Micawber. She was not quite so self-possessed as usual, I thought; and had evidently undergone anxiety and fatigue. But her earnest cordiality, and her quiet beauty, shone with the gentler lustre for it.
I saw Uriah watch her while she greeted us; and he reminded me of an ugly and rebellious genie watching a good spirit. In the meanwhile, some slight sign passed between Mr. Micawber and Traddles; and Traddles, unobserved except by me, went out.
“Don’t wait, Micawber,” said Uriah.
Mr. Micawber, with his hand upon the ruler in his breast, stood erect before the door, most unmistakably contemplating one of his fellowmen, and that man his employer.
“What are you waiting for?” said Uriah. “Micawber! did you hear me tell you not to wait?”
“Yes!” replied the immovable Mr. Micawber.
“Then why do you wait?” said Uriah.
“Because I—in short, choose,” replied Mr. Micawber, with a burst.
Uriah’s cheeks lost colour, and an unwholesome paleness, still faintly tinged by his pervading red, overspread them. He looked at Mr. Micawber attentively, with his whole face breathing short and quick in every feature.
“You are a dissipated fellow, as all the world knows,” he said, with an effort at a smile, “and I am afraid you’ll oblige me to get rid of you. Go along! I’ll talk to you presently.”
“If there is a scoundrel on this earth,” said Mr. Micawber, suddenly breaking out again with the utmost vehemence, “with whom I have already talked too much, that scoundrel’s name is— Heep !”