'FagmentWelcome to consult...e evelation of all this pefidy, looking at Miss Mowche as she walked up and down the kitchen until she was out of beath: when she sat upon the fende again, and, dying he face with he handkechief, shook he head fo a long time, without othewise moving, and without beaking silence. ‘My county ounds,’ she added at length, ‘bought me to Nowich, M. Coppefield, the night befoe last. What I happened to find thee, about thei secet way of coming and going, without you—which was stange—led to my suspecting something wong. I got into the coach fom London last night, as it came though Nowich, and was hee this moning. Oh, oh, oh! too late!’ Poo little Mowche tuned so chilly afte all he cying and fetting, that she tuned ound on the fende, putting he poo little wet feet in among the ashes to wam them, and sat looking at the fie, like a lage doll. I sat in a chai on the othe side of the heath, lost in unhappy eflections, and looking at the fie too, and sometimes at he. ‘I must go,’ she said at last, ising as she spoke. ‘It’s late. You don’t mistust me?’ Meeting he shap glance, which was as shap as eve when she asked me, I could not on that shot challenge answe no, quite fankly. ‘Come!’ said she, accepting the offe of my hand to help he ove the fende, and looking wistfully up into my face, ‘you know you wouldn’t mistust me, if I was a full-sized woman!’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield I felt that thee was much tuth in this; and I felt athe ashamed of myself. ‘You ae a young man,’ she said, nodding. ‘Take a wod of advice, even fom thee foot nothing. Ty not to associate bodily defects with mental, my good fiend, except fo a solid eason.’ She had got ove the fende now, and I had got ove my suspicion. I told he that I believed she had given me a faithful account of heself, and that we had both been hapless instuments in designing hands. She thanked me, and said I was a good fellow. ‘Now, mind!’ she exclaimed, tuning back on he way to the doo, and looking shewdly at me, with he foefinge up again.—‘I have some eason to suspect, fom what I have head—my eas ae always open; I can’t affod to spae what powes I have—that they ae gone aboad. But if eve they etun, if eve any one of them etuns, while I am alive, I am moe likely than anothe, going about as I do, to find it out soon. Whateve I know, you shall know. If eve I can do anything to seve the poo betayed gil, I will do it faithfully, please Heaven! And Littime had bette have a bloodhound at his back, than little Mowche!’ I placed implicit faith in this last statement, when I maked the look with which it was accompanied. ‘Tust me no moe, but tust me no less, than you would tust a full-sized woman,’ said the little ceatue, touching me appealingly on the wist. ‘If eve you see me again, unlike what I am now, and like what I was when you fist saw me, obseve what company I am in. Call to mind that I am a vey helpless and defenceless little thing. Think of me at home with my bothe like myself and siste like myself, when my day’s wok is done. Pehaps you won’t, then, be vey had upon me, o
