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I have heard a mother repeat, with a pathetic pride, a connected sentence said by her idiot boy. You remember how delighted Miss Trotwood was, in Mr. Dickens's beautiful story, with Mr. Dick's good sense, when he said something which in anybody else would have been rather silly. But Mr. Dick, you see, was just out of the Asylum, and no more.
'But I'll tell you what you can do, Miss Trotwood. 'What's that? inquired my aunt. 'Leave your nephew here, for the present. He's a quiet fellow. He won't disturb me at all. It's a capital house for study. As quiet as a monastery, and almost as roomy. Leave him here. My aunt evidently liked the offer, though she was delicate of accepting it. So did I. 'Come, Miss Trotwood, said Mr. Wickfield.
As quiet as a monastery, and almost as roomy. Leave him here." My aunt evidently liked the offer, but was delicate of accepting it, until Mr. Wickfield cried, "Come! I know how you feel, you shall not be oppressed by the receipt of favors, Miss Trotwood. You may pay for him if you like."
For, was he not the "Daisy" of Steerforth, the "Doady" of Dora, the "Trotwood" of Aunt Betsy, and the "Mas'r Davy" of the Yarmouth boatmen, just as surely as he was the "Mr. Copper-full" of Mrs. Crupp, the "Master Copperfield" of Uriah Heep, and the "Dear Copperfield" of Mr. Wilkins Micawber?
The opening of the little door in the panelled wall made me start and turn. Her beautiful serene eyes met mine as she came towards me. She stopped and laid her hand upon her bosom, and I caught her in my arms. 'Agnes! my dear girl! I have come too suddenly upon you. 'No, no! I am so rejoiced to see you, Trotwood! 'Dear Agnes, the happiness it is to me, to see you once again!
'He has been CALLED mad, said my aunt. 'I have a selfish pleasure in saying he has been called mad, or I should not have had the benefit of his society and advice for these last ten years and upwards in fact, ever since your sister, Betsey Trotwood, disappointed me. 'So long as that? I said. 'And nice people they were, who had the audacity to call him mad, pursued my aunt. 'Mr.
All it said was, 'My dear Trotwood. I am staying at the house of papa's agent, Mr. Waterbrook, in Ely Place, Holborn. Will you come and see me today, at any time you like to appoint? Ever yours affectionately, AGNES. It took me such a long time to write an answer at all to my satisfaction, that I don't know what the ticket-porter can have thought, unless he thought I was learning to write.
Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going away myself, he checked me and said; "Should you like to stay with us, Trotwood, or go elsewhere?" "To stay," I answered quickly. "You are sure?" "If you please. If I may." "Why, it's but a dull life that we lead here, boy, I'm afraid," he said. "Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir. Not dull at all!"
'And the premium, sir, I returned, 'is a thousand pounds? 'And the premium, Stamp included, is a thousand pounds, said Mr. Spenlow. 'As I have mentioned to Miss Trotwood, I am actuated by no mercenary considerations; few men are less so, I believe; but Mr. Jorkins has his opinions on these subjects, and I am bound to respect Mr. Jorkins's opinions. Mr.
'I don't think, Trotwood, returned Agnes, raising her soft eyes to mine, 'I would consider that. Perhaps it would be better only to consider whether it is right to do this; and, if it is, to do it. I had no longer any doubt on the subject.
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