David Copperfield

Chapter 19 Happy half-day holiday (2)
Chapter 8 Happy half-day holiday (2)
"No, Peggotty," said my mother, "but you hinted, and that's what I just said, and that's your most cunning: you hinted. I said I understood you, and you know it now. I don't believe you do, Peggotty, when you pretend to despise Murdstone's kindnesses, and you must know them as well as I do, and how they got him to work. If he had been to someone Personal seems a little too much, Peggotty—you know, and I'm sure Wayne knows, and I don't mean anyone here—it was all for somebody. For me, he naturally liked somebody, all for him Good. He is better at judging these issues than I am, because I know very well that I am a weak and innocent person, and his firmness and strictness are for me." My mother said (actually shedding tears), "He I try my best, I should be very grateful to him, and obey him very much even in my thoughts; and when I don't, Peggotty, I worry, blame myself, and doubt my goodness, what shall I do."

Peggotty sat with his chin resting on the bottom of his stocking, silent.

"Well, Peggotty," said my mother, changing her tone, "I can't stand us being at odds with each other, and you're my best friend, I mean if I have any real friends in the world. When I call you ridiculous Man, or something stupid, or something like that, Peggotty, I just say, you are my real friend, always have been, from the first time Mr. Copperfield took me here, and you from the time the door greets me."

Peggotty was quick to respond, and gave me a friendly squeeze.I think I only grasped a little of the true nature of the remark, but I believe that the conversation which the well-meaning man provoked was merely so that my mother might console herself with contradictory words.This worked out well, for I remember my mother seemed less apprehensive the rest of the time, and Peggotty took no offense to her.

We had tea, and skimmed the ashes of the fire, and by the light of the fire I read to Peggotty a chapter in the Crocodile Book--she took it out of her pocket--and we Salem School came again, and my conversation turned to Steerforth, which was my favorite subject.We had a good time; and that night—the last of its kind—closed a chapter of my life that I will never forget.

About ten o'clock we heard the sound of wheels.We all got up; and my mother hastened to say that I'd better go to bed now that it was so late.I kissed her and went upstairs with the candle just before they came in.When I entered that cell, it seemed to me that a cool breeze was brought in, and the familiar feelings of the past were blown away like feathers.

When I came down to dinner in the morning, I was very disturbed, for I had not seen Mr. Murdstone since my great crime.But since I couldn't escape, after two or three pauses and running on tiptoe back to the room, I still appeared in the living room.

Mr. Murdstone was standing with his back turned before the fire, and Miss Murdstone was making tea.I walked over and he looked at me intently, but didn't say hello.

I was a little overwhelmed, but I went up to him and said, "I beg your forgiveness, sir. I regret what I have done. I hope you will forgive me."

"I'm glad to hear your remorse, David," he replied.

The hand he offered me was the one I bit.My eyes couldn't help but stay on the red dot for a while.But when I saw his sullen face, my face was redder than this scar.

"Hello, miss," I said to Miss Murdstone.

"Ah, ah!" sighed Miss Murdstone, and offered me the tea-spoon in her place. "How many days off do you have?"

"One month."

"From what date?"

"Today, miss."

"Well!" said Miss Murdstone, "that's a day gone by."

In this way she counted her holidays on the calendar, crossing off a day on the calendar every morning.At first, she was always morose, until the tenth day, but when she got into the double digits, she became more hopeful, and the time moved forward, and she was almost happy.

I had the misfortune of giving her a shock the very first day I came home, though she is generally not infected with that weakness.I went into the room where she and my mother were sitting and saw the baby (he was only a few weeks old) on my mother's lap and I picked him up very carefully.Suddenly Miss Murdstone screamed, and I almost dropped the baby.

"My dear Jane!" my mother cried.

"Did you see that, Clara?" she called out.

"What, my dear Jane!" said my mother, "where?"

"He's got him!" cried Miss Murdstone. "He's got the baby!"

She was so frightened that her legs were weak, but she straightened herself up and rushed over, snatching the baby away.Then she passed out and was so dizzy that she had to drink wine.When she was sober, she solemnly refused to let me approach my brother on any pretense; and my poor mother, though unwilling, could do nothing: "You are right, no doubt, my dear Jane!"

Once the three of us were together, and this sweet little baby--and I still love the little doll, because of our mother--became, without knowing it, the cause of Miss Murdstone's tantrums.When my mother took the little baby on her lap, she looked him in the eyes and said:

"Wei! Come here!" So he looked me in the eye again.

I saw Miss Murdstone put down her beads.

"I see," said my mother tenderly, "that they are very alike, and like me, and my color, and they are remarkably alike."

"What are you talking about, Clara?" said Miss Murdstone.

"My dear Jane," my mother stammered (for fear of her stern tone), "I have discovered that the baby's eyes are very much like David's."

"Clara!" said Miss Murdstone, rising angrily to her feet, "how foolish you are!"

"My dear Jane!" my mother protested.

"Crazy as hell!" said Miss Murdstone, "how else would you compare my brother's children with yours? They're nothing alike. They're totally different, different in every way. I don't want to hear that here." Such a comparison." Then she walked out boldly and closed the door with a "bang".

In short, I do not like Miss Murdstone, nor anyone, not even myself; for those who like me do not show it, and those who do not do so so clearly, that I feel deeply My own dullness and restraint.

I feel like I upset them and they upset me.If they were in the house talking together, my mother seemed very happy, but when I entered, a cloud of melancholy crept over her face; if Mr. Murdstone was happy, I made him unhappy at once; If Miss Murdstone was unhappy, I increased her displeasure.I understood at the time that my mother was always suffering, that she was afraid to talk to me or treat me well because she would offend them and be reprimanded afterwards.Not only was she afraid that she would offend them, but she was also afraid that I would offend them, so whenever I moved, she looked at them uneasily.So I avoided them as much as I could, and I used to wrap up my little overcoat, count the church hours, and sit in my joyless bedroom, reading all the time.

In the evening I sometimes sat with Peggotty.I'm relaxed there, doing what I like.The distressing atmosphere in the drawing-room disallowed both possibilities.They still think that I must be used to train my poor mother, and therefore cannot be allowed to be absent.

"David," said Mr. Murdstone one day, when I rose as usual after supper, "I see you are withdrawn, and I am sorry."

"Lonely as a bear!" said Miss Murdstone.

I stood there with my head bowed and motionless.

"It seems to me, David, that a withdrawn disposition is not a thing," said Mr. Murdstone.

"Of all the characters I have ever seen," said Miss Murdstone, "this boy has the most obstinate and withdrawn character. I think, Clara, you are aware of it too?"

"I'm sorry, my dear Jane," my mother said, "you're quite sure—I know you'll forgive me, my dear Jane—do you understand David?"

"If I don't understand him or any of the children, Clara," said Miss Murdstone, "I should be ashamed of myself. I don't think I know much, but I dare say I don't."

"No doubt, my dear Jane," said my mother, "you have a good understanding."

"Oh no! Please don't say that, Clara!" said Miss Murdstone angrily.

"But I dare say," continued my mother, "that everybody thinks so. I myself benefit from it in many ways--at least, I should say--and no one believes it more than I do; so I I say it humbly, my dear Jane, I promise you."

"Let's say for a moment that I don't know the boy, Clara," replied Miss Murdstone, adjusting the little bracelet on her wrist, "and I can agree that I don't know him at all. He's too difficult to understand." Yes. But my brother should be able to read the boy's character. I think he was talking about him when we—unceremoniously—cut in."

"I think, Clara," said Mr. Murdstone dully, "that there may be a better and more impartial judge of the question than you."

"Edward," my mother said timidly, "you've got a better decision on anything than I can guess. You and Jane are better than I am. I was just saying—"

"You have said something without thinking," he replied. "Come on, my dear Clara. Take care of yourself!"

My mother seemed to say, "Yes, my dear Edward," but she said nothing aloud.

"I say, David," said Mr. Murdstone, turning his eyes and head firmly towards me, "I am sorry that you have a withdrawn character. I cannot allow that to manifest itself before me without Correct me. You must try to undo it, sir. We must do our best to undo it."

"Forgive me," I said timidly, "I have never been withdrawn on purpose since my return."

"Don't lie, sir!" he answered ferociously, and I saw my mother stretch out her hand involuntarily, as if to part us. You stay here, but you stick to your house and don’t come out. I tell you, I want you to stay here obediently, you know me, David, I must do it.”

Miss Murdstone laughed hoarsely.

"I want you to respect me and do what you tell me at once," said he, "and you will do the same to Miss Murdstone and your mother, and I can't let a little child run amok and avoid this room, as if here It's like an epidemic. Sit down."

"And," said he, "I see that you like dirty, vulgar companions. You mustn't talk to servants. I say nothing about the woman who taught you badly—because of you, Clara," Said to my mother in a low voice, "Because of the past relationship and unbreakable wrong thoughts, I haven't seen her fault yet."

"I'm just saying," he went on to me, "that I don't approve of you staying with that Peggotty woman, and that's going to change. Listen, David, you know me. If you don't honestly Obey me, you know how."

Of course I knew—maybe more than he thought, especially for my mother.I obediently obeyed him.I no longer retreat to my own bedroom; I no longer hide from Peggotty.Sitting tiredly in the living room from day to day, waiting for night and bedtime.

And I sat there for hours and hours, not moving, because if I moved, Miss Murdstone would call me unruly (as long as she had the slightest excuse), and I dared not move my eyes, otherwise It would bring out an air of disliking or viewing, and that would be my new reason to be blamed.Sit there and listen to the ticking of the clock; watch Miss Murdstone strung her steel balls; wonder whether she is married, and if so, what kind of unlucky man is her husband; Duan; then turned his mind and eyes to the ripples and spirals on the wallpaper.How unbearably lonely and boring it is!

I walked alone on the muddy hedgerow in that bad weather; but even then, as Mr and Miss Murdstone sat in the drawing-room, they were a heavy burden to me, a kind of A shadow from which I cannot escape, a weight that veils and dulls my intellect.

When eating, I feel that my knife and fork are superfluous; my plate and chair are superfluous; I am superfluous; what kind of meal do I eat in such silence and restlessness!

When I light candles at night, I hope to do something, but I dare not read books for entertainment, so I have to bite the bullet and read some esoteric and boring arithmetic books; I can't stand still and let me study, but I have to go through my disobedient head, like going through my grandmother's needle eye, going in from one end and coming out from the other; how is this? night!

I do my best to be alert and alert, but I can't help dozing and yawning; I wake up suddenly from those snoozes; my petty questions are never answered; I am a void A fellow, forgotten by all, but harmful to all.How relieved I was to hear Miss Murdstone tell me to go to bed at the first stroke of nine!

Thus my holiday went on, until one morning Miss Murdstone said, "The last day has come!"

I don't feel bad at all about leaving home.I had grown dizzy, but when I was a little clearer I thought of Steerforth, though Mr. Crigul was looming behind him.Mr. Baggis reappeared at the gate, and as my mother took my leave, Miss Murdstone said again in her commanding voice, "Clara!"

After I got into the coachman's car, I heard her voice.I saw her standing alone in front of the gate with the baby in her arms.It was a cold, windless day, and as she stood there not a single hair of her hair moved, not a single fold of her dress swayed.

So I left her again.Later, I dreamed of her at school—a silent shadow beside my bed—looking at me with the same exacting expression, holding her baby in her arms.

(End of this chapter)