found that wicked servant; but I believed it was YOU who
had a boyish passion for her!'

'I?' I repeated.

'Child, child! In the name of blind ill-fortune,' cried Miss Mowcher,
wringing her hands impatiently, as she went to and fro again upon the
fender, 'why did you praise her so, and blush, and look disturbed?'

I could not conceal from myself that I had done this, though for a
reason very different from her supposition.

'What did I know?' said Miss Mowcher, taking out her handkerchief again,
and giving one little stamp on the ground whenever, at short intervals,
she applied it to her eyes with both hands at once. 'He was crossing you
and wheedling you, I saw; and you were soft wax in his hands, I saw. Had
I left the room a minute, when his man told me that "Young Innocence"
(so he called you, and you may call him "Old Guilt" all the days of your
life) had set his heart upon her, and she was giddy and liked him, but
his master was resolved that no harm should come of it--more for your
sake than for hers--and that that was their business here? How could I
BUT believe him? I saw Steerforth soothe and please you by his praise
of her! You were the first to mention her name. You owned to an old
admiration of her. You were hot and cold, and red and white, all at once
when I spoke to you of her. What could I think--what DID I think--but
that you were a young libertine in everything but experience, and had
fallen into hands that had experience enough, and could manage you
(having the fancy) for your own good? Oh! oh! oh! They were afraid of my
finding out the truth,' exclaimed Miss Mowcher, getting off the
fender, and trotting up and down the kitchen with her two short arms
distressfully lifted up, 'because I am a sharp little thing--I need be,
to get through the world at all!--and they deceived me altogether, and
I gave the poor unfortunate girl a letter, which I fully believe was
the beginning of her ever speaking to Littimer, who was left behind on
purpose!'

I stood amazed at the revelation of all this perfidy, looking at Miss
Mowcher as she walked up and down the kitchen until she was out of
breath: when she sat upon the fender again, and, drying her face with
her handkerchief, shook her head for a long time, without otherwise
moving, and without breaking silence.

'My country rounds,' she added at length, 'brought me to Norwich, Mr.
Copperfield, the night before last. What I happened to find there,
about their s