David Copperfield

Chapter 50 Steerforth's House (2)
Chapter 20 Steerforth's House (2)
"Really?" said Steerforth. "Oh, I think I'd like it. I think I should get to know the family and be a part of their life--and that's not counting the pleasure of traveling with you, Daisy, of course. — worth the trip.”

My heart rejoices with a new hope.When he spoke of "their family," Miss Dartle, who always looked at us with twinkling eyes, said:

"Oh, but, is it? Let me see, are they really? Are they?"

"What are they really, and who are they?" said Steerforth.

"The gang. Are they really beasts and stones, are they of another kind? I want to know very much."

"They're very different from us," said Steerforth dryly. "They don't have our allergies. Their senses are less sensitive and less vulnerable. I'm sure they're very decent--someone Against that, I certainly don't argue with them. They don't have very delicate personalities and are not very sensitive, like their skin, and that's thankfully."

"Really," said Miss Dartle, "I couldn't have been happier to hear that. I'm very glad to know they suffered without pain. I used to worry about people like them, but now I There is no need to worry at all. As long as you live, you will learn. I used to have questions, but now they are all resolved. I didn’t know before, and now I know, so this is the benefit of asking questions—isn’t it?”

Steerforth's remark, I thought, was only a joke, or an attempt to elicit something from Miss Dartle; so when we sat before the fire, after Miss Dartle had gone, I thought he would say so.But he asked me what I thought of Miss Dartle.

"She's smart, isn't she?" I asked.

"Smart! She grinds everything out," said Steerforth, "over the years she's sharpened her face and figure, and consumed herself at the same time, with all the edges .”

"That scar is very noticeable!" I said.

Steerforth lowered his face and paused for a moment.

"Oh, as a matter of fact," he replied, "I did it."

"Is it an accident?"

"No, I was a little boy, and once she got on my nerves, and I threw a hammer at her. I must have been a good little babe then."

As soon as I touched such a sad topic, I regretted it, but it was too late.

"She's got the scar, as you see," said Steerforth, "and she'll take it to her grave, though I can't believe she'll be at peace anywhere; she's A cousin of my father's daughter, whose parents died, my mother was widowed by then, and brought her as a companion. She had two thousand pounds, plus annual interest. That's Dartle The whole history of the lady."

"There is no doubt that she loves you as a brother?"

"Hmph!" said Steerforth, staring at the fire, "there are brothers who are not much loved; I—to make me even more ashamed—bless the lilies of the valley!" As he spoke, the bitterness left his face, and he returned to his frank and charming color.

As we drank tea together, I looked at the scar painfully.Then I felt that the scar was the most sensitive part of her face. When her face turned white, the scar turned into a dull leaden scar, which was completely exposed, like a scar that had been baked by fire. Invisible Inkwell.She had a little argument with Steerforth about throwing dice—I think she got very angry sometimes, and I saw the scar, like the writing on the wall.

Mrs Steerforth respected her son, not surprisingly.She had nothing to say or think.She brought me his baby portrait in a gold box with his fetal hair.She showed me his portrait when I first met him again; now she wears his current portrait on her body.She kept all his letters to her in a chest beside the chair in front of the fire.She would have read some of those letters, and I should have been more than happy to hear them, but Steerforth stopped her and coaxed her over.

"My son told me that you first met at Mr. Crigul's school," said Mrs. Steerforth, as she and I sat at a table while Steerforth and Miss Dartle Playing craps at another table, "Yeah, I remember him talking about a younger student there who he liked there, but I don't remember your name."

"At that time, he was very generous to me and took good care of me," I said. "I also really want to have such a friend. Without him, I must be bullied."

"He's always been like that," said Mrs Steerforth proudly.

I agree with all my heart and soul, as God testifies.She knew this too, for her seriousness towards me gradually softened, only to become arrogant again when she praised her son.

"In general, that school is not suitable for my son," she said, "it is far from it; but at that time, there are other conditions that should be considered, which are more important than the choice of school. My son's high-ranking character requires To have someone who senses that character and respects it, we've got that guy at this school."

I know this because I know this guy.But I did not dislike him for it, because I thought he had an redeeming merit; because he was capable of admiration for a man so irresistible as Steerforth.

"My son was there, propelled forward by a kind of spontaneous competitiveness and self-conscious self-esteem," continued the doting mother. "He could have resisted all constraints, but once he found out that he was there King, so he determined to live up to his reputation, and that's what he was."

I wholeheartedly agree that this is what he is.

"Therefore my son resisted compulsion entirely voluntarily, and over the years he could have surpassed any competitor if he wanted to," she went on. "Mr. You were so excited that you were so moved to tears when you met him by chance. If I pretended to be surprised, I would be an unreal woman. But for anyone who appreciates him, I will not be cold. Therefore, I would like you Here, I can fully say that his friendship with you is extraordinary and you can trust his protection."

Miss Dartle rolled the dice with as much zeal as she did anything else.The first time I saw her at the dice table, I thought it was the game that made her so thin and her eyes so big.But if I should have mistaken, as I was happily speaking to Mrs Steerforth, missing a word, or missing a look from me, I would have been quite mistaken.And because I was valued by the old lady, I felt that I had never felt so self-consciously sophisticated since I left Canterbury.

As night approached, Miss Dartle brought out a tray of glasses and bottles.Steerforth told me over the fire that he would give some thought to the question of going to the country with me.He said, don't be busy.His mother said so, equally politely.He used to call me Daisy when we were talking, which brought Miss Dartle back.

"Why, Mr. Copperfield," she asked, "is that a nickname? How can he call it that?—Because he thinks you young and old? I'm a man who doesn't know anything about that." .”

My face was burning hot.

"Oh!" said Miss Dartle, "I'm so happy to know that. I just wanted to be informed, oh, I know now. He thinks you young and you're his friend, and it's true." So much fun."

She went to bed shortly thereafter.Mrs Steerforth also rested.Steerforth and I remained by the fire another half hour, talking of Traddles and the rest of the Salem School, and then went upstairs together.Steerforth's bedroom was next door to mine, and I went to have a look at his bedroom.The room was filled with easy chairs, cushions, and footrests, all of which had been hand-embroidered by his mother.Finally, her pretty face looked down at her son from a picture hanging on the wall, as if she felt that her picture should also watch over him in his sleep.

I saw that the fire in my room was blazing, and that the curtains and hangings about the bed were drawn down, so that the whole room seemed quiet and comfortable.I sat in a large chair in front of the fire to experience my happiness; and after a moment's leisure in this way, I suddenly beheld a portrait of Miss Dartle looking anxiously at me over the mantelpiece.

This is an astonishing portrait.The person who made the portrait didn't draw the scar, but I added it.And so the scar came and went: sometimes on the upper lip, like when I was eating dinner; sometimes it showed all the hammer marks, like when I saw her get angry.

I was troubled how they had to put it on top of me.In order to get rid of her, I hurriedly undressed, turned off the lights, and went to bed.But even when I'm asleep, I feel like she's still there watching. "Is that true? I want to know", I woke up in the night and I found that I kept asking all kinds of people in my dream if it was true-and I didn't know What is being asked.

(End of this chapter)