David Copperfield

Chapter 61 Auspicious God and Fierce God (1)
Chapter 25 Lucky Gods and Bad Gods (1)
That regrettable day gave me a terrible headache, and about that treaty day I had a sort of confused thought in my head, as if I wanted a gang of titans to use a lever to push the day before yesterday back months ago go.While I was thinking this, I saw a porter coming up the stairs with a letter in his hand.He was killing his business trip at a leisurely pace, but as soon as he saw me watching him from the banister, he trotted away, as if he had been exhausted from running and was breathing himself up.

"Lord Troy Copperfield," said the porter, touching his hat with his cane.

I was terrified, and I thought, that must be what Agnes wrote to me, and it made me very uneasy.He gave me the letter and said he would answer it.I told him to wait on the landing for a reply, and then walked back to my lawyer's apartment.I was so excited that I had to lay the letter on my table for a while before making up my mind to open it.

I opened the letter and found that it was a very friendly note, which said nothing about my situation at the theatre.The letter said: "My dear Trowood. I am staying at the house of Mr. Walterbrook, father's agent, in Ellie Lane, Holborn. Will you come and see me today? Do yourself a favor. Agnes hands start."

It took me a long time to write a good reply.I don't know if the porter thought I was practicing writing.I am constantly revising.I started and wrote: "My dear Agnes, how can I get you to forget the bad things?"--I didn't want to write any more, so I tore it up again.I made another head and said: "My dear Agnes, Shakespeare says, is it possible that a man puts his enemy in his mouth?"—which reminded me of Macan, and I put down my pen again.I started a hexameter poem: "Oh, don't forget"-this reminds people of November 03th, so it makes people feel ridiculous.I tried many times, and finally wrote: "My dear Agnes, your letter is just like yours, and there is no better compliment to say about it. I will be sure to come at four o'clock.— T. Co.” At last the letter was written (as soon as I handed it to him, I tried more than once to get it back).If half the rest of the Doctor's College felt the importance of that day as I do, I believe they have done a little good to make up for the bad they have done in that old religious institution.Although I left the Doctor's College at 30:[-] and found the designated spot in a short while, when I mustered up enough courage to go to the doorbell on the left doorpost of Mr. Judging by the clock on the church, it has been over a long time.

"If it had been someone else, Agnes," I said, turning my head, "I would never have cared so much, but it was you who saw me then! I wish I were dead."

She put her hand—unlike any other hand when she touched it—on my arm for a moment, and I felt so much thoughtfulness and tenderness that I had to move that hand to my lips, grateful kiss it.

"Come on," said Agnes cheerfully, "don't be sad, Trowood. If you can't really trust me, who can you trust?"

"Oh, Agnes," I said, "you are my god!"

She smiled, sadly, and shook her head.

"Really, Agnes, my good luck! Forever my good luck!"

"If I am, Trowood," she replied, "there is one thing I would very much like to do."

I looked at her with an inquiring air, but I already knew what she meant.

"I want to remind you," Agnes said with a firm look at me, "beware of your evil spirit."

"My dear Agnes," I began, "you mean Steerforth—"

"Yes, Trowood," she went on.

"Then, Agnes, you are too much, is he my evil spirit, or anyone's evil spirit! He is my mentor, my support, my friend! My dear Agnes! From your previous day Isn't it unfair to judge him by seeing me late? Isn't it not like you?"

"I didn't judge him by the way I saw you the night before," she replied quietly.

"Then, from what?"

"In a number of respects—which in themselves are of no importance, but taken together they seem to me not insignificant. I judge him partly from what you said of him, Trowood, and from your quality, and partly because of his influence on you."

Her gentle voice seems to have a force that touches my heart.The voice is sincere; but when it is as sincere as it is now, there is something in it that makes me tame.I sat watching her, while she lowered her eyes to what she was doing; I sat there, as if still listening to her; and Steerforth (though I admired him) was in that tone fade away.

"As I am," said Agnes, looking up, "it is very bold of me to give you such firm advice, or to insist on my opinion, so out of touch with human affairs. But I know that my opinion is based on What, Trowood—from the old friendship we grew up together, from the fondest remembrance of everything about you. That's what makes me bold, and I'm sure I'm right Yes. I am quite sure. When I remind you that you have a vicious friend, I feel that another person is speaking to you, not myself."

She stopped, and I looked at her and listened to her, and the impression of Steerforth (though still in me) dimmed still further.

"I'm not unreasonably counting on you," he continued to me after a while, in the same tone as before, "to change that sentiment which has become your adoration; and especially not to change it at once, or to change it. An idea that takes root in your trusting heart. You shouldn't be so anxious. I only beg you, Trowood, if you ever think of me—I mean," she smiled, for I was To interject, and she knew why I interjected, "Think of me—think of what I've said. Can you forgive me?"

"You must judge him fairly anyway, Agnes," I replied, "and love him as much as I do before I can forgive you."

"Unless then, won't you forgive me?" she said.

I saw her face sink when I mentioned Steerforth, but she smiled back, and we were as unreservedly interdependent as before.

"Agnes, when will you," I said, "forgive me for what happened the night before?"

"Until I can't remember," she said.

She originally wanted to end the matter like this, but I had a belly full of things to say.So I insisted on telling her how I made a fool of myself and how I was sent to the theater.When I said this, I told how Steerforth looked after me, so that I felt relieved.

"Don't you forget," said Agnes, quietly changing the subject when I had finished, "that you are going to tell me who is Miss Larkins' successor, Trowood?"

"No, Agnes."

"There must be one." Agnes said with a smile and raised a finger.

"No, I tell you the truth, Agnes, although Mrs Steerforth has a lady who is very clever and I like to talk to--Miss Dartle--but I don't admire her."

Agnes laughed again at her eyesight, and she would keep an account of my intense loves, with dates, times, and endings, like a chronology of English kings and queens.Then she asked me if I saw Yulia.

"Eulia Heep?" I said. "No, is he here?"

"He comes down to the office downstairs every day," said Agnes. "He arrives early; I'm afraid I'm here on some unpleasant business, Trowood."

"I know it's something that's bothering you," I said, "what could it be?"

Agnes laid down her work, crossed her hands, and looking at me with her delicate, soft eyes thoughtfully, replied:

"I think he's going to partner with my father."

"What? Yulia? That vile beggar who has reached such a high position?" I exclaimed indignantly. "Didn't you stop it, Agnes? What do you think this association will become?" , you must speak, you must not let your father take such a foolish step. Agnes, you should stop it before you can."

When I said this, Agnes still looked at me, shook her head, smiled at the intensity, and said:

"Do you remember what we said about Papa last time? Not long after that—not two or three days—he told me what I'm telling you now. He tried to pretend to me that it was It hurts to see him torn between his wishful thinking and his inability to hide that it was coerced."

"Forced him, Agnes, who forced him?"

"Yulia," she said after a moment's hesitation, "has made papa inseparable from him. He is insidious and cunning, he recognizes papa's weakness, breeds it, takes advantage of it, and finally—to express what I mean in one sentence." , Trowood—till papa fear him."

I clearly know that she can say more, she knows more or she suspects more, and I can't ask her anymore, because she won't let me speak in defense of her father, I can't hurt her.I think it's been a long time, yes, when I think about it carefully, I can't help but feel that this situation has been formed long ago.So I am silent.

"My dad was bullied by him," Agnes said, "and he gave obedient thanks—maybe it was true, and I hoped—but he was actually in a position of power, and I was afraid he would Use that power mercilessly."

I said he was a dog.

"When my dad told me those things," Agnes continued, "he told my dad that he was leaving; he was sad, he didn't want to go, but he had a better future. Dad was very sad at that time; But he seems to be content with the expedient of a partnership, though he seems to be hurt and vexed by it."

"What do you think of the matter, Agnes?"

"Trouud," she replied, "I do what I think is right. But since it was supposed that this sacrifice was necessary for my father's safety, I must let him do it. I said, It relieves him of his responsibilities so that I can spend more time with him. Oh, Trowood," Agnes cried, covering her face with her hands, "I seem to feel that I am my father's enemy rather than Love his child. For I know that he is changed by loving me, I know that because he loves me with all his heart, he narrows the circle of associations and duties. I know that he neglects other things for my sake; he is troubled and weak because of me, Because he puts all his energy into one thought. If only I could take care of that! If only I could get him back! Because I've been the cause of his old age without knowing it!"

I've never seen Agnes sad. I've seen her with tears in her eyes when I brought home a new award from school. I've seen her sad when we talked about her father last time. When I said goodbye, I saw her quietly turn her head to one side.But I've never seen her so sad.I saw her so distressed that I could only say, with a helplessly stupid look, "Agnes, don't cry! Don't cry, my dear sister!"

But whether I knew it then or not, it is clear to me now that Agnes has a hundred times more quality and perseverance than I do, and therefore won't need my plea for long.I remember her beautiful and calm manner very different from others, and she soon recovered, as if a cloud had passed from a clear sky.

"We don't have much time together," Agnes said. "Now, let me beg you, Trowood, don't offend Julia. Don't hate him. Don't hate (I believe you have temper) where he doesn't suit you. Maybe we shouldn't think of him that way, because we don't understand what bad things he did. Anyway, you have to think about everything for my father and me!"

Then the door opened, and Mrs. Whatbrook (I don't know whether she was tall or had a big dress on, because I couldn't tell which was a person and which was a dress) entered the room.I have a vague recollection of our meeting in the theater, as if I'd seen her on a dimly lit slide, but she remembered me very clearly and still suspected I was in a drunken state.

(End of this chapter)