david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第35节

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them；　as　if　I　were　cast　away　among　creatures　with　whom　I　had　no　
community　of　nature。　They　were　very　cheerful。　The　old　man　sat　in　
front　to　drive；　and　the　two　young　people　sat　behind　him；　and　
whenever　he　spoke　to　them　leaned　forward；　the　one　on　one　side　of　
his　chubby　face　and　the　other　on　the　other；　and　made　a　great　deal　

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David　Copperfield　

of　him。　They　would　have　talked　to　me　too；　but　I　held　back；　and　
moped　in　my　corner；　scared　by　their　love…making　and　hilarity；　
though　it　was　far　from　boisterous；　and　almost　wondering　that　no　
judgement　came　upon　them　for　their　hardness　of　heart。　

So；　when　they　stopped　to　bait　the　horse；　and　ate　and　drank　and　
enjoyed　themselves；　I　could　touch　nothing　that　they　touched；　but　
kept　my　fast　unbroken。　So；　when　we　reached　home；　I　dropped　out　
of　the　chaise　behind；　as　quickly　as　possible；　that　I　might　not　be　in　
their　company　before　those　solemn　windows；　looking　blindly　on　
me　like　closed　eyes　once　bright。　And　oh；　how　little　need　I　had　had　
to　think　what　would　move　me　to　tears　when　I　came　back—seeing　
the　window　of　my　mother’s　room；　and　next　it　that　which；　in　the　
better　time；　was　mine！　

I　was　in　Peggotty’s　arms　before　I　got　to　the　door；　and　she　took　
me　into　the　house。　Her　grief　burst　out　when　she　first　saw　me；　but　
she　controlled　it　soon；　and　spoke　in　whispers；　and　walked　softly；　as　
if　the　dead　could　be　disturbed。　She　had　not　been　in　bed；　I　found；　
for　a　long　time。　She　sat　up　at　night　still；　and　watched。　As　long　as　
her　poor　dear　pretty　was　above　the　ground；　she　said；　she　would　
never　desert　her。　

Mr。　Murdstone　took　no　heed　of　me　when　I　went　into　the　parlour　
where　he　was；　but　sat　by　the　fireside；　weeping　silently；　and　
pondering　in　his　elbow…chair。　Miss　Murdstone；　who　was　busy　at　
her　writing…desk；　which　was　covered　with　letters　and　papers；　gave　
me　her　cold　finger…nails；　and　asked　me；　in　an　iron　whisper；　if　I　had　
been　measured　for　my　mourning。　

I　said：　‘Yes。’　

‘And　your　shirts；’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　‘have　you　brought　’em　
home？’　

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David　Copperfield　

‘Yes；　ma’am。　I　have　brought　home　all　my　clothes。’　

This　was　all　the　consolation　that　her　firmness　administered　to　
me。　I　do　not　doubt　that　she　had　a　choice　pleasure　in　exhibiting　
what　she　called　her　self…command；　and　her　firmness；　and　her　
strength　of　mind；　and　her　common　sense；　and　the　whole　diabolical　
catalogue　of　her　unamiable　qualities；　on　such　an　occasion。　She　was　
particularly　proud　of　her　turn　for　business；　and　she　showed　it　now　
in　reducing　everything　to　pen　and　ink；　and　being　moved　by　
nothing。　All　the　rest　of　that　day；　and　from　morning　to　night　
afterwards；　she　sat　at　that　desk；　scratching　composedly　with　a　
hard　pen；　speaking　in　the　same　imperturbable　whisper　to　
everybody；　never　relaxing　a　muscle　of　her　face；　or　softening　a　tone　
of　her　voice；　or　appearing　with　an　atom　of　her　dress　astray。　

Her　brother　took　a　book　sometimes；　but　never　read　it　that　I　
saw。　He　would　open　it　and　look　at　it　as　if　he　were　reading；　but　
would　remain　for　a　whole　hour　without　turning　the　leaf；　and　then　
put　it　down　and　walk　to　and　fro　in　the　room。　I　used　to　sit　with　
folded　hands　watching　him；　and　counting　his　footsteps；　hour　after　
hour。　He　very　seldom　spoke　to　her；　and　never　to　me。　He　seemed　to　
be　the　only　restless　thing；　except　the　clocks；　in　the　whole　
motionless　house。　

In　these　days　before　the　funeral；　I　saw　but　little　of　Peggotty；　
except　that；　in　passing　up　or　down　stairs；　I　always　found　her　close　
to　the　room　where　my　mother　and　her　baby　lay；　and　except　that　
she　came　to　me　every　night；　and　sat　by　my　bed’s　head　while　I　went　
to　sleep。　A　day　or　two　before　the　burial—I　think　it　was　a　day　or　two　
before；　but　I　am　conscious　of　confusion　in　my　mind　about　that　
heavy　time；　with　nothing　to　mark　its　progress—she　took　me　into　
the　room。　I　only　recollect　that　underneath　some　white　covering　on　

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David　Copperfield　

the　bed；　with　a　beautiful　cleanliness　and　freshness　all　around　it；　
there　seemed　to　me　to　lie　embodied　the　solemn　stillness　that　was　
in　the　house；　and　that　when　she　would　have　turned　the　cover　
gently　back；　I　cried：　‘Oh　no！　oh　no！’　and　held　her　hand。　

If　the　funeral　had　been　yesterday；　I　could　not　recollect　it　better。　
The　very　air　of　the　best　parlour；　when　I　went　in　at　the　door；　the　
bright　condition　of　the　fire；　the　shining　of　the　wine　in　the　
decanters；　the　patterns　of　the　glasses　and　plates；　the　faint　sweet　
smell　of　cake；　the　odour　of　Miss　Murdstone’s　dress；　and　our　black　
clothes。　Mr。　Chillip　is　in　the　room；　and　comes　to　speak　to　me。　

‘And　how　is　Master　David？’　he　says；　kindly。　

I　cannot　tell　him　very　well。　I　give　him　my　hand；　which　he　holds　
in　his。　

‘Dear　me！’　says　Mr。　Chillip；　meekly　smiling；　with　something　
shining　in　his　eye。　‘Our　little　friends　grow　up　around　us。　They　
grow　out　of　our　knowledge；　ma’am？’　This　is　to　Miss　Murdstone；　
who　makes　no　reply。　

‘There　is　a　great　improvement　here；　ma’am？’　says　Mr。　Chillip。　

Miss　Murdstone　merely　answers　with　a　frown　and　a　formal　
bend：　Mr。　Chillip；　discomfited；　goes　into　a　corner；　keeping　me　with　
him；　and　opens　his　mouth　no　more。　

I　remark　this；　because　I　remark　everything　that　happens；　not　
because　I　care　about　myself；　or　have　done　since　I　came　home。　And　
now　the　bell　begins　to　sound；　and　Mr。　Omer　and　another　come　to　
make　us　ready。　As　Peggotty　was　wont　to　tell　me；　long　ago；　the　
followers　of　my　father　to　the　same　grave　were　made　ready　in　the　
same　room。　

There　are　Mr。　Murdstone；　our　neighbour　Mr。　Grayper；　Mr。　
Chillip；　and　I。　When　we　go　out　to　the　door；　the　Bearers　and　their　

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load　are　in　the　garden；　and　they　move　before　us　down　the　path；　
and　past　the　elms；　and　through　the　gate；　and　into　the　churchyard；　
where　I　have　so　often　heard　the　birds　sing　on　a　summer　morning。　

We　stand　around　the　grave。　The　day　seems　different　to　me　from　
every　other　day；　and　the　light　not　of　the　same　colour—of　a　sadder　
colour。　Now　there　is　a　solemn　hush；　which　we　have　brought　from　
home　with　what　is　resting　in　the　mould；　and　while　we　stand　
bareheaded；　I　hear　the　voice　of　the　clergyman；　sounding　remote　in　
the　open　air；　and　yet　distinct　and　plain；　saying：　‘I　am　the　
Resurrection　and　the　Life；　saith　the　Lord！’　Then　I　hear　sobs；　and；　
standing　apart　among　the　lookers…on；　I　see　that　good　and　faithful　
servant；　whom　of　all　the　people　upon　earth　I　love　the　best；　and　
unto　whom　my　childish　heart　is　certain　that　the　Lord　will　one　day　
say：　‘Well　done。’　

There　are　many　faces　that　I　know；　among　the　little　crowd；　faces　
that　I　knew　in　church；　when　mine　was　always　wondering　there；　
faces　that　first　saw　my　mother；　when　she　came　to　the　village　in　her　
youthful　bloom。　I　do　not　mind　them—I　mind　nothing　but　my　
grief—and　yet　I　see　and　know　them　all；　and　even　in　the　
background；　far　away；　see　Minnie　looking　on；　and　her　eye　glancing　
on　her　sweetheart；　who　is　near　me。　

It　is　over；　and　the　earth　is　filled　in；　and　we　turn　to　come　away。　
Before　us　stands　our　house；　so　pretty　and　unchanged；　so　linked　in　
my　mind　with　the　young　idea　of　what　is　gone；　that　all　my　sorrow　
has　been　nothing　to　the　sorrow　it　calls　forth。　But　they　take　me　on；　
and　Mr。　Chillip　talks　to　me；　and　when　we　get　home；　puts　some　
water　to　my　lips；　and　when　I　ask　his　leave　to　go　up　to　my　room；　
dismisses　me　with　the　gentleness　of　a　woman。　

All　this；　I　say；　is　yesterday’s　event。　Events　of　later　date　have　

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David　Copperfield　

floated　from　me　to　the　shore　where　all　forgotten　things　will　
reappear；　but　this　stands　like　a　high　rock　in　the　ocean。　

I　knew　that　Peggotty　would　come　to　me　in　my　room。　The　
Sabbath　stillness　of　the　time　（the　day　was　so　like　Sunday！　I　have　
forgotten　that）　was　suited　to　us　both。　She　sat　down　by　my　side　
upon　my　little　bed；　and　holding　my　hand；　and　sometimes　putting　it　
to　her　lips；　and　sometimes　smoothing　it　with　hers；　as　she　might　
have　comforted　my　little　brother；　told　me；　in　her　way；　all　that　she　
had　to　tell　concerning　what　had　happened。　

‘She　was　never　well；’　said　Peggotty；　‘for　a　long　time。　She　was　
uncertain　in　her　mind；　and　not　happy。　When　her　baby　was　born；　I　
thought　at　first　she　would　get　better；　but　she　was　more　delicate；　
and　sunk　a　little　every　day。　She　used　to　like　to　sit　alone　before　her　
baby　came；　and　then　she　cried；　but　afterwards　she　used　to　sing　to　
it—so　soft；　that　I　once　thought；　when　I　heard　her；　it　was　like　a　
voice　up　in　the　air；　that　was　rising　away。　

‘I　think　she　got　to　be　more　timid；　and　more　frightened…like；　of　
late；　and　that　a　hard　word　was　like　a　blow　to　her。　But　she　was　
always　the　same　to　me。　She　never　changed　to　her　foolish　Peggotty；　
didn’t　my　sweet　girl。’　

Here　Peggotty　stopped；　and　softly　beat　upon　my　hand　a　little　
while。　

‘The　last　time　that　I　saw　her　like　her　own　old　self；　was　the　night　
when　you　came　home；　my　dear。　The　day　you　went　away；　she　said　
to　me；　“I　never　shall　see　my　pretty　darling　again。　Something　tells　
me　so；　that　tells　the　truth