The poor girl, trying so hard, said it from her heart, and touched mine.  “Caddy, my love,” I replied, “I begin to have a great affection for you, and I hope we shall become friends.”

“Oh, do you?” cried Caddy.  “How happy that would make me!”

“My dear Caddy,” said I, “let us be friends from this time, and let us often have a chat about these matters and try to find the right way through them.”  Caddy was overjoyed.  I said everything I could in my old-fashioned way to comfort and encourage her, and I would not have objected to old Mr. Turveydrop that day for any smaller consideration than a settlement on his daughter-in-law.

By this time we were come to Mr. Krook’s, whose private door stood open.  There was a bill, pasted on the door-post, announcing a room to let on the second floor.  It reminded Caddy to tell me as we proceeded upstairs that there had been a sudden death there and an inquest and that our little friend had been ill of the fright.  The door and window of the vacant room being open, we looked in.  It was the room with the dark door to which Miss Flite had secretly directed my attention when I was last in the house.  A sad and desolate place it was, a gloomy, sorrowful place that gave me a strange sensation of mournfulness and even dread.  “You look pale,” said Caddy when we came out, “and cold!” I felt as if the room had chilled me.

We had walked slowly while we were talking, and my guardian and Ada were here before us.  We found them in Miss Flite’s garret.  They were looking at the birds, while a medical gentleman who was so good as to attend Miss Flite with much solicitude and compassion spoke with her cheerfully by the fire.

“I have finished my professional visit,” he said, coming forward.  “Miss Flite is much better and may appear in court (as her mind is set upon it) to-morrow.  She has been greatly missed there, I understand.”

Miss Flite received the compliment with complacency and dropped a general curtsy to us.

“Honoured, indeed,” said she, “by another visit from the wards in Jarndyce!  Ve-ry happy to receive Jarndyce of Bleak House beneath my humble roof!” with a special curtsy.  “Fitz-Jarndyce, my dear”—­ she had bestowed that name on Caddy, it appeared, and always called her by it—­“a double welcome!”

“Has she been very ill?” asked Mr. Jarndyce of the gentleman whom we had found in attendance on her.  She answered for herself directly, though he had put the question in a whisper.

“Oh, decidedly unwell!  Oh, very unwell indeed,” she said confidentially.  “Not pain, you know—­trouble.  Not bodily so much as nervous, nervous!  The truth is,” in a subdued voice and trembling, “we have had death here.  There was poison in the house.  I am very susceptible to such horrid things.  It frightened me.  Only Mr. Woodcourt knows how much.  My physician, Mr. Woodcourt!” with great stateliness.  “The wards in Jarndyce—­Jarndyce of Bleak House—­Fitz-Jarndyce!”