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Charles Dickens
Chapter 52
Charles Dickens
 
 
1       It was yet early in the morning of the following day, when, as I
2  was walking in my garden with my aunt (who took little other
3  exercise now, being so much in attendance on my dear Dora), I was
4  told that Mr. Peggotty desired to speak with me. He came into the
5  garden to meet me half-way, on my going towards the gate; and bared
6  his head, as it was always his custom to do when he saw my aunt,
7  for whom he had a high respect. I had been telling her all that
8  had happened overnight. Without saying a word, she walked up with
9  a cordial face, shook hands with him, and patted him on the arm.
10  It was so expressively done, that she had no need to say a word.
11  Mr. Peggotty understood her quite as well as if she had said a
12  thousand.

13       'I'll go in now, Trot,' said my aunt, 'and look after Little
14  Blossom, who will be getting up presently.'

15       'Not along of my being heer, ma'am, I hope?' said Mr. Peggotty.
16  'Unless my wits is gone a bahd's neezing' - by which Mr. Peggotty
17  meant to say, bird's-nesting - 'this morning, 'tis along of me as
18  you're a-going to quit us?'

19       'You have something to say, my good friend,' returned my aunt, 'and
20  will do better without me.'

21       'By your leave, ma'am,' returned Mr. Peggotty, 'I should take it
22  kind, pervising you doen't mind my clicketten, if you'd bide heer.'

23       'Would you?' said my aunt, with short good-nature. 'Then I am sure
24  I will!'

25       So, she drew her arm through Mr. Peggotty's, and walked with him to
26  a leafy little summer-house there was at the bottom of the garden,
27  where she sat down on a bench, and I beside her. There was a seat
28  for Mr. Peggotty too, but he preferred to stand, leaning his hand
29  on the small rustic table. As he stood, looking at his cap for a
30  little while before beginning to speak, I could not help observing
31  what power and force of character his sinewy hand expressed, and
32  what a good and trusty companion it was to his honest brow and
33  iron-grey hair.

34       'I took my dear child away last night,' Mr. Peggotty began, as he
35  raised his eyes to ours, 'to my lodging, wheer I have a long time
36  been expecting of her and preparing fur her. It was hours afore
37  she knowed me right; and when she did, she kneeled down at my feet,
38  and kiender said to me, as if it was her prayers, how it all come
39  to be. You may believe me, when I heerd her voice, as I had heerd
40  at home so playful - and see her humbled, as it might be in the
41  dust our Saviour wrote in with his blessed hand - I felt a wownd go
42  to my 'art, in the midst of all its thankfulness.'

43       He drew his sleeve across his face, without any pretence of
44  concealing why; and then cleared his voice.

45       'It warn't for long as I felt that; for she was found. I had on'y
46  to think as she was found, and it was gone. I doen't know why I do
47  so much as mention of it now, I'm sure. I didn't have it in my
48  mind a minute ago, to say a word about myself; but it come up so
49  nat'ral, that I yielded to it afore I was aweer.'

50       'You are a self-denying soul,' said my aunt, 'and will have your
51  reward.'

52       Mr. Peggotty, with the shadows of the leaves playing athwart his
53  face, made a surprised inclination of the head towards my aunt, as
54  an acknowledgement of her good opinion; then took up the thread he
55  had relinquished.

56       'When my Em'ly took flight,' he said, in stern wrath for the
57  moment, 'from the house wheer she was made a prisoner by that theer
58  spotted snake as Mas'r Davy see, - and his story's trew, and may
59  GOD confound him! - she took flight in the night. It was a dark
60  night, with a many stars a-shining. She was wild. She ran along
61  the sea beach, believing the old boat was theer; and calling out to
62  us to turn away our faces, for she was a-coming by. She heerd
63  herself a-crying out, like as if it was another person; and cut
64  herself on them sharp-pinted stones and rocks, and felt it no more
65  than if she had been rock herself. Ever so fur she run, and there
66  was fire afore her eyes, and roarings in her ears. Of a sudden -
67  or so she thowt, you unnerstand - the day broke, wet and windy, and
68  she was lying b'low a heap of stone upon the shore, and a woman was
69  a-speaking to her, saying, in the language of that country, what
70  was it as had gone so much amiss?'

71       He saw everything he related. It passed before him, as he spoke,
72  so vividly, that, in the intensity of his earnestness, he presented
73  what he described to me, with greater distinctness than I can
74  express. I can hardly believe, writing now long afterwards, but
75  that I was actually present in these scenes; they are impressed
76  upon me with such an astonishing air of fidelity.

77       'As Em'ly's eyes - which was heavy - see this woman better,' Mr.
78  Peggotty went on, 'she know'd as she was one of them as she had
79  often talked to on the beach. Fur, though she had run (as I have
80  said) ever so fur in the night, she had oftentimes wandered long
81  ways, partly afoot, partly in boats and carriages, and know'd all
82  that country, 'long the coast, miles and miles. She hadn't no
83  children of her own, this woman, being a young wife; but she was a-
84  looking to have one afore long. And may my prayers go up to Heaven
85  that 'twill be a happiness to her, and a comfort, and a honour, all
86  her life! May it love her and be dootiful to her, in her old age;
87  helpful of her at the last; a Angel to her heer, and heerafter!'

88       'Amen!' said my aunt.

89       'She had been summat timorous and down,' said Mr. Peggotty, and had
90  sat, at first, a little way off, at her spinning, or such work as
91  it was, when Em'ly talked to the children. But Em'ly had took
92  notice of her, and had gone and spoke to her; and as the young
93  woman was partial to the children herself, they had soon made
94  friends. Sermuchser, that when Em'ly went that way, she always giv
95  Em'ly flowers. This was her as now asked what it was that had gone
96  so much amiss. Em'ly told her, and she - took her home. She did
97  indeed. She took her home,' said Mr. Peggotty, covering his face.

98       He was more affected by this act of kindness, than I had ever seen
99  him affected by anything since the night she went away. My aunt
100  and I did not attempt to disturb him.

101       'It was a little cottage, you may suppose,' he said, presently,
102  'but she found space for Em'ly in it, - her husband was away at
103  sea, - and she kep it secret, and prevailed upon such neighbours as
104  she had (they was not many near) to keep it secret too. Em'ly was
105  took bad with fever, and, what is very strange to me is, - maybe
106  'tis not so strange to scholars, - the language of that country
107  went out of her head, and she could only speak her own, that no one
108  unnerstood. She recollects, as if she had dreamed it, that she lay
109  there always a-talking her own tongue, always believing as the old
110  boat was round the next pint in the bay, and begging and imploring
111  of 'em to send theer and tell how she was dying, and bring back a
112  message of forgiveness, if it was on'y a wured. A'most the whole
113  time, she thowt, - now, that him as I made mention on just now was
114  lurking for her unnerneath the winder; now that him as had brought
115  her to this was in the room, - and cried to the good young woman
116  not to give her up, and know'd, at the same time, that she couldn't
117  unnerstand, and dreaded that she must be took away. Likewise the
118  fire was afore her eyes, and the roarings in her ears; and theer
119  was no today, nor yesterday, nor yet tomorrow; but everything in
120  her life as ever had been, or as ever could be, and everything as
121  never had been, and as never could be, was a crowding on her all at
122  once, and nothing clear nor welcome, and yet she sang and laughed
123  about it! How long this lasted, I doen't know; but then theer come
124  a sleep; and in that sleep, from being a many times stronger than
125  her own self, she fell into the weakness of the littlest child.'

126       Here he stopped, as if for relief from the terrors of his own
127  description. After being silent for a few moments, he pursued his
128  story.

129       'It was a pleasant arternoon when she awoke; and so quiet, that
130  there warn't a sound but the rippling of that blue sea without a
131  tide, upon the shore. It was her belief, at first, that she was at
132  home upon a Sunday morning; but the vine leaves as she see at the
133  winder, and the hills beyond, warn't home, and contradicted of her.
134  Then, come in her friend to watch alongside of her bed; and then
135  she know'd as the old boat warn't round that next pint in the bay
136  no more, but was fur off; and know'd where she was, and why; and
137  broke out a-crying on that good young woman's bosom, wheer I hope
138  her baby is a-lying now, a-cheering of her with its pretty eyes!'

139       He could not speak of this good friend of Emily's without a flow of
140  tears. It was in vain to try. He broke down again, endeavouring
141  to bless her!

142       'That done my Em'ly good,' he resumed, after such emotion as I
143  could not behold without sharing in; and as to my aunt, she wept
144  with all her heart; 'that done Em'ly good, and she begun to mend.
145  But, the language of that country was quite gone from her, and she
146  was forced to make signs. So she went on, getting better from day
147  to day, slow, but sure, and trying to learn the names of common
148  things - names as she seemed never to have heerd in all her life -
149  till one evening come, when she was a-setting at her window,
150  looking at a little girl at play upon the beach. And of a sudden
151  this child held out her hand, and said, what would be in English,
152  "Fisherman's daughter, here's a shell!" - for you are to unnerstand
153  that they used at first to call her "Pretty lady", as the general
154  way in that country is, and that she had taught 'em to call her
155  "Fisherman's daughter" instead. The child says of a sudden,
156  "Fisherman's daughter, here's a shell!" Then Em'ly unnerstands her;
157  and she answers, bursting out a-crying; and it all comes back!

158       'When Em'ly got strong again,' said Mr. Peggotty, after another
159  short interval of silence, 'she cast about to leave that good young
160  creetur, and get to her own country. The husband was come home,
161  then; and the two together put her aboard a small trader bound to
162  Leghorn, and from that to France. She had a little money, but it
163  was less than little as they would take for all they done. I'm
164  a'most glad on it, though they was so poor! What they done, is laid
165  up wheer neither moth or rust doth corrupt, and wheer thieves do
166  not break through nor steal. Mas'r Davy, it'll outlast all the
167  treasure in the wureld.

168       'Em'ly got to France, and took service to wait on travelling ladies
169  at a inn in the port. Theer, theer come, one day, that snake. -
170  Let him never come nigh me. I doen't know what hurt I might do
171  him! - Soon as she see him, without him seeing her, all her fear
172  and wildness returned upon her, and she fled afore the very breath
173  he draw'd. She come to England, and was set ashore at Dover.

174       'I doen't know," said Mr. Peggotty, 'for sure, when her 'art begun
175  to fail her; but all the way to England she had thowt to come to
176  her dear home. Soon as she got to England she turned her face
177  tow'rds it. But, fear of not being forgiv, fear of being pinted
178  at, fear of some of us being dead along of her, fear of many
179  things, turned her from it, kiender by force, upon the road:
180  "Uncle, uncle," she says to me, "the fear of not being worthy to do
181  what my torn and bleeding breast so longed to do, was the most
182  fright'ning fear of all! I turned back, when my 'art was full of
183  prayers that I might crawl to the old door-step, in the night, kiss
184  it, lay my wicked face upon it, and theer be found dead in the
185  morning."

186       'She come,' said Mr. Peggotty, dropping his voice to an
187  awe-stricken whisper, 'to London. She - as had never seen it in
188  her life - alone - without a penny - young - so pretty - come to
189  London. A'most the moment as she lighted heer, all so desolate,
190  she found (as she believed) a friend; a decent woman as spoke to
191  her about the needle-work as she had been brought up to do, about
192  finding plenty of it fur her, about a lodging fur the night, and
193  making secret inquiration concerning of me and all at home,
194  tomorrow. When my child,' he said aloud, and with an energy of
195  gratitude that shook him from head to foot, 'stood upon the brink
196  of more than I can say or think on - Martha, trew to her promise,
197  saved her.'

198       I could not repress a cry of joy.

199       'Mas'r Davy!' said he, gripping my hand in that strong hand of his,
200  'it was you as first made mention of her to me. I thankee, sir!
201  She was arnest. She had know'd of her bitter knowledge wheer to
202  watch and what to do. She had done it. And the Lord was above
203  all! She come, white and hurried, upon Em'ly in her sleep. She
204  says to her, "Rise up from worse than death, and come with me!"
205  Them belonging to the house would have stopped her, but they might
206  as soon have stopped the sea. "Stand away from me," she says, "I
207  am a ghost that calls her from beside her open grave!" She told
208  Em'ly she had seen me, and know'd I loved her, and forgive her.
209  She wrapped her, hasty, in her clothes. She took her, faint and
210  trembling, on her arm. She heeded no more what they said, than if
211  she had had no ears. She walked among 'em with my child, minding
212  only her; and brought her safe out, in the dead of the night, from
213  that black pit of ruin!

214       'She attended on Em'ly,' said Mr. Peggotty, who had released my
215  hand, and put his own hand on his heaving chest; 'she attended to
216  my Em'ly, lying wearied out, and wandering betwixt whiles, till
217  late next day. Then she went in search of me; then in search of
218  you, Mas'r Davy. She didn't tell Em'ly what she come out fur, lest
219  her 'art should fail, and she should think of hiding of herself.
220  How the cruel lady know'd of her being theer, I can't say. Whether
221  him as I have spoke so much of, chanced to see 'em going theer, or
222  whether (which is most like, to my thinking) he had heerd it from
223  the woman, I doen't greatly ask myself. My niece is found.

224       'All night long,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'we have been together, Em'ly
225  and me. 'Tis little (considering the time) as she has said, in
226  wureds, through them broken-hearted tears; 'tis less as I have seen
227  of her dear face, as grow'd into a woman's at my hearth. But, all
228  night long, her arms has been about my neck; and her head has laid
229  heer; and we knows full well, as we can put our trust in one
230  another, ever more.'

231       He ceased to speak, and his hand upon the table rested there in
232  perfect repose, with a resolution in it that might have conquered
233  lions.

234       'It was a gleam of light upon me, Trot,' said my aunt, drying her
235  eyes, 'when I formed the resolution of being godmother to your
236  sister Betsey Trotwood, who disappointed me; but, next to that,
237  hardly anything would have given me greater pleasure, than to be
238  godmother to that good young creature's baby!'

239       Mr. Peggotty nodded his understanding of my aunt's feelings, but
240  could not trust himself with any verbal reference to the subject of
241  her commendation. We all remained silent, and occupied with our
242  own reflections (my aunt drying her eyes, and now sobbing
243  convulsively, and now laughing and calling herself a fool); until
244  I spoke.

245       'You have quite made up your mind,' said I to Mr. Peggotty, 'as to
246  the future, good friend? I need scarcely ask you.'

247       'Quite, Mas'r Davy,' he returned; 'and told Em'ly. Theer's mighty
248  countries, fur from heer. Our future life lays over the sea.'

249       'They will emigrate together, aunt,' said I.

250       'Yes!' said Mr. Peggotty, with a hopeful smile. 'No one can't
251  reproach my darling in Australia. We will begin a new life over
252  theer!'

253       I asked him if he yet proposed to himself any time for going away.

254       'I was down at the Docks early this morning, sir,' he returned, 'to
255  get information concerning of them ships. In about six weeks or
256  two months from now, there'll be one sailing - I see her this
257  morning - went aboard - and we shall take our passage in her.'

258       'Quite alone?' I asked.

259       'Aye, Mas'r Davy!' he returned. 'My sister, you see, she's that
260  fond of you and yourn, and that accustomed to think on'y of her own
261  country, that it wouldn't be hardly fair to let her go. Besides
262  which, theer's one she has in charge, Mas'r Davy, as doen't ought
263  to be forgot.'

264       'Poor Ham!' said I.

265       'My good sister takes care of his house, you see, ma'am, and he
266  takes kindly to her,' Mr. Peggotty explained for my aunt's better
267  information. 'He'll set and talk to her, with a calm spirit, wen
268  it's like he couldn't bring himself to open his lips to another.
269  Poor fellow!' said Mr. Peggotty, shaking his head, 'theer's not so
270  much left him, that he could spare the little as he has!'

271       'And Mrs. Gummidge?' said I.

272       'Well, I've had a mort of consideration, I do tell you,' returned
273  Mr. Peggotty, with a perplexed look which gradually cleared as he
274  went on, 'concerning of Missis Gummidge. You see, wen Missis
275  Gummidge falls a-thinking of the old 'un, she an't what you may
276  call good company. Betwixt you and me, Mas'r Davy - and you, ma'am
277  - wen Mrs. Gummidge takes to wimicking,' - our old country word for
278  crying, - 'she's liable to be considered to be, by them as didn't
279  know the old 'un, peevish-like. Now I DID know the old 'un,' said
280  Mr. Peggotty, 'and I know'd his merits, so I unnerstan' her; but
281  'tan't entirely so, you see, with others - nat'rally can't be!'

282       My aunt and I both acquiesced.

283       'Wheerby,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'my sister might - I doen't say she
284  would, but might - find Missis Gummidge give her a leetle trouble
285  now-and-again. Theerfur 'tan't my intentions to moor Missis
286  Gummidge 'long with them, but to find a Beein' fur her wheer she
287  can fisherate for herself.' (A Beein' signifies, in that dialect,
288  a home, and to fisherate is to provide.) 'Fur which purpose,' said
289  Mr. Peggotty, 'I means to make her a 'lowance afore I go, as'll
290  leave her pretty comfort'ble. She's the faithfullest of creeturs.
291  'Tan't to be expected, of course, at her time of life, and being
292  lone and lorn, as the good old Mawther is to be knocked about
293  aboardship, and in the woods and wilds of a new and fur-away
294  country. So that's what I'm a-going to do with her.'

295       He forgot nobody. He thought of everybody's claims and strivings,
296  but his own.

297       'Em'ly,' he continued, 'will keep along with me - poor child, she's
298  sore in need of peace and rest! - until such time as we goes upon
299  our voyage. She'll work at them clothes, as must be made; and I
300  hope her troubles will begin to seem longer ago than they was, wen
301  she finds herself once more by her rough but loving uncle.'

302       MY aunt nodded confirmation of this hope, and imparted great
303  satisfaction to Mr. Peggotty.

304       'Theer's one thing furder, Mas'r Davy,' said he, putting his hand
305  in his breast-pocket, and gravely taking out the little paper
306  bundle I had seen before, which he unrolled on the table. 'Theer's
307  these here banknotes - fifty pound, and ten. To them I wish to add
308  the money as she come away with. I've asked her about that (but
309  not saying why), and have added of it up. I an't a scholar. Would
310  you be so kind as see how 'tis?'

311       He handed me, apologetically for his scholarship, a piece of paper,
312  and observed me while I looked it over. It was quite right.

313       'Thankee, sir,' he said, taking it back. 'This money, if you
314  doen't see objections, Mas'r Davy, I shall put up jest afore I go,
315  in a cover directed to him; and put that up in another, directed to
316  his mother. I shall tell her, in no more wureds than I speak to
317  you, what it's the price on; and that I'm gone, and past receiving
318  of it back.'

319       I told him that I thought it would be right to do so - that I was
320  thoroughly convinced it would be, since he felt it to be right.

321       'I said that theer was on'y one thing furder,' he proceeded with a
322  grave smile, when he had made up his little bundle again, and put
323  it in his pocket; 'but theer was two. I warn't sure in my mind,
324  wen I come out this morning, as I could go and break to Ham, of my
325  own self, what had so thankfully happened. So I writ a letter
326  while I was out, and put it in the post-office, telling of 'em how
327  all was as 'tis; and that I should come down tomorrow to unload my
328  mind of what little needs a-doing of down theer, and, most-like,
329  take my farewell leave of Yarmouth.'

330       'And do you wish me to go with you?' said I, seeing that he left
331  something unsaid.

332       'If you could do me that kind favour, Mas'r Davy,' he replied. 'I
333  know the sight on you would cheer 'em up a bit.'

334       My little Dora being in good spirits, and very desirous that I
335  should go - as I found on talking it over with her - I readily
336  pledged myself to accompany him in accordance with his wish. Next
337  morning, consequently, we were on the Yarmouth coach, and again
338  travelling over the old ground.

339       As we passed along the familiar street at night - Mr. Peggotty, in
340  despite of all my remonstrances, carrying my bag - I glanced into
341  Omer and Joram's shop, and saw my old friend Mr. Omer there,
342  smoking his pipe. I felt reluctant to be present, when Mr.
343  Peggotty first met his sister and Ham; and made Mr. Omer my excuse
344  for lingering behind.

345       'How is Mr. Omer, after this long time?' said I, going in.

346       He fanned away the smoke of his pipe, that he might get a better
347  view of me, and soon recognized me with great delight.

348       'I should get up, sir, to acknowledge such an honour as this
349  visit,' said he, 'only my limbs are rather out of sorts, and I am
350  wheeled about. With the exception of my limbs and my breath,
351  howsoever, I am as hearty as a man can be, I'm thankful to say.'

352       I congratulated him on his contented looks and his good spirits,
353  and saw, now, that his easy-chair went on wheels.

354       'It's an ingenious thing, ain't it?' he inquired, following the
355  direction of my glance, and polishing the elbow with his arm. 'It
356  runs as light as a feather, and tracks as true as a mail-coach.
357  Bless you, my little Minnie - my grand-daughter you know, Minnie's
358  child - puts her little strength against the back, gives it a
359  shove, and away we go, as clever and merry as ever you see
360  anything! And I tell you what - it's a most uncommon chair to smoke
361  a pipe in.'

362       I never saw such a good old fellow to make the best of a thing, and
363  find out the enjoyment of it, as Mr. Omer. He was as radiant, as
364  if his chair, his asthma, and the failure of his limbs, were the
365  various branches of a great invention for enhancing the luxury of
366  a pipe.

367       'I see more of the world, I can assure you,' said Mr. Omer, 'in
368  this chair, than ever I see out of it. You'd be surprised at the
369  number of people that looks in of a day to have a chat. You really
370  would! There's twice as much in the newspaper, since I've taken to
371  this chair, as there used to be. As to general reading, dear me,
372  what a lot of it I do get through! That's what I feel so strong,
373  you know! If it had been my eyes, what should I have done? If it
374  had been my ears, what should I have done? Being my limbs, what
375  does it signify? Why, my limbs only made my breath shorter when I
376  used 'em. And now, if I want to go out into the street or down to
377  the sands, I've only got to call Dick, Joram's youngest 'prentice,
378  and away I go in my own carriage, like the Lord Mayor of London.'

379       He half suffocated himself with laughing here.

380       'Lord bless you!' said Mr. Omer, resuming his pipe, 'a man must
381  take the fat with the lean; that's what he must make up his mind
382  to, in this life. Joram does a fine business. Ex-cellent
383  business!'

384       'I am very glad to hear it,' said I.

385       'I knew you would be,' said Mr. Omer. 'And Joram and Minnie are
386  like Valentines. What more can a man expect? What's his limbs to
387  that!'

388       His supreme contempt for his own limbs, as he sat smoking, was one
389  of the pleasantest oddities I have ever encountered.

390       'And since I've took to general reading, you've took to general
391  writing, eh, sir?' said Mr. Omer, surveying me admiringly. 'What
392  a lovely work that was of yours! What expressions in it! I read it
393  every word - every word. And as to feeling sleepy! Not at all!'

394       I laughingly expressed my satisfaction, but I must confess that I
395  thought this association of ideas significant.

396       'I give you my word and honour, sir,' said Mr. Omer, 'that when I
397  lay that book upon the table, and look at it outside; compact in
398  three separate and indiwidual wollumes - one, two, three; I am as
399  proud as Punch to think that I once had the honour of being
400  connected with your family. And dear me, it's a long time ago,
401  now, ain't it? Over at Blunderstone. With a pretty little party
402  laid along with the other party. And you quite a small party then,
403  yourself. Dear, dear!'

404       I changed the subject by referring to Emily. After assuring him
405  that I did not forget how interested he had always been in her, and
406  how kindly he had always treated her, I gave him a general account
407  of her restoration to her uncle by the aid of Martha; which I knew
408  would please the old man. He listened with the utmost attention,
409  and said, feelingly, when I had done:

410       'I am rejoiced at it, sir! It's the best news I have heard for many
411  a day. Dear, dear, dear! And what's going to be undertook for that
412  unfortunate young woman, Martha, now?'

413       'You touch a point that my thoughts have been dwelling on since
414  yesterday,' said I, 'but on which I can give you no information
415  yet, Mr. Omer. Mr. Peggotty has not alluded to it, and I have a
416  delicacy in doing so. I am sure he has not forgotten it. He
417  forgets nothing that is disinterested and good.'

418       'Because you know,' said Mr. Omer, taking himself up, where he had
419  left off, 'whatever is done, I should wish to be a member of. Put
420  me down for anything you may consider right, and let me know. I
421  never could think the girl all bad, and I am glad to find she's
422  not. So will my daughter Minnie be. Young women are contradictory
423  creatures in some things - her mother was just the same as her -
424  but their hearts are soft and kind. It's all show with Minnie,
425  about Martha. Why she should consider it necessary to make any
426  show, I don't undertake to tell you. But it's all show, bless you.
427  She'd do her any kindness in private. So, put me down for whatever
428  you may consider right, will you be so good? and drop me a line
429  where to forward it. Dear me!' said Mr. Omer, 'when a man is
430  drawing on to a time of life, where the two ends of life meet; when
431  he finds himself, however hearty he is, being wheeled about for the
432  second time, in a speeches of go-cart; he should be over-rejoiced
433  to do a kindness if he can. He wants plenty. And I don't speak of
434  myself, particular,' said Mr. Omer, 'because, sir, the way I look
435  at it is, that we are all drawing on to the bottom of the hill,
436  whatever age we are, on account of time never standing still for a
437  single moment. So let us always do a kindness, and be
438  over-rejoiced. To be sure!'

439       He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it on a ledge in the
440  back of his chair, expressly made for its reception.

441       'There's Em'ly's cousin, him that she was to have been married to,'
442  said Mr. Omer, rubbing his hands feebly, 'as fine a fellow as there
443  is in Yarmouth! He'll come and talk or read to me, in the evening,
444  for an hour together sometimes. That's a kindness, I should call
445  it! All his life's a kindness.'

446       'I am going to see him now,' said I.

447       'Are you?' said Mr. Omer. 'Tell him I was hearty, and sent my
448  respects. Minnie and Joram's at a ball. They would be as proud to
449  see you as I am, if they was at home. Minnie won't hardly go out
450  at all, you see, "on account of father", as she says. So I swore
451  tonight, that if she didn't go, I'd go to bed at six. In
452  consequence of which,' Mr. Omer shook himself and his chair with
453  laughter at the success of his device, 'she and Joram's at a ball.'

454       I shook hands with him, and wished him good night.

455       'Half a minute, sir,' said Mr. Omer. 'If you was to go without
456  seeing my little elephant, you'd lose the best of sights. You
457  never see such a sight! Minnie!'
458  A musical little voice answered, from somewhere upstairs, 'I am
459  coming, grandfather!' and a pretty little girl with long, flaxen,
460  curling hair, soon came running into the shop.

461       'This is my little elephant, sir,' said Mr. Omer, fondling the
462  child. 'Siamese breed, sir. Now, little elephant!'

463       The little elephant set the door of the parlour open, enabling me
464  to see that, in these latter days, it was converted into a bedroom
465  for Mr. Omer who could not be easily conveyed upstairs; and then
466  hid her pretty forehead, and tumbled her long hair, against the
467  back of Mr. Omer's chair.

468       'The elephant butts, you know, sir,' said Mr. Omer, winking, 'when
469  he goes at a object. Once, elephant. Twice. Three times!'

470       At this signal, the little elephant, with a dexterity that was next
471  to marvellous in so small an animal, whisked the chair round with
472  Mr. Omer in it, and rattled it off, pell-mell, into the parlour,
473  without touching the door-post: Mr. Omer indescribably enjoying the
474  performance, and looking back at me on the road as if it were the
475  triumphant issue of his life's exertions.

476       After a stroll about the town I went to Ham's house. Peggotty had
477  now removed here for good; and had let her own house to the
478  successor of Mr. Barkis in the carrying business, who had paid her
479  very well for the good-will, cart, and horse. I believe the very
480  same slow horse that Mr. Barkis drove was still at work.

481       I found them in the neat kitchen, accompanied by Mrs. Gummidge, who
482  had been fetched from the old boat by Mr. Peggotty himself. I
483  doubt if she could have been induced to desert her post, by anyone
484  else. He had evidently told them all. Both Peggotty and Mrs.
485  Gummidge had their aprons to their eyes, and Ham had just stepped
486  out 'to take a turn on the beach'. He presently came home, very
487  glad to see me; and I hope they were all the better for my being
488  there. We spoke, with some approach to cheerfulness, of Mr.
489  Peggotty's growing rich in a new country, and of the wonders he
490  would describe in his letters. We said nothing of Emily by name,
491  but distantly referred to her more than once. Ham was the serenest
492  of the party.

493       But, Peggotty told me, when she lighted me to a little chamber
494  where the Crocodile book was lying ready for me on the table, that
495  he always was the same. She believed (she told me, crying) that he
496  was broken-hearted; though he was as full of courage as of
497  sweetness, and worked harder and better than any boat-builder in
498  any yard in all that part. There were times, she said, of an
499  evening, when he talked of their old life in the boat-house; and
500  then he mentioned Emily as a child. But, he never mentioned her as
501  a woman.

502       I thought I had read in his face that he would like to speak to me
503  alone. I therefore resolved to put myself in his way next evening,
504  as he came home from his work. Having settled this with myself, I
505  fell asleep. That night, for the first time in all those many
506  nights, the candle was taken out of the window, Mr. Peggotty swung
507  in his old hammock in the old boat, and the wind murmured with the
508  old sound round his head.

509       All next day, he was occupied in disposing of his fishing-boat and
510  tackle; in packing up, and sending to London by waggon, such of his
511  little domestic possessions as he thought would be useful to him;
512  and in parting with the rest, or bestowing them on Mrs. Gummidge.
513  She was with him all day. As I had a sorrowful wish to see the old
514  place once more, before it was locked up, I engaged to meet them
515  there in the evening. But I so arranged it, as that I should meet
516  Ham first.

517       It was easy to come in his way, as I knew where he worked. I met
518  him at a retired part of the sands, which I knew he would cross,
519  and turned back with him, that he might have leisure to speak to me
520  if he really wished. I had not mistaken the expression of his
521  face. We had walked but a little way together, when he said,
522  without looking at me:

523       'Mas'r Davy, have you seen her?'

524       'Only for a moment, when she was in a swoon,' I softly answered.

525       We walked a little farther, and he said:

526       'Mas'r Davy, shall you see her, d'ye think?'

527       'It would be too painful to her, perhaps,' said I.

528       'I have thowt of that,' he replied. 'So 'twould, sir, so 'twould.'

529       'But, Ham,' said I, gently, 'if there is anything that I could
530  write to her, for you, in case I could not tell it; if there is
531  anything you would wish to make known to her through me; I should
532  consider it a sacred trust.'

533       'I am sure on't. I thankee, sir, most kind! I think theer is
534  something I could wish said or wrote.'

535       'What is it?'

536       We walked a little farther in silence, and then he spoke.

537       ''Tan't that I forgive her. 'Tan't that so much. 'Tis more as I
538  beg of her to forgive me, for having pressed my affections upon
539  her. Odd times, I think that if I hadn't had her promise fur to
540  marry me, sir, she was that trustful of me, in a friendly way, that
541  she'd have told me what was struggling in her mind, and would have
542  counselled with me, and I might have saved her.'

543       I pressed his hand. 'Is that all?'
544  'Theer's yet a something else,' he returned, 'if I can say it,
545  Mas'r Davy.'

546       We walked on, farther than we had walked yet, before he spoke
547  again. He was not crying when he made the pauses I shall express
548  by lines. He was merely collecting himself to speak very plainly.

549       'I loved her - and I love the mem'ry of her - too deep - to be able
550  to lead her to believe of my own self as I'm a happy man. I could
551  only be happy - by forgetting of her - and I'm afeerd I couldn't
552  hardly bear as she should be told I done that. But if you, being
553  so full of learning, Mas'r Davy, could think of anything to say as
554  might bring her to believe I wasn't greatly hurt: still loving of
555  her, and mourning for her: anything as might bring her to believe
556  as I was not tired of my life, and yet was hoping fur to see her
557  without blame, wheer the wicked cease from troubling and the weary
558  are at rest - anything as would ease her sorrowful mind, and yet
559  not make her think as I could ever marry, or as 'twas possible that
560  anyone could ever be to me what she was - I should ask of you to
561  say that - with my prayers for her - that was so dear.'

562       I pressed his manly hand again, and told him I would charge myself
563  to do this as well as I could.

564       'I thankee, sir,' he answered. ''Twas kind of you to meet me.
565  'Twas kind of you to bear him company down. Mas'r Davy, I
566  unnerstan' very well, though my aunt will come to Lon'on afore they
567  sail, and they'll unite once more, that I am not like to see him
568  agen. I fare to feel sure on't. We doen't say so, but so 'twill
569  be, and better so. The last you see on him - the very last - will
570  you give him the lovingest duty and thanks of the orphan, as he was
571  ever more than a father to?'

572       This I also promised, faithfully.

573       'I thankee agen, sir,' he said, heartily shaking hands. 'I know
574  wheer you're a-going. Good-bye!'

575       With a slight wave of his hand, as though to explain to me that he
576  could not enter the old place, he turned away. As I looked after
577  his figure, crossing the waste in the moonlight, I saw him turn his
578  face towards a strip of silvery light upon the sea, and pass on,
579  looking at it, until he was a shadow in the distance.

580       The door of the boat-house stood open when I approached; and, on
581  entering, I found it emptied of all its furniture, saving one of
582  the old lockers, on which Mrs. Gummidge, with a basket on her knee,
583  was seated, looking at Mr. Peggotty. He leaned his elbow on the
584  rough chimney-piece, and gazed upon a few expiring embers in the
585  grate; but he raised his head, hopefully, on my coming in, and
586  spoke in a cheery manner.

587       'Come, according to promise, to bid farewell to 't, eh, Mas'r
588  Davy?' he said, taking up the candle. 'Bare enough, now, an't it?'
589  'Indeed you have made good use of the time,' said I.

590       'Why, we have not been idle, sir. Missis Gummidge has worked like
591  a - I doen't know what Missis Gummidge an't worked like,' said Mr.
592  Peggotty, looking at her, at a loss for a sufficiently approving
593  simile.

594       Mrs. Gummidge, leaning on her basket, made no observation.

595       'Theer's the very locker that you used to sit on, 'long with
596  Em'ly!' said Mr. Peggotty, in a whisper. 'I'm a-going to carry it
597  away with me, last of all. And heer's your old little bedroom,
598  see, Mas'r Davy! A'most as bleak tonight, as 'art could wish!'

599       In truth, the wind, though it was low, had a solemn sound, and
600  crept around the deserted house with a whispered wailing that was
601  very mournful. Everything was gone, down to the little mirror with
602  the oyster-shell frame. I thought of myself, lying here, when that
603  first great change was being wrought at home. I thought of the
604  blue-eyed child who had enchanted me. I thought of Steerforth: and
605  a foolish, fearful fancy came upon me of his being near at hand,
606  and liable to be met at any turn.

607       ''Tis like to be long,' said Mr. Peggotty, in a low voice, 'afore
608  the boat finds new tenants. They look upon 't, down beer, as being
609  unfortunate now!'

610       'Does it belong to anybody in the neighbourhood?' I asked.

611       'To a mast-maker up town,' said Mr. Peggotty. 'I'm a-going to give
612  the key to him tonight.'

613       We looked into the other little room, and came back to Mrs.
614  Gummidge, sitting on the locker, whom Mr. Peggotty, putting the
615  light on the chimney-piece, requested to rise, that he might carry
616  it outside the door before extinguishing the candle.

617       'Dan'l,' said Mrs. Gummidge, suddenly deserting her basket, and
618  clinging to his arm 'my dear Dan'l, the parting words I speak in
619  this house is, I mustn't be left behind. Doen't ye think of
620  leaving me behind, Dan'l! Oh, doen't ye ever do it!'

621       Mr. Peggotty, taken aback, looked from Mrs. Gummidge to me, and
622  from me to Mrs. Gummidge, as if he had been awakened from a sleep.

623       'Doen't ye, dearest Dan'l, doen't ye!' cried Mrs. Gummidge,
624  fervently. 'Take me 'long with you, Dan'l, take me 'long with you
625  and Em'ly! I'll be your servant, constant and trew. If there's
626  slaves in them parts where you're a-going, I'll be bound to you for
627  one, and happy, but doen't ye leave me behind, Dan'l, that's a
628  deary dear!'

629       'My good soul,' said Mr. Peggotty, shaking his head, 'you doen't
630  know what a long voyage, and what a hard life 'tis!'
631  'Yes, I do, Dan'l! I can guess!' cried Mrs. Gummidge. 'But my
632  parting words under this roof is, I shall go into the house and
633  die, if I am not took. I can dig, Dan'l. I can work. I can live
634  hard. I can be loving and patient now - more than you think,
635  Dan'l, if you'll on'y try me. I wouldn't touch the 'lowance, not
636  if I was dying of want, Dan'l Peggotty; but I'll go with you and
637  Em'ly, if you'll on'y let me, to the world's end! I know how 'tis;
638  I know you think that I am lone and lorn; but, deary love, 'tan't
639  so no more! I ain't sat here, so long, a-watching, and a-thinking
640  of your trials, without some good being done me. Mas'r Davy, speak
641  to him for me! I knows his ways, and Em'ly's, and I knows their
642  sorrows, and can be a comfort to 'em, some odd times, and labour
643  for 'em allus! Dan'l, deary Dan'l, let me go 'long with you!'

644       And Mrs. Gummidge took his hand, and kissed it with a homely pathos
645  and affection, in a homely rapture of devotion and gratitude, that
646  he well deserved.

647       We brought the locker out, extinguished the candle, fastened the
648  door on the outside, and left the old boat close shut up, a dark
649  speck in the cloudy night. Next day, when we were returning to
650  London outside the coach, Mrs. Gummidge and her basket were on the
651  seat behind, and Mrs. Gummidge was happy.

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