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“Have you nearly concluded your argument？”
“Mlud； no—variety of points—feel it my duty tsubmit—
ludship；” is the reply that slides out of Mr Tangle。
“Several members of the bar are still to be heard； I believe？”
says the Chancellor； with a slight smile。
Eighteen of Mr Tangle’s learned friends； each armed with a
little summary of eighteen hundred sheets； bob up like eighteen
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hammers in a pianoforte； make eighteen bows； and drop into their
eighteen places of obscurity。
“We will proceed with the hearing on Wednesday fortnight；”
says the Chancellor。 For； the question at issue is only a question of
costs； a mere bud on the forest tree of the parent suit； and really
will come to a settlement one of these days。
The Chancellor rises； the bar rises； the prisoner is brought
forward in a hurry； the man from Shropshire cries； “My lord！”
Maces； bags； and purses； indignantly proclaim silence； and frown
at the man from Shropshire。
“In reference；” proceeds the Chancellor； still on Jarndyce and
Jarndyce； “to the young girl—”
“Begludship’s pardon—boy；” says Mr Tangle； prematurely。
“In reference；” proceeds the Chancellor； with extra
distinctness； “to the young girl and boy； the two young people。”
（Mr Tangle crushed。） “Whom I directed to be in attendance
today； and who are now in my private room； I will see them and
satisfy myself as to the expediency of making the order for their
residing with their uncle。”
Mr Tangle on his legs again。
“Begludship’s pardon—dead。”
“With their；” Chancellor looking through his double eyeglass at
the papers on his desk； “grandfather。”
“Begludship’s pardon—victim of rash action—brains。”
Suddenly a very little counsel； with a terrific bass voice； arises；
fully inflated； in the back settlements of the fog； and says； “Will
your lordship allow me？ I appear for him。 He is a cousin； several
times removed。 I am not at the moment prepared to inform the
Court in what exact remove he is a cousin； but he is a cousin。”
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Leaving this address （delivered like a sepulchral message）
ringing in the rafters of the roof； the very little counsel drops； and
the fog knows him no more。 Everybody looks for him。 Nobody can
see him。
“I will speak with both the young people；” says the Chancellor
anew； “and satisfy myself on the subject of their residing with
their cousin。 I will mention the matter tomorrow morning when I
take my seat。”
The Chancellor is about to bow to the bar when the prisoner is
presented。 Nothing can possibly come of the prisoner’s
conglomeration； but his being sent back to prison； which is soon
done。 The man from Shropshire ventures another remonstrative
“My lord！” but the Chancellor； being aware of him； has dextrously
vanished。 Everybody else quickly vanishes too。 A battery of blue
bags is loaded with heavy charges of papers and carried off by
clerks； the little mad old woman marches off with her documents；
the empty court is locked up。 If all the injustice it has committed；
and all the misery it has caused； could only be locked up with it；
and the whole burnt away in a great funeral pyre；—why so much
the better for other parties than the parties in Jarndyce and
Jarndyce！
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Chapter 2
In Fashion
t is but a glimpse of the world of fashion that we want on this
Isame miry afternoon。 It is not so unlike the Court of
Chancery； but that we may pass from the one scene to the
other； as the crow flies。 Both the world of fashion and the Court of
Chancery are things of precedent and usage； oversleeping Rip Van
Winkles； who have played at strange games through a deal of
thundery weather； sleeping beauties； whom the Knight will wake
one day； when all the stopped spits in the kitchen shall begin to
turn prodigiously！
It is not a large world。 Relatively even to this world of ours；
which has its limits too （as your Highness shall find when you have
made the tour of it； and are come to the brink of the void beyond）；
it is a very little speck。 There is much good in it； there are many
good and true people in it； it has its appointed place。 But the evil
of it is； that it is a world wrapped up in too much jeweller’s cotton
and fine wool； and cannot hear the rushing of the larger worlds；
and cannot see them as they circle round the sun。 It is a deadened
world； and its growth is sometimes unhealthy for want of air。
My Lady Dedlock has returned to her house in town for a few
days previous to her departure for Paris； where her ladyship
intends to stay some weeks； after which her movements are
uncertain。 The fashionable intelligence says so； for the comfort of
the Parisians； and it knows all fashionable things。 To know things
otherwise； were to be unfashionable。 My Lady Dedlock has been
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down at what she calls； in familiar conversation； her “place” in
Lincolnshire。 The waters are out in Lincolnshire。 An arch of the
bridge in the park has been sapped and sopped away。 The
adjacent low…lying ground； for half a mile in breadth； is a stagnant
river； with melancholy trees for islands in it； and a surface
punctured all over； all day long； with falling rain。 My Lady
Dedlock’s “place” has been extremely dreary。 The weather； for
many a day and night； has been so wet that the trees seem wet
through； and the soft loppings and prunings of the woodman’s axe
can make no crash or crackle as they fall。 The deer； looking
soaked； leave quagmires； where they pass。 The shot of a rifle loses
its sharpness in the moist air； and its smoke moves in a tardy little
cloud towards the green rise； coppice…topped； that makes a
background for the falling rain。 The view from my Lady Dedlock’s
own windows is alternately a lead…coloured view； and a view in
Indian ink。 The vases on the stone terrace in the foreground catch
the rain all day； and the heavy drops fall； drip； drip； drip； upon the
broad flagged pavement； called； from old time； the Ghost’s Walk；
all night。 On Sundays； the little church in the park is mouldy； the
oaken pulpit breaks out into a cold sweat； and there is a general
smell and taste as of the ancient Dedlocks