though agnes always held a large place in his heart, david was very impressionable. in the next few years he thought himself in love a good many times, but when finally he met dora spenlow, the daughter of one of the members of the law firm with which he was studying, he knew that all his other love-affairs had been only fancies. dora was blue-eyed, with cheeks like a pink sea-shell, and looked like a fairy. david fell head over ears in love with her the first time he ever saw her. he lost his appetite, and took to wearing tight gloves and shoes too small for him, and he used to put on his best clothes and walk around her house in the moonlight and do other extravagant things.

they found a good deal of trouble in their love-making, for dora was under the care of none other than the terrible sister of mr. murdstone, who had made david so miserable in his childhood, but he and dora used to meet sometimes, and they sent each other letters through one of dora's girl friends. david, perhaps, would not have done this if he had thought he would have a fair chance to win dora; but with his old enemy, miss murdstone, against him, he was afraid to tell her father of his love. but one day he told it to dora, and she promised to marry him.[pg 121]

good luck, however, never comes without a bit of bad luck. soon after this david came home to his rooms one night to find his aunt, miss betsy trotwood, there, with her trunk and mr. dick, kites and all. she told david she had no other place to go; that she had lost all of her money and was quite ruined.

this was misfortune indeed, for it seemed to put his hope of marrying dora a great deal further away; but david faced the situation bravely and began at once to look for something to do outside of the law office to earn money enough to support them all.

in this trouble agnes was his true friend. he had written her already of his love for dora and she had advised him. through her now he found employment as secretary to his old schoolmaster, doctor strong, who had given up the school at dover and had moved to london. he told dora, of course, all about his changed prospects, but dora was like a little butterfly who knew only how to fly about among flowers; she hardly knew what poverty meant, and thought he was scolding when he told her.

david worked hard in the morning at doctor strong's, in the afternoons at the law office, and in the evenings he studied shorthand so he might come to be a newspaper reporter. and all this while he wrote to dora every day.

it was one of these letters that at last betrayed[pg 122] their secret. dora dropped it from her pocket and miss murdstone picked it up. she showed it to dora's father and he sent at once for david and told him angrily that he could never marry his child and that he must not see dora any more. and david went home disconsolate.

this might have ended their engagement for ever, but that same day dora's father dropped dead of heart-disease. instead of being rich he was found to have left no money at all, and dora was taken to live with two aunts on the outskirts of london. david did not know what was best to do now, so he went to dover to ask agnes's advice.

he was shocked at the changes he found there. her father looked ill and scarcely seemed himself. uriah heep, his new partner, with his ugly, fawning way and clammy hands, was living in their house and eating with them at their table. he had obtained more and more power over mr. wickfield and gloried in it. and the other seemed no longer to dare to oppose uriah in anything.

but in spite of all this, agnes talked bravely and cheerfully with david. under her direction, he wrote a letter to dora's aunts, declaring his love and asking permission to call, and they, pleased with his frankness, gave their permission. before the year was out david began to earn money with his shorthand, reporting speeches in parliament for a newspaper. he had discovered besides that he could write stories that the magazines were glad[pg 123] to buy. so one day david married dora and they went to housekeeping in a tiny house of their own.

life seemed very sweet to them both, though dora, while she was the most loving little wife in the world, knew no more about housekeeping than a bird. the servants stole the silver spoons, and the storekeepers overcharged them, and the house was never tidy or comfortable. for a while david tried to make dora learn these things, but when he chid her the tears would come, and she would throw her arms around his neck and sob that she was only his child-wife after all, and he would end by kissing her and telling her not to mind. she was most like a beautiful toy; and like a toy, she seemed made only to play with, just as she played with her dog jip, instead of helping and encouraging david in his work.

but at length dora fell ill—so ill that they knew she was too frail and weak to get well and strong again. david carried her down stairs every day, and every day the burden grew lighter. she never complained, but called him her poor, dear boy, and one day she whispered that she was only his child-wife and could never have been more, so that it was better as it was!

agnes came, and was there when dora died. but for her comfort all the world would have been blank for poor david as he sat alone, longing for the child-wife who could never be his again!