This sentiment gave unbounded satisfaction—greater satisfaction, I think, than anything that had passed yet.
“Before I come here,” said Uriah, stealing a look at us, as if he would have blighted the outer world to which we belonged, if he could, “I was given to follies; but now I am sensible of my follies. There’s a deal of sin outside. There’s a deal of sin in mother. There’s nothing but sin everywhere—except here.”
“You are quite changed?” said Mr. Creakle.
“Oh dear, yes, sir!” cried this hopeful penitent.
“You wouldn’t relapse, if you were going out?” asked somebody else.
“Oh de-ar no, sir!”
“Well!” said Mr. Creakle, “this is very gratifying. You have addressed Mr. Copperfield, Twenty Seven. Do you wish to say anything further to him?”
“You knew me, a long time before I came here and was changed, Mr. Copperfield,” said Uriah, looking at me; and a more villainous look I never saw, even on his visage. “You knew me when, in spite of my follies, I was ’umble among them that was proud, and meek among them that was violent—you was violent to me yourself, Mr. Copperfield. Once, you struck me a blow in the face, you know.”
General commiseration. Several indignant glances directed at me.
“But I forgive you, Mr. Copperfield,” said Uriah, making his forgiving nature the subject of a most impious and awful parallel, which