David Copperfield

Chapter 52 Little Emily (2)
Chapter 21 Little Emily (2)
"If she keeps herself, father," said Minnie, "she won't be caught by others, and they won't be jealous of her!"

Mr. Omer replied: "They don't? You know too little about the world, especially about another woman's beauty. All women will do what they shouldn't do!"

After Mr. Omer made a speech about women, I really thought it was all over.He coughed so badly, he tried to catch his breath, but his breath eluded all he tried, so I wondered if his head would sink behind the counter and his knees would be embroidered. The black straps with their little faded satin knots all buckled up in the last struggle.However, he finally got better, but he was still panting so badly that he had to sit down on the stool in front of the desk.

"You understand," he gasped as he wiped his head, "she has never met anyone here, nor has she had any particularly good acquaintances or friends, let alone a lover. Who knows, rumors will spread, Said Emily was going to be a rich lady, and she was going to do something for her uncle—you know that?—and buy something nice.”

"I can attest, Mr. Omer," I continued hastily, "that she said so when we were little children."

Mr. Omer nodded and touched his chin and said: "Yes, she only uses a little material, and she looks better than others who use a lot of material, which makes others unhappy. And she has a little personality. Myself Call it personality too, can't figure out what's on her own mind, a little spoiled, can't control herself. If they object to her, that's all, Minnie?"

"That's all, Pa," said Mrs. Yoland, "and that's the worst I can think of."

"So one time," Mr. Omer said, "she was the companion of an old lady, but the old lady had a bad temper, and the two of them didn't get along well, so she quit the job and agreed to come here as an apprentice for three years. Been doing it for almost two years, and she's a most outstanding girl. She's worth six! Minnie, is she worth six now?"

"Yes, Pa," answered Minnie, "that's right."

"Very well," said Mr. Omer, "that's right, so my lord," he said, rubbing his jaw a little longer, "in case you think I'm short of breath, but my speech is long, so I Think I've said all I have to say."

They lowered their voices when they mentioned Emily, so I knew Emily was not far away.I asked them if that was the case, and Mr. Omer slapped the living room door.I quickly asked if I could take a peek, and the answer was casual.So I saw her sitting there working through the glass.I saw her, a fair thing, her bright blue eyes turned smilingly to Minnie's other child, who was playing beside her; and there was a willful air in her pretty face, that was enough to testify to what I heard; But there was still that elusive and shy look in her expression.But I dare say that in her good-looking appearance, there is always a meaning of happiness for goodness, and she maintains a state of kindness and happiness everywhere.

From the yard came that never-ending sound!--ah! that was a never-ending sound--going on and on tapping lightly.

"You don't want to go in," said Mr. Omer, "to say hello to her, to have a word with her, sir?"

I was too shy to do that - I was afraid of embarrassing her and embarrassing myself.But I made a note of the hour when she left for the evening, so that we could go to her house at that time.Then I said good-bye to Mr. Omer, his handsome daughter, and her little child, and went to my dear old nurse Peggotty's.

She was cooking in the tiled kitchen! As soon as I knocked on the door, she got up and asked me what I wanted.I looked at her with a smile, but she didn't smile, and I never stopped writing to her, but we haven't seen each other for seven years.

"Is this Mr. Barkis's house, ma'am?" I said to her in a mock rough voice.

"Yes, sir," said Peggotty, "but he is in bed with rheumatism."

"Does he still go to Brandstone a lot now?" I asked.

"He used to go there when he was not sick," she replied.

"And you, Mrs. Barkiss?"

She looked at me with special attention, and I saw her quickly clasp her hands together.

"Because I want to ask about a house there, and it's called Crow's Nest—it's a house called Crow's Nest," I said.

She was quite surprised, and held out her hand to me with a kind of hesitation, as if to push me away.

"Peggotty!" I called to her.

"My darling!" she cried, and we cried together and hugged each other tightly.

How she lost herself, how she hugged me and cried and laughed, how proud she was, how happy and sad, how she was sad because she couldn't embrace me who was her pride and happiness forever, all these, I will not describe them one by one up.I'm not at all concerned that I'm too young to respond to her feelings.I dare say, never in my life--not even to her--had laughed or cried more freely than that morning.

"Burgess must be very glad," said Peggotty, wiping away his tears, "that he will do better than a few pounds of ointment to see you. I will go and tell him you are coming. Do you want to go upstairs and see him, my dear?" ?”

I must go.But Peggotty did not go away as she thought, for whenever she went to the door and looked back at me, she ran back and lay on my shoulder, crying and laughing.So in order to make things easier, I simply went upstairs with her, and I waited outside the door for a while, let her speak to Mr. Bagis, and then I appeared at the patient's bedside.

He welcomed me with great warmth.He was too ill to shake my hand, and asked me to hold the tassel of his nightcap, which I did very willingly.When I sat down by his bed, he said to me, it seemed to him again that he was driving for me on Brandstone Avenue, and the thought made him very comfortable.He was lying on his back, covered all over with a quilt, and there seemed to be only one face left - angelic - and his appearance was the most bizarre I have ever seen.

"Sir, what was my name written on the car that time?" Bagis said with a rheumatic smile.

"Ah! Mr. Barkiss, we talked seriously about that matter, didn't we?"

"It took me a long time for that wish, sir?"

"Yes," I said.

"I don't regret it," said Mr. Barkiss. "You said once that she could make all kinds of apple cakes and all kinds of meals, did you forget?"

"No." I replied.

"It's true," said Mr. Barkiss, "it's true," lighting his nightcap, as the only way he could emphasize it, "as true as a tax, it's truer .”

Mr. Baggis looked at me as if to agree with the idea he had been working out in his hospital bed, and I nodded.

"Nothing could be more true," said Mr. Barkis again, "for such a reason as I am, a poor man lying in a sickbed, sir, that I am poor."

"It pains me to say that, Mr Bagis."

"Very poor, all right," said Mr. Baggis.

At this moment, Mr. Barkiss' right hand came limply out from under the quilt, and, after a careless grasp, found a loosely bound cane which was fastened to the side of the bed.He poked with the thing, with an anxious expression on his face, and finally poked a box.His face was much calmer now.

"Old clothes," said Mr. Baggis.

"Oh!" I said.

"I hope it's all money, sir," said Mr. Baggis.

"I hope so, too, really," I said.

"But that's not it," said Mr. Barkis with great effort.

I agreed, and Mr. Barkiss, turning tenderly to his wife, said:

"She, C. Poe Bagis, is the most useful and kindest woman. She can afford any compliment, and more. My dear, you have a supper to-day, Please come back once; make it decent, will you?"

I was bound to object to this needless politeness, but seeing Peggotty, who was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, winking at me, I fell silent.

"I have a little money, Peggotty," said Mr. Baggis, "but I am a little sleepy, and if you and David will go out and let me rest for a while, I will try to find it out."

We obeyed his request and left the room.When we came outside, Peggotty said that Mr. Barkis was a little more 'stingy' than ever, and that taking a coin out of his money-box was always a trick.He was in unspeakable agony as he crawled out of bed to withdraw the money from that unfortunate box.At once we heard the most wretched, hushed sound from him, for the trick employed every joint in him.However, although Peggotty's eyes were full of pity, he said that this kind of painful and generous behavior would be good for him, so he didn't stop it.He climbed back into bed in pain like this.I feel like he's been through a martyr's ordeal.So he called us in, pretended to just wake up from a sleep, and took a guinea from under his pillow.For he had deceived us unperceived, and kept the unfathomable secret of the box, and his satisfaction seemed sufficient compensation for his pain.

I notified Peggotty of Steerforth's arrival, and he was presently present.Steerforth was really my personal friend, not her personal benefactor, but that made no difference to her, and she entertained him with the utmost gratitude and devotion anyway.His vivacious personality, his genial manner, his good looks, his genius for being sociable, his ability to cater to people and penetrate people's hearts completely captured her all at once.The way he treated me alone won her heart.Still, all the reasons put together were enough to make me think that she had respect for him before he left the house that night.

He stayed there for supper with me--if I said he would, that wouldn't be half the excitement.Everything he did was effortless and unaffected; but everything he did had an indescribable lightness, a sense of being limited to this, must be.It was so gentle and cozy, I still feel emotional thinking about it now.

We talked and laughed in that little living room, where the "Martyr Stories" still sat on the desk after I left, and I now turn page after page of the horrific illustrations, The fear of looking through it back then is still in my memory, but I no longer really feel it.When Peggotty mentioned my room, and said it was ready for my stay there, and that she would like to have me overnight; Foz, he understood it all at once.

"All right," he said, "we'll stay here, you'll sleep here, and I'll stay at the hotel."

"But to have brought you so far," I answered him, "it seems a disservice to my friend, Steerforth, to leave you behind."

"This is where you belong!" he said, "and 'seem' is nothing compared to that!"

This pleasant skill of his continued till eight o'clock--when we were going to Mr. Peggotty's old ship.In fact, his talent became more brilliant as time went on.For I thought then, and I think now without any doubt, that his own sense of determination to be likable and easy success was all the more delicacy in him, elusive as it was, and made him all the more likable.If anyone were to tell me that it was all just a sleight of hand, that he was only doing it for the moment's excitement, for the moment's pleasure, because he was driven by a competitive drive, or to acquire something worthless and lose it after he got it. I said, I don't know how angry I would have been if I had been told that.

But with an unabated (if increased is possible) faithfulness and friendship I accompanied him across the beach on a winter night to the old boat when the wind around me was more sloping than when I first went When Mr. Gou came home, he sobbed even more mournfully.

"It's a bleak place, isn't it, Steerforth?"

"It's miserable enough in the night," he said, "and the sea roars like it's going to swallow us up. There's a little light there, isn't there?"

"Yes." I said.

"That's the boat I saw this morning," he answered me. "I recognized it right away."

As we approached the light, there was no more words, but I crept up to the front door, and I put my hand on the latch, and whispered Steerforth to follow me, and went in.

(End of this chapter)