I told him that he was more like himself in those latter words than in anything he had said yet.

“Why,” acknowledged Richard, “that may be true enough, my love.  I rather feel it to be so.  But I shall be able to give myself fair-play by and by.  I shall come all right again, then, don’t you be afraid.”

I asked him if this were all he wished me to tell Ada.

“Not quite,” said Richard.  “I am bound not to withhold from her that John Jarndyce answered my letter in his usual manner, addressing me as ‘My dear Rick,’ trying to argue me out of my opinions, and telling me that they should make no difference in him. (All very well of course, but not altering the case.) I also want Ada to know that if I see her seldom just now, I am looking after her interests as well as my own—­we two being in the same boat exactly—­and that I hope she will not suppose from any flying rumours she may hear that I am at all light-headed or imprudent; on the contrary, I am always looking forward to the termination of the suit, and always planning in that direction.  Being of age now and having taken the step I have taken, I consider myself free from any accountability to John Jarndyce; but Ada being still a ward of the court, I don’t yet ask her to renew our engagement.  When she is free to act for herself, I shall be myself once more and we shall both be in very different worldly circumstances, I believe.  If you tell her all this with the advantage of your considerate way, you will do me a very great and a very kind service, my dear Esther; and I shall knock Jarndyce and Jarndyce on the head with greater vigour.  Of course I ask for no secrecy at Bleak House.”

“Richard,” said I, “you place great confidence in me, but I fear you will not take advice from me?”

“It’s impossible that I can on this subject, my dear girl.  On any other, readily.”

As if there were any other in his life!  As if his whole career and character were not being dyed one colour!

“But I may ask you a question, Richard?”

“I think so,” said he, laughing.  “I don’t know who may not, if you may not.”

“You say, yourself, you are not leading a very settled life.”

“How can I, my dear Esther, with nothing settled!”

“Are you in debt again?”

“Why, of course I am,” said Richard, astonished at my simplicity.

“Is it of course?”

“My dear child, certainly.  I can’t throw myself into an object so completely without expense.  You forget, or perhaps you don’t know, that under either of the wills Ada and I take something.  It’s only a question between the larger sum and the smaller.  I shall be within the mark any way.  Bless your heart, my excellent girl,” said Richard, quite amused with me, “I shall be all right!  I shall pull through, my dear!”

I felt so deeply sensible of the danger in which he stood that I tried, in Ada’s name, in my guardian’s, in my own, by every fervent means that I could think of, to warn him of it and to show him some of his mistakes.  He received everything I said with patience and gentleness, but it all rebounded from him without taking the least effect.  I could not wonder at this after the reception his preoccupied mind had given to my guardian’s letter, but I determined to try Ada’s influence yet.