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you； after what I’ve experienced of you； that’ll do。 Lord！ you’re no
trouble at all。 I never see a young woman in any station of
society—and I’ve seen many elevated ones too—conduct herself
like you have conducted yourself； since you was called out of your
bed。 You’re a pattern； you know； that’s what you are；” said Mr
Bucket warmly； “you’re a pattern。”
I told him I was very glad； as indeed I was； to have been no
hindrance to him； and that I hoped I should be none now。
“My dear；” he returned； “when a young lady is as mild as she’s
game； and as game as she’s mild； that’s all I ask； and more than I
expect。 She then becomes a Queen； and that’s about what you are
yourself。”
With these encouraging words—they really were encouraging
to me under those lonely and anxious circumstances—he got upon
the box； and we once more drove away。 Where we drove； I neither
knew then； nor have ever known since； but we appeared to seek
out the narrowest and worst streets in London。 Whenever I saw
him directing the driver； I was prepared for our descending into a
deeper complication of such streets； and we never failed to do so。
Sometimes we emerged upon a wider thoroughfare； or came to
a larger building than the generality； well lighted。 Then we
stopped at offices like those we had visited when we began our
journey； and I saw him in consultation with others。 Sometimes he
would get down by an archway； or at a street corner； and
mysteriously show the light of his little lantern。 This would attract
similar lights from various dark quarters； like so many insects； and
a fresh consultation would be held。 By degrees we appeared to
contract our search within narrower and easier limits。 Single
police officers on duty could now tell Mr Bucket what he wanted
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to know； and point to him where to go。 At last we stopped for a
rather long conversation between him and one of these men；
which I supposed to be satisfactory from his manner of nodding
from time to time。 When it was finished he came to me； looking
very busy and very attentive。
“Now； Miss Summerson；” he said to me； “you won’t be alarmed
whatever comes off； I know。 It’s not necessary for me to give you
any further caution； than to tell you that we have marked this
person down； and that you may be of use to me before I know it
myself。 I don’t like to ask such a thing； my dear； but would you
walk a little way？”
Of course I got out directly； and took his arm。
“It ain’t so easy to keep your feet；” said Mr Bucket； “but take
time。”
Although I looked about me confusedly and hurriedly； as we
crossed a street； I thought I knew the place。
“Are we in Holborn？” I asked him。
“Yes；” said Mr Bucket。 “Do you know this turning？”
“It looks like Chancery Lane。”
“And was christened so； my dear；” said Mr Bucket。
We turned down it； and as we went； shuffling through the sleet；
I heard the clock strike half…past five。 We passed on in silence； and
as quickly as we could with such a foothold； when some one
coming towards us on the narrow pavement； wrapped in a cloak；
stopped and stood aside to give me room。 In the same moment I
heard an exclamation of wonder； and my own name； from Mr
Woodcourt。 I knew his voice very well。
It was so unexpected； and so—I don’t know what to call it；
whether pleasant or painful—to come upon it after my feverish
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wandering journey； and in the midst of the night； that I could not
keep back the tears from my eyes。 It was like hearing his voice in a
strange country。
“My dear Miss Summerson； that you should be out at this hour；
and in such weather！” He had heard from my Guardian of my
having been called away on some uncommon business； and said so
to dispense with any explanation。 I told him that we had but just
left a coach； and were going—but then I was obliged to look at my
companion。
“Why； you see； Mr Woodcourt；” he had caught the name from
me； “we are a…going at present into the next street。—Inspector
Bucket。”
Mr Woodcourt； disregarding my remonstrances； had hurriedly
taken off his cloak； and was putting it about me。 “That’s a good
move； too；” said Mr Bucket； assisting； “a very good move。”
“May I go with you？” said Mr Woodcourt。 I don’t know whether
to me or my companion。
“Why； lord！” exclaimed Mr Bucket； taking the answer on
himself。 “Of course you may。”
It was all said in a moment； and they took me between them；
wrapped in a cloak。
“I have just left Richard；” said Mr Woodcourt。 “I have been
sitting with him since ten o’clock last night。”
“O dear me； he is ill！”
“No； no； believe me； not ill； but not quite well。 He was
depressed and faint—you know he gets so worried and so worn
sometimes—and Ada sent to me of course； and when I came home
I found her note； and came straight here。 Well！ Richard revived so
much after a little while； and Ada was so happy； and so convinced
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of its being my doing； though God knows I had little enough to do
with it； that I remained with him until he had been fast asleep
some hours。 As fast asleep as she is now； I hope！”
His friendly and familiar way of speaking of them； his
unaffected devotion to them； the grateful confidence with which I
knew he inspired my darling； and the comfort he was to her； could
I separate all this from his promise to me？ How thankless I must
have been if it had not recalled the words he said to me； when he
was so moved by the change in my appearance； “I will accept him
as a trust； and it shall be a sacred one！”
We now turned into another narrow street。 “Mr Woodcourt；”
said Mr Bucket； who had eyed him closely as we came along； “our
business takes us to a law…stationer’s here； a certain Mr Snagsby’s。
What； you know him； do you？” He was so quick that he saw it in
an instant。
“Yes； I know a little of him； and have called upon him at this
place。”
“Indeed； sir？” said Mr Bucket。 “Then will you be so good as to
let me leave Miss Summerson with you for a moment； while I go
and have half a word with him？”
The last police officer with whom he had conferred was
standing silently behind us。 I was not aware of it until he struck in；
on my saying I heard some one crying。
“Don’t be alarmed； miss；” he returned。 “It’s Snagsby’s servant。”
“Why； you see；” said Mr Bucket； “the girl’s subject to fits； and
has ’em bad upon her tonight。 A most contrary circumstance it is；
for I want certain information out of that girl； and she must be
brought to reason somehow。”
“At all events； they wouldn’t be up yet； if it wasn’t for her； Mr
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Bucket；” said the other man。 “She’s been at it pretty well all night；
sir。”
“Well； that’s true；” he returned。 “My light’s burnt out。 Show
yours a moment。”
All this passed in a whisper； a door or two from the house in
which I could faintly hear crying and moaning。 In the little round
of light produced for the purpose； Mr Bucket went up to the door
and knocked。 The door was opened； after he had knocked twice；
and he went in； leaving us standing in the street。
“Miss Summerson；” said Mr Woodcourt； “if； without obtruding
myself on your confidence； I may remain near you； pray let me do
so。”
“You are truly kind；” I answered。 “I need wish to keep no secret
of my own from you； if I keep any it is another’s。”
“I quite understand。 Trust me； I will remain near you only so
long as I can fully respect it。”
“I trust implicitly to you；” I said。 “I know and deeply feel how
sacredly you keep your promise。”
After a short time the little round of light shone out again； and
Mr Bucket advanced towards us in it with his earnest face。 “Please
to come in； Miss Summerson；” he said； “and sit down by the fire。
Mr Woodcourt； from information I have received I understand you
are a medical man。 Would you look
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