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hearth with his wet hat and shawls in his hand； himself a pile of
wet； he turned to Mrs Snagsby。 “Now the first thing that I say to
you； as a married woman； possessing what you may call charms；
you know—‘Believe me； if all those endearing； and cetrer’—you’re
well acquainted with the song； because it’s in vain for you to tell
me that you and good society are strangers—charms—attractions；
mind you； that ought to give you confidence in yourself—is； that
you’ve done it。”
Mrs Snagsby looked rather alarmed； relented a little； and
faltered； what did Mr Bucket mean？
“What does Mr Bucket mean？” he repeated； and I saw； by his
face； that all the time he talked he was listening for the discovery
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of the letter—to my own great agitation； for I knew then how
important it must be； “I’ll tell you what he means； ma’am。 Go and
see Othello acted。 That’s the tragedy for you。”
Mrs Snagsby consciously asked why。
“Why？” said Mr Bucket。 “Because you’ll come to that； if you
don’t look out。 Why； at the very moment while I speak； I know
what your mind’s not wholly free from； respecting this young lady。
But shall I tell you who this young lady is？ Now； come； you’re
what I call an intellectual woman—with your soul too large for
your body； if you come to that； and chafing it—and you know me；
and you recollect where you saw me last； and what was talked of
in that circle。 Don’t you？ Yes！ Very well。 This young lady is that
young lady。”
Mrs Snagsby appeared to understand the reference better than
I did at the time。
“And Toughey—him as you call Jo—was mixed up in the same
business； and no other； and the law…writer that you know of； was
mixed up in the same business； and no other； and your husband；
with no more knowledge of it than your great…grandfather； was
mixed up （by Mr Tulkinghorn； deceased； his best customer） in the
same business； and no other； and the whole bileing of people was
mixed up in the same business； and no other。 And yet a married
woman； possessing your attractions； shuts her eyes （and sparklers
too）； and goes and runs her delicate…formed head against a wall。
Why； I am ashamed of you！ （I expected Mr Woodcourt might have
got it； by this time。）”
Mrs Snagsby shook her head； and put her handkerchief to her
eyes。
“Is that all？” said Mr Bucket； excitedly。 “No。 See what happens。
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Another person mixed up in that business and no other； a person
in a wretched state； comes here tonight； and is seen a…speaking to
your maid…servant； and between her and your maid…servant there
passes a paper that I would give a hundred pound for； down。 What
do you do？ You hide and you watch ’em； and you pounce upon
that maid…servant—knowing what she’s subject to； and what a
little thing will bring ’em on—in that surprising manner； and with
that severity； that； by the Lord； she goes off and keeps off； when a
Life may be hanging upon that girl’s words！”
He so thoroughly meant what he said now； that I involuntarily
clasped my hands； and felt the room turning away from me。 But it
stopped。 Mr Woodcourt came in； put a paper into his hand； and
went away again。
“Now； Mrs Snagsby； the only amends you can make；” said Mr
Bucket； rapidly glancing at it； “is to let me speak a word to this
young lady in private here。 And if you know of any help that you
can give to that gentleman in the next kitchen there； or can think
of any one thing that’s likelier than another to bring the girl round；
do your swiftest and best！” In an instant she was gone； and he had
shut the door。 “Now； my dear； you’re steady； and quite sure of
yourself？”
“Quite；” said I。
“Whose writing is that？”
It was my mother’s。 A pencil…writing； on a crushed and torn
piece of paper； blotted with wet。 Folded roughly like a letter； and
directed to me at my Guardian’s。
“You know the hand；” he said； “and if you are firm enough to
read it to me； do！ But be particular to a word。”
It had been written in portions； at different times。 I read what
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follows：—
“I came to the cottage with two objects。 First； to see the dear
one； if I could； once more—but only to see her—not to speak to
her； or let her know that I was near。 The other object； to elude
pursuit； and to be lost。 Do not blame the mother for her share。 The
assistance that she rendered me； she rendered on my strongest
assurance that it was for the dear one’s good。 You remember her
dead child。 The men’s consent I bought； but her help was freely
given。”
“‘I came。’ That was written；” said my companion； “when she
rested there。 It bears out what I made of it。 I was right。”
The next was written at another time。
“I have wandered a long distance； and for many hours； and I
know that I must soon die。 These streets！ I have no purpose but to
die。 When I left； I had a worse； but I am saved from adding that
guilt to the rest。 Cold； wet； and fatigue； are sufficient causes for my
being found dead： but I shall die of others； though I suffer from
these。 It was right that all that had sustained me should give way
at once； and that I should die of terror and my conscience。”
“Take courage；” said Mr Bucket。 “There’s only a few words
more。”
Those； too； were written at another time。 To all appearance；
almost in the dark。
“I have done all I could to be lost。 I shall be soon forgotten so；
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and shall disgrace him least。 I have nothing about me by which I
can be recognised。 This paper I part with now。 The place where I
shall lie down； if I can yet get so far； has been often in my mind。
Farewell。 Forgive。”
Mr Bucket； supporting me with his arm； lowered me gently into
my chair。 “Cheer up！ Don’t think me hard with you； my dear； but；
as soon as ever you feel equal to it； get your shoes on and be
ready。”
I did as he required； but I was left there a long time； praying for
my unhappy mother。 They were all occupied with the poor girl；
and I heard Mr Woodcourt directing them； and speaking to her
often。 At length he came in with Mr Bucket； and said that as it was
important to address her gently； he thought it best that I should
ask her for whatever information we desired to obtain。 There was
no doubt that she could now reply to questions； if she were
soothed； and not alarmed。 The questions； Mr Bucket