david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第16部分

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again。　And　I’ll　write　to　you；　my　dear。　Though　I　ain’t　no　scholar。　
And　I’ll—I’ll—’　Peggotty　fell　to　kissing　the　keyhole；　as　she　couldn’t　
kiss　me。　

‘Thank　you；　dear　Peggotty！’　said　I。　‘Oh；　thank　you！　Thank　you！　
Will　you　promise　me　one　thing；　Peggotty？　Will　you　write　and　tell　
Mr。　Peggotty　and　little　Em’ly；　and　Mrs。　Gummidge　and　Ham；　that　
I　am　not　so　bad　as　they　might　suppose；　and　that　I　sent　’em　all　my　
love—especially　to　little　Em’ly？　Will　you；　if　you　please；　Peggotty？’　

The　kind　soul　promised；　and　we　both　of　us　kissed　the　keyhole　
with　the　greatest　affection—I　patted　it　with　my　hand；　I　recollect；　as　
if　it　had　been　her　honest　face—and　parted。　From　that　night　there　
grew　up　in　my　breast　a　feeling　for　Peggotty　which　I　cannot　very　

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well　define。　She　did　not　replace　my　mother；　no　one　could　do　that；　
but　she　came　into　a　vacancy　in　my　heart；　which　closed　upon　her；　
and　I　felt　towards　her　something　I　have　never　felt　for　any　other　
human　being。　It　was　a　sort　of　comical　affection；　too；　and　yet　if　she　
had　died；　I　cannot　think　what　I　should　have　done；　or　how　I　should　
have　acted　out　the　tragedy　it　would　have　been　to　me。　

In　the　morning　Miss　Murdstone　appeared　as　usual；　and　told　me　
I　was　going　to　school；　which　was　not　altogether　such　news　to　me　
as　she　supposed。　She　also　informed　me　that　when　I　was　dressed；　I　
was　to　come　downstairs　into　the　parlour；　and　have　my　breakfast。　
There；　I　found　my　mother；　very　pale　and　with　red　eyes：　into　whose　
arms　I　ran；　and　begged　her　pardon　from　my　suffering　soul。　

‘Oh；　Davy！’　she　said。　‘That　you　could　hurt　anyone　I　love！　Try　to　
be　better；　pray　to　be　better！　I　forgive　you；　but　I　am　so　grieved；　
Davy；　that　you　should　have　such　bad　passions　in　your　heart。’　

They　had　persuaded　her　that　I　was　a　wicked　fellow；　and　she　
was　more　sorry　for　that　than　for　my　going　away。　I　felt　it　sorely。　I　
tried　to　eat　my　parting　breakfast；　but　my　tears　dropped　upon　my　
bread…and…butter；　and　trickled　into　my　tea。　I　saw　my　mother　look　
at　me　sometimes；　and　then　glance　at　the　watchful　Miss　Murdstone；　
and　than　look　down；　or　look　away。　

‘Master　Copperfield’s　box　there！’　said　Miss　Murdstone；　when　
wheels　were　heard　at　the　gate。　

I　looked　for　Peggotty；　but　it　was　not　she；　neither　she　nor　Mr。　
Murdstone　appeared。　My　former　acquaintance；　the　carrier；　was　at　
the　door。　the　box　was　taken　out　to　his　cart；　and　lifted　in。　‘Clara！’　
said　Miss　Murdstone；　in　her　warning　note。　

‘Ready；　my　dear　Jane；’　returned　my　mother。　‘Good…bye；　Davy。　
You　are　going　for　your　own　good。　Good…bye；　my　child。　You　will　

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come　home　in　the　holidays；　and　be　a　better　boy。’　

‘Clara！’　Miss　Murdstone　repeated。　

‘Certainly；　my　dear　Jane；’　replied　my　mother；　who　was　holding　
me。　‘I　forgive　you；　my　dear　boy。　God　bless　you！’　

‘Clara！’　Miss　Murdstone　repeated。　

Miss　Murdstone　was　good　enough　to　take　me　out　to　the　cart；　
and　to　say　on　the　way　that　she　hoped　I　would　repent；　before　I　
came　to　a　bad　end；　and　then　I　got　into　the　cart；　and　the　lazy　horse　
walked　off　with　it。　

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Chapter　5　

I　AM　SENT　AWAY　FROM　HOME　

We　might　have　gone　about　half　a　mile；　and　my　pocket…
handkerchief　was　quite　wet　through；　when　the　carrier　
stopped　short。　Looking　out　to　ascertain　for　what；　I　saw；　
to　my　amazement；　Peggotty　burst　from　a　hedge　and　climb　into　the　
cart。　She　took　me　in　both　her　arms；　and　squeezed　me　to　her　stays　
until　the　pressure　on　my　nose　was　extremely　painful；　though　I　
never　thought　of　that　till　afterwards　when　I　found　it　very　tender。　
Not　a　single　word　did　Peggotty　speak。　Releasing　one　of　her　arms；　
she　put　it　down　in　her　pocket　to　the　elbow；　and　brought　out　some　
paper　bags　of　cakes　which　she　crammed　into　my　pockets；　and　a　
purse　which　she　put　into　my　hand；　but　not　one　word　did　she　say。　
After　another　and　a　final　squeeze　with　both　arms；　she　got　down　
from　the　cart　and　ran　away；　and；　my　belief　is；　and　has　always　
been；　without　a　solitary　button　on　her　gown。　I　picked　up　one；　of　
several　that　were　rolling　about；　and　treasured　it　as　a　keepsake　for　
a　long　time。　

The　carrier　looked　at　me；　as　if　to　inquire　if　she　were　coming　
back。　I　shook　my　head；　and　said　I　thought　not。　‘Then　come　up；’　
said　the　carrier　to　the　lazy　horse；　who　came　up　accordingly。　

Having　by　this　time　cried　as　much　as　I　possibly　could；　I　began　
to　think　it　was　of　no　use　crying　any　more；　especially　as　neither　
Roderick　Random；　nor　that　Captain　in　the　Royal　British　Navy；　had　
ever　cried；　that　I　could　remember；　in　trying　situations。　The　carrier；　
seeing　me　in　this　resolution；　proposed　that　my　pocket…

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handkerchief　should　be　spread　upon　the　horse’s　back　to　dry。　I　
thanked　him；　and　assented；　and　particularly　small　it　looked；　under　
those　circumstances。　

I　had　now　leisure　to　examine　the　purse。　It　was　a　stiff　leather　
purse；　with　a　snap；　and　had　three　bright　shillings　in　it；　which　
Peggotty　had　evidently　polished　up　with　whitening；　for　my　greater　
delight。　But　its　most　precious　contents　were　two　half…crowns　
folded　together　in　a　bit　of　paper；　on　which　was　written；　in　my　
mother’s　hand；　‘For　Davy。　With　my　love。’　I　was　so　overcome　by　
this；　that　I　asked　the　carrier　to　be　so　good　as　to　reach　me　my　
pocket…handkerchief　again；　but　he　said　he　thought　I　had　better　do　
without　it；　and　I　thought　I　really　had；　so　I　wiped　my　eyes　on　my　
sleeve　and　stopped　myself。　

For　good；　too；　though；　in　consequence　of　my　previous　emotions；　
I　was　still　occasionally　seized　with　a　stormy　sob。　After　we　had　
jogged　on　for　some　little　time；　I　asked　the　carrier　if　he　was　going　
all　the　way。　

‘All　the　way　where？’　inquired　the　carrier。　

‘There；’　I　said。　

‘Where’s　there？’　inquired　the　carrier。　

‘Near　London；’　I　said。　

‘Why　that　horse；’　said　the　carrier；　jerking　the　rein　to　point　him　
out；　‘would　be　deader　than　pork　afore　he　got　over　half　the　ground。’　

‘Are　you　only　going　to　Yarmouth　then？’　I　asked。　

‘That’s　about　it；’　said　the　carrier。　‘And　there　I　shall　take　you　to　
the　stage…cutch；　and　the　stage…cutch　that’ll　take　you　to—wherever　
it　is。’　

As　this　was　a　great　deal　for　the　carrier　（whose　name　was　Mr。　
Barkis）　to　say—he　being；　as　I　observed　in　a　former　chapter；　of　a　

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phlegmatic　temperament；　and　not　at　all　conversational—I　offered　
him　a　cake　as　a　mark　of　attention；　which　he　ate　at　one　gulp；　
exactly　like　an　elephant；　and　which　made　no　more　impression　on　
his　big　face　than　it　would　have　done　on　an　elephant’s。　

‘Did　she　make　’em；　now？’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　always　leaning　
forward；　in　his　slouching　way；　on　the　footboard　of　the　cart　with　an　
arm　on　each　knee。　

‘Peggotty；　do　you　mean；　sir？’　

‘Ah！’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　‘Her。’　

‘Yes。　She　makes　all　our　pastry；　and　does　all　our　cooking。’　

‘Do　she　though？’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　He　made　up　his　mouth　as　if　to　
whistle；　but　he　didn’t　whistle。　He　sat　looking　at　the　horse’s　ears；　as　
if　he　saw　something　new　there；　and　sat　so；　for　a　considerable　time。　
By　and　by；　he　said：　

‘No　sweethearts；　I　b’lieve？’　

‘Sweetmeats　did　you　say；　Mr。　Barkis？’　For　I　thought　he　wanted　
something　else　to　eat；　and　had　pointedly　alluded　to　that　
description　of　refreshment。　

‘Hearts；’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　‘Sweet　hearts；　no　person　walks　with　
her！’　

‘With　Peggotty？’　

‘Ah！’　he　said。　‘Her。’　

‘Oh；　no。　She　never　had　a　sweetheart。’　

‘Didn’t　she；　though！’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　

Again　he　made　up　his　mouth　to　whistle；　and　again　he　didn’t　
whistle；　but　sat　looking　at　the　horse’s　ears。　

‘So　she　makes；’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　after　a　long　interval　of　
reflection；　‘all　the　apple　parsties；　and　doos　all　the　cooking；　do　she？’　

I　replied　that　such　was　the　fact。　

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‘Well。　I’ll　tell　you　what；’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　‘P’raps　you　might　be　
writin’　to　her？’　

‘I　shall　certainly　write　to　her；’　I　rejoined。　

‘Ah！’　he　said；　slowly　turning　his　eyes　towards　me。　‘Well！　If　you　
was　writin’　to　her；　p’raps　you’d　recollect　to　say　that　Barkis　was　
willin’；　would　you？’　

‘That　Barkis　is　willing；’　I　repeated；　innocently。　‘Is　that　all　the　
message？’　

‘Ye…es；’　he　said；　considering。　‘Ye…es。　Barkis　is　willin’。’　

‘But　you　will　be　at　Blunderstone　again　tomorrow；　Mr。　Barkis；’　I　
said；　faltering　a　little　at　the　idea　of　my　being　far　away　from　it　then；　
and　could　give　your　own　message　so　much　better。’　

As　he　repudiated　this　suggestion；　however；　with　a　jerk　of　his　
head；　and　once　more　confirmed　his　previous　request　by　saying；　
with　profound　gravity；　‘Barkis　is　willin’。　That’s　the　message；’　I　
readily　undertook　its　transmission。　While　I　was　waiting　for　the　
coach　in　the　hotel　at　Yarmouth　that　very　afternoon；　I　procured　a　
sheet　of　paper　and　an　inkstand；　and　wrote　a　note　to　Peggotty；　
which　ran　thus：　‘My　dear　Peggotty。　I　have　come　here　safe。　Barkis　
is　willing。　My　love　to　mama。　Yours　affectionately。　P。S。　He　says　he　
particularly　wants　you　to　know—Barkis　is　willing。’　

When　I　had　taken　this　commission　on　myself　prospectively；　Mr。　
Barkis　relapsed　into　perfect　silence；　and　I；　feeling　quite　worn　out　
by　all　that　had　happened　lately；　lay　down　on　a　sack　in　the　cart　and　
fell　asleep。　I　slept　soundly　until　we　got　to　Yarmouth；　which　was　so　
entirely　new　and　strange　to　me　in　the　inn…yard　to　which　we　drove；　
that　I　at　once　abandoned　a　latent　hope　I　had　had　of　meeting　with　
some　of　Mr。　Peggotty’s　family　there；　perhaps　even　with　little　Em’ly　
herself。　

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The　coach　was　in　the　yard；　shining　very　much　all　over；　but　
without　any　horses　to　it　as　yet；　and　it　looked　in　that　state　as　if　
nothing　was　more　unlikely　than　its　ever　going　to　London。　I　was　
thinking　this；　and　wondering　what　would　ultimately　become　of　my　
box；　which　Mr。　Barkis　had　put　down　on　the　yard…pavement　by　the　
pole　（he　having　driven　up　the　yard　to　turn　his　ca