that he had asked me to come down to see a house
he had bought for Mr. Woodcourt, with whom he was always very pleased.

It was a beautiful summer morning when we went out to look at the house,
and there over the porch was written. "Bleak House." He led me to a
seat, and sitting down beside me, said:

"When I wrote you the letter to which you brought the answer"--my
guardian smiled as he referred to it--"I had my own happiness too much
in view; but I had yours, too. Hear me, my love, but do not speak. When
Woodcourt came home, I saw that there was other happiness for you; I saw
with whom you would be happier. Well, I have long been in Allan
Woodcourt's confidence, although he was not, until yesterday, in mine.
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. 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.

"Allan," said my guardian, "take from me the best wife that ever man
had. What more can I say for you than that I know you deserve her?"

He kissed me once again. And now the tears were in his eyes as he said,
more softly, "Esther, my dearest, after so many years, there is a kind
of parting in this too. I know that my mistake has caused you some
distress. Forgive your old guardian in restoring him to his old place in
your affections. Allan, take my dear."

We all three went home together next day. We had an intimation from Mr.
Kenge that the case would come on at Westminster in two days, and that a
certain will had been found which might end the suit in Richard's
favour.

Allan took me down to Westminster, and when we came to Westminster Hall
we found that the Court of Chancery was full, and that something unusual
had occurred. We asked a gentleman by us if he knew what case was on. He
told us Jarndyce and Jarndyce, and that, as well as he could make out,
it was over. Over for the day? "No," he said; "over for good."

In a few minutes a crowd came streaming out, and we saw Mr. Kenge. He
told us that Jarndyce and Jarndyce was a