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heard from Agnes, but his appearance shocked me.
It was not that he looked many years older, though still
dressed with the old scrupulous cleanliness; or that there
was an unwholesome ruddiness upon his face; or that his
eyes were full and bloodshot; or that there was a nervous
trembling in his hand, the cause of which I knew, and had
for some years seen at work. It was not that he had lost his
good looks, or his old bearing of a gentleman - for that he
had not - but the thing that struck me most, was, that with
the evidences of his native superiority still upon him, he
should submit himself to that crawling impersonation of
meanness, Uriah Heep. The reversal of the two natures, in
their relative positions, Uriah’s of power and Mr. Wick-
field’s of dependence, was a sight more painful to me than I
can express. If I had seen an Ape taking command of a Man,
I should hardly have thought it a more degrading spectacle.
He appeared to be only too conscious of it himself. When
he came in, he stood still; and with his head bowed, as if he
felt it. This was only for a moment; for Agnes softly said to
him, ‘Papa! Here is Miss Trotwood - and Trotwood, whom
you have not seen for a long while!’ and then he approached,
and constrainedly gave my aunt his hand, and shook hands
more cordially with me. In the moment’s pause I speak of, I
saw Uriah’s countenance form itself into a most ill-favoured
smile. Agnes saw it too, I think, for she shrank from him.
What my aunt saw, or did not see, I defy the science of
physiognomy to have made out, without her own consent. I
believe there never was anybody with such an imperturb-
able countenance when she chose. Her face might have