david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第48章

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own　way　in　any　respect。　When　we　came　into　the　country　road；　she　
permitted　him　to　relax　a　little；　however；　and　looking　at　me　down　in　
a　valley　of　cushion　by　her　side；　asked　me　whether　I　was　happy？　

‘Very　happy　indeed；　thank　you；　aunt；’　I　said。　

She　was　much　gratified；　and　both　her　hands　being　occupied；　
patted　me　on　the　head　with　her　whip。　

‘Is　it　a　large　school；　aunt？’　I　asked。　

‘Why；　I　don’t　know；’　said　my　aunt。　‘We　are　going　to　Mr。　

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Wickfield’s　first。’　

‘Does　he　keep　a　school？’　I　asked。　

‘No；　Trot；’　said　my　aunt。　‘He　keeps　an　office。’　

I　asked　for　no　more　information　about　Mr。　Wickfield；　as　she　
offered　none；　and　we　conversed　on　other　subjects　until　we　came　to　
Canterbury；　where；　as　it　was　market…day；　my　aunt　had　a　great　
opportunity　of　insinuating　the　grey　pony　among　carts；　baskets；　
vegetables；　and　huckster’s　goods。　The　hair…breadth　turns　and　
twists　we　made；　drew　down　upon　us　a　variety　of　speeches　from　the　
people　standing　about；　which　were　not　always　complimentary；　but　
my　aunt　drove　on　with　perfect　indifference；　and　I　dare　say　would　
have　taken　her　own　way　with　as　much　coolness　through　an　
enemy’s　country。　

At　length　we　stopped　before　a　very　old　house　bulging　out　over　
the　road；　a　house　with　long　low　lattice…windows　bulging　out　still　
farther；　and　beams　with　carved　heads　on　the　ends　bulging　out　too；　
so　that　I　fancied　the　whole　house　was　leaning　forward；　trying　to　
see　who　was　passing　on　the　narrow　pavement　below。　It　was　quite　
spotless　in　its　cleanliness。　The　old…fashioned　brass　knocker　on　the　
low　arched　door；　ornamented　with　carved　garlands　of　fruit　and　
flowers；　twinkled　like　a　star；　the　two　stone　steps　descending　to　the　
door　were　as　white　as　if　they　had　been　covered　with　fair　linen；　and　
all　the　angles　and　corners；　and　carvings　and　mouldings；　and　
quaint　little　panes　of　glass；　and　quainter　little　windows；　though　as　
old　as　the　hills；　were　as　pure　as　any　snow　that　ever　fell　upon　the　
hills。　

When　the　pony…chaise　stopped　at　the　door；　and　my　eyes　were　
intent　upon　the　house；　I　saw　a　cadaverous　face　appear　at　a　small　
window　on　the　ground　floor　（in　a　little　round　tower　that　formed　

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one　side　of　the　house）；　and　quickly　disappear。　The　low　arched　door　
then　opened；　and　the　face　came　out。　It　was　quite　as　cadaverous　as　
it　had　looked　in　the　window；　though　in　the　grain　of　it　there　was　
that　tinge　of　red　which　is　sometimes　to　be　observed　in　the　skins　of　
red…haired　people。　It　belonged　to　a　red…haired　person—a　youth　of　
fifteen；　as　I　take　it　now；　but　looking　much　older—whose　hair　was　
cropped　as　close　as　the　closest　stubble；　who　had　hardly　any　
eyebrows；　and　no　eyelashes；　and　eyes　of　a　red…brown；　so　
unsheltered　and　unshaded；　that　I　remember　wondering　how　he　
went　to　sleep。　He　was　high…shouldered　and　bony；　dressed　in　
decent　black；　with　a　white　wisp　of　a　neckcloth；　buttoned　up　to　the　
throat；　and　had　a　long；　lank；　skeleton　hand；　which　particularly　
attracted　my　attention；　as　he　stood　at　the　pony’s　head；　rubbing　his　
chin　with　it；　and　looking　up　at　us　in　the　chaise。　

‘Is　Mr。　Wickfield　at　home；　Uriah　Heep？’　said　my　aunt。　

‘Mr。　Wickfield’s　at　home；　ma’am；’　said　Uriah　Heep；　‘if　you’ll　
please　to　walk　in　there’—pointing　with　his　long　hand　to　the　room　
he　meant。　

We　got　out；　and　leaving　him　to　hold　the　pony；　went　into　a　long　
low　parlour　looking　towards　the　street；　from　the　window　of　which　
I　caught　a　glimpse；　as　I　went　in；　of　Uriah　Heep　breathing　into　the　
pony’s　nostrils；　and　immediately　covering　them　with　his　hand；　as　if　
he　were　putting　some　spell　upon　him。　Opposite　to　the　tall　old　
chimney…piece　were　two　portraits：　one　of　a　gentleman　with　grey　
hair　（though　not　by　any　means　an　old　man）　and　black　eyebrows；　
who　was　looking　over　some　papers　tied　together　with　red　tape；　the　
other；　of　a　lady；　with　a　very　placid　and　sweet　expression　of　face；　
who　was　looking　at　me。　

I　believe　I　was　turning　about　in　search　of　Uriah’s　picture；　when；　

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a　door　at　the　farther　end　of　the　room　opening；　a　gentleman　
entered；　at　sight　of　whom　I　turned　to　the　first…mentioned　portrait　
again；　to　make　quite　sure　that　it　had　not　come　out　of　its　frame。　But　
it　was　stationary；　and　as　the　gentleman　advanced　into　the　light；　I　
saw　that　he　was　some　years　older　than　when　he　had　had　his　
picture　painted。　

‘Miss　Betsey　Trotwood；’　said　the　gentleman；　‘pray　walk　in。　I　was　
engaged　for　a　moment；　but　you’ll　excuse　my　being　busy。　You　know　
my　motive。　I　have　but　one　in　life。’　

Miss　Betsey　thanked　him；　and　we　went　into　his　room；　which　
was　furnished　as　an　office；　with　books；　papers；　tin　boxes；　and　so　
forth。　It　looked　into　a　garden；　and　had　an　iron　safe　let　into　the　
wall；　so　immediately　over　the　mantelshelf；　that　I　wondered；　as　I　sat　
down；　how　the　sweeps　got　round　it　when　they　swept　the　chimney。　

‘Well；　Miss　Trotwood；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield；　for　I　soon　found　that　
it　was　he；　and　that　he　was　a　lawyer；　and　steward　of　the　estates　of　a　
rich　gentleman　of　the　county；　‘what　wind　blows　you　here？　Not　an　
ill　wind；　I　hope？’　

‘No；’　replied　my　aunt。　‘I　have　not　come　for　any　law。’　

‘That’s　right；　ma’am；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield。　‘You　had　better　come　
for　anything　else。’　His　hair　was　quite　white　now；　though　his　
eyebrows　were　still　black。　He　had　a　very　agreeable　face；　and；　I　
thought；　was　handsome。　There　was　a　certain　richness　in　his　
complexion；　which　I　had　been　long　accustomed；　under　Peggotty’s　
tuition；　to　connect　with　port　wine；　and　I　fancied　it　was　in　his　voice　
too；　and　referred　his　growing　corpulency　to　the　same　cause。　He　
was　very　cleanly　dressed；　in　a　blue　coat；　striped　waistcoat；　and　
nankeen　trousers；　and　his　fine　frilled　shirt　and　cambric　neckcloth　
looked　unusually　soft　and　white；　reminding　my　strolling　fancy　（I　

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call　to　mind）　of　the　plumage　on　the　breast　of　a　swan。　

‘This　is　my　nephew；’　said　my　aunt。　

‘Wasn’t　aware　you　had　one；　Miss　Trotwood；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield。　

‘My　grand…nephew；　that　is　to　say；’　observed　my　aunt。　

‘Wasn’t　aware　you　had　a　grand…nephew；　I　give　you　my　word；’　
said　Mr。　Wickfield。　

‘I　have　adopted　him；’　said　my　aunt；　with　a　wave　of　her　hand；　
importing　that　his　knowledge　and　his　ignorance　were　all　one　to　
her；　‘and　I　have　brought　him　here；　to　put　to　a　school　where　he　may　
be　thoroughly　well　taught；　and　well　treated。　Now　tell　me　where　
that　school　is；　and　what　it　is；　and　all　about　it。’　

‘Before　I　can　advise　you　properly；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield—‘the　old　
question；　you　know。　What’s　your　motive　in　this？’　

‘Deuce　take　the　man！’　exclaimed　my　aunt。　‘Always　fishing　for　
motives；　when　they’re　on　the　surface！　Why；　to　make　the　child　
happy　and　useful。’　

‘It　must　be　a　mixed　motive；　I　think；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield；　shaking　
his　head　and　smiling　incredulously。　

‘A　mixed　fiddlestick；’　returned　my　aunt。　‘You　claim　to　have　one　
plain　motive　in　all　you　do　yourself。　You　don’t　suppose；　I　hope；　that　
you　are　the　only　plain　dealer　in　the　world？’　

‘Ay；　but　I　have　only　one　motive　in　life；　Miss　Trotwood；’　he　
rejoined；　smiling。　‘Other　people　have　dozens；　scores；　hundreds。　I　
have　only　one。　There’s　the　difference。　However；　that’s　beside　the　
question。　The　best　school？　Whatever　the　motive；　you　want　the　
best？’　

My　aunt　nodded　assent。　

‘At　the　best　we　have；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield；　considering；　‘your　
nephew　couldn’t　board　just　now。’　

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‘But　he　could　board　somewhere　else；　I　suppose？’　suggested　my　
aunt。　

Mr。　Wickfield　thought　I　could。　After　a　little　discussion；　he　
proposed　to　take　my　aunt　to　the　school；　that　she　might　see　it　and　
judge　for　herself；　also；　to　take　her；　with　the　same　object；　to　two　or　
three　houses　where　he　thought　I　could　be　boarded。　My　aunt　
embracing　the　proposal；　we　were　all　three　going　out　together；　
when　he　stopped　and　said：　

‘Our　little　friend　here　might　have　some　motive；　perhaps；　for　
objecting　to　the　arrangements。　I　think　we　had　better　leave　him　
behind？’　

My　aunt　seemed　disposed　to　contest　the　point；　but　to　facilitate　
matters　I　said　I　would　gladly　remain　behind；　if　they　pleased；　and　
returned　into　Mr。　Wickfield’s　office；　where　I　sat　down　again；　in　the　
chair　I　had　first　occupied；　to　await　their　return。　

It　so　happened　that　this　chair　was　opposite　a　narrow　passage；　
which　ended　in　the　little　circular　room　where　I　had　seen　Uriah　
Heep’s　pale　face　looking　out　of　the　window。　Uriah；　having　taken　
the　pony　to　a　neighbouring　stable；　was　at　work　at　a　desk　in　this　
room；　which　had　a　brass　frame　on　the　top　to　hang　paper　upon；　and　
on　which　the　writing　he　was　making　a　copy　of　was　then　hanging。　
Though　his　face　was　towards　me；　I　thought；　for　some　time；　the　
writing　being　between　us；　that　he　could　not　see　me；　but　looking　
that　way　more　attentively；　it　made　me　uncomfortable　to　observe　
that；　every　now　and　then；　his　sleepless　eyes　would　come　below　the　
writing；　like　two　red　suns；　and　stealthily　stare　at　me　for　I　dare　say　
a　whole　minute　at　a　time；　during　which　his　pen　went；　or　pretended　
to　go；　as　cleverly　as　ever。　I　made　several　attempts　to　get　out　of　
their　way—such　as　standing　on　a　chair　to　look　at　a　map　on　the　

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other　side　of　the　room；　and　poring　over　the　columns　of　a　Kentish　
newspaper—but　they　always　attracted　me　back　again；　and　
whenever　I　looked　towards　those　two　red　suns；　I　was　sure　to　find　
them；　either　just　rising　or　just　setting。　

At　length；　much　to　my　relief；　my　aunt　and　Mr。　Wickfield　came　
back；　after　a　pretty　long　absence。　They　were　not　so　successful　as　I　
could　have　wished；　for　though　the　advantages　of　the　school　were　
undeniable；　my　aunt　had　not　approved　of　any　of　the　boardinghouses　proposed　for　me。　

‘It’s　very　unfortunate；’　said　my　aunt。　‘I　don’t　know　what　to　do；　
Trot。’　

‘It　does　happen　unfortunately；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield。　‘But　I’ll　tell　
you　what　you　can　do；　Miss　Trotwood。’　

‘What’s　that？’　inquired　my　aunt。　

‘Leave　your　nephew　here；　for　the　present。　He’s　a　quiet　fellow。　
He　won’t　disturb　me　at　all。　It’s　a　capital　house　for　study。　As　quiet　
as　a　monastery；　and　almost　as　roomy。　Leave　him　here。’　

My　aunt　evidently　liked　the　offer；　though　she　was　delicate　of　
accepting　it。　So　did　I。　‘Come；　Miss　Trotwood；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield。　
‘This　is　the　way　out　of　the　difficulty。　It’s　only　a　temporary　
arrangement；　you　know。　If　it　don’t　act　well；　or　don’t　quite　accord　
with　our　mutual　convenience；　he　can　easily　go　to　the　right…about。　
There　will　be　time　to　find　some　better　place　for　him　in　the　
meanwhile。　You　had　better　determine　to　leave　him　here　for　the　
present！’　

‘I　am　very　much　obliged　to　you；’　said　my　aunt；　‘and　so　is　he；　I　
see；　but—’　

‘Come！　I　know　what　you　mean；’　cried　Mr。　Wickfield。　‘You　shall　
not　be　oppressed　by　the　receipt　of　favours；　Miss　Trotwood。　You　

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may　pa