Page 581 - david-copperfield

he always is, I observe), I give up a subject for lost.
This is a digression. I was not the man to touch the
Commons, and bring down the country. I submissively ex-
pressed, by my silence, my acquiescence in all I had heard
from my superior in years and knowledge; and we talked
about The Stranger and the Drama, and the pairs of horses,
until we came to Mr. Spenlow’s gate.
There was a lovely garden to Mr. Spenlow’s house; and
though that was not the best time of the year for seeing a
garden, it was so beautifully kept, that I was quite enchant-
ed. There was a charming lawn, there were clusters of trees,
and there were perspective walks that I could just distin-
guish in the dark, arched over with trellis-work, on which
shrubs and flowers grew in the growing season. ‘Here Miss
Spenlow walks by herself,’ I thought. ‘Dear me!’
We went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up,
and into a hall where there were all sorts of hats, caps, great-
coats, plaids, gloves, whips, and walking-sticks. ‘Where
is Miss Dora?’ said Mr. Spenlow to the servant. ‘Dora!’ I
thought. ‘What a beautiful name!’
We turned into a room near at hand (I think it was the
identical breakfast-room, made memorable by the brown
East Indian sherry), and I heard a voice say, ‘Mr. Copperfield,
my daughter Dora, and my daughter Dora’s confidential
friend!’ It was, no doubt, Mr. Spenlow’s voice, but I didn’t
know it, and I didn’t care whose it was. All was over in a
moment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was a captive and a
slave. I loved Dora Spenlow to distraction!
She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a

0 David Copperfield