0 David Copperfield
Nevertheless, it was looked for again, and still not found.
She entreated that there might be no more searching; but it
was still sought for, in a desultory way, until she was quite
well, and the company took their departure.
We walked very slowly home, Mr. Wickfield, Agnes, and
I - Agnes and I admiring the moonlight, and Mr. Wickfield
scarcely raising his eyes from the ground. When we, at last,
reached our own door, Agnes discovered that she had left
her little reticule behind. Delighted to be of any service to
her, I ran back to fetch it.
I went into the supper-room where it had been left, which
was deserted and dark. But a door of communication be-
tween that and the Doctor’s study, where there was a light,
being open, I passed on there, to say what I wanted, and to
get a candle.
The Doctor was sitting in his easy-chair by the fireside,
and his young wife was on a stool at his feet. The Doctor,
with a complacent smile, was reading aloud some manu-
script explanation or statement of a theory out of that
interminable Dictionary, and she was looking up at him.
But with such a face as I never saw. It was so beautiful in its
form, it was so ashy pale, it was so fixed in its abstraction, it
was so full of a wild, sleep-walking, dreamy horror of I don’t
know what. The eyes were wide open, and her brown hair
fell in two rich clusters on her shoulders, and on her white
dress, disordered by the want of the lost ribbon. Distinctly
as I recollect her look, I cannot say of what it was expressive,
I cannot even say of what it is expressive to me now, rising
again before my older judgement. Penitence, humiliation,