maintaining too large a retinue of words. Mr. Micawber read on, almost smacking his lips to wit in manner following, that is to say, Mr. W being infirm, and it being within the bounds of probability that his decease might lead to some discoveries and to the downfall of heaps power over the W family, as I, Wilkins Macawber, the undersigned, assume, unless the filial affection of his daughter could be secretly influenced from allowing any investigation of the partnership affairs to be ever made, the said Hape deemed it expedient to have a bond ready by him as from Mr. W. For the before mentioned sum of 12, 6, 14, 2 and 9, with interest stated therein, to have been advanced by heap to Mr. W. To save Mr. W. From dishonor, though really the sum was never advanced by him, and has long been replaced. The signatures to this instrument purporting to be executed by Mr. W and attempt attested by Wilkins macabre, are forgeries by Hape. I have in my possession in his hand and pocketbook several similar imitations of Mr. W's signature here and there, defaced by fire, but legible to anyone. I never attested any such document, and I have the document itself in my possession. Uriah Heep, with a start, took out of his pocket a bunch of keys and opened a certain drawer, then suddenly bethought himself of what he was about and turned again towards us without looking in it. And I have the document. Mr. Micawber read again, looking about as if it were the text of a sermon in my possession. That is to say, I had early this morning when this was written, but have since relinquished it to Mr. Traddles. It is quite true, assented Traddles. Yuri, Yuri. Cried the mother, be umble and make terms. I know my son will be umble, gentlemen, if you'll give him time to think. Mr. Copperfield, I'm sure you know that he was always very umble, sir. It was singular to see how the mother still held to the old trick when the son had abandoned it as useless. Mother, he said with an impatient bite at the handkerchief in which his hand was wrapped, you had better take and fire a loaded gun at me. But I love you, Yuri. Cried Mrs. Heep, and I have no doubt she did, or that he loved her, however strange it may appear, though, to be sure, they were a congenial couple. And I can't bear to hear you provoking the gentleman and endangering yourself more. I told the gentleman at first, when he told me upstairs, it was come to light that I would answer for your being umble and making amends. Oh, see how umble I am, gentlemen, and don't mind him. Why, there's Copperfield, mother, he angrily retorted, pointing his lean finger at me, against whom all his animosity was levelled as the prime mover in the discovery. And I did not undeceive him. Him. There's Copperfield would have given you a hundred pound to say less than you've blurted out. I can't help it, Yuri. Cried his mother. I can't see you running into danger through carrying your head so high. Better be umble, as you always was. He remained for a little biting the handkerchief, and then said to me with a scowl, what more have you got to bring forward? If anything, go on with it. What do you look at me for? Mr. Micawber promptly resumed his letter, glad to revert to a performance with which he was so highly satisfied. Third and last, I am now in a condition to show by heaps false books and heaps real memoranda, beginning with the partially destroyed pocketbook, which I was unable to comprehend at the time of its accidental discovery by Mrs. Macawer, on our taking possession of our present abode in the locker or bin devoted to the reception of the ashes calcined on our domestic hearth, that the weaknesses, the faults, the very virtues, the parental affections, and the sensitive of honor of the unhappy Mr. W. Have been for years acted on by and warped to the base purposes of heap, that Mr. W has been for years deluded and plundered in every conceivable manner to the pecuniary aggrandizement of the avaricious, false and grasping heap that the engrossing object of Heap was next to gain to subdue Mr. And Ms. W. Of his ulterior views. In reference to the latter, I say nothing entirely to himself, that his last act, completed but a few months since, was to induce Mr. W. To execute a relinquishment of the his share in the partnership and even a bill of sale on the very furniture of his house, in consideration of a certain annuity to be well and truly paid by Heap on the four common quarter days in each and every year, that these meshes, beginning with alarming and falsified accounts of the estate of which Mr. W. Is the receiver, at a period when Mr. W. Had launched into imprudent and ill dudge speculations and may not have had the money for which he was morally and legally responsible in hand, going on with pretended borrowings of money at enormous interest really coming from heap, and by heap fraudulently obtained or withheld from Mr. W. Himself, on pretense of such speculations, or otherwise perpetrated by a miscellaneous catalogue of unscrupulous chicaneries, gradually thickened until the unhappy Mr. W. Could see no world beyond bankrupt, as he believed alike in circumstances, in all other hope, and in honour, his sole reliance was upon the monster in the garb of man. Mr. Micawber made a good deal of this as a new turn of expression, who, by making himself necessary to him, had achieved his destruction. All this I undertake to show, probably much more. Okay, so essentially, Uriah has stolen everything from Mr. Wickfield, his firm, his house, his furniture, by forging Mr. Wakefield's signature on the documents that would turn all of that stuff over to him. I whispered a few words to Agnes, who was weeping half joyfully, half sorrowfully at my side. And there was a movement among us as if Mr. Micawber had finished. He said with exceeding gravity, pardon me, and proceeded with a mixture of the lowest spirits and the most intense enjoyment to the peroration of his letter. I have now concluded it merely remains for me to substantiate these accusations, and then, with my ill starred family, to disappear from the landscape on which we appear to be an encumbrance that is soon done. It may be reasonably inferred that our baby will first expire of inanition as being the frailest member of our circle, and that our twins will follow next, in order so be it. For myself, my Canterbury pilgrimage has done much imprisonment on civil process and want will soon do more. I trust that the labor and hazard of an investigation of which the smallest results have been slowly pieced together in the pressure of arduous avocations under grinding penurious apprehensions at once rise of morn at dewy eve in the shadows of night, under the watchful eye of one whom it were superfluous to call demon, combined with the struggle of parental poverty to turn it, when completed, to the right account, may be as the sprinkling of a few drops of sweet water on my funeral pyre. Okay, so he's saying that now he will be completely destitute and his children will die. But at least he's told the truth. Truth and outed Uriah. I ask no more. Let it be injustice merely said of me as of a gallant and eminent naval hero, with whom I have no pretensions to cope, that what I have done I did in spite of mercenary and selfish objects for England, home and beauty remaining always. Etc. Etc. Wilkins Micawber Much affected, but still intensely enjoying himself, Mr. Micawber folded up his letter and handed it with a bow to my aunt as something she might like to keep. There was, as I had noticed on my first visit long ago, an iron safe in the room. The key was in it. A hasty suspicion seemed to strike Uriah, and with a glance at Mr. Micawber, he went to it and threw the doors clanking open. It was empty. Where are the books? He cried with a frightful face. Some thief has stolen the books. Mr. Micawber tapped himself with the ruler. I did when I got the key from you, as usual, but a little earlier, and opened it this morning. Don't be uneasy, said Traddles. They have come into my possession. I will take care of them. Under the authority I mentioned. You receive stolen goods, do you? Cried Uriah. Under such circumstances, answered Traddles. Yes. What was my astonishment when I beheld my aunt, who had been profoundly quiet and attentive, make a dart at Uriah Heep and seize him by the collar with both hands. You know what I want, said my aunt. A strait waistcoat, said he. No. My property returned. My aunt Agnes, my dear, as long as I believed it had been really made away with by your father, I wouldn't. And, my dear, I didn't even to trot, as he knows, breathe a syllable of its having been placed here for investment. But now I know this fellows answerable for it, and I'll have it Trot, come and take it away from him. Okay, so. Meaning that Miss Betsy didn't lose her money by investing it herself, as she'd said. She lost it because Mr. Wickfield invested it poorly, but she was trying to save him and Agnes by pretending it was her fault. But now she realizes it's Uriah's fault. She wants it back. Whether my aunt supposed for the moment that he kept her property in his neckerchief, I am sure I don't know, but she certainly pulled at it as if she thought so. I hastened to put myself between them and to assure her that we would all take care, that he should make the utmost restitution of everything he had wrongly got. This and a few moments reflection pacified her, but she was not at all disconcerted by what she had done, though I cannot say as much for her bonnet, and resumed her seat composedly. During the Last few minutes Mrs. Heep had been clamouring to her son to be umble and had been going down on her knees to all of us at in succession and making the wildest promises. Her son sat her down in his chair and standing sulkily by her, holding her arm with his hand, but not rudely, said to me with a ferocious look, what do you want done? I will tell you what must be done, said Traddles. Has that Copperfield no tongue? Muttered Uriah. I would do a good deal for you if you could tell me without lying that somebody had cut it out. My Uriah means to be humble. Cried his mother. Don't mind what he says, good gentleman. What must be done, said Traddles, is this. First, the deed of relinquishment that we have heard of must be given over to me. Now here he wants Uriah to hand over the document he forged that gave all of Mr. Wakefield's property to him. Suppose I haven't got it? He interrupted. But you have, said Traddles, therefore you know we won't suppose so. And I cannot help avowing that this was the first occasion on which I really did justice to the clear head and the plain, patient, practical good sense of my old schoolfellow. Then, said Traddles, you must prepare to disgorge all that your rapacity has become possessed of and to make restoration to the last farthing. Meaning he's got to give everything back that he stole and pay back all the money that was lost. All the partnership books and papers must remain in our possession. All your books and papers. All money, accounts and securities of both kinds. In short, everything here. Must it? I don't know that, said Uriah. I must have time to think about it. Certainly, replied Traddles. But in the meanwhile, and until everything is done to our satisfaction, we shall maintain possession of these things, and I beg you, in short, compel you to keep to your own room and hold no communication with anyone. I won't do it, said Uriah with an oath. Maidstone jail is a safer place of detention, observed Traddles, and though the law may be longer in writing us and may not be able to write us so completely as you can, there is no doubt of its punishing you. Dear me, you know that quite as well as I. Copperfield, will you go round to the Guildhall and bring a couple of officers here? Mrs. Heep broke out again, crying on her knees to Agnes to interfere in their behalf, exclaiming that he was very humble and it was all true, and if he didn't do what we wanted, she would, and much more to the same purpose, being half frantic with fears for her darling. To inquire what he might have done if he had had any boldness would be like inquiring what a mongrel cur might do if it had the spirit of a tiger. He was a coward from head to foot and showed his dastardly nature through his sullenness and mortification as much as at any time of his mean life. Stop. He growled to me, and wiped his hot face with his hand. Mother, hold your noise. Well, let him have that deed. Go and fetch it. Do you help her, Mr. Dick? Said Traddles, if you please. Proud of his commission and understanding it, Mr. Dick accompanied her as a shepherd's dog might accompany a sheep. But Mrs. Hape gave him little trouble, for she not only returned with the deed, but with the box in which it was, where we found a banker's book and some other papers that were afterwards serviceable. Good, said Traddles, when this was brought. Now, Mr. Heep, you can retire to think, particularly observing, if you please, that I declare to you on the part of all present that there is only one thing to be done, that it is what I have explained and that it must be done without delay. Uriah, without lifting his eyes from the ground, shuffled across the room with his hand to his chin and pausing at the door, said Copperfield, I have always hated you. You've always been an upstart, and you've always been against me. As I think I told you once before, said I, it is you who have been, in your greed and cunning against all the world. It may be profitable to you to reflect in future that there never were greed and cunning in the world yet that did not do too much and overreach them themselves. It is as certain as death, or as certain as they used to teach at school the same school where I picked up so much humbleness from 9 o' clock to 11 that labor was a curse, and from 11 o' clock to 1 that he was a blessing and a cheerfulness and dignity, and I don't know what all. Eh? Said he with a sneer. You preach about as consistent as they did it. Won't umbleness go down? I shouldn't have got round my gentleman fellow partner without it, I think. Micawber, you old bully, I'll pay you. Mr. Micawber, supremely defiant of him and his extended finger, and making a great deal of his chest, until he had slunk out at the door, then addressed himself to me, and proffered me the satisfaction of witnessing the re establishment of mutual confidence between himself and Mrs. Mrs. Micawber, after which he invited the company generally to the contemplation of that affecting spectacle. The veil that has long been interposed between Mrs. Micawber and myself is now withdrawn, said Mr. Micawber, and my children and the author of their being can once more come in contact on equal terms, as we were all very grateful to him, and all desirous to show that we were, as well as the hurry and disorder of our spirits would permit. I dare say we should all have gone, but that it was necessary for Agnes to return to her father, as yet unable to bear more than the dawn of hope, and for some one else to hold Uriah in safe keeping. So Traddles remained for the latter purpose to be presently relieved by Mr. Dick and Mr. Dick, my aunt and I went home with Mr. Micawber. As I parted hurriedly from the dear girl to whom I owed so much, and thought from what she had been saved. Perhaps that morning, her better resolution notwithstanding, I felt devoutly thankful for the miseries of my younger days which had brought me to the knowledge of Mr. Micawber. His house was not far off, and as the street door opened into the sitting room and he bolted in with a precipitation quite his own, we found ourselves at once in the bosom of the family. Mr. Micawber exclaiming, Emma. My life rushed into Mrs. Micawber's arms. Mrs. Micawber shrieked and folded Mr. Micawber in her embrace, Ms. Micawber nursing the unconscious stranger of Mrs. Micawber's last letter to me was sensibly affected. The stranger leaped. The twins testified their joy by several inconvenient but innocent demonstrations. Master Micawber, whose disposition appeared to have been soured by early disappointments and whose aspect had become morose, yielded to his better feelings and blubbered. Emma, said Mr. Micawber, the cloud is passed from my mind. Mutual confidence, so long preserved between us once is restored, to know no further interruption now. Welcome poverty. Cried Mr. Micawber, shedding tears. Welcome misery, welcome houselessness, welcome hunger, rags, tempest and beggary. Mutual confidence will sustain us to the end. With these expressions Mr. Micawber placed Mrs. Micawber in a chair and embraced the family all round, welcoming a variety of bleak prospects which appeared, to the best of my judgment, to be anything but welcome to them, and calling upon them to come out into Canterbury and sing a chorus as nothing else was left left for their support. But Mrs. Micawber, having in the strength of her emotions fainted away. The first thing to be done, even before the chorus could be considered complete, was to recover her. This my aunt and Mr. Micawber did. And then my aunt was introduced, and Mrs. Micawber recognized me. Excuse me, dear Mr. Copperfield, said the poor lady, giving me her hand, but I am not strong. And the removal of the late misunderstanding between Mr. Micawber and myself was at first too much for me. Is this all your family, ma'? Am? Said my aunt. There are no more at present, returned Mrs. Micawber. Good gracious, I didn't mean that, ma', am, said my aunt. I mean, are all these yours, madam? Replied Mr. Micawber, it is a true bill. And that eldest young gentleman now, said my aunt, musing, what has he been brought up to? It was my hope when I came here, said Mr. Micawber, to have got Wilkins into the church. Or perhaps I shall express my meaning more strictly if I say the choir. But there was no vacancy for a tenor in the venerable pile for which this city is so justly eminent. And he has, in short, he has contracted a habit of singing in public houses rather than in sacred edifices. But he means well, said Mrs. Micawber tenderly. I dare say my love, returned Mr. Micawber, that he means particularly well, but I have not yet found that he carries out his meaning in any given direction whatsoever. Master Micawber's moroseness of aspect returned upon him again, and he demanded with some temper what he was to do, whether he had been born a carpenter or a coach painter, any more than he had been born a bird Whether he could go into the next street and open a chemist's shop. Shop. Whether he could rush to the next assizes and proclaim himself a lawyer Whether he could come out by force at the opera and succeed by violence Whether he could do anything without being brought up to something. My aunt mused a little while, and then, said Mr. Micawber, I wonder you have never turned your thoughts to immigration, madam, returned Mr. Micawber. It was the dream of my youth and the fallacious aspiration of my riper years. I am thoroughly persuaded by the by that he had never thought of it in his life. I. Said my aunt, with a glance at me. Why, what a thing it would be for yourself and your family, Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, if you were to emigrate now. Capital, Madam, capital. Urged Mr. Macawer gloomily. That is the principle, I may say the only difficulty, my dear Mr. Copperfield assented his wife. Capital. Cried my aunt, but you are doing us a great service. Have done us a great service, I may say, for surely much will come out of the fire. And what could we do for you that would be half so good as to find the capital? I could not receive it as a gift, said Mr. Micawber, full of fire and animation. But if a sufficient sum could be advanced, say at 5% interest per annum upon my personal liability, say, my notes of hand at 12, 18 and 24 months respectively, to allow time for something to turn up. Okay, so Miss Betsy is offering to give the Macabre the money to help them emigrate, and Mr. Macabre is saying he won't take it as a gift, but he might take it as a loan. Could be, can be, and shall be on your own terms, returned my aunt, if you say the word. Think of this. Now, both of you. Here are some people David knows going out to Australia shortly. If you decide to go, why shouldn't you go in the same ship? You may help each other. Think of this now, Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, take your time and weigh it well. There is but one question, my dear ma', am, I could wish to ask, said Mrs. Micawber. The climate, I believe, is healthy? Finest in the world, said my aunt. Just so, returned Mrs. Micawber. Then my question arises now, are the circumstances of the country such that a man of Mr. Micawber's abilities would have a fair chance of rising in the social scale? I will not say at present, might he aspire to be governor or anything of that sort, but would there be a reasonable opening for his talents to develop themselves that would be amply sufficient, and find their own exceptions. Expansion no better opening anywhere, said my aunt. For a man who conducts himself as well, and is industrious. For a man who conducts himself well, repeated Mrs. Micawber, with her clearest business manner, and is industrious precisely, it is evident to me that Australia is the legitimate sphere of action for Mr. Micawber. I entertain the conviction, my dear madam, said Mr. Micawber, that it is, under existing circumstances, the land, the only land for myself and family, and that something of an extraordinary nature will turn up on that shore. It is no distance, comparatively speaking, and though consideration is due to the kindness of your proposal, I assure you that is a mere matter of form. Shall I ever forget how in a moment he was the most sanguine of men looking on to fortune? Or how Mrs. Micawber presently discoursed about the habits of the kangaroo? Shall I ever recall that street of Canterbury on market day without recalling him as he walked back with us, expressing in the hardy roving manner he assumed the unsettled habits of a temporary sojourner in the land, and looking at the bullocks as they came by, with the eye of an Australian farmer? Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our Merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. Alright everyone, story time is over. To be continued.