Page 1068 - bleak-house

for ever, and that she has not the least expectation of ever
smiling again. Meanwhile she folds up a cocked hat for that
redoubtable old general at Bath, descriptive of her melan-
choly condition.
‘It gives a start to a delicate female,’ says Mr. Bucket sym-
pathetically, ‘but it’ll wear off.’
Volumnia wishes of all things to know what is doing?
Whether they are going to convict, or whatever it is, that
dreadful soldier? Whether he had any accomplices, or what-
ever the thing is called in the law? And a great deal more to
the like artless purpose.
‘Why you see, miss,’ returns Mr. Bucket, bringing the
finger into persuasive action—and such is his natural gal-
lantry that he had almost said ‘my dear’—‘it ain’t easy to
answer those questions at the present moment. Not at the
present moment. I’ve kept myself on this case, Sir Leicester
Dedlock, Baronet,’ whom Mr. Bucket takes into the con-
versation in right of his importance, ‘morning, noon, and
night. But for a glass or two of sherry, I don’t think I could
have had my mind so much upon the stretch as it has been.
I COULD answer your questions, miss, but duty forbids it.
Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, will very soon be made ac-
quainted with all that has been traced. And I hope that he
may find it’—Mr. Bucket again looks grave—‘to his satis-
faction.’
The debilitated cousin only hopes some fler’ll be exe-
cuted—zample. Thinks more interest’s wanted—get man
hanged presentime—than get man place ten thousand a
year. Hasn’t a doubt—zample—far better hang wrong fler

1068 Bleak House