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say so? Let our brother Francis and his wife have their so-
ciety. Let my sister Lavinia and myself have our society. We
can find it for ourselves, I hope.’
As this appeared to be addressed to Traddles and me,
both Traddles and I made some sort of reply. Traddles was
inaudible. I think I observed, myself, that it was highly
creditable to all concerned. I don’t in the least know what
I meant.
‘Sister Lavinia,’ said Miss Clarissa, having now relieved
her mind, ‘you can go on, my dear.’
Miss Lavinia proceeded:
‘Mr. Copperfield, my sister Clarissa and I have been very
careful indeed in considering this letter; and we have not
considered it without finally showing it to our niece, and
discussing it with our niece. We have no doubt that you
think you like her very much.’
‘Think, ma’am,’ I rapturously began, ‘oh! -’
But Miss Clarissa giving me a look (just like a sharp ca-
nary), as requesting that I would not interrupt the oracle, I
begged pardon.
‘Affection,’ said Miss Lavinia, glancing at her sister for
corroboration, which she gave in the form of a little nod to
every clause, ‘mature affection, homage, devotion, does not
easily express itself. Its voice is low. It is modest and retir-
ing, it lies in ambush, waits and waits. Such is the mature
fruit. Sometimes a life glides away, and finds it still ripen-
ing in the shade.’
Of course I did not understand then that this was an al-
lusion to her supposed experience of the stricken Pidger; but