Steerforth laughed to that degree, that it was impossible for me to help laughing too; though I am not sure I should have done so, but for this inducement. When we had had our laugh quite out, which was after some time, he told me that Miss Mowcher had quite an extensive connexion, and made herself useful to a variety of people in a variety of ways. Some people trifled with her as a mere oddity, he said; but she was as shrewdly and sharply observant as any one he knew, and as long-headed as she was short-armed. He told me that what she had said of being here, and there, and everywhere, was true enough; for she made little darts into the provinces, and seemed to pick up customers everywhere, and to know everybody. I asked him what her disposition was: whether it was at all mischievous, and if her sympathies were generally on the right side of things: but, not succeeding in attracting his attention to these questions after two or three attempts, I forbore or forgot to repeat them. He told me instead, with much rapidity, a good deal about her skill, and her profits; and about her being a scientific cupper, if I should ever have occasion for her services in that capacity.
She was the principal theme of our conversation during the evening: and when we parted for the night Steerforth called after me over the bannisters, "Bob swore!" as I went down stairs.
I was surprised, when I came to Mr. Barkis's house to find Ham walking up and down in front of it, and still more surprised to learn from him that little Em'ly was inside. I naturally inquired why he was not there too, instead of pacing the street by himself?
"Why, you see, Mas'r Davy," he rejoined, in a hesitating manner, "Em'ly, she's talking to some 'un in here."
"I should have thought," said I, smiling, "that that was a reason for your being in here too, Ham."
"Well, Mas'r Davy, in a general way, so 'twould be," he returned; "but look'ee here, Mas'r Davy," lowering his voice, and speaking very gravely. "It's a young woman, sir—a young woman, that Em'ly knowed once, and doen't ought to know no more."
When I heard these words, a light began to fall upon the figure I had seen following them, some hours ago.
"It's a poor wurem, Mas'r Davy," said Ham, "as is trod under foot by all the town. Up street and down street. The mowld o' the churchyard don't hold any that the folk shrink away from, more."
"Did I see her to-night, Ham, on the sands, after we met you?"
"Keeping us in sight?" said Ham. "It's like you did, Mas'r Davy. "Not that I know'd, then, she was theer, sir, but along of her creeping soon arterwards under Em'ly's little winder, when she see the light come, and whisp'ring 'Em'ly, Em'ly, for Christ's sake have a woman's heart towards me. I was once like you!' Those was solemn words, Mas'r Davy, fur to hear!"
"They were indeed, Ham. What did Em'ly do?"
"Says Em'ly, 'Martha, is it you? Oh, Martha, can it be you!'—for they had sat at work together, many a day, at Mr. Omer's."
"I recollect her now!" cried I, recalling one of the two girls I had seen when I first went there. "I recollect her quite well!"
"Martha Endell," said Ham. "Two or three year older than Em'ly, but was at the school with her."
