Agnes

           MyauntandI,whenwewereleftalone,talkedfarintothenight.Howtheemigrantsneverwrotehome,otherwisethancheerfullyandhopefully;howMr.Micawberhadactuallyremitteddiverssmallsumsofmoney,onaccountofthose‘pecuniaryliabilities’,inreferencetowhichhehadbeensobusiness-likeasbetweenmanandman;howJanet,returningintomyaunt’sservicewhenshecamebacktoDover,hadfinallycarriedoutherrenunciationofmankindbyenteringintowedlockwithathrivingtavern-keeper;andhowmyaunthadfinallysethersealonthesamegreatprinciple,byaidingandabettingthebride,andcrowningthemarriage-ceremonywithherpresence;wereamongourtopicsalreadymoreorlessfamiliartomethroughthelettersIhadhad.Mr.Dick,asusual,wasnotforgotten.Myauntinformedmehowheincessantlyoccupiedhimselfincopyingeverythinghecouldlayhishandson,andkeptKingCharlestheFirstatarespectfuldistancebythatsemblanceofemployment;howitwasoneofthemainjoysandrewardsofherlifethathewasfreeandhappy,insteadofpininginmonotonousrestraint;andhow(asanovelgeneralconclusion)nobodybutshecouldeverfullyknowwhathewas.

           ‘Andwhen,Trot,’saidmyaunt,pattingthebackofmyhand,aswesatinouroldwaybeforethefire,‘whenareyougoingovertoCanterbury?’

           ‘Ishallgetahorse,andrideovertomorrowmorning,aunt,unlessyouwillgowithme?’

           ‘No!’saidmyaunt,inhershortabruptway.‘ImeantostaywhereIam.

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Roboto Lora
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