david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第6章
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‘You did； Peggotty！’ returned my mother。 ‘You know you did。
What else was it possible to infer from what you said； you unkind
creature； when you know as well as I do； that on his account only
last quarter I wouldn’t buy myself a new parasol； though that old
green one is frayed the whole way up； and the fringe is perfectly
mangy？ You know it is； Peggotty。 You can’t deny it。’ Then； turning
affectionately to me； with her cheek against mine； ‘Am I a naughty
mama to you； Davy？ Am I a nasty； cruel； selfish； bad mama？ Say I
am； my child； say “yes”； dear boy； and Peggotty will love you； and
Peggotty’s love is a great deal better than mine； Davy。 I don’t love
you at all； do I？’
At this； we all fell a…crying together。 I think I was the loudest of
the party； but I am sure we were all sincere about it。 I was quite
heart…broken myself； and am afraid that in the first transports of
wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a ‘Beast’。 That honest
creature was in deep affliction； I remember； and must have
become quite buttonless on the occasion； for a little volley of those
explosives went off； when； after having made it up with my
mother； she kneeled down by the elbow…chair； and made it up with
me。
We went to bed greatly dejected。 My sobs kept waking me； for a
long time； and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in
bed； I found my mother sitting on the coverlet； and leaning over
me。 I fell asleep in her arms； after that； and slept soundly。
Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman
again； or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he
reappeared； I cannot recall。 I don’t profess to be clear about dates。
But there he was； in church； and he walked home with us
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David Copperfield
afterwards。 He came in； too； to look at a famous geranium we had；
in the parlour…window。 It did not appear to me that he took much
notice of it； but before he went he asked my mother to give him a
bit of the blossom。 She begged him to choose it for himself； but he
refused to do that—I could not understand why—so she plucked it
for him； and gave it into his hand。 He said he would never； never
part with it any more； and I thought he must be quite a fool not to
know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two。
Peggotty began to be less with us； of an evening； than she had
always been。 My mother deferred to her very much—more than
usual； it occurred to me—and we were all three excellent friends；
still we were different from what we used to be； and were not so
comfortable among ourselves。 Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty
perhaps objected to my mother’s wearing all the pretty dresses she
had in her drawers； or to her going so often to visit at that
neighbour’s； but I couldn’t； to my satisfaction； make out how it
was。
Gradually； I became used to seeing the gentleman with the
black whiskers。 I liked him no better than at first； and had the
same uneasy jealousy of him； but if I had any reason for it beyond
a child’s instinctive dislike； and a general idea that Peggotty and I
could make much of my mother without any help； it certainly was
not the reason that I might have found if I had been older。 No such
thing came into my mind； or near it。 I could observe； in little
pieces； as it were； but as to making a net of a number of these
pieces； and catching anybody in it； that was； as yet； beyond me。
One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front
garden； when Mr。 Murdstone—I knew him by that name now—
came by； on horseback。 He reined up his horse to salute my
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mother； and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends
who were there with a yacht； and merrily proposed to take me on
the saddle before him if I would like the ride。
The air was so clear and pleasant； and the horse seemed to like
the idea of the ride so much himself； as he stood snorting and
pawing at the garden…gate； that I had a great desire to go。 So I was
sent upstairs to Peggotty to be made spruce； and in the meantime
Mr。 Murdstone dismounted； and； with his horse’s bridle drawn
over his arm； walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the
sweetbriar fence； while my mother walked slowly up and down on
the inner to keep him company。 I recollect Peggotty and I peeping
out at them from my little window； I recollect how closely they
seemed to be examining the sweetbriar between them； as they
strolled along； and how； from being in a perfectly angelic temper；
Peggotty turned cross in a moment； and brushed my hair the
wrong way； excessively hard。
Mr。 Murdstone and I were soon off； and trotting along on the
green turf by the side of the road。 He held me quite easily with one
arm； and I don’t think I was restless usually； but I could not make
up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head
sometimes； and looking up in his face。 He had that kind of shallow
black eye—I want a better word to express an eye that has no
depth in it to be looked into—which； when it is abstracted； seems
from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured； for a moment at a
time； by a cast。 Several times when I glanced at him； I observed
that appearance with a sort of awe； and wondered what he was
thinking about so closely。 His hair and whiskers were blacker and
thicker； looked at so near； than even I had given them credit for
being。 A squareness about the lower part of his face； and the
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dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every
day； reminded me of the wax…work that had travelled into our
neighbourhood some half…a…year before。 This； his regular
eyebrows； and the rich white； and black； and brown； of his
complexion—confound his complexion； and his memory！—made
me think him； in spite of my misgivings； a very handsome man。 I
have no doubt that my poor dear mother thought him so too。
We went to an hotel by the sea； where two gentlemen were
smoking cigars in a room by themselves。 Each of them was lying
on at least four chairs； and had a large rough jacket on。 In a corner
was a heap of coats and boat…cloaks； and a flag； all bundled up
together。
They both rolled on to their feet in an untidy sort of manner；
when we came in； and said； ‘Halloa； Murdstone！ We thought you
were dead！’
‘Not yet；’ said Mr。 Murdstone。
‘And who’s this shaver？’ said one of the gentlemen； taking hold
of me。
‘That’s Davy；’ returned Mr。 Murdstone。
‘Davy who？’ said the gentleman。 ‘Jones？’
‘Copperfield；’ said Mr。 Murdstone。
‘What！ Bewitching Mrs。 Copperfield’s encumbrance？’ cried the
gentleman。 ‘The pretty little widow？’
‘Quinion；’ said Mr。 Murdstone； ‘take care； if you please。
Somebody’s sharp。’
‘Who is？’ asked the gentleman； laughing。 I looked up； quickly；
being curious to know。
‘Only Brooks of Sheffield；’ said Mr。 Murdstone。
I was quite relieved to find that it was only Brooks of Sheffield；
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for； at first； I really thought it was I。
There seemed to be something very comical in the reputation of
Mr。 Brooks of Sheffield； for both the gentlemen laughed heartily
when he was mentioned； and Mr。 Murdstone was a good deal
amused also。 After some laughing； the gentleman whom he had
called Quinion； said：
‘And what is the opinion of Brooks of Sheffield； in reference to
the projected business？’
‘Why； I don’t know that Brooks understands much about it at
present；’ replied Mr。 Murdstone； ‘but he is not generally
favourable； I believe。’
There was more laughter at this； and Mr。 Quinion said he
would ring the bell for some sherry in which to drink to Brooks。
This he did； and when the wine came； he made me have a little；
with a biscuit； and； before I drank it； stand up and say； ‘Confusion
to Brooks of Sheffield！’ The toast was received with great
applause； and such hearty laughter that it made me laugh too； at
which they laughed the more。 In short； we quite enjoyed
ourselves。
We walked about on the cliff after that； and sat on the grass；
and looked at things through a telescope—I could make out
nothing myself when it was put to my eye； but I pretended I
could—and then we came back to the hotel to an early dinner。 All
the time we were out； the two gentlemen smoked incessantly—
which； I thought； if I might judge from the smell of their rough
coats； they must have been doing； ever since the coats had first
come home from the tailor’s。 I must not forget that we went on
board the yacht； where they all three descended into the cabin；
and were busy with some papers。 I saw them quite hard at work；
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when I looked down through the open skylight。 They left me；
during this time； with a very nice man with a very large head of
red hair and a very small shiny hat upon it； who had got a cross…
barred shirt or waistcoat on； with ‘Skylark’ in capital letters across
the chest。 I thought it was his name； and that as he lived on board
ship and hadn’t a street door to put his name on； he put it there
instead； but when I called him Mr。 Skylark； he said it meant the
vessel。
I observed all day that Mr。 Murdstone was graver and steadier
than the two gentlemen。 They were very gay and careless。 They
joked freely with one another； but seldom with him。 It appeared to
me that he was more clever and cold than they were； and that they
regarded him with something of my own feeling。 I remarked that；
once or twice when Mr。 Quinion was talking； he looked at Mr。
Murdstone sideways； as if to make sure of his not being
displeased； and that once when Mr。 Passnidge （the other
gentleman） was in high spirits； he trod upon his foot； and gave him
a secret caution with his eyes； to observe Mr。 Murdstone； who was
sitting stern and silent。 Nor do I recollect that Mr。 Murdstone
laughed at all that day； except at the Sheffield joke—and that； by
the by； was his own。
We went home early in the evening。 It was a very fine evening；
and my mother and he had another stroll by the sweetbriar； while
I was sent in to get my tea。 When he was gone； my mother asked
me all about the day I had had； and what they had said and done。 I
mentioned what they had said about her； and she laughed； and
told me they were impudent fellows who talked nonsense—but I
knew it pleased her。 I knew it quite as well as I know it now。 I took
the opportunity of asking if she was at all acquainted with Mr。
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David Copperfield
Brooks of Sheffield； but she answered No； only she supposed he
must be a manufacturer in the knife and fork way。
Can I say of her face—altered as I have reason to remember it；
perished as I know it is—that it is gone； when here it comes before
me at this instant； as distinct as any face that I may choose to look
on in a crowded street？ Can I say of her innocent and girlish
beauty； that it fa
