Home


Charles Dickens
Chapter 32
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       What is natural in me, is natural in many other men, I infer, and
2  so I am not afraid to write that I never had loved Steerforth
3  better than when the ties that bound me to him were broken. In the
4  keen distress of the discovery of his unworthiness, I thought more
5  of all that was brilliant in him, I softened more towards all that
6  was good in him, I did more justice to the qualities that might
7  have made him a man of a noble nature and a great name, than ever
8  I had done in the height of my devotion to him. Deeply as I felt
9  my own unconscious part in his pollution of an honest home, I
10  believed that if I had been brought face to face with him, I could
11  not have uttered one reproach. I should have loved him so well
12  still - though he fascinated me no longer - I should have held in
13  so much tenderness the memory of my affection for him, that I think
14  I should have been as weak as a spirit-wounded child, in all but
15  the entertainment of a thought that we could ever be re-united.
16  That thought I never had. I felt, as he had felt, that all was at
17  an end between us. What his remembrances of me were, I have never
18  known - they were light enough, perhaps, and easily dismissed - but
19  mine of him were as the remembrances of a cherished friend, who was
20  dead.

21       Yes, Steerforth, long removed from the scenes of this poor history!
22  My sorrow may bear involuntary witness against you at the judgement
23  Throne; but my angry thoughts or my reproaches never will, I know!

24       The news of what had happened soon spread through the town;
25  insomuch that as I passed along the streets next morning, I
26  overheard the people speaking of it at their doors. Many were hard
27  upon her, some few were hard upon him, but towards her second
28  father and her lover there was but one sentiment. Among all kinds
29  of people a respect for them in their distress prevailed, which was
30  full of gentleness and delicacy. The seafaring men kept apart,
31  when those two were seen early, walking with slow steps on the
32  beach; and stood in knots, talking compassionately among
33  themselves.

34       It was on the beach, close down by the sea, that I found them. It
35  would have been easy to perceive that they had not slept all last
36  night, even if Peggotty had failed to tell me of their still
37  sitting just as I left them, when it was broad day. They looked
38  worn; and I thought Mr. Peggotty's head was bowed in one night more
39  than in all the years I had known him. But they were both as grave
40  and steady as the sea itself, then lying beneath a dark sky,
41  waveless - yet with a heavy roll upon it, as if it breathed in its
42  rest - and touched, on the horizon, with a strip of silvery light
43  from the unseen sun.

44       'We have had a mort of talk, sir,' said Mr. Peggotty to me, when we
45  had all three walked a little while in silence, 'of what we ought
46  and doen't ought to do. But we see our course now.'

47       I happened to glance at Ham, then looking out to sea upon the
48  distant light, and a frightful thought came into my mind - not that
49  his face was angry, for it was not; I recall nothing but an
50  expression of stern determination in it - that if ever he
51  encountered Steerforth, he would kill him.

52       'My dooty here, sir,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'is done. I'm a going to
53  seek my -' he stopped, and went on in a firmer voice: 'I'm a going
54  to seek her. That's my dooty evermore.'

55       He shook his head when I asked him where he would seek her, and
56  inquired if I were going to London tomorrow? I told him I had not
57  gone today, fearing to lose the chance of being of any service to
58  him; but that I was ready to go when he would.

59       'I'll go along with you, sir,' he rejoined, 'if you're agreeable,
60  tomorrow.'

61       We walked again, for a while, in silence.

62       'Ham,'he presently resumed,'he'll hold to his present work, and go
63  and live along with my sister. The old boat yonder -'

64       'Will you desert the old boat, Mr. Peggotty?' I gently interposed.

65       'My station, Mas'r Davy,' he returned, 'ain't there no longer; and
66  if ever a boat foundered, since there was darkness on the face of
67  the deep, that one's gone down. But no, sir, no; I doen't mean as
68  it should be deserted. Fur from that.'

69       We walked again for a while, as before, until he explained:

70       'My wishes is, sir, as it shall look, day and night, winter and
71  summer, as it has always looked, since she fust know'd it. If ever
72  she should come a wandering back, I wouldn't have the old place
73  seem to cast her off, you understand, but seem to tempt her to draw
74  nigher to 't, and to peep in, maybe, like a ghost, out of the wind
75  and rain, through the old winder, at the old seat by the fire.
76  Then, maybe, Mas'r Davy, seein' none but Missis Gummidge there, she
77  might take heart to creep in, trembling; and might come to be laid
78  down in her old bed, and rest her weary head where it was once so
79  gay.'

80       I could not speak to him in reply, though I tried.

81       'Every night,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'as reg'lar as the night comes,
82  the candle must be stood in its old pane of glass, that if ever she
83  should see it, it may seem to say "Come back, my child, come back!"
84  If ever there's a knock, Ham (partic'ler a soft knock), arter dark,
85  at your aunt's door, doen't you go nigh it. Let it be her - not
86  you - that sees my fallen child!'

87       He walked a little in front of us, and kept before us for some
88  minutes. During this interval, I glanced at Ham again, and
89  observing the same expression on his face, and his eyes still
90  directed to the distant light, I touched his arm.

91       Twice I called him by his name, in the tone in which I might have
92  tried to rouse a sleeper, before he heeded me. When I at last
93  inquired on what his thoughts were so bent, he replied:

94       'On what's afore me, Mas'r Davy; and over yon.'
95  'On the life before you, do you mean?' He had pointed confusedly
96  out to sea.

97       'Ay, Mas'r Davy. I doen't rightly know how 'tis, but from over yon
98  there seemed to me to come - the end of it like,' looking at me as
99  if he were waking, but with the same determined face.

100       'What end?' I asked, possessed by my former fear.

101       'I doen't know,'he said, thoughtfully; 'I was calling to mind that
102  the beginning of it all did take place here - and then the end
103  come. But it's gone! Mas'r Davy,' he added; answering, as I
104  think, my look; 'you han't no call to be afeerd of me: but I'm
105  kiender muddled; I don't fare to feel no matters,' - which was as
106  much as to say that he was not himself, and quite confounded.

107       Mr. Peggotty stopping for us to join him: we did so, and said no
108  more. The remembrance of this, in connexion with my former
109  thought, however, haunted me at intervals, even until the
110  inexorable end came at its appointed time.

111       We insensibly approached the old boat, and entered. Mrs. Gummidge,
112  no longer moping in her especial corner, was busy preparing
113  breakfast. She took Mr. Peggotty's hat, and placed his seat for
114  him, and spoke so comfortably and softly, that I hardly knew her.

115       'Dan'l, my good man,' said she, 'you must eat and drink, and keep
116  up your strength, for without it you'll do nowt. Try, that's a
117  dear soul! An if I disturb you with my clicketten,' she meant her
118  chattering, 'tell me so, Dan'l, and I won't.'

119       When she had served us all, she withdrew to the window, where she
120  sedulously employed herself in repairing some shirts and other
121  clothes belonging to Mr. Peggotty, and neatly folding and packing
122  them in an old oilskin bag, such as sailors carry. Meanwhile, she
123  continued talking, in the same quiet manner:

124       'All times and seasons, you know, Dan'l,' said Mrs. Gummidge, 'I
125  shall be allus here, and everythink will look accordin' to your
126  wishes. I'm a poor scholar, but I shall write to you, odd times,
127  when you're away, and send my letters to Mas'r Davy. Maybe you'll
128  write to me too, Dan'l, odd times, and tell me how you fare to feel
129  upon your lone lorn journies.'

130       'You'll be a solitary woman heer, I'm afeerd!' said Mr. Peggotty.

131       'No, no, Dan'l,' she returned, 'I shan't be that. Doen't you mind
132  me. I shall have enough to do to keep a Beein for you' (Mrs.
133  Gummidge meant a home), 'again you come back - to keep a Beein here
134  for any that may hap to come back, Dan'l. In the fine time, I
135  shall set outside the door as I used to do. If any should come
136  nigh, they shall see the old widder woman true to 'em, a long way
137  off.'

138       What a change in Mrs. Gummidge in a little time! She was another
139  woman. She was so devoted, she had such a quick perception of what
140  it would be well to say, and what it would be well to leave unsaid;
141  she was so forgetful of herself, and so regardful of the sorrow
142  about her, that I held her in a sort of veneration. The work she
143  did that day! There were many things to be brought up from the
144  beach and stored in the outhouse - as oars, nets, sails, cordage,
145  spars, lobster-pots, bags of ballast, and the like; and though
146  there was abundance of assistance rendered, there being not a pair
147  of working hands on all that shore but would have laboured hard for
148  Mr. Peggotty, and been well paid in being asked to do it, yet she
149  persisted, all day long, in toiling under weights that she was
150  quite unequal to, and fagging to and fro on all sorts of
151  unnecessary errands. As to deploring her misfortunes, she appeared
152  to have entirely lost the recollection of ever having had any. She
153  preserved an equable cheerfulness in the midst of her sympathy,
154  which was not the least astonishing part of the change that had
155  come over her. Querulousness was out of the question. I did not
156  even observe her voice to falter, or a tear to escape from her
157  eyes, the whole day through, until twilight; when she and I and Mr.
158  Peggotty being alone together, and he having fallen asleep in
159  perfect exhaustion, she broke into a half-suppressed fit of sobbing
160  and crying, and taking me to the door, said, 'Ever bless you, Mas'r
161  Davy, be a friend to him, poor dear!' Then, she immediately ran out
162  of the house to wash her face, in order that she might sit quietly
163  beside him, and be found at work there, when he should awake. In
164  short I left her, when I went away at night, the prop and staff of
165  Mr. Peggotty's affliction; and I could not meditate enough upon the
166  lesson that I read in Mrs. Gummidge, and the new experience she
167  unfolded to me.

168       It was between nine and ten o'clock when, strolling in a melancholy
169  manner through the town, I stopped at Mr. Omer's door. Mr. Omer
170  had taken it so much to heart, his daughter told me, that he had
171  been very low and poorly all day, and had gone to bed without his
172  pipe.

173       'A deceitful, bad-hearted girl,' said Mrs. Joram. 'There was no
174  good in her, ever!'

175       'Don't say so,' I returned. 'You don't think so.'

176       'Yes, I do!' cried Mrs. Joram, angrily.

177       'No, no,' said I.

178       Mrs. Joram tossed her head, endeavouring to be very stern and
179  cross; but she could not command her softer self, and began to cry.
180  I was young, to be sure; but I thought much the better of her for
181  this sympathy, and fancied it became her, as a virtuous wife and
182  mother, very well indeed.

183       'What will she ever do!' sobbed Minnie. 'Where will she go! What
184  will become of her! Oh, how could she be so cruel, to herself and
185  him!'

186       I remembered the time when Minnie was a young and pretty girl; and
187  I was glad she remembered it too, so feelingly.

188       'My little Minnie,' said Mrs. Joram, 'has only just now been got to
189  sleep. Even in her sleep she is sobbing for Em'ly. All day long,
190  little Minnie has cried for her, and asked me, over and over again,
191  whether Em'ly was wicked? What can I say to her, when Em'ly tied
192  a ribbon off her own neck round little Minnie's the last night she
193  was here, and laid her head down on the pillow beside her till she
194  was fast asleep! The ribbon's round my little Minnie's neck now.
195  It ought not to be, perhaps, but what can I do? Em'ly is very bad,
196  but they were fond of one another. And the child knows nothing!'

197       Mrs. Joram was so unhappy that her husband came out to take care of
198  her. Leaving them together, I went home to Peggotty's; more
199  melancholy myself, if possible, than I had been yet.

200       That good creature - I mean Peggotty - all untired by her late
201  anxieties and sleepless nights, was at her brother's, where she
202  meant to stay till morning. An old woman, who had been employed
203  about the house for some weeks past, while Peggotty had been unable
204  to attend to it, was the house's only other occupant besides
205  myself. As I had no occasion for her services, I sent her to bed,
206  by no means against her will, and sat down before the kitchen fire
207  a little while, to think about all this.

208       I was blending it with the deathbed of the late Mr. Barkis, and was
209  driving out with the tide towards the distance at which Ham had
210  looked so singularly in the morning, when I was recalled from my
211  wanderings by a knock at the door. There was a knocker upon the
212  door, but it was not that which made the sound. The tap was from
213  a hand, and low down upon the door, as if it were given by a child.

214       It made me start as much as if it had been the knock of a footman
215  to a person of distinction. I opened the door; and at first looked
216  down, to my amazement, on nothing but a great umbrella that
217  appeared to be walking about of itself. But presently I discovered
218  underneath it, Miss Mowcher.

219       I might not have been prepared to give the little creature a very
220  kind reception, if, on her removing the umbrella, which her utmost
221  efforts were unable to shut up, she had shown me the 'volatile'
222  expression of face which had made so great an impression on me at
223  our first and last meeting. But her face, as she turned it up to
224  mine, was so earnest; and when I relieved her of the umbrella
225  (which would have been an inconvenient one for the Irish Giant),
226  she wrung her little hands in such an afflicted manner; that I
227  rather inclined towards her.

228       'Miss Mowcher!' said I, after glancing up and down the empty
229  street, without distinctly knowing what I expected to see besides;
230  'how do you come here? What is the matter?'
231  She motioned to me with her short right arm, to shut the umbrella
232  for her; and passing me hurriedly, went into the kitchen. When I
233  had closed the door, and followed, with the umbrella in my hand, I
234  found her sitting on the corner of the fender - it was a low iron
235  one, with two flat bars at top to stand plates upon - in the shadow
236  of the boiler, swaying herself backwards and forwards, and chafing
237  her hands upon her knees like a person in pain.

238       Quite alarmed at being the only recipient of this untimely visit,
239  and the only spectator of this portentous behaviour, I exclaimed
240  again, 'Pray tell me, Miss Mowcher, what is the matter! are you
241  ill?'

242       'My dear young soul,' returned Miss Mowcher, squeezing her hands
243  upon her heart one over the other. 'I am ill here, I am very ill.
244  To think that it should come to this, when I might have known it
245  and perhaps prevented it, if I hadn't been a thoughtless fool!'

246       Again her large bonnet (very disproportionate to the figure) went
247  backwards and forwards, in her swaying of her little body to and
248  fro; while a most gigantic bonnet rocked, in unison with it, upon
249  the wall.

250       'I am surprised,' I began, 'to see you so distressed and serious'-
251  when she interrupted me.

252       'Yes, it's always so!' she said. 'They are all surprised, these
253  inconsiderate young people, fairly and full grown, to see any
254  natural feeling in a little thing like me! They make a plaything
255  of me, use me for their amusement, throw me away when they are
256  tired, and wonder that I feel more than a toy horse or a wooden
257  soldier! Yes, yes, that's the way. The old way!'

258       'It may be, with others,' I returned, 'but I do assure you it is
259  not with me. Perhaps I ought not to be at all surprised to see you
260  as you are now: I know so little of you. I said, without
261  consideration, what I thought.'

262       'What can I do?' returned the little woman, standing up, and
263  holding out her arms to show herself. 'See! What I am, my father
264  was; and my sister is; and my brother is. I have worked for sister
265  and brother these many years - hard, Mr. Copperfield - all day. I
266  must live. I do no harm. If there are people so unreflecting or
267  so cruel, as to make a jest of me, what is left for me to do but to
268  make a jest of myself, them, and everything? If I do so, for the
269  time, whose fault is that? Mine?'

270       No. Not Miss Mowcher's, I perceived.

271       'If I had shown myself a sensitive dwarf to your false friend,'
272  pursued the little woman, shaking her head at me, with reproachful
273  earnestness, 'how much of his help or good will do you think I
274  should ever have had? If little Mowcher (who had no hand, young
275  gentleman, in the making of herself) addressed herself to him, or
276  the like of him, because of her misfortunes, when do you suppose
277  her small voice would have been heard? Little Mowcher would have
278  as much need to live, if she was the bitterest and dullest of
279  pigmies; but she couldn't do it. No. She might whistle for her
280  bread and butter till she died of Air.'

281       Miss Mowcher sat down on the fender again, and took out her
282  handkerchief, and wiped her eyes.

283       'Be thankful for me, if you have a kind heart, as I think you
284  have,' she said, 'that while I know well what I am, I can be
285  cheerful and endure it all. I am thankful for myself, at any rate,
286  that I can find my tiny way through the world, without being
287  beholden to anyone; and that in return for all that is thrown at
288  me, in folly or vanity, as I go along, I can throw bubbles back.
289  If I don't brood over all I want, it is the better for me, and not
290  the worse for anyone. If I am a plaything for you giants, be
291  gentle with me.'

292       Miss Mowcher replaced her handkerchief in her pocket, looking at me
293  with very intent expression all the while, and pursued:

294       'I saw you in the street just now. You may suppose I am not able
295  to walk as fast as you, with my short legs and short breath, and I
296  couldn't overtake you; but I guessed where you came, and came after
297  you. I have been here before, today, but the good woman wasn't at
298  home.'

299       'Do you know her?' I demanded.

300       'I know of her, and about her,' she replied, 'from Omer and Joram.
301  I was there at seven o'clock this morning. Do you remember what
302  Steerforth said to me about this unfortunate girl, that time when
303  I saw you both at the inn?'

304       The great bonnet on Miss Mowcher's head, and the greater bonnet on
305  the wall, began to go backwards and forwards again when she asked
306  this question.

307       I remembered very well what she referred to, having had it in my
308  thoughts many times that day. I told her so.

309       'May the Father of all Evil confound him,' said the little woman,
310  holding up her forefinger between me and her sparkling eyes, 'and
311  ten times more confound that wicked servant; but I believed it was
312  YOU who had a boyish passion for her!'

313       'I?' I repeated.

314       'Child, child! In the name of blind ill-fortune,' cried Miss
315  Mowcher, wringing her hands impatiently, as she went to and fro
316  again upon the fender, 'why did you praise her so, and blush, and
317  look disturbed? '

318       I could not conceal from myself that I had done this, though for a
319  reason very different from her supposition.

320       'What did I know?' said Miss Mowcher, taking out her handkerchief
321  again, and giving one little stamp on the ground whenever, at short
322  intervals, she applied it to her eyes with both hands at once. 'He
323  was crossing you and wheedling you, I saw; and you were soft wax in
324  his hands, I saw. Had I left the room a minute, when his man told
325  me that "Young Innocence" (so he called you, and you may call him
326  "Old Guilt" all the days of your life) had set his heart upon her,
327  and she was giddy and liked him, but his master was resolved that
328  no harm should come of it - more for your sake than for hers - and
329  that that was their business here? How could I BUT believe him?
330  I saw Steerforth soothe and please you by his praise of her! You
331  were the first to mention her name. You owned to an old admiration
332  of her. You were hot and cold, and red and white, all at once when
333  I spoke to you of her. What could I think - what DID I think - but
334  that you were a young libertine in everything but experience, and
335  had fallen into hands that had experience enough, and could manage
336  you (having the fancy) for your own good? Oh! oh! oh! They were
337  afraid of my finding out the truth,' exclaimed Miss Mowcher,
338  getting off the fender, and trotting up and down the kitchen with
339  her two short arms distressfully lifted up, 'because I am a sharp
340  little thing - I need be, to get through the world at all! - and
341  they deceived me altogether, and I gave the poor unfortunate girl
342  a letter, which I fully believe was the beginning of her ever
343  speaking to Littimer, who was left behind on purpose!'

344       I stood amazed at the revelation of all this perfidy, looking at
345  Miss Mowcher as she walked up and down the kitchen until she was
346  out of breath: when she sat upon the fender again, and, drying her
347  face with her handkerchief, shook her head for a long time, without
348  otherwise moving, and without breaking silence.

349       'My country rounds,' she added at length, 'brought me to Norwich,
350  Mr. Copperfield, the night before last. What I happened to find
351  there, about their secret way of coming and going, without you -
352  which was strange - led to my suspecting something wrong. I got
353  into the coach from London last night, as it came through Norwich,
354  and was here this morning. Oh, oh, oh! too late!'

355       Poor little Mowcher turned so chilly after all her crying and
356  fretting, that she turned round on the fender, putting her poor
357  little wet feet in among the ashes to warm them, and sat looking at
358  the fire, like a large doll. I sat in a chair on the other side of
359  the hearth, lost in unhappy reflections, and looking at the fire
360  too, and sometimes at her.

361       'I must go,' she said at last, rising as she spoke. 'It's late.
362  You don't mistrust me?'

363       Meeting her sharp glance, which was as sharp as ever when she asked
364  me, I could not on that short challenge answer no, quite frankly.

365       'Come!' said she, accepting the offer of my hand to help her over
366  the fender, and looking wistfully up into my face, 'you know you
367  wouldn't mistrust me, if I was a full-sized woman!'

368       I felt that there was much truth in this; and I felt rather ashamed
369  of myself.

370       'You are a young man,' she said, nodding. 'Take a word of advice,
371  even from three foot nothing. Try not to associate bodily defects
372  with mental, my good friend, except for a solid reason.'

373       She had got over the fender now, and I had got over my suspicion.
374  I told her that I believed she had given me a faithful account of
375  herself, and that we had both been hapless instruments in designing
376  hands. She thanked me, and said I was a good fellow.

377       'Now, mind!' she exclaimed, turning back on her way to the door,
378  and looking shrewdly at me, with her forefinger up again.- 'I have
379  some reason to suspect, from what I have heard - my ears are always
380  open; I can't afford to spare what powers I have - that they are
381  gone abroad. But if ever they return, if ever any one of them
382  returns, while I am alive, I am more likely than another, going
383  about as I do, to find it out soon. Whatever I know, you shall
384  know. If ever I can do anything to serve the poor betrayed girl,
385  I will do it faithfully, please Heaven! And Littimer had better
386  have a bloodhound at his back, than little Mowcher!'

387       I placed implicit faith in this last statement, when I marked the
388  look with which it was accompanied.

389       'Trust me no more, but trust me no less, than you would trust a
390  full-sized woman,' said the little creature, touching me
391  appealingly on the wrist. 'If ever you see me again, unlike what
392  I am now, and like what I was when you first saw me, observe what
393  company I am in. Call to mind that I am a very helpless and
394  defenceless little thing. Think of me at home with my brother like
395  myself and sister like myself, when my day's work is done. Perhaps
396  you won't, then, be very hard upon me, or surprised if I can be
397  distressed and serious. Good night!'

398       I gave Miss Mowcher my hand, with a very different opinion of her
399  from that which I had hitherto entertained, and opened the door to
400  let her out. It was not a trifling business to get the great
401  umbrella up, and properly balanced in her grasp; but at last I
402  successfully accomplished this, and saw it go bobbing down the
403  street through the rain, without the least appearance of having
404  anybody underneath it, except when a heavier fall than usual from
405  some over-charged water-spout sent it toppling over, on one side,
406  and discovered Miss Mowcher struggling violently to get it right.
407  After making one or two sallies to her relief, which were rendered
408  futile by the umbrella's hopping on again, like an immense bird,
409  before I could reach it, I came in, went to bed, and slept till
410  morning.

411       In the morning I was joined by Mr. Peggotty and by my old nurse,
412  and we went at an early hour to the coach office, where Mrs.
413  Gummidge and Ham were waiting to take leave of us.

414       'Mas'r Davy,' Ham whispered, drawing me aside, while Mr. Peggotty
415  was stowing his bag among the luggage, 'his life is quite broke up.
416  He doen't know wheer he's going; he doen't know -what's afore him;
417  he's bound upon a voyage that'll last, on and off, all the rest of
418  his days, take my wured for 't, unless he finds what he's a seeking
419  of. I am sure you'll be a friend to him, Mas'r Davy?'

420       'Trust me, I will indeed,' said I, shaking hands with Ham
421  earnestly.

422       'Thankee. Thankee, very kind, sir. One thing furder. I'm in good
423  employ, you know, Mas'r Davy, and I han't no way now of spending
424  what I gets. Money's of no use to me no more, except to live. If
425  you can lay it out for him, I shall do my work with a better art.
426  Though as to that, sir,' and he spoke very steadily and mildly,
427  'you're not to think but I shall work at all times, like a man, and
428  act the best that lays in my power!'

429       I told him I was well convinced of it; and I hinted that I hoped
430  the time might even come, when he would cease to lead the lonely
431  life he naturally contemplated now.

432       'No, sir,' he said, shaking his head, 'all that's past and over
433  with me, sir. No one can never fill the place that's empty. But
434  you'll bear in mind about the money, as theer's at all times some
435  laying by for him?'

436       Reminding him of the fact, that Mr. Peggotty derived a steady,
437  though certainly a very moderate income from the bequest of his
438  late brother-in-law, I promised to do so. We then took leave of
439  each other. I cannot leave him even now, without remembering with
440  a pang, at once his modest fortitude and his great sorrow.

441       As to Mrs. Gummidge, if I were to endeavour to describe how she ran
442  down the street by the side of the coach, seeing nothing but Mr.
443  Peggotty on the roof, through the tears she tried to repress, and
444  dashing herself against the people who were coming in the opposite
445  direction, I should enter on a task of some difficulty. Therefore
446  I had better leave her sitting on a baker's door-step, out of
447  breath, with no shape at all remaining in her bonnet, and one of
448  her shoes off, lying on the pavement at a considerable distance.

449       When we got to our journey's end, our first pursuit was to look
450  about for a little lodging for Peggotty, where her brother could
451  have a bed. We were so fortunate as to find one, of a very clean
452  and cheap description, over a chandler's shop, only two streets
453  removed from me. When we had engaged this domicile, I bought some
454  cold meat at an eating-house, and took my fellow-travellers home to
455  tea; a proceeding, I regret to state, which did not meet with Mrs.
456  Crupp's approval, but quite the contrary. I ought to observe,
457  however, in explanation of that lady's state of mind, that she was
458  much offended by Peggotty's tucking up her widow's gown before she
459  had been ten minutes in the place, and setting to work to dust my
460  bedroom. This Mrs. Crupp regarded in the light of a liberty, and
461  a liberty, she said, was a thing she never allowed.

462       Mr. Peggotty had made a communication to me on the way to London
463  for which I was not unprepared. It was, that he purposed first
464  seeing Mrs. Steerforth. As I felt bound to assist him in this, and
465  also to mediate between them; with the view of sparing the mother's
466  feelings as much as possible, I wrote to her that night. I told
467  her as mildly as I could what his wrong was, and what my own share
468  in his injury. I said he was a man in very common life, but of a
469  most gentle and upright character; and that I ventured to express
470  a hope that she would not refuse to see him in his heavy trouble.
471  I mentioned two o'clock in the afternoon as the hour of our coming,
472  and I sent the letter myself by the first coach in the morning.

473       At the appointed time, we stood at the door - the door of that
474  house where I had been, a few days since, so happy: where my
475  youthful confidence and warmth of heart had been yielded up so
476  freely: which was closed against me henceforth: which was now a
477  waste, a ruin.

478       No Littimer appeared. The pleasanter face which had replaced his,
479  on the occasion of my last visit, answered to our summons, and went
480  before us to the drawing-room. Mrs. Steerforth was sitting there.
481  Rosa Dartle glided, as we went in, from another part of the room
482  and stood behind her chair.

483       I saw, directly, in his mother's face, that she knew from himself
484  what he had done. It was very pale; and bore the traces of deeper
485  emotion than my letter alone, weakened by the doubts her fondness
486  would have raised upon it, would have been likely to create. I
487  thought her more like him than ever I had thought her; and I felt,
488  rather than saw, that the resemblance was not lost on my companion.

489       She sat upright in her arm-chair, with a stately, immovable,
490  passionless air, that it seemed as if nothing could disturb. She
491  looked very steadfastly at Mr. Peggotty when he stood before her;
492  and he looked quite as steadfastly at her. Rosa Dartle's keen
493  glance comprehended all of us. For some moments not a word was
494  spoken.

495       She motioned to Mr. Peggotty to be seated. He said, in a low
496  voice, 'I shouldn't feel it nat'ral, ma'am, to sit down in this
497  house. I'd sooner stand.' And this was succeeded by another
498  silence, which she broke thus:

499       'I know, with deep regret, what has brought you here. What do you
500  want of me? What do you ask me to do?'

501       He put his hat under his arm, and feeling in his breast for Emily's
502  letter, took it out, unfolded it, and gave it to her.
503  'Please to read that, ma'am. That's my niece's hand!'

504       She read it, in the same stately and impassive way, - untouched by
505  its contents, as far as I could see, - and returned it to him.

506       '"Unless he brings me back a lady,"' said Mr. Peggotty, tracing out
507  that part with his finger. 'I come to know, ma'am, whether he will
508  keep his wured?'

509       'No,' she returned.

510       'Why not?' said Mr. Peggotty.

511       'It is impossible. He would disgrace himself. You cannot fail to
512  know that she is far below him.'

513       'Raise her up!' said Mr. Peggotty.

514       'She is uneducated and ignorant.'

515       'Maybe she's not; maybe she is,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'I think not,
516  ma'am; but I'm no judge of them things. Teach her better!'

517       'Since you oblige me to speak more plainly, which I am very
518  unwilling to do, her humble connexions would render such a thing
519  impossible, if nothing else did.'

520       'Hark to this, ma'am,' he returned, slowly and quietly. 'You know
521  what it is to love your child. So do I. If she was a hundred
522  times my child, I couldn't love her more. You doen't know what it
523  is to lose your child. I do. All the heaps of riches in the
524  wureld would be nowt to me (if they was mine) to buy her back!
525  But, save her from this disgrace, and she shall never be disgraced
526  by us. Not one of us that she's growed up among, not one of us
527  that's lived along with her and had her for their all in all, these
528  many year, will ever look upon her pritty face again. We'll be
529  content to let her be; we'll be content to think of her, far off,
530  as if she was underneath another sun and sky; we'll be content to
531  trust her to her husband, - to her little children, p'raps, - and
532  bide the time when all of us shall be alike in quality afore our
533  God!'

534       The rugged eloquence with which he spoke, was not devoid of all
535  effect. She still preserved her proud manner, but there was a
536  touch of softness in her voice, as she answered:

537       'I justify nothing. I make no counter-accusations. But I am sorry
538  to repeat, it is impossible. Such a marriage would irretrievably
539  blight my son's career, and ruin his prospects. Nothing is more
540  certain than that it never can take place, and never will. If
541  there is any other compensation -'

542       'I am looking at the likeness of the face,' interrupted Mr.
543  Peggotty, with a steady but a kindling eye, 'that has looked at me,
544  in my home, at my fireside, in my boat - wheer not? - smiling and
545  friendly, when it was so treacherous, that I go half wild when I
546  think of it. If the likeness of that face don't turn to burning
547  fire, at the thought of offering money to me for my child's blight
548  and ruin, it's as bad. I doen't know, being a lady's, but what
549  it's worse.'

550       She changed now, in a moment. An angry flush overspread her
551  features; and she said, in an intolerant manner, grasping the
552  arm-chair tightly with her hands:

553       'What compensation can you make to ME for opening such a pit
554  between me and my son? What is your love to mine? What is your
555  separation to ours?'

556       Miss Dartle softly touched her, and bent down her head to whisper,
557  but she would not hear a word.

558       'No, Rosa, not a word! Let the man listen to what I say! My son,
559  who has been the object of my life, to whom its every thought has
560  been devoted, whom I have gratified from a child in every wish,
561  from whom I have had no separate existence since his birth, - to
562  take up in a moment with a miserable girl, and avoid me! To repay
563  my confidence with systematic deception, for her sake, and quit me
564  for her! To set this wretched fancy, against his mother's claims
565  upon his duty, love, respect, gratitude - claims that every day and
566  hour of his life should have strengthened into ties that nothing
567  could be proof against! Is this no injury?'

568       Again Rosa Dartle tried to soothe her; again ineffectually.

569       'I say, Rosa, not a word! If he can stake his all upon the
570  lightest object, I can stake my all upon a greater purpose. Let
571  him go where he will, with the means that my love has secured to
572  him! Does he think to reduce me by long absence? He knows his
573  mother very little if he does. Let him put away his whim now, and
574  he is welcome back. Let him not put her away now, and he never
575  shall come near me, living or dying, while I can raise my hand to
576  make a sign against it, unless, being rid of her for ever, he comes
577  humbly to me and begs for my forgiveness. This is my right. This
578  is the acknowledgement I WILL HAVE. This is the separation that
579  there is between us! And is this,' she added, looking at her
580  visitor with the proud intolerant air with which she had begun, 'no
581  injury?'

582       While I heard and saw the mother as she said these words, I seemed
583  to hear and see the son, defying them. All that I had ever seen in
584  him of an unyielding, wilful spirit, I saw in her. All the
585  understanding that I had now of his misdirected energy, became an
586  understanding of her character too, and a perception that it was,
587  in its strongest springs, the same.

588       She now observed to me, aloud, resuming her former restraint, that
589  it was useless to hear more, or to say more, and that she begged to
590  put an end to the interview. She rose with an air of dignity to
591  leave the room, when Mr. Peggotty signified that it was needless.

592       'Doen't fear me being any hindrance to you, I have no more to say,
593  ma'am,' he remarked, as he moved towards the door. 'I come beer
594  with no hope, and I take away no hope. I have done what I thowt
595  should be done, but I never looked fur any good to come of my
596  stan'ning where I do. This has been too evil a house fur me and
597  mine, fur me to be in my right senses and expect it.'

598       With this, we departed; leaving her standing by her elbow-chair, a
599  picture of a noble presence and a handsome face.

600       We had, on our way out, to cross a paved hall, with glass sides and
601  roof, over which a vine was trained. Its leaves and shoots were
602  green then, and the day being sunny, a pair of glass doors leading
603  to the garden were thrown open. Rosa Dartle, entering this way
604  with a noiseless step, when we were close to them, addressed
605  herself to me:

606       'You do well,' she said, 'indeed, to bring this fellow here!'

607       Such a concentration of rage and scorn as darkened her face, and
608  flashed in her jet-black eyes, I could not have thought
609  compressible even into that face. The scar made by the hammer was,
610  as usual in this excited state of her features, strongly marked.
611  When the throbbing I had seen before, came into it as I looked at
612  her, she absolutely lifted up her hand, and struck it.

613       'This is a fellow,' she said, 'to champion and bring here, is he
614  not? You are a true man!'

615       'Miss Dartle,' I returned, 'you are surely not so unjust as to
616  condemn ME!'

617       'Why do you bring division between these two mad creatures?' she
618  returned. 'Don't you know that they are both mad with their own
619  self-will and pride?'

620       'Is it my doing?' I returned.

621       'Is it your doing!' she retorted. 'Why do you bring this man
622  here?'

623       'He is a deeply-injured man, Miss Dartle,' I replied. 'You may not
624  know it.'

625       'I know that James Steerforth,' she said, with her hand on her
626  bosom, as if to prevent the storm that was raging there, from being
627  loud, 'has a false, corrupt heart, and is a traitor. But what need
628  I know or care about this fellow, and his common niece?'

629       'Miss Dartle,' I returned, 'you deepen the injury. It is
630  sufficient already. I will only say, at parting, that you do him
631  a great wrong.'

632       'I do him no wrong,' she returned. 'They are a depraved, worthless
633  set. I would have her whipped!'

634       Mr. Peggotty passed on, without a word, and went out at the door.

635       'Oh, shame, Miss Dartle! shame!' I said indignantly. 'How can you
636  bear to trample on his undeserved affliction!'

637       'I would trample on them all,' she answered. 'I would have his
638  house pulled down. I would have her branded on the face, dressed
639  in rags, and cast out in the streets to starve. If I had the power
640  to sit in judgement on her, I would see it done. See it done? I
641  would do it! I detest her. If I ever could reproach her with her
642  infamous condition, I would go anywhere to do so. If I could hunt
643  her to her grave, I would. If there was any word of comfort that
644  would be a solace to her in her dying hour, and only I possessed
645  it, I wouldn't part with it for Life itself.'

646       The mere vehemence of her words can convey, I am sensible, but a
647  weak impression of the passion by which she was possessed, and
648  which made itself articulate in her whole figure, though her voice,
649  instead of being raised, was lower than usual. No description I
650  could give of her would do justice to my recollection of her, or to
651  her entire deliverance of herself to her anger. I have seen
652  passion in many forms, but I have never seen it in such a form as
653  that.

654       When I joined Mr. Peggotty, he was walking slowly and thoughtfully
655  down the hill. He told me, as soon as I came up with him, that
656  having now discharged his mind of what he had purposed doing in
657  London, he meant 'to set out on his travels', that night. I asked
658  him where he meant to go? He only answered, 'I'm a going, sir, to
659  seek my niece.'

660       We went back to the little lodging over the chandler's shop, and
661  there I found an opportunity of repeating to Peggotty what he had
662  said to me. She informed me, in return, that he had said the same
663  to her that morning. She knew no more than I did, where he was
664  going, but she thought he had some project shaped out in his mind.

665       I did not like to leave him, under such circumstances, and we all
666  three dined together off a beefsteak pie - which was one of the
667  many good things for which Peggotty was famous - and which was
668  curiously flavoured on this occasion, I recollect well, by a
669  miscellaneous taste of tea, coffee, butter, bacon, cheese, new
670  loaves, firewood, candles, and walnut ketchup, continually
671  ascending from the shop. After dinner we sat for an hour or so
672  near the window, without talking much; and then Mr. Peggotty got
673  up, and brought his oilskin bag and his stout stick, and laid them
674  on the table.

675       He accepted, from his sister's stock of ready money, a small sum on
676  account of his legacy; barely enough, I should have thought, to
677  keep him for a month. He promised to communicate with me, when
678  anything befell him; and he slung his bag about him, took his hat
679  and stick, and bade us both 'Good-bye!'

680       'All good attend you, dear old woman,' he said, embracing Peggotty,
681  'and you too, Mas'r Davy!' shaking hands with me. 'I'm a-going to
682  seek her, fur and wide. If she should come home while I'm away -
683  but ah, that ain't like to be! - or if I should bring her back, my
684  meaning is, that she and me shall live and die where no one can't
685  reproach her. If any hurt should come to me, remember that the
686  last words I left for her was, "My unchanged love is with my
687  darling child, and I forgive her!"'

688       He said this solemnly, bare-headed; then, putting on his hat, he
689  went down the stairs, and away. We followed to the door. It was
690  a warm, dusty evening, just the time when, in the great main
691  thoroughfare out of which that by-way turned, there was a temporary
692  lull in the eternal tread of feet upon the pavement, and a strong
693  red sunshine. He turned, alone, at the corner of our shady street,
694  into a glow of light, in which we lost him.

695       Rarely did that hour of the evening come, rarely did I wake at
696  night, rarely did I look up at the moon, or stars, or watch the
697  falling rain, or hear the wind, but I thought of his solitary
698  figure toiling on, poor pilgrim, and recalled the words:

699       'I'm a going to seek her, fur and wide. If any hurt should come to
700  me, remember that the last words I left for her was, "My unchanged
701  love is with my darling child, and I forgive her!"'

Previous: Chapter 31 | Next: Chapter 33

Return:    Contents