It was three o'clock in the morning when the houses outside Londondid at last begin to exclude the country and to close us in withstreets. We had made our way along roads in a far worse conditionthan when we had traversed them by daylight, both the fall and thethaw having lasted ever since; but the energy of my companion neverslackened. It had only been, as I thought, of less assistance thanthe horses in getting us on, and it had often aided them. They hadstopped exhausted halfway up hills, they had been driven throughstreams of turbulent water, they had slipped down and becomeentangled with the harness; but he and his little lantern had beenalways ready, and when the mishap was set right, I had never heardany variation in his cool, "Get on, my lads!"The steadiness and confidence with which he had directed ourjourney back I could not account for. Never wavering, he nevereven stopped to make an inquiry until we were within a few miles ofLondon. A very few words, here and there, were then enough forhim; and thus we came, at between three and four o'clock in themorning, into Islington.

　　I will not dwell on the suspense and anxiety with which I reflectedall this time that we were leaving my mother farther and fartherbehind every minute. I think I had some strong hope that he mustbe right and could not fail to have a satisfactory object infollowing this woman, but I tormented myself with questioning itand discussing it during the whole journey. What was to ensue whenwe found her and what could compensate us for this loss of timewere questions also that I could not possibly dismiss; my mind wasquite tortured by long dwelling on such reflections when westopped.

　　We stopped in a high-street where there was a coach-stand. Mycompanion paid our two drivers, who were as completely covered withsplashes as if they had been dragged along the roads like thecarriage itself, and giving them some brief direction where to takeit, lifted me out of it and into a hackney-coach he had chosen fromthe rest.

　　"Why, my dear!" he said as he did this. "How wet you are!"I had not been conscious of it. But the melted snow had found itsway into the carriage, and I had got out two or three times when afallen horse was plunging and had to be got up, and the wet hadpenetrated my dress. I assured him it was no matter, but thedriver, who knew him, would not be dissuaded by me from runningdown the street to his stable, whence he brought an armful of cleandry straw. They shook it out and strewed it well about me, and Ifound it warm and comfortable.

　　"Now, my dear," said Mr. Bucket, with his head in at the windowafter I was shut up. "We're a-going to mark this person down. Itmay take a little time, but you don't mind that. You're prettysure that I've got a motive. Ain't you?"I little thought what it was, little thought in how short a time Ishould understand it better, but I assured him that I hadconfidence in him.

　　"So you may have, my dear," he returned. "And I tell you what! Ifyou only repose half as much confidence in me as I repose in youafter what I've experienced of you, that'll do. Lord! You're notrouble at all. I never see a young woman in any station ofsociety--and I've seen many elevated ones too--conduct herself likeyou have conducted yourself since you was called out of your bed.

　　You're a pattern, you know, that's what you are," said Mr. Bucketwarmly; "you're a pattern."I told him I was very glad, as indeed I was, to have been nohindrance to him, and that I hoped I should be none now.

　　"My dear," he returned, "when a young lady is as mild as she'sgame, and as game as she's mild, that's all I ask, and more than Iexpect. She then becomes a queen, and that's about what you areyourself."With these encouraging words--they really were encouraging to meunder those lonely and anxious circumstances--he got upon the box,and we once more drove away. Where we drove I neither knew thennor have ever known since, but we appeared to seek out thenarrowest and worst streets in London. Whenever I saw himdirecting the driver, I was prepared for our descending into adeeper complication of such streets, and we never failed to do so.

　　Sometimes we emerged upon a wider thoroughfare or came to a largerbuilding than the generality, well lighted. Then we stopped atoffices like those we had visited when we began our journey, and Isaw him in consultation with others. Sometimes he would get downby an archway or at a street corner and mysteriously show the lightof his little lantern. This would attract similar lights fromvarious dark quarters, like so many insects, and a freshconsultation would be held. By degrees we appeared to contract oursearch within narrower and easier limits. Single police-officerson duty could now tell Mr. Bucket what he wanted to know and pointto him where to go. At last we stopped for a rather longconversation between him and one of these men, which I supposed tobe satisfactory from his manner of nodding from time to time. Whenit was finished he came to me looking very busy and very attentive.

　　"Now, Miss Summerson, he said to me, "you won't be alarmed whatevercomes off, I know. It's not necessary for me to give you anyfurther caution than to tell you that we have marked this persondown and that you may be of use to me before I know it myself. Idon't like to ask such a thing, my dear, but would you walk alittle way?"Of course I got out directly and took his arm.

　　"It ain't so easy to keep your feet," said Mr. Bucket, "but taketime."Although I looked about me confusedly and hurriedly as we crossedthe street, I thought I knew the place. "Are we in Holborn?" Iasked 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, Iheard the clocks strike half-past five. We passed on in silenceand as quickly as we could with such a foothold, when some onecoming towards us on the narrow pavement, wrapped in a cloak,stopped and stood aside to give me room. In the same moment Iheard 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, whetherpleasant or painful--to come upon it after my feverish wanderingjourney, and in the midst of the night, that I could not keep backthe tears from my eyes. It was like hearing his voice in a strangecountry.

　　"My dear Miss Summerson, that you should be out at this hour, andin such weather!"He had heard from my guardian of my having been called away on someuncommon business and said so to dispense with any explanation. Itold him that we had but just left a coach and were going--but thenI was obliged to look at my companion.

　　"Why, you see, Mr. Woodcourt"--he had caught the name from me--"weare a-going at present into the next street. Inspector Bucket."Mr. Woodcourt, disregarding my remonstrances, had hurriedly takenoff 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 tome or to 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, wrappedin the cloak.

　　"I have just left Richard," said Mr. Woodcourt. "I have beensitting with him since ten o'clock last night.""Oh, dear me, he is ill!""No, no, believe me; not ill, but not quite well. He was depressedand faint--you know he gets so worried and so worn sometimes--andAda sent to me of course; and when I came home I found her note andcame straight here. Well! Richard revived so much after a littlewhile, and Ada was so happy and so convinced of its being my doing,though God knows I had little enough to do with it, that I remainedwith him until he had been fast asleep some hours. As fast asleepas she is now, I hope!"His friendly and familiar way of speaking of them, his unaffecteddevotion to them, the grateful confidence with which I knew he hadinspired my darling, and the comfort he was to her; could Iseparate all this from his promise to me? How thankless I musthave been if it had not recalled the words he said to me when hewas so moved by the change in my appearance: "I will accept him asa trust, and it shall be a sacred one!"We now turned into another narrow street. "Mr. Woodcourt," saidMr. Bucket, who had eyed him closely as we came along, "ourbusiness takes us to a law-stationer's here, a certain Mr.

　　Snagsby's. What, you know him, do you?" He was so quick that hesaw it in an instant.

　　"Yes, I know a little of him and have called upon him at thisplace.""Indeed, sir?" said Mr. Bucket. "Then you will be so good as tolet me leave Miss Summerson with you for a moment while I go andhave half a word with him?"The last police-officer with whom he had conferred was standingsilently behind us. I was not aware of it until he struck in on mysaying 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, andhas 'em bad upon her to-night. A most contrary circumstance it is,for I want certain information out of that girl, and she must bebrought to reason somehow.""At all events, they wouldn't be up yet if it wasn't for her, Mr.

　　Bucket," said the other man. "She's been at it pretty well allnight, sir.""Well, that's true," he returned. "My light's burnt out. Showyours a moment."All this passed in a whisper a door or two from the house in whichI could faintly hear crying and moaning. In the little round oflight produced for the purpose, Mr. Bucket went up to the door andknocked. The door was opened after he had knocked twice, and hewent in, leaving us standing in the street.

　　"Miss Summerson," said Mr. Woodcourt, "if without obtruding myselfon your confidence I may remain near you, pray let me do so.""You are truly kind," I answered. "I need wish to keep no secretof my own from you; if I keep any, it is another's.""I quite understand. Trust me, I will remain near you only so longas I can fully respect it.""I trust implicitly to you," I said. "I know and deeply feel howsacredly you keep your promise.

　　After a short time the little round of light shone out again, andMr. Bucket advanced towards us in it with his earnest face.

　　"Please to come in, Miss Summerson," he said, "and sit down by thefire. Mr. Woodcourt, from information I have received I understandyou are a medical man. Would you look to this girl and see ifanything can be done to bring her round. She has a lettersomewhere that I particularly want. It's not in her box, and Ithink it must be about her; but she is so twisted and clenched upthat she is difficult to handle without hurting."We all three went into the house together; although it was cold andraw, it smelt close too from being up all night. In the passagebehind the door stood a scared, sorrowful-looking little man in agrey coat who seemed to have a naturally polite manner and spokemeekly.

　　"Downstairs, if you please, Mr. Bucket," said he. "The lady willexcuse the front kitchen; we use it as our workaday sitting-room.

　　The back is Guster's bedroom, and in it she's a-carrying on, poorthing, to a frightful extent!"We went downstairs, followed by Mr. Snagsby, as I soon found thelittle man to be. In the front kitchen, sitting by the fire, wasMrs. Snagsby, with very red eyes and a very severe expression offace.

　　"My little woman," said Mr. Snagsby, entering behind us, "to wave--not to put too fine a point upon it, my dear--hostilities for onesingle moment in the course of this prolonged night, here isInspector Bucket, Mr. Woodcourt, and a lady."She looked very much astonished, as she had reason for doing, andlooked particularly hard at me.

　　"My little woman," said Mr. Snagsby, sitting down in the remotestcorner by the door, as if he were taking a liberty, "it is notunlikely that you may inquire of me why Inspector Bucket, Mr.

　　Woodcourt, and a lady call upon us in Cook's Court, CursitorStreet, at the present hour. I don't know. I have not the leastidea. If I was to be informed, I should despair of understanding,and I'd rather not be told."He appeared so miserable, sitting with his head upon his hand, andI appeared so unwelcome, that I was going to offer an apology whenMr. Bucket took the matter on himself.

　　"Now, Mr. Snagsby," said he, "the best thing you can do is to goalong with Mr. Woodcourt to look after your Guster--""My Guster, Mr. Bucket!" cried Mr. Snagsby. "Go on, sir, go on. Ishall be charged with that next.""And to hold the candle," pursued Mr. Bucket without correctinghimself, "or hold her, or make yourself useful in any way you'reasked. Which there's not a man alive more ready to do, for you'rea man of urbanity and suavity, you know, and you've got the sort ofheart that can feel for another. Mr. Woodcourt, would you be sogood as see to her, and if you can get that letter from her, to letme have it as soon as ever you can?"As they went out, Mr. Bucket made me sit down in a corner by thefire and take off my wet shoes, which he turned up to dry upon thefender, talking all the time.

　　"Don't you be at all put out, miss, by the want of a hospitablelook from Mrs. Snagsby there, because she's under a mistakealtogether. She'll find that out sooner than will be agreeable toa lady of her generally correct manner of forming her thoughts,because I'm a-going to explain it to her." Here, standing on thehearth with his wet hat and shawls in his hand, himself a pile ofwet, he turned to Mrs. Snagsby. "Now, the first thing that I sayto you, as a married woman possessing what you may ............