david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第33章

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and　going　home。　

I　had　many　a　broken　sleep　inside　the　Yarmouth　mail；　and　many　
an　incoherent　dream　of　all　these　things。　But　when　I　awoke　at　
intervals；　the　ground　outside　the　window　was　not　the　playground　
of　Salem　House；　and　the　sound　in　my　ears　was　not　the　sound　of　
Mr。　Creakle　giving　it　to　Traddles；　but　the　sound　of　the　coachman　
touching　up　the　horses。　

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David　Copperfield　

Chapter　8　

MY　HOLIDAYS。　ESPECIALLY　ONE　HAPPY
AFTERNOON


When　we　arrived　before　day　at　the　inn　where　the　mail　
stopped；　which　was　not　the　inn　where　my　friend　the　
waiter　lived；　I　was　shown　up　to　a　nice　little　bedroom；　
with　DOLPHIN　painted　on　the　door。　Very　cold　I　was；　I　know；　
notwithstanding　the　hot　tea　they　had　given　me　before　a　large　fire　
downstairs；　and　very　glad　I　was　to　turn　into　the　Dolphin’s　bed；　pull　
the　Dolphin’s　blankets　round　my　head；　and　go　to　sleep。　

Mr。　Barkis　the　carrier　was　to　call　for　me　in　the　morning　at　nine　
o’clock。　I　got　up　at　eight；　a　little　giddy　from　the　shortness　of　my　
night’s　rest；　and　was　ready　for　him　before　the　appointed　time。　He　
received　me　exactly　as　if　not　five　minutes　had　elapsed　since　we　
were　last　together；　and　I　had　only　been　into　the　hotel　to　get　change　
for　sixpence；　or　something　of　that　sort。　

As　soon　as　I　and　my　box　were　in　the　cart；　and　the　carrier　
seated；　the　lazy　horse　walked　away　with　us　all　at　his　accustomed　
pace。　

‘You　look　very　well；　Mr。　Barkis；’　I　said；　thinking　he　would　like　
to　know　it。　

Mr。　Barkis　rubbed　his　cheek　with　his　cuff；　and　then　looked　at　
his　cuff　as　if　he　expected　to　find　some　of　the　bloom　upon　it；　but　
made　no　other　acknowledgement　of　the　compliment。　

‘I　gave　your　message；　Mr。　Barkis；’　I　said：　‘I　wrote　to　Peggotty。’　

‘Ah！’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　

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Mr。　Barkis　seemed　gruff；　and　answered　drily。　

‘Wasn’t　it　right；　Mr。　Barkis？’　I　asked；　after　a　little　hesitation。　

‘Why；　no；’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　

‘Not　the　message？’　

‘The　message　was　right　enough；　perhaps；’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　‘but　
it　come　to　an　end　there。’　

Not　understanding　what　he　meant；　I　repeated　inquisitively：　
‘Came　to　an　end；　Mr。　Barkis？’　

‘Nothing　come　of　it；’　he　explained；　looking　at　me　sideways。　‘No　
answer。’　

‘There　was　an　answer　expected；　was　there；　Mr。　Barkis？’　said　I；　
opening　my　eyes。　For　this　was　a　new　light　to　me。　

‘When　a　man　says　he’s　willin’；’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　turning　his　
glance　slowly　on　me　again；　‘it’s　as　much　as　to　say；　that　man’s　awaitin’　for　a　answer。’　

‘Well；　Mr。　Barkis？’　

‘Well；’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　carrying　his　eyes　back　to　his　horse’s　
ears；　‘that　man’s　been　a…waitin’　for　a　answer　ever　since。’　

‘Have　you　told　her　so；　Mr。　Barkis？’　

‘No—no；’　growled　Mr。　Barkis；　reflecting　about　it。　‘I　ain’t　got　no　
call　to　go　and　tell　her　so。　I　never　said　six　words　to　her　myself；　I　
ain’t　a…goin’　to　tell　her　so。’　

‘Would　you　like　me　to　do　it；　Mr。　Barkis？’　said　I；　doubtfully。　‘You　
might　tell　her；　if　you　would；’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　with　another　slow　
look　at　me；　‘that　Barkis　was　a…waitin’　for　a　answer。　Says　you—　
what　name　is　it？’　

‘Her　name？’　

‘Ah！’　said　Mr。　Barkis；　with　a　nod　of　his　head。　

‘Peggotty。’　

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‘Chrisen　name？　Or　nat’ral　name？’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　

‘Oh；　it’s　not　her　Christian　name。　Her　Christian　name　is　Clara。’　

‘Is　it　though？’　said　Mr。　Barkis。　

He　seemed　to　find　an　immense　fund　of　reflection　in　this　
circumstance；　and　sat　pondering　and　inwardly　whistling　for　some　
time。　

‘Well！’　he　resumed　at　length。　‘Says　you；　“Peggotty！　Barkis　is　
waitin’　for　a　answer。”　Says　she；　perhaps；　“Answer　to　what？”　Says　
you；　“To　what　I　told　you。”　“What　is　that？”　says　she。　“Barkis　is　
willin’；”　says　you。’　

This　extremely　artful　suggestion　Mr。　Barkis　accompanied　with　
a　nudge　of　his　elbow　that　gave　me　quite　a　stitch　in　my　side。　After　
that；　he　slouched　over　his　horse　in　his　usual　manner；　and　made　no　
other　reference　to　the　subject　except；　half　an　hour　afterwards；　
taking　a　piece　of　chalk　from　his　pocket；　and　writing　up；　inside　the　
tilt　of　the　cart；　‘Clara　Peggotty’—apparently　as　a　private　
memorandum。　

Ah；　what　a　strange　feeling　it　was　to　be　going　home　when　it　was　
not　home；　and　to　find　that　every　object　I　looked　at；　reminded　me　of　
the　happy　old　home；　which　was　like　a　dream　I　could　never　dream　
again！　The　days　when　my　mother　and　I　and　Peggotty　were　all　in　
all　to　one　another；　and　there　was　no　one　to　come　between　us；　rose　
up　before　me　so　sorrowfully　on　the　road；　that　I　am　not　sure　I　was　
glad　to　be　there—not　sure　but　that　I　would　rather　have　remained　
away；　and　forgotten　it　in　Steerforth’s　company。　But　there　I　was；　
and　soon　I　was　at　our　house；　where　the　bare　old　elm…trees　wrung　
their　many　hands　in　the　bleak　wintry　air；　and　shreds　of　the　old　
rooks’…nests　drifted　away　upon　the　wind。　

The　carrier　put　my　box　down　at　the　garden…gate；　and　left　me。　I　

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walked　along　the　path　towards　the　house；　glancing　at　the　
windows；　and　fearing　at　every　step　to　see　Mr。　Murdstone　or　Miss　
Murdstone　lowering　out　of　one　of　them。　No　face　appeared；　
however；　and　being　come　to　the　house；　and　knowing　how　to　open　
the　door；　before　dark；　without　knocking；　I　went　in　with　a　quiet；　
timid　step。　

God　knows　how　infantine　the　memory　may　have　been；　that　was　
awakened　within　me　by　the　sound　of　my　mother’s　voice　in　the　old　
parlour；　when　I　set　foot　in　the　hall。　She　was　singing　in　a　low　tone。　I　
think　I　must　have　lain　in　her　arms；　and　heard　her　singing　so　to　me　
when　I　was　but　a　baby。　The　strain　was　new　to　me；　and　yet　it　was　so　
old　that　it　filled　my　heart　brim…full；　like　a　friend　come　back　from　a　
long　absence。　

I　believed；　from　the　solitary　and　thoughtful　way　in　which　my　
mother　murmured　her　song；　that　she　was　alone。　And　I　went　softly　
into　the　room。　She　was　sitting　by　the　fire；　suckling　an　infant；　
whose　tiny　hand　she　held　against　her　neck。　Her　eyes　were　looking　
down　upon　its　face；　and　she　sat　singing　to　it。　I　was　so　far　right；　that　
she　had　no　other　companion。　

I　spoke　to　her；　and　she　started；　and　cried　out。　But　seeing　me；　
she　called　me　her　dear　Davy；　her　own　boy！　and　coming　half　across　
the　room　to　meet　me；　kneeled　down　upon　the　ground　and　kissed　
me；　and　laid　my　head　down　on　her　bosom　near　the　little　creature　
that　was　nestling　there；　and　put　its　hand　to　my　lips。　

I　wish　I　had　died。　I　wish　I　had　died　then；　with　that　feeling　in　my　
heart！　I　should　have　been　more　fit　for　Heaven　than　I　ever　have　
been　since。　

‘He　is　your　brother；’　said　my　mother；　fondling　me。　‘Davy；　my　
pretty　boy！　My　poor　child！’　Then　she　kissed　me　more　and　more；　

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and　clasped　me　round　the　neck。　This　she　was　doing　when　
Peggotty　came　running　in；　and　bounced　down　on　the　ground　
beside　us；　and　went　mad　about　us　both　for　a　quarter　of　an　hour。　

It　seemed　that　I　had　not　been　expected　so　soon；　the　carrier　
being　much　before　his　usual　time。　It　seemed；　too；　that　Mr。　and　
Miss　Murdstone　had　gone　out　upon　a　visit　in　the　neighbourhood；　
and　would　not　return　before　night。　I　had　never　hoped　for　this。　I　
had　never　thought　it　possible　that　we　three　could　be　together　
undisturbed；　once　more；　and　I　felt；　for　the　time；　as　if　the　old　days　
were　come　back。　

We　dined　together　by　the　fireside。　Peggotty　was　in　attendance　
to　wait　upon　us；　but　my　mother　wouldn’t　let　her　do　it；　and　made　
her　dine　with　us。　I　had　my　own　old　plate；　with　a　brown　view　of　a　
man…of…war　in　full　sail　upon　it；　which　Peggotty　had　hoarded　
somewhere　all　the　time　I　had　been　away；　and　would　not　have　had　
broken；　she　said；　for　a　hundred　pounds。　I　had　my　own　old　mug　
with　David　on　it；　and　my　own　old　little　knife　and　fork　that　wouldn’t　
cut。　

While　we　were　at　table；　I　thought　it　a　favourable　occasion　to　tell　
Peggotty　about　Mr。　Barkis；　who；　before　I　had　finished　what　I　had　
to　tell　her；　began　to　laugh；　and　throw　her　apron　over　her　face。　

‘Peggotty；’　said　my　mother。　‘