My guardian, with his sweet temper and his quick perception and his amiable face, made something agreeable even out of the ungenial company.  None of them seemed able to talk about anything but his, or her, own one subject, and none of them seemed able to talk about even that as part of a world in which there was anything else; but my guardian turned it all to the merry encouragement of Caddy and the honour of the occasion, and brought us through the breakfast nobly.  What we should have done without him, I am afraid to think, for all the company despising the bride and bridegroom and old Mr. Turveydrop—­and old Mr. Thurveydrop, in virtue of his deportment, considering himself vastly superior to all the company—­it was a very unpromising case.

At last the time came when poor Caddy was to go and when all her property was packed on the hired coach and pair that was to take her and her husband to Gravesend.  It affected us to see Caddy clinging, then, to her deplorable home and hanging on her mother’s neck with the greatest tenderness.

“I am very sorry I couldn’t go on writing from dictation, Ma,” sobbed Caddy.  “I hope you forgive me now.”

“Oh, Caddy, Caddy!” said Mrs. Jellyby.  “I have told you over and over again that I have engaged a boy, and there’s an end of it.”

“You are sure you are not the least angry with me, Ma?  Say you are sure before I go away, Ma?”

“You foolish Caddy,” returned Mrs. Jellyby, “do I look angry, or have I inclination to be angry, or time to be angry?  How can you?”

“Take a little care of Pa while I am gone, Mama!”

Mrs. Jellyby positively laughed at the fancy.  “You romantic child,” said she, lightly patting Caddy’s back.  “Go along.  I am excellent friends with you.  Now, good-bye, Caddy, and be very happy!”

Then Caddy hung upon her father and nursed his cheek against hers as if he were some poor dull child in pain.  All this took place in the hall.  Her father released her, took out his pocket handkerchief, and sat down on the stairs with his head against the wall.  I hope he found some consolation in walls.  I almost think he did.

And then Prince took her arm in his and turned with great emotion and respect to his father, whose deportment at that moment was overwhelming.

“Thank you over and over again, father!” said Prince, kissing his hand.  “I am very grateful for all your kindness and consideration regarding our marriage, and so, I can assure you, is Caddy.”

“Very,” sobbed Caddy.  “Ve-ry!”

“My dear son,” said Mr. Turveydrop, “and dear daughter, I have done my duty.  If the spirit of a sainted wooman hovers above us and looks down on the occasion, that, and your constant affection, will be my recompense.  You will not fail in your duty, my son and daughter, I believe?”

“Dear father, never!” cried Prince.

“Never, never, dear Mr. Turveydrop!” said Caddy.