David Copperfield
brother had gone his.
These two ladies now emerged from their retirement,
and proposed to take Dora to live at Putney. Dora, clinging
to them both, and weeping, exclaimed, ‘O yes, aunts! Please
take Julia Mills and me and Jip to Putney!’ So they went,
very soon after the funeral.
How I found time to haunt Putney, I am sure I don’t
know; but I contrived, by some means or other, to prowl
about the neighbourhood pretty often. Miss Mills, for the
more exact discharge of the duties of friendship, kept a
journal; and she used to meet me sometimes, on the Com-
mon, and read it, or (if she had not time to do that) lend it
to me. How I treasured up the entries, of which I subjoin a
sample! -
‘Monday. My sweet D. still much depressed. Headache.
Called attention to J. as being beautifully sleek. D. fondled
J. Associations thus awakened, opened floodgates of sor-
row. Rush of grief admitted. (Are tears the dewdrops of the
heart? J. M.)
‘Tuesday. D. weak and nervous. Beautiful in pallor. (Do
we not remark this in moon likewise? J. M.) D., J. M. and J.
took airing in carriage. J. looking out of window, and bark-
ing violently at dustman, occasioned smile to overspread
features of D. (Of such slight links is chain of life composed!
J. M.)
‘Wednesday. D. comparatively cheerful. Sang to her, as
congenial melody, ‘Evening Bells”. Effect not soothing,
but reverse. D. inexpressibly affected. Found sobbing af-
terwards, in own room. Quoted verses respecting self and