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entreated me with the greatest earnestness； even with tears；
before I went up to the figure； to listen for an instant to what Mr
Bucket said。 I did so； as I thought。 I did so； as I am sure。
“Miss Summerson； you’ll understand me； if you think a
moment。 They changed clothes at the cottage。”
They changed clothes at the cottage。 I could repeat the words in
my mind； and I knew what they meant of themselves； but I
attached no meaning to them in any other connection。
“And one returned；” said Mr Bucket； “and one went on。 And
the one that went on； only went on a certain way agreed upon to
deceive； and then turned across country； and went home。 Think a
moment！”
I could repeat this in my mind too； but I had not the least idea
what it meant。 I saw before me； lying on the step； the mother of
the dead child。 She lay there； with one arm creeping round a bar
of the iron gate； and seeming to embrace it。 She lay there； who had
so lately spoken to my mother。 She lay there； a distressed；
unsheltered； senseless creature。 She who had brought my
mother’s letter； who could give me the only clue to where my
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mother was； she who was to guide us to rescue and save her whom
we had sought so far； who had come to this condition by some
means connected with my mother that I could not follow； and
might be passing beyond our reach and help at that moment； she
lay there； and they stopped me！ I saw； but did not comprehend；
the solemn and compassionate look in Mr Woodcourt’s face。 I saw；
but did not comprehend； his touching the other on the breast to
keep him back。 I saw him stand uncovered in the bitter air； with a
reverence for something。 But my understanding for all this was
gone。
I even heard it said between them：
“Shall she go？”
“She had better go。 Her hands should be the first to touch her。
They have a higher right than ours。”
I passed on to the gate； and stooped down。 I lifted the heavy
head； put the long dank hair aside； and turned the face。 And it was
my mother； cold and dead。
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Chapter 60
Perspective
proceed to other passages of my narrative。 From the
goodness of all about me； I derived such consolation as I can
I
never think of unmoved。 I have already said so much of
myself； and so much still remains； that I will not dwell upon my
sorrow。 I had an illness； but it was not a long one； and I would
avoid even this mention of it； if I could quite keep down the
recollection of their sympathy。
I proceed to other passages of my narrative。
During the time of my illness； we were still in London； where
Mrs Woodcourt had come； on my Guardian’s invitation； to stay
with us。 When my Guardian thought me well and cheerful enough
to talk with him in our old way—though I could have done that
sooner； if he would have believed me—I resumed my work； and
my chair beside his。 He had appointed the time himself； and we
were alone。
“Dame Trot；” said he； receiving me with a kiss； “welcome to the
Growlery again； my dear。 I have a scheme to develop； little
woman。 I purpose to remain here； perhaps for six months； perhaps
for a longer time—as it may be。 Quite to settle here for a while； in
short。”
“And in the meanwhile leave Bleak House？” said I。
“Aye； my dear？ Bleak House；” he returned； “must learn to take
care of itself。”
I thought his tone sounded sorrowful； but； looking at him； I saw
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Bleak House 1117
his kind face lighted up by its pleasantest smile。
“Bleak House；” he repeated； and his tone did not sound
sorrowful； I found； “must learn to take care of itself。 It is a long
way from Ada； my dear； and Ada stands much in need of you。”
“It is like you； Guardian；” said I； “to have been taking that into
consideration； for a happy surprise to both of us。”
“Not so disinterested either； my dear； if you mean to extol me
for that virtue； since； if you were generally on the road； you could
be seldom with me。 And besides； I wish to hear as much and as
often of Ada as I can； in this condition of estrangement from poor
Rick。 Not of her alone； but of him too； poor fellow。”
“Have you seen Mr Woodcourt； this morning； Guardian？”
“I see Mr Woodcourt every morning； Dame Durden。”
“Does he still say the same of Richard？”
“Just the same。 He knows of no direct bodily illness that he has；
on the contrary； he believes that he has none。 Yet he is not easy
about him； who can be？”
My dear girl had been to see us lately； every day； sometimes
twice in a day。 But we had foreseen； all along； that this would only
last until I was quite myself。 We knew full well that her fervent
heart was as full of affection and gratitude towards her cousin
John as it had ever been； and we acquitted Richard of laying any
injunctions upon her to stay away； but we knew on the other hand
that she felt it a part of her duty to him； to be sparing of her visits
at our house。 My Guardian’s delicacy had soon perceived this； and
had tried to convey to her that he thought she was right。
“Dear； unfortunate； mistaken Richard；” said I。 “When will he
awake from his delusion！”
“He is not in the way to do so now； my dear；” replied my
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Guardian。 “The more he suffers； the more averse he will be to me：
having made me the principal representative of the great occasion
of his suffering。”
I could not help adding； “So unreasonably！”
“Ah； Dame Trot； Dame Trot！” returned my Guardian； “what
shall we find reasonable in Jarndyce and Jarndyce！ Unreason and
injustice at the top； unreason and injustice at the heart and at the
bottom； unreason and injustice from beginning to end—if it ever
has an end—how should poor Rick； always hovering near it； pluck
reason out of it？ He no more gathers grapes from thorns； or figs
from thistles； than older men did； in old times。”
His gentleness and consideration for Richard； whenever we
spoke of him； touched me so； that I was always silent on this
subject very soon。
“I suppose the Lord Chancellor； and the Vice Chancellors； and
the whole Chancery battery of great guns； would be infinitely
astonished by such unreason and injustice in one of t