After a moment’s survey of me, the sharp-looking lad decided to let me in; and opening the door wider for that purpose, admitted me, first, into a little closet of a hall, and next into a little sitting-room; where I came into the presence of my old friend (also out of breath), seated at a table, and bending over papers.

“Good God!” cried Traddles, looking up. “It’s Copperfield!” and rushed into my arms, where I held him tight.

“All well, my dear Traddles?”

“All well, my dear, dear Copperfield, and nothing but good news!”

We cried with pleasure, both of us.

“My dear fellow,” said Traddles, rumpling his hair in his excitement, which was a most unnecessary operation, “my dearest Copperfield, my long-lost and most welcome friend, how glad I am to see you! How brown you are! How glad I am! Upon my life and honour, I never was so rejoiced, my beloved Copperfield, never!”

I was equally at a loss to express my emotions. I was quite unable to speak, at first.

“My dear fellow!” said Traddles. “And grown so famous! My glorious Copperfield! Good gracious me, when did you come, where have you come from, what have you been doing?”

Never pausing for an answer to anything he said, Traddles, who had clapped me into an easy-chair by the fire, all this time impetuously stirred the fire with one hand, and pulled at my neck-kerchief with the other, under some wild delusion that it was a greatcoat. Without putting down the poker, he now hugged me again; and I hugged him; and, both laughing, and both wiping our eyes, we both sat down, and shook hands across the hearth.

“To think,” said Traddles, “that you should have been so nearly coming home as you must have been, my dear old boy, and not at the ceremony!”

“What ceremony, my dear Traddles?”

“Good gracious me!” cried Traddles, opening his eyes in his old way. “Didn’t you get my last letter?”

“Certainly not, if it referred to any ceremony.”

“Why, my dear Copperfield,” said Traddles, sticking his hair upright with both hands, and then putting his hands on my knees, “I am married!”

“Married!” I cried, joyfully.

“Lord bless me, yes!” said Traddles—“by the Rev. Horace—to Sophy—down in Devonshire. Why, my dear boy, she’s behind the window curtain! Look here!”

To my amazement, the dearest girl in the world came at that same instant, laughing and blushing, from her place of concealment. And a more cheerful, amiable, honest, happy, bright-looking bride, I believe (as I could not help saying on the spot) the world never saw. I kissed her as an old acquaintance should, and wished them joy with all my might of heart.

“Dear me,” said Traddles, “what a delightful reunion this is! You are so extremely brown, my dear Copperfield! God bless my soul, how happy I am!”

“And so am I,” said I.


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