Identifier: bleakhouse00dick (find matches)
Title: Bleak house
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Dickens, Charles, 1837-1896, ed Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882, illus
Subjects: Young women Guardian and ward Illegitimate children Inheritance and succession
Publisher: New York, London, Macmillan and co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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we found at the door a phaeton or barouche, with a pos-tilion and post horses. Mr. Bucket handed me in, and took hisown seat on the box. The man in uniform whom he had sent tofetch this equipage, then handed him up a dark lantern at hisrequest; and when he had given a few directions to the driver, werattled away. I was far from sure that I was not in a dream. We rattledwith great rapidity through such a labyrinth of streets, that Isoon lost all idea where we were; except that we had crossedand recrossed the river, and still seemed to be traversing a low-lying, water-side, dense neighbourhood of narrow thoroughfares,chequered by docks and basins, high piles of warehouses, swing-bridges, and masts of ships. At length we stopped at the cornerof a little slimy turning, which the wind from the river, rushingup it, did not purify; and I saw my companion, by the light ofhis lantern, in conference with several men, who looked like amixture of police and sailors. Against the mouldering wall by
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716 BLEAK HOUSE. wliitli they stood, there was a bill, on which I could discern thewords, Found Drowned ; and this, and an inscription aboutDrags, possessed me with the awful suspicion shadowed forth inour visit to that place. I had no need to remind myself that I was not there, by theindulgence of any feeling of mine, to increase the difficulties of thesearch, or to lessen its hopes, or enhance its delays. I remainedquiet; but what I suffered in that dreadful spot, I never can forget.And still it was like the horror of a dream. A man yet dark andmuddy, in long swollen sodden boots and a hat like them, was calledout of a boat, and whispered with Mr. Bucket, who went away withhim down some slippery steps — as if to look at something secretthat he had to show. They came back, wiping their hands upontheir coats, after turning over something wet; but thank God itwas not what I feared! After some further conference, Mr. Bucket (whom everybodyseemed to know and defer to) went in with the

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