I felt that to devote my life to his happiness was to thank him poorly
for all he had done for me. Still I cried very much; not only in the
fulness of my heart after reading the letter, but as if something for
which there was no name or distinct idea were lost to me. I was very
happy, very thankful, very hopeful, but I cried very much.

On entering the breakfast-room next morning I found my guardian just as
usual; quite as frank, as open, as free. I thought he might speak to me
about the letter, but he never did.

At the end of a week I went to him and said, rather hesitating and
trembling, "Guardian, when would you like to have the answer to the
letter?"

"When it's ready, my dear," he replied.

"I think it's ready," said I, "and I have brought it myself."

I put my two arms around his neck and kissed him, and he said was this
the mistress of Bleak House? And I said "Yes," and it made no difference
presently, and I said nothing to my pet, Ada, about it.

It was a few days after this, when Mr. Vholes, the attorney whom Richard
employed to watch his interests, called at Bleak House, and told us that
his client was very embarrassed financially, and so thought of throwing
up his commission in the army.

To avert this I went down to Deal and found Richard alone in the
barracks. He was writing at a table, with a great confusion of clothes,
tin cases, books, boots, and brushes strewn all about the floor. So worn