“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 I shall not record. “I forgive everybody. It would ill become me to bear malice. I freely forgive you, and I hope you’ll curb your passions in future. I hope Mr. W. will repent, and Miss W., and all of that sinful lot. You’ve been visited with affliction, and I hope it may do you good; but you’d better have come here. Mr. W. had better have come here, and Miss W. too. The best wish I could give you, Mr. Copperfield, and give all of you gentlemen, is, that you could be took up and brought here. When I think of my past follies, and my present state, I am sure it would be best for you. I pity all who ain’t brought here!”
He sneaked back into his cell, amidst a little chorus of approbation; and both Traddles and I experienced a great relief when he was locked in.
It was a characteristic feature in this repentance, that I was fain to ask what these two men had done, to be there at all. That appeared to be the last thing about which they had anything to say. I addressed myself to one of the two warders, who, I suspected, from certain latent indications in their faces, knew pretty well what all this stir was worth.
“Do you know,” said I, as we walked along the passage, “what felony was Number Twenty Seven’s last ‘folly?’”
The answer was, that it was a Bank case.
“A fraud on the Bank of England?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. Fraud, forgery, and conspiracy. He and some others. He set the others on. It was a deep plot for a large sum. Sentence, transportation for life. Twenty Seven was the knowingest bird of the lot, and had very nearly kept himself safe; but not quite. The Bank was just able to put salt upon his tail—and only just.”
“Do you know Twenty Eight’s offence?”