“Understand me, my dear girl.  I had no doubt of your being contented and happy with me, being so dutiful and so devoted; but I saw with whom you would be happier.  That I penetrated his secret when Dame Durden was blind to it is no wonder, for I knew the good that could never change in her better far than she did.  Well!  I have long been in Allan Woodcourt’s confidence, although he was not, until yesterday, a few hours before you came here, in mine.  But I would not have my Esther’s bright example lost; I would not have a jot of my dear girl’s virtues unobserved and unhonoured; I would not have her admitted on sufferance into the line of Morgan ap-Kerrig, no, not for the weight in gold of all the mountains in Wales!”

He stopped to kiss me on the forehead, and I sobbed and wept afresh.  For I felt as if I could not bear the painful delight of his praise.

“Hush, little woman!  Don’t cry; this is to be a day of joy.  I have looked forward to it,” he said exultingly, “for months on months!  A few words more, Dame Trot, and I have said my say.  Determined not to throw away one atom of my Esther’s worth, I took Mrs. Woodcourt into a separate confidence.  ‘Now, madam,’ said I, ’I clearly perceive—­and indeed I know, to boot—­that your son loves my ward.  I am further very sure that my ward loves your son, but will sacrifice her love to a sense of duty and affection, and will sacrifice it so completely, so entirely, so religiously, that you should never suspect it though you watched her night and day.’  Then I told her all our story—­ours—­yours and mine.  ‘Now, madam,’ said I, ’come you, knowing this, and live with us.  Come you, and see my child from hour to hour; set what you see against her pedigree, which is this, and this’—­for I scorned to mince it—­’and tell me what is the true legitimacy when you shall have quite made up your mind on that subject.’  Why, honour to her old Welsh blood, my dear,” cried my guardian with enthusiasm, “I believe the heart it animates beats no less warmly, no less admiringly, no less lovingly, towards Dame Durden than my own!”

He tenderly raised my head, and as I clung to him, kissed me in his old fatherly way again and again.  What a light, now, on the protecting manner I had thought about!

“One more last word.  When Allan Woodcourt spoke to you, my dear, he spoke with my knowledge and consent—­but I gave him no encouragement, not I, for these surprises were my great reward, and I was too miserly to part with a scrap of it.  He was to come and tell me all that passed, and he did.  I have no more to say.  My dearest, Allan Woodcourt stood beside your father when he lay dead —­stood beside your mother.  This is Bleak House.  This day I give this house its little mistress; and before God, it is the brightest day in all my life!”

He rose and raised me with him.  We were no longer alone.  My husband—­I have called him by that name full seven happy years now —­stood at my side.