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from the first； “before Heaven； I will be a true friend to him！ I will
accept him as a trust； and it shall be a sacred one！”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 860…
Bleak House 860
“God bless you！” said I； with my eyes filling fast； but I thought
they might； when it was not for myself。 “Ada loves him—we all
love him； but Ada loves him as we cannot。 I will tell her what you
say。 Thank you； and God bless you in her name！”
Richard came back as we finished exchanging these hurried
words； and gave me his arm to take me to the coach。
“Woodcourt；” he said； unconscious with what application； “pray
let us meet in London！”
“Meet？” returned the other。 “I have scarcely a friend there；
now； but you。 Where shall I find you？”
“Why； I must get a lodging of some sort；” said Richard；
pondering。 “Say at Vholes’s； Symond’s Inn。”
“Good！ Without loss of time。”
They shook hands heartily。 When I was seated in the coach； and
Richard was yet standing in the street； Mr Woodcourt laid his
friendly hand on Richard’s shoulder； and looked at me。 I
understood him； and waved mine in thanks。
And in his last look as we drove away； I saw that he was very
sorry for me。 I was glad to see it。 I felt for my old self as the dead
may feel if they ever revisit these scenes。 I was glad to be tenderly
remembered； to be gently pitied； not to be quite forgotten。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 861…
Bleak House 861
Chapter 46
Stop Him！
arkness rests upon Tom…all…Alone’s。 Dilating and dilating
since the sun went down last night； it has gradually
D
swelled until it fills every void in the place。 For a time
there were some dungeon lights burning； as the lamp of Life burns
in Tom…all…Alone’s； heavily； heavily； in the nauseous air； and
winking—as that lamp； too； winks in Tom…all…Alone’s—at many
horrible things。 But they are blotted out。 The moon has eyed Tom
with a dull cold stare； as admitting some puny emulation of herself
in his desert region unfit for life and blasted by volcanic fires； but
she has passed on； and is gone。 The blackest nightmare in the
infernal stables grazes on Tom…all…Alone’s； and Tom is fast asleep。
Much mighty speech…making there has been； both in and out of
Parliament； concerning Tom； and much wrathful disputation how
Tom shall be got right。 Whether he shall be put into the main road
by constables； or by beadles； or by bell…ringing； or by force of
figures； or by correct principles of taste； or by high church； or by
low church； or by no church； whether he shall be set to splitting
trusses of polemical straws with the crooked knife of his mind； or
whether he shall be put to stone…breaking instead。 In the midst of
which dust and noise； there is but one thing perfectly clear； to wit；
that Tom only may and can； or shall and will； be reclaimed
according to somebody’s theory but nobody’s practice。 And； in the
hopeful meantime； Tom goes to perdition head foremost in his old
determined spirit。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 862…
Bleak House 862
But he has his revenge。 Even the winds are his messengers； and
they serve him in these hours of darkness。 There is not a drop of
Tom’s corrupted blood but propagates infection and contagion
somewhere。 It shall pollute； this very night； the choice stream （in
which chemists on analysis would find the genuine nobility） of a
Norman house； and his Grace shall not be able to say Nay to the
infamous alliance。 There is not an atom of Tom’s slime； not a cubic
inch of any pestilential gas in which he lives； not one obscenity or
degradation about him； not an ignorance； not a wickedness； not a
brutality of his committing； but shall work its retribution； through
every order of society； up to the proudest of the proud； and to the
highest of the high。 Verily； what with tainting； plundering； and
spoiling； Tom has his revenge。
It is a moot point whether Tom…all…Alone’s be uglier by day or
by night； but on the argument that the more that is seen of it the
more shocking it must be； and that no part of it left to the
imagination is at all likely to be made so bad as the reality； day
carries it。 The day begins to break now； and in truth it might be
better for the national glory even that the sun should sometimes
set upon the British dominions； than that it should ever rise upon
so vile a wonder as Tom。
A brown sunburnt gentleman； who appears in some inaptitude
for sleep to be wandering abroad rather than counting the hours
on a restless pillow； strolls hitherward at this quiet time。 Attracted
by curiosity； he often pauses and looks about him； up and down
the miserable byways。 Nor is he merely curious； for in his bright
dark eye there is compassionate interest； and as he looks here and
there； he seems to understand such wretchedness； and to have
studied it before。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 863…
Bleak House 863
On the banks of the stagnant channel of mud which is the main
street of Tom…all…Alone’s； nothing is to be seen but the crazy
houses； shut up and silent。 No waking creature save himself
appears； except in one direction； where he sees the solitary figure
of a woman sitting on a doorstep。 He walks that way。 Approaching；
he observes that she has journeyed a long distance； and is footsore
and travel…stained。 She sits on the doorstep in the manner of one
who is waiting； with her elbow on her knee and her head upon her
hand。 Beside her is a canvas bag； or bundle； she has carried。 She is
dozing probably； for she gives no heed to his steps as he comes
toward her。
The broken footway is so narrow； that when Allan Woodcourt
comes to where the woman sits； he has to turn into the road to
pass her。 Looking down at her face； his eye meets hers； and he
stops。
“What is the matter？”
“Nothing sir。”
“Can’t you make them hear？ Do you want to be let in？”
“I’m waiting till they get up at another house—a lodging…
house—not here；” the woman patiently returns。 “I’m waiting here
because there will be sun here presently to warm me。”
“I am afraid you are tired。 I am sorry to see you sitting in the
street。”
“Thank you sir。 It don’t matter。”
A habit in him of speaking to the poor； and of avoiding
patronage or condescension； or childishness （which is the
favourite device； many people deeming it quite a subtlety to talk to
them like little spelling books）； has put him on good terms with the
woman easily。
Charles Dickens ElecBook