Bleak House

ver falling--drip,drip, drip--by day and night upon the broad flagged terrace-pavement, the Ghost's Walk. The weathe

not here (and,truly, even if he were, would not do much for it in thatparticular), but

oan, so famous for cross-country work, turning hislarge eyeball to the grated window near his rack, may remember thefresh leaves that glisten there at other times and the scents thatstream in, and may have a fine run with the hounds, while the humanhelper, clearing out the next stall, never stirs beyond hispitchfork and birch-broom. The grey, whose place is opposite thedoor and who with an impatient rattle of his halter pricks his earsand turns his head so

here he sits on end, panting and growlingshort, and very much wanting something to worry besides himself andhis chain. So now, half-waking and all-winking, he may recall thehouse full of company, the coach-houses full of vehicles, thestables fall of horses, and the out-buildings f

the rabbits with their self-betraying tails,frisking in and out of holes at roots of trees, may be lively withideas of the breezy days when their ears are blown about or of thoseseasons of interest when there are sweet young plants to gnaw. Theturkey in the poultry-yard, always troubled with a class-grievance(probably Christmas), may be r

ld. If there be a little at any odd moment, it goes,like a little noise in t

some, stately, wonderfully neat, and has such aback and such a stomacher that if her stays should turn out whenshe dies to have been a broad old-fashioned family fire-grate,nobody who knows her would have cause to be surprised. Weatheraffects Mrs. Rouncewell little. The house is there in allweathers, and the house, as she expresses it, "is what she looksat." She sits in her room (in a side passage on the

ths, and a fortnight, by the blessingof heaven, if I live till Tuesday." Mr. Rouncewell died some timebefore the decease of the pretty fashion of pig-tails, and modestlyhid his own (if he took it with him) in a corne

tative of the Dedlocks

likely, except to gasp and die. But heis an excellent master still, holding it a part of his state to beso. He has a great liking for Mrs. Rouncewell; he says she is amost respectable, creditable woman. He always shakes hands withher when he comes down to Chesney Wold and when he goes away;

had two sons, of whomthe younger ran wild,

er ladhe was! Her second son would have been provided for at ChesneyWold and would have been made steward in due season, but he took,when he was a schoolboy, to constructing steam-engines out ofsaucepans and setting birds to draw their own water with the

l ofa power-loom, she was fain, with many tears, to mention hisbackslidings to the baronet. "Mrs. Rouncewell," said SirLeicester, "I can never consent to argue, as you know, with any oneon any subject. You had better get rid of your boy; you had betterget him into some Works. The iron country farther north is, Isuppose, the congenial direction for a boy with these tendencies."Fart

uncewell's grandson, who, being out of hisapprenticeship, and home from a journey in far countries, whitherhe was sent to enlarge his knowledge and c

ee you, Watt!" says Mrs. Rouncewell. "You area fine young fellow. You are like your

ndmother.""Like him, also, my dear--

other, in every way.""I am thankful!" Mrs. Rouncewell is fond of her son but has aplaintive f

uite happy

d that I don'tunderstand. Though I am not young, either. And I have seen aquantity of good company too!""Grandmother," says the young man, changing the subject, "what avery pretty girl

y pretty. She lives with me at my table here.""I hope I have not driven

ewell, expanding her stomacher to itsutmost limits, "than it formerly was!"The young man

ous sake?"After a short interval, a tap at the door. "Come in!" A dark-eyed, dark-haired, shy, village beauty comes in--so fresh in

s this, Rosa?" sa

re of dissent from the housekeeper. "I went to the hall-doorand told them it was the wrong day and the wrong hour, but theyoung man

t they drop it betweenthem and almost knock

shyer th

all the informati

he magistrates' meeting, ten miles off,this morning, and that as their business was soon over, and theyhad heard a great deal said of Chesney Wold, and really didn't knowwhat to do with themselves, they had come through the wet to seei

to the admission of the visitors as afavour, and dismisses Rosa. The grandson, however, being smittenby a sudden wish to see the house himself, proposes to join

d when we do, we like to make the most of it, youknow."The old housekeeper, with a gracious severity of deportment, wavesher hand towards the gre

ng things, don't carefor the right things, gape when more rooms are opened, exhibitprofound depression of spirits, and are clearly knocked up. Ineach successive chamber th

utes as the young gardeneradmits the light, and reconsigning them to their graves as he shutsit out again. It appears to the afflicted Mr. Guppy and hisinconsolable f

ing-room of Chesney

t a portrait over thechimney-piece, painted by the fashionable artist of the day, actsupon him like a charm

says Mr. Guppy, staring in a kind of dismay at hisfriend, "if I can ever have seen her. Yet I know her! Has thepicture been engraved, miss?""The picture has never been engraved. Sir Leicester has alwaysrefused

if I don't think I must have had a dream of that picture,you know!"As no one present takes any especial interest in Mr. Guppy'sdreams, the probability is not pursued. But he still remains soabsorbed by the portrait that he stands immovable before it untilthe

th. All things have an end, even houses that people takeinfinite pains to see and are tired of before they begin to seethem. He has come to the end of the sight, and the fresh villagebeauty to the end o

ure?""Pray tell us the story,

it, sir." Rosa i

ou thatthe more I think of that picture the better I know it, withoutknowing how I know it!"The story has nothing to do with a picture; the housekeeper canguarantee that. Mr. Guppy is obliged to her for the informationand is, moreover, generally obliged. He r

he rebels wholeagued themselves against that excellent king--Sir Morbury Dedlockwas the owner of Chesney Wold. Whether there was any account of aghost in the family before those da

ges of the upper classes,a genteel distinct

cause. It is said that she had relationsamong King Charles's enemies, that she was in correspondence withthem, and that she gave them information. When any of the countrygentlemen who followed his Majesty's cau

keeper gravely nods and continues: "Partly on account ofthis division between them, and partly on other accounts, SirMorbury and his Lady led a troubled

ause, she is supposed to have more than once stolen down into thestables in the dead of night and lamed their horses; and the storyis that once at such an hour, her husband saw her gliding down thestairs and followed her into the stall where his own favouriteho

y of a handsome figur

fficulty every day. At last, one afternoon her husband(to whom she had never, on any persuasion, opened her lips sincethat night), standing at the great south window, saw her drop uponthe pavement. He hastened down to raise her, but she repulsed himas he bent over her, an

eepening gloom looks down uponthe g

he died. And from t

eard after dark, andis often unheard for a long while together. But it comes back fromtime to time; and so su

s to Chesney Wold," re

yingsound," says Mrs. Rouncewell, getting up from her chair; "and whatis to be noticed in it is tha

that has a loud beat when it is inmotion and can play music. You understand how those things are

am not sure that it is dark enough yet, butlisten! Can you hear the sound upon the terr