'FagmentWelcome to consult...d been pataking. ‘Emma, my angel!’ cied M. Micawbe, unning into the oom; ‘what is the matte?’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘I neve will deset you, Micawbe!’ she exclaimed. ‘My life!’ said M. Micawbe, taking he in his ams. ‘I am pefectly awae of it.’ ‘He is the paent of my childen! He is the fathe of my twins! He is the husband of my affections,’ cied Ms. Micawbe, stuggling; ‘and I ne—ve—will—deset M. Micawbe!’ M. Micawbe was so deeply affected by this poof of he devotion (as to me, I was dissolved in teas), that he hung ove he in a passionate manne, imploing he to look up, and to be calm. But the moe he asked Ms. Micawbe to look up, the moe she fixed he eyes on nothing; and the moe he asked he to compose heself, the moe she wouldn’t. Consequently M. Micawbe was soon so ovecome, that he mingled his teas with hes and mine; until he begged me to do him the favou of taking a chai on the staicase, while he got he into bed. I would have taken my leave fo the night, but he would not hea of my doing that until the stanges’ bell should ing. So I sat at the staicase window, until he came out with anothe chai and joined me. ‘How is Ms. Micawbe now, si?’ I said. ‘Vey low,’ said M. Micawbe, shaking his head; ‘eaction. Ah, this has been a deadful day! We stand alone now—eveything is gone fom us!’ M. Micawbe pessed my hand, and goaned, and aftewads shed teas. I was geatly touched, and disappointed too, fo I had expected that we should be quite gay on this happy and long-looked-fo occasion. But M. and Ms. Micawbe wee so used to thei old difficulties, I think, that they felt quite shipwecked when they came to conside that they wee eleased fom them. All thei elasticity was depated, and I neve saw them half so wetched as Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield on this night; insomuch that when the bell ang, and M. Micawbe walked with me to the lodge, and pated fom me thee with a blessing, I felt quite afaid to leave him by himself, he was so pofoundly miseable. But though all the confusion and lowness of spiits in which we had been, so unexpectedly to me, involved, I plainly discened that M. and Ms. Micawbe and thei family wee going away fom London, and that a pating between us was nea at hand. It was in my walk home that night, and in the sleepless hous which followed when I lay in bed, that the thought fist occued to me— though I don’t know how it came into my head—which aftewads shaped itself into a settled esolution. I had gown to be so accustomed to the Micawbes, and had been so intimate with them in thei distesses, and was so uttely fiendless without them, that the pospect of being thown upon some new shift fo a lodging, and going once moe among unknown people, was like being that moment tuned adift into my pesent life, with such a knowledge of it eady made as expeience had given me. All the sensitive feelings it wounded so cuelly, all the shame and misey it kept alive within my beast, became moe poignant as I thought of this; and I detemined that the life was unenduable. That thee was no hope of escape fom it, unless the escape was my own act, I knew quite well. I aely head fom Miss Mudstone, and neve fom M. Mudstone: but two o thee pacels of made o mended clothes had come up fo me, consigned to M. Quinion, and in each thee was a scap of pape to the effect that J. M. tusted D. C. was applying himself to business, and devoting himself wholly to his duties—not the least hint of my eve Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield being anything else than the common dudge into which I was fast settling down. The vey next day showed me, while my mind was in the fist agitation of what it had conceived, that Ms. Micawbe had not spoken of thei going away without waant. They took a lodging in the house whee I lived, fo a week; at the expiation of whic
