david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第44章

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‘Exactly　so；’　returned　my　aunt。　‘What　would　you　do　with　him；　
now？’　

‘Do　with　David’s　son？’　said　Mr。　Dick。　

‘Ay；’　replied　my　aunt；　‘with　David’s　son。’　

‘Oh！’　said　Mr。　Dick。　‘Yes。　Do　with—I　should　put　him　to　bed。’　

‘Janet！’　cried　my　aunt；　with　the　same　complacent　triumph　that　I　
had　remarked　before。　‘Mr。　Dick　sets　us　all　right。　If　the　bed　is　
ready；　we’ll　take　him　up　to　it。’　

Janet　reporting　it　to　be　quite　ready；　I　was　taken　up　to　it；　kindly；　
but　in　some　sort　like　a　prisoner；　my　aunt　going　in　front　and　Janet　
bringing　up　the　rear。　The　only　circumstance　which　gave　me　any　
new　hope；　was　my　aunt’s　stopping　on　the　stairs　to　inquire　about　a　
smell　of　fire　that　was　prevalent　there；　and　janet’s　replying　that　she　
had　been　making　tinder　down　in　the　kitchen；　of　my　old　shirt。　But　
there　were　no　other　clothes　in　my　room　than　the　odd　heap　of　
things　I　wore；　and　when　I　was　left　there；　with　a　little　taper　which　
my　aunt　forewarned　me　would　burn　exactly　five　minutes；　I　heard　
them　lock　my　door　on　the　outside。　Turning　these　things　over　in　my　
mind　I　deemed　it　possible　that　my　aunt；　who　could　know　nothing　
of　me；　might　suspect　I　had　a　habit　of　running　away；　and　took　
precautions；　on　that　account；　to　have　me　in　safe　keeping。　

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The　room　was　a　pleasant　one；　at　the　top　of　the　house；　
overlooking　the　sea；　on　which　the　moon　was　shining　brilliantly。　
After　I　had　said　my　prayers；　and　the　candle　had　burnt　out；　I　
remember　how　I　still　sat　looking　at　the　moonlight　on　the　water；　as　
if　I　could　hope　to　read　my　fortune　in　it；　as　in　a　bright　book；　or　to　
see　my　mother　with　her　child；　coming　from　Heaven；　along　that　
shining　path；　to　look　upon　me　as　she　had　looked　when　I　last　saw　
her　sweet　face。　I　remember　how　the　solemn　feeling　with　which　at　
length　I　turned　my　eyes　away；　yielded　to　the　sensation　of　gratitude　
and　rest　which　the　sight　of　the　white…curtained　bed—and　how　
much　more　the　lying　softly　down　upon　it；　nestling　in　the　snow…
white　sheets！—inspired。　I　remember　how　I　thought　of　all　the　
solitary　places　under　the　night　sky　where　I　had　slept；　and　how　I　
prayed　that　I　never　might　be　houseless　any　more；　and　never　might　
forget　the　houseless。　I　remember　how　I　seemed　to　float；　then；　
down　the　melancholy　glory　of　that　track　upon　the　sea；　away　into　
the　world　of　dreams。　

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David　Copperfield　

Chapter　14　

MY　AUNT　MAKES　UP　HER　MIND　ABOUT　ME　

On　going　down　in　the　morning；　I　found　my　aunt　musing　so　
profoundly　over　the　breakfast　table；　with　her　elbow　on　
the　tray；　that　the　contents　of　the　urn　had　overflowed　the　
teapot　and　were　laying　the　whole　table…cloth　under　water；　when　
my　entrance　put　her　meditations　to　flight。　I　felt　sure　that　I　had　
been　the　subject　of　her　reflections；　and　was　more　than　ever　
anxious　to　know　her　intentions　towards　me。　Yet　I　dared　not　
express　my　anxiety；　lest　it　should　give　her　offence。　

My　eyes；　however；　not　being　so　much　under　control　as　my　
tongue；　were　attracted　towards　my　aunt　very　often　during　
breakfast。　I　never　could　look　at　her　for　a　few　moments　together　
but　I　found　her　looking　at　me—in　an　odd　thoughtful　manner；　as　if　
I　were　an　immense　way　off；　instead　of　being　on　the　other　side　of　
the　small　round　table。　When　she　had　finished　her　breakfast；　my　
aunt　very　deliberately　leaned　back　in　her　chair；　knitted　her　brows；　
folded　her　arms；　and　contemplated　me　at　her　leisure；　with　such　a　
fixedness　of　attention　that　I　was　quite　overpowered　by　
embarrassment。　Not　having　as　yet　finished　my　own　breakfast；　I　
attempted　to　hide　my　confusion　by　proceeding　with　it；　but　my　
knife　tumbled　over　my　fork；　my　fork　tripped　up　my　knife；　I　
chipped　bits　of　bacon　a　surprising　height　into　the　air　instead　of　
cutting　them　for　my　own　eating；　and　choked　myself　with　my　tea；　
which　persisted　in　going　the　wrong　way　instead　of　the　right　one；　
until　I　gave　in　altogether；　and　sat　blushing　under　my　aunt’s　close　

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scrutiny。　

‘Hallo！’　said　my　aunt；　after　a　long　time。　

I　looked　up；　and　met　her　sharp　bright　glance　respectfully。　

‘I　have　written　to　him；’　said　my　aunt。　

‘To—？’　

‘To　your　father…in…law；’　said　my　aunt。　‘I　have　sent　him　a　letter　
that　I’ll　trouble　him　to　attend　to；　or　he　and　I　will　fall　out；　I　can　tell　
him！’　

‘Does　he　know　where　I　am；　aunt？’　I　inquired；　alarmed。　

‘I　have　told　him；’　said　my　aunt；　with　a　nod。　

‘Shall　I—be—given　up　to　him？’　I　faltered。　

‘I　don’t　know；’　said　my　aunt。　‘We　shall　see。’　

‘Oh！　I　can’t　think　what　I　shall　do；’　I　exclaimed；　‘if　I　have　to　go　
back　to　Mr。　Murdstone！’　

‘I　don’t　know　anything　about　it；’　said　my　aunt；　shaking　her　
head。　‘I　can’t　say；　I　am　sure。　We　shall　see。’　

My　spirits　sank　under　these　words；　and　I　became　very　downcast　
and　heavy　of　heart。　My　aunt；　without　appearing　to　take　much　heed　
of　me；　put　on　a　coarse　apron　with　a　bib；　which　she　took　out　of　the　
press；　washed　up　the　teacups　with　her　own　hands；　and；　when　
everything　was　washed　and　set　in　the　tray　again；　and　the　cloth　
folded　and　put　on　the　top　of　the　whole；　rang　for　Janet　to　remove　it。　
She　next　swept　up　the　crumbs　with　a　little　broom　（putting　on　a　
pair　of　gloves　first）；　until　there　did　not　appear　to　be　one　
microscopic　speck　left　on　the　carpet；　next　dusted　and　arranged　the　
room；　which　was　dusted　and　arranged　to　a　hair’s　breadth　already。　
When　all　these　tasks　were　performed　to　her　satisfaction；　she　took　
off　the　gloves　and　apron；　folded　them　up；　put　them　in　the　
particular　corner　of　the　press　from　which　they　had　been　taken；　

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brought　out　her　work…box　to　her　own　table　in　the　open　window；　
and　sat　down；　with　the　green　fan　between　her　and　the　light；　to　
work。　

‘I　wish　you’d　go　upstairs；’　said　my　aunt；　as　she　threaded　her　
needle；　‘and　give　my　compliments　to　Mr。　Dick；　and　I’ll　be　glad　to　
know　how　he　gets　on　with　his　Memorial。’　

I　rose　with　all　alacrity；　to　acquit　myself　of　this　commission。　

‘I　suppose；’　said　my　aunt；　eyeing　me　as　narrowly　as　she　had　
eyed　the　needle　in　threading　it；　‘you　think　Mr。　Dick　a　short　name；　
eh？’　

‘I　thought　it　was　rather　a　short　name；　yesterday；’　I　confessed。　

‘You　are　not　to　suppose　that　he　hasn’t　got　a　longer　name；　if　he　
chose　to　use　it；’　said　my　aunt；　with　a　loftier　air。　‘Babley—Mr。　
Richard　Babley—that’s　the　gentleman’s　true　name。’　

I　was　going　to　suggest；　with　a　modest　sense　of　my　youth　and　the　
familiarity　I　had　been　already　guilty　of；　that　I　had　better　give　him　
the　full　benefit　of　that　name；　when　my　aunt　went　on　to　say：　

‘But　don’t　you　call　him　by　it；　whatever　you　do。　He　can’t　bear　his　
name。　That’s　a　peculiarity　of　his。　Though　I　don’t　know　that　it’s　
much　of　a　peculiarity；　either；　for　he　has　been　ill…used　enough；　by　
some　that　bear　it；　to　have　a　mortal　antipathy　for　it；　Heaven　knows。　
Mr。　Dick　is　his　name　here；　and　everywhere　else；　now—if　he　ever　
went　anywhere　else；　which　he　don’t。　So　take　care；　child；　you　don’t　
call　him　anything　but　Mr。　Dick。’　

I　promised　to　obey；　and　went　upstairs　with　my　message；　
thinking；　as　I　went；　that　if　Mr。　Dick　had　been　working　at　his　
Memorial　long；　at　the　same　rate　as　I　had　seen　him　working　at　it；　
through　the　open　door；　when　I　came　down；　he　was　probably　
getting　on　very　well　indeed。　I　found　him　still　driving　at　it　with　a　

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long　pen；　and　his　head　almost　laid　upon　the　paper。　He　was　so　
intent　upon　it；　that　I　had　ample　leisure　to　observe　the　large　paper　
kite　in　a　corner；　the　confusion　of　bundles　of　manuscript；　the　
number　of　pens；　and；　above　all；　the　quantity　of　ink　（which　he　
seemed　to　have　in；　in　half…gallon　jars　by　the　dozen）；　before　he　
observed　my　being　present。　

‘Ha！　Phoebus！’　said　Mr。　Dick；　laying　down　his　pen。　‘How　does　
the　world　go？　I’ll　tell　you　what；’　he　added；　in　a　lower　tone；　‘I　
shouldn’t　wish　it　to　be　mentioned；　but　it’s　a—’　here　he　beckoned　to　
me；　and　put　his　lips　close　to　my　ear—‘it’s　a　mad　world。　Mad　as　
Bedlam；　boy！’　said　Mr。　Dick；　taking　snuff　from　a　round　box　on　the　
table；　and　laughing　heartily。　

Without　presuming　to　give　my　opinion　on　this　question；　I　
delivered　my　message。　

‘Well；’　said　Mr。　Dick；　in　answer；　‘my　compliments　to　her；　and　
I—I　believe　I　have　made　a　start。　I　think　I　have　made　a　start；’　said　
Mr。　Dick；　passing　his　hand　among　his　grey　hair；　and　casting　
anything　but　a　confident　look　at　his　manuscript。　‘You　have　been　to　
school？’　

‘Yes；　sir；’　I　answered；　‘for　a　short　time。’　

‘Do　you　recollect　the　date；’　said　Mr。　Dick；　looking　earnestly　at　
me；　and　taking　up　his　pen　to　note　it　down；　‘when　King　Charles　the　
First　had　his　head　cut　off？’　I　said　I　believed　it　happened　in　the　
year　sixteen　hundred　and　forty…nine。　

‘Well；’　returned　Mr。　Dick；　scratching　his　ear　with　his　pen；　and　
looking　dubiously　at　me。　‘So　the　books　say；　but　I　don’t　see　how　
that　can　be。　Because；　if　it　was　so　long　ago；　how　could　the　people　
about　him　have　made　that　mistake　of　putting　some　of　the　trouble　
out　of　his　head；　after　it　was　taken　off；　into　mine？’　

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I　was　very　much　surprised　by　the　inquiry；　but　could　give　no　
information　on　this　point。　

‘It’s　very　strange；’　said　Mr。　Dick；　with　a　despondent　look　upon　
his　papers；　and　with　his　hand　among　his　hair　again；　‘that　I　never　
can　get　that　quite　right。　I　never　can　make　that　perfectly　clear。　But　
no　matter；　no　matter！’　he　said　cheerfully；　and　rousing　himself；　
‘there’s　time　enough！　My　compliments　to　Miss　Trotwood；　I　am　
getting　on　very　well　indeed。’　

I　was　going　away；　when　he　directed　my　attention　to　the　kite。　

‘What　do　you　think　of　that　for　a　kite？’　he　said。　

I　answered　that　it　was　a　beautiful　one。　I　should　think　it　must　
have　been　as　much　as　seven　feet　high。　

‘I　made　it。　We’ll　go　and　fly　it；　you　and　I；’　said　Mr。　Dick。　‘Do　you　
see　this？’　

He　showed　me　that　it　was　covered　with　manuscript；　very　closely　
and　laboriously　written；　but　so　plainly；　that　as　I　looked　along　the　
lines；　I　thought　I　saw　some　allusion　to　King　Charles　the　First’s　
head　again；　in　one　or　two　places。　

‘There’s　plenty　of　string；’　said　Mr。　Dick；　‘and　when　it　flies　high；　
it　takes　the　facts　a　long　way。　That’s　my　manner　of　diffusing　’em。　I　
don’t　know　where　they　may　come　down。　It’s　according　to　
circumstances；　and　the　wind；　and　so　forth；　but　I　take　my　chance　of　
that。’　

His　face　was　so　very　mild　and　pleasant；　and　had　something　so　
reverend　in　it；　though　it　was　hale　and　hearty；　that　I　was　not　sure　
but　that　he　was　having　a　good…humoured　jest　with　me。　So　I　
laughed；　and　he　laughed；　and　we　parted　the　best　friends　possible。　

‘Well；　child；’　said　my　aunt；　when　I　went　downstairs。　‘And　what　
of　Mr。　Dick；　this　morning？’　

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I　informed　her　that　he　sent　his　compliments；　and　was　getting　on　
very　well　indeed。　

‘What　do　you　think　of　him？’　said　my　aunt。　

I　had　some　shadowy　idea　of　endeavo