David Copperfield

Chapter 33 My aunt made up her mind about me (1)
Chapter 14 My aunt made up her mind about me (1)
When I went downstairs the next day, I saw my aunt sitting at the dining table with her elbow resting on the tea tray. She was so focused that the tea overflowed the teapot and the tablecloth was soaked in water. She didn't turn her mind until she realized I came in. come over.I concluded that I was the focus of her thinking, so I was more eager to know how she would arrange me.However, I dare not express my anxiety, for fear of displeasing her.

My eyes, though, being less controllable than my tongue, kept paying attention to my aunt during breakfast.When I looked at her continuously, I always found that she was looking at me—with a strange and thoughtful expression, as if I was very far away and not opposite the small round table.After my aunt finished her breakfast, she leaned on her chair with a heavy heart, frowned, crossed her arms, and was still watching me, which made me uneasy.So my knife fell on my fork, and my fork caught my knife again.I didn't eat the bacon, but I cut the bacon scum and flew into the amazing sky.The tea I drank turned somewhere abnormally, choking me so red that I had no choice but to stop eating and let my aunt observe me carefully.

"Hello!" Auntie said after a long time.

I raised my head and met her piercing eyes respectfully.

"I have already written to him," said my aunt.

"Your stepfather," said my aunt, "I have sent him a letter telling him to be careful, or I will go after him, and I can sue him!"

"Does he know where I am, Auntie?" I said, startled.

"I told him." Auntie nodded.

"Are you—are you going to—give me—to him?" I said timidly.

"I don't know yet," said my aunt, "it depends on the circumstances."

"Oh, if I must go back to Murdstone," I cried, "my consequences will be inconceivable."

"I don't understand anything about that," said my aunt, shaking her head. "I can't tell you the truth. We'll have to see."

After hearing these words, I couldn't lift up my spirits immediately, and I was very discouraged.My aunt didn't seem to notice the change in my expression. She took out a coarse cloth apron with a chest scarf from the closet, put it on, washed the tea set, put everything back on the tea tray, folded the tablecloth, and put it on top. , and then ring the bell for Jenny to take it away.She then put on a pair of gloves, and with a small broom, swept away the crumbs until not a single crumb remained on the carpet.Then, clean and tidy up the room that has been cleaned and tidied up perfectly.When everything was to her liking, she took off her gloves and apron, folded them, and put them back in the corner of the cupboard, and took out her sewing-kit and put it on her own table in front of the open window, where the green fan Shade the light and start to work.

"Go upstairs," said my aunt, as she threaded the needle, "give my regards to Mr. Dick, and I want to know how his petition is going!"

I got up quickly and went to work.

"I think," said my aunt, looking into my face as if she were threading a needle, "that you don't think it's rude to call Mr. Dick that way?"

"I felt that way yesterday," I said honestly.

"Don't think he doesn't have a longer name," said my aunt with pride. "Barbray—Mr. Richard Barbray—that's the gentleman's real name."

Being young and feeling somewhat impolite, she was about to suggest changing his full name when my aunt continued:

"But don't ever address him by his full name. He's afraid to hear his full name. That's his eccentricity. Actually, I don't know if it's an eccentricity, because he's been subjected to the stigma of that caste." and therefore hated that name very much, God knows. Now, here and wherever he will go, his name is Mr. Dick. So take care, boy, you will call him Mr. Dick and nothing else. "

After I understood, I went upstairs with my errand.As I walked, I thought that if Mr. Dick had been writing his papers as I had seen them through the open door when I came down the stairs, he would probably be nearly done by now.I found him writing hurriedly with a pen, his head almost stuck to the paper.He was so engrossed that he barely noticed me coming.Before he knew it, I had plenty of time to observe the big kite around the corner, the scrolls of manuscripts, the pens, and most notably the bottles of ink (he seemed There are a dozen half-gallon bottles).

"What, Hambas!" said Mr. Dick, laying down his pen. "I'll tell you what's going on in the world," he added in a low voice. "I hate to say, but it's a—" He beckoned to me, and brought his lips to my ear: "It's a crazy world. It's like a madhouse, boy!" said Mr. Dick, taking snuff from a round box on the table. laugh happily.

I don't want to offer my opinion on this issue, I just did my mission.

"Well," replied Mr. Dick, "give her my regards. I think I've got a head, I think I've got a head," said Mr. Dick, stroking his hair, not Glancing trustingly at his draft, "Did you go to school?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, "but only for a few days."

"Do you remember that time?" said Mr. Dick, looking at me sincerely, and taking up his pen to write down the year. "In what month and year did Charles I go to the guillotine?"

I said, "I remember it was in the year 640."

"Oh," laughed Mr. Dick, scratching his ear with his pen, and looking at me suspiciously, "how can that be? If so many years ago, how could those people make me think about some of the problems in his head?" ?”

I was very surprised to hear this question, but I cannot express any opinion on this point.

"I don't quite understand that," said Mr. Dick, reading his manuscript with a sad air and running his hands through his hair. "I can never quite get it right. I will never Can't figure it out either. But never mind, never mind!" he said cheerily encouraging himself, "there's still time! Give my regards to Miss Trowood, I'm doing very well."

When I was about to leave, he showed me the kite.

"What do you think of it?" he said.

I replied, "That kite is beautiful. I think it must be seven feet tall."

"I did that myself. We'll fly a kite together some other day," said Mr. Dick. "Look at this."

He pointed out to me that the kite was covered with drafts, and it seemed to take a lot of trouble to write so much; but it was very clear, and as I read it line by line, I thought, I seem to see in one or two places again about Charlie. The arguments of I's head.

"Long line," said Mr. Dick, "and when you let it go, the facts go with it. That's how I propagate them. I don't know where they land, it depends on the situation, the direction of the wind, etc. There are relationships."

He was full of energy, and there was something pleasant and sublime about him, and I couldn't tell if he was joking with me.So we all laughed and we became best friends when we parted.

"Well, boy," my aunt asked when I came downstairs, "how is Mr. Dick this morning?"

I said he greeted her well and he was going well.

"What do you think of Mr. Dick!" my aunt asked.

I wanted to avoid the question at the time, so, in a vague way, I thought he was very good; but my aunt would not let me put it off like this, she put her hands on her knees, looked at her hands crossed and said:

"Hi! Your sister Bessie Trowood will tell me readily how she feels. You'll learn from her, honestly!"

"Well, he—Mr. Dick—because I don't understand, I'm asking, Auntie—is he out of his senses?" I broke off.Because I feel that something is wrong with my situation.

"Not at all," said my aunt.

"Oh, sure!" I said feebly.

"Whatever you may say about Mr. Dick," said my aunt firmly, "just don't say he's insane."

I didn't know how to answer, I just said carefully: "Oh, indeed!"

"He's been called crazy," said my aunt, "and I have a certain selfish delight whenever I do, otherwise, the past ten years—indeed, since your sister Bessie Trowood After my great disappointment—how can I have his company and advice?”

"That long?" I said.

"Those who dare to call him crazy are not bad!" my aunt went on. "He is a distant relative of mine—whatever it is, and I don't need to mention it. If it weren't for me, his brother would have Lock him up for life, that's all."

My aunt was very indignant on this matter, and I hypocritically displayed an outrageous display.

"What a pompous fool his brother is!" said my aunt, "because he's got some eccentricities--though he's not half as eccentric as most people--he hates the publicity of his brother, and sends him to a private Madhouse, though his dead father also thought he was abnormal, and put his brother in special care of him. He must be very clever to treat him like this. He must be crazy himself."

My aunt's air of conviction made me put on that air, too.

"Then I stepped in," said my aunt, "to make an opinion of him. I said, your brother is normal--you are no match, and it will always be, and it is foreseeable. Let Come and live with me with the income he deserves! I am not afraid of him, I am not proud, I am ready to take care of him, and I will not treat him like some people (except the people in the hospital). After a After some argument," said my aunt, "he ended up living with me, and has lived with me ever since. He was the kindest and most docile man in the world, and as for his opinion—but no one but me could have guessed. Read his mind."

My aunt was arranging her clothes and shaking her head as if she wanted to shake the world's insults from her clothes and out of her head.

(End of this chapter)