There he was, of course.  They brought a chair on either side of me, and put me between them, and really seemed to have fallen in love with me instead of one another, they were so confiding, and so trustful, and so fond of me.  They went on in their own wild way for a little while—­I never stopped them; I enjoyed it too much myself—­ and then we gradually fell to considering how young they were, and how there must be a lapse of several years before this early love could come to anything, and how it could come to happiness only if it were real and lasting and inspired them with a steady resolution to do their duty to each other, with constancy, fortitude, and perseverance, each always for the other’s sake.  Well!  Richard said that he would work his fingers to the bone for Ada, and Ada said that she would work her fingers to the bone for Richard, and they called me all sorts of endearing and sensible names, and we sat there, advising and talking, half the night.  Finally, before we parted, I gave them my promise to speak to their cousin John to-morrow.

So, when to-morrow came, I went to my guardian after breakfast, in the room that was our town-substitute for the growlery, and told him that I had it in trust to tell him something.

“Well, little woman,” said he, shutting up his book, “if you have accepted the trust, there can be no harm in it.”

“I hope not, guardian,” said I.  “I can guarantee that there is no secrecy in it.  For it only happened yesterday.”

“Aye?  And what is it, Esther?”

“Guardian,” said I, “you remember the happy night when first we came down to Bleak House?  When Ada was singing in the dark room?”

I wished to call to his remembrance the look he had given me then.  Unless I am much mistaken, I saw that I did so.

“Because—­” said I with a little hesitation.

“Yes, my dear!” said he.  “Don’t hurry.”

“Because,” said I, “Ada and Richard have fallen in love.  And have told each other so.”

“Already!” cried my guardian, quite astonished.

“Yes!” said I.  “And to tell you the truth, guardian, I rather expected it.”

“The deuce you did!” said he.

He sat considering for a minute or two, with his smile, at once so handsome and so kind, upon his changing face, and then requested me to let them know that he wished to see them.  When they came, he encircled Ada with one arm in his fatherly way and addressed himself to Richard with a cheerful gravity.

“Rick,” said Mr. Jarndyce, “I am glad to have won your confidence.  I hope to preserve it.  When I contemplated these relations between us four which have so brightened my life and so invested it with new interests and pleasures, I certainly did contemplate, afar off, the possibility of you and your pretty cousin here (don’t be shy, Ada, don’t be shy, my dear!) being in a mind to go through life together.  I saw, and do see, many reasons to make it desirable.  But that was afar off, Rick, afar off!”