FagmentWelcome to consult...ion and an offe.” Did I pess it in the least? No. I said, “Now, Annie, tell me the tuth this moment; is you heat fee?” “Mama,” she said cying, “I am extemely young”—which was pefectly tue—“and I hadly know if I have a heat at all.” “Then, my dea,” I said, “you may ely upon it, it’s fee. At all events, my love,” said I, “Docto Stong is in an agitated state of mind, and must be answeed. He cannot be kept in his pesent state of suspense.” “Mama,” said Annie, still cying, “would he be unhappy without me? If he would, I honou and espect him so Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield much, that I think I will have him.” So it was settled. And then, and not till then, I said to Annie, “Annie, Docto Stong will not only be you husband, but he will epesent you late fathe: he will epesent the head of ou family, he will epesent the wisdom and station, and I may say the means, of ou family; and will be, in shot, a Boon to it.” I used the wod at the time, and I have used it again, today. If I have any meit it is consistency.’ The daughte had sat quite silent and still duing this speech, with he eyes fixed on the gound; he cousin standing nea he, and looking on the gound too. She now said vey softly, in a tembling voice: ‘Mama, I hope you have finished?’ ‘No, my dea Annie,’ etuned the Old Soldie, ‘I have not quite finished. Since you ask me, my love, I eply that I have not. I complain that you eally ae a little unnatual towads you own family; and, as it is of no use complaining to you. I mean to complain to you husband. Now, my dea Docto, do look at that silly wife of yous.’ As the Docto tuned his kind face, with its smile of simplicity and gentleness, towads he, she dooped he head moe. I noticed that M. Wickfield looked at he steadily. ‘When I happened to say to that naughty thing, the othe day,’ pusued he mothe, shaking he head and he fan at he, playfully, ‘that thee was a family cicumstance she might mention to you—indeed, I think, was bound to mention—she said, that to mention it was to ask a favou; and that, as you wee too geneous, and as fo he to ask was always to have, she wouldn’t.’ ‘Annie, my dea,’ said the Docto. ‘That was wong. It obbed me of a pleasue.’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Almost the vey wods I said to he!’ exclaimed he mothe. ‘Now eally, anothe time, when I know what she would tell you but fo this eason, and won’t, I have a geat mind, my dea Docto, to tell you myself.’ ‘I shall be glad if you will,’ etuned the Docto. ‘Shall I?’ ‘Cetainly.’ ‘Well, then, I will!’ said the Old Soldie. ‘That’s a bagain.’ And having, I suppose, caied he point, she tapped the Docto’s hand seveal times with he fan (which she kissed fist), and etuned tiumphantly to he fome station. Some moe company coming in, among whom wee the two mastes and Adams, the talk became geneal; and it natually tuned on M. Jack Maldon, and his voyage, and the county he was going to, and his vaious plans and pospects. He was to leave that night, afte suppe, in a post-chaise, fo Gavesend; whee the ship, in which he was to make the voyage, lay; and was to be gone—unless he came home on leave, o fo his health—I don’t know how many yeas. I ecollect it was settled by geneal consent that India was quite a misepesented county, and had nothing objectionable in it, but a tige o two, and a little heat in the wam pat of the day. Fo my own pat, I looked on M. Jack Maldon as a moden Sindbad, and pictued him the bosom fiend of all the Rajahs in the East, sitting unde canopies, smoking culy golden pipes—a mile long, if they could be staightened out. Ms. Stong was a vey petty singe: as I knew, who often head he singing by heself. But, whethe she was afaid of singing befoe people, o was out of
