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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hello. Welcome back. I hope you're settled in with your cup of tea or whatever your beverage is of choice. Or perhaps just drinking a cup of tea in your mind, in your cozy chair that lives in your mind when you turn on this show. You know, tomorrow is St. Patrick Patrick's Day, so later this afternoon I will be baking my grandmother's Irish soda bread recipe, which is absolutely delicious and it goes fantastic with a cup of tea, a slice of that with some butter and a cup of black tea with milk. It's just delicious. So I highly recommend that if you're anywhere where you could get some Irish soda bread, have a cup of tea, have some soda bread. Listen to this show. Heaven. Right? So I'm glad that you're here, though, whether or not you've brought your soda bread and your cup of tea, we are going to be reading chapter 20 today. I can't believe it. We've made it to 20 chapters of this book, which is amazing and fantastic. So we're going to be reading chapter 20 today. Before we do, I just want to remind you that tea time is coming up. It's a week from tomorrow, so it's Tuesday, March 24th at 8pm Eastern. That's over in our online community, which is called the Drawing Room. You have to be a member of the landed gentry membership tier to participate in tea time. So if you'd like to join us next Tuesday, but you're not yet a member of the Drawing Room at all, or you're not yet landed gentry. There's a link in the show notes, you just click that. 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Someone just sent me a wonderful story about telling people at a fundraiser and five people subscribe to the show right then and there. So I hope that you will spread the word and bring your friends along. Who doesn't want to have more friends to talk about books with? I mean, I know I do. I want to have lots of friends. That's why I'm so happy that you guys are here to talk about books with me today. So let's get into that. As I say, today is going to be chapter 20. Last time we read chapter 19. So we'll talk about that and then we'll get into the chapter. So, so here is the recap. All right, so where we left off, it's time for David to leave school. And since he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life, he and his aunt agree that he should take some time to think about it by going to visit the Peggy's again and maybe also spending some time in London. So David says goodbye to Dr. Strong, and during the evening when he's visiting him, he finally comes to understand what is going on between Annie, Dr. Strong's wife, and Jack Malden, who has been in India, but is trying to get permission to come home home. And this realization kind of taints everything for him and he's glad to go away, although he's very sad to leave Mr. Wickfield and Agnes, who has become like a sister to him. And he's worried about Mr. Wickfield, who seems to have gotten himself into some sort of trouble that has to do with Uriah Heep. But David leaves and he heads to London, where he bumps into his old school friend Steerforth from Mr. Creakle's school. David's very happy to see him and Steerforth helps David to be treated better and more like an adult at the inn. And they arrange to meet up again in the morning for breakfast. Okay, I'm going to read 3 comments today. The first one comes from our online community the Drawing Room, and this person goes by the handle avicjack. He says there's a lot going on in this chapter. First off, we've got Agnes's concerns about her father. I'm taking it that his drinking is a bit out of control and that's causing him to buckle under stress. And apparently Heap is trying to subtly push that along. Then we've got David in London. The waiter serves him the dregs as his drink rather remind anyone of the friendly waiter in Yarmouth. David is once again asked to act grown up and he's doing better at it without being all the way there. Jack Malden is on his way back from India. The old soldier is just as loud and tactless as always and the old doctor just as oblivious. I did enjoy how Jack's letter to Annie was perfectly capable of being misinterpreted by the old soldier. Finally, there's Steerforth. I think it's significant that David was enraptured by the same play that Steer Steerforth thought was perfect rot. It shows Steerforth to be much more sophisticated, but also sounds like David would be a better friend. And this next one also comes from the drawing room and this person goes by the handle ilv. He says, I'm really liking Agnes and the father in me wants her to have more freedom than as a shut in embodying her deceased mother for Mr. Wickfield. And the last one comes from Elizabeth. She says, I can't tell if we should be worried for Davey or not. He seems like an earnest young man, but he also doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life. And now he's sort of wandering around aimlessly and getting taken advantage of again. I'm worried he'll get into trouble. Right. Okay. Yes. What's really interesting to me about this chapter is the way in which it kind of mirrors some of the scenes from his childhood in which he was asked to be an adult before he was ready. Because now he actually is an adult, a very young adult. But he's actually supposed to be striking out on his own now and trying to fend for himself and everything. Whereas before. Before he was definitely not ready for that. And the fact that he had to do it was a sign of neglect, essentially. Now the fact that he has to do it is a sign of good parenting, I think, on the part of Miss Betsy, because she realizes that he's got to launch, essentially, and figure out what he wants to be in life. So it makes sense for him to be striking out on his own. But we do get all of these sort of echoes of that other time when he was striking out on his own much too soon. In the coach on the way to London, he is eagerly looking for all the places right where he walked and where he stopped and where he slept when he was homeless and when he was trying to make it to Miss Betsy. Here's what he says. He says it was curious and interesting, nevertheless, to be sitting up there behind four horses, well educated, well dressed, and with plenty of money in my pocket, and to look out for the places where I had slept on my weary journey as havoc. Jack says he does get taken advantage of by a waiter, just like he did when he was little and Mr. Merdstone had sent him alone to Salem House. He's also taken advantage of by that coach driver who's driving him along. He makes him switch places with the guy that's behind him, even though he specifically bought the seat that he's sitting in. Here's what he says about that. When I booked my place at the coach office, I had box seat written against the entry and had given the bookkeeper half a crown. I was got up in a special great coat and shawl expressly to do honor to that distinguished eminence and had glorified myself upon it a good deal and had felt that I was a credit to the coach. And here in the very first stage, I was supplanted by a shabby man with a squint who had no other merit than smelling like livery stables and being able to walk across me more like a fly than a human being while the horses were at a canter. Okay, so that's reminiscent of the various things that happened to him when he had to fend for himself as a child, as is the fact that at the end of the chapter square, someone from that old life actually shows up. His old school friend and idol, Steerforth. Right. So I think it's really interesting that Dickens is giving us these reminders of the time that David had to grow up too soon in this moment where he's actually growing up right on time. And I think Elizabeth's question is really apt. Because obviously when he had to grow up too soon, it didn't go very well at all. So now that he's growing up at the right time, or will he be okay? Or is he actually still not quite ready? I mean, this thing where he doesn't actually know what he wants to be when he grows up is kind of concerning. I think we don't want to imagine our Davey as a kind of aimless youth who doesn't know what to do with himself and just wanders around trying to look older or whatever. We want him to apply himself to something and follow his dreams and all of this. But instead he tells us. Here's a quote. For a year or more, I had endeavored to find a satisfactory answer to her often repeated question one, what I would like to be her being Miss Betsy. But I had no particular liking that I could discover for anything. And part of the problem seems to be that he's still this very creative, very imaginative, romantic sort of person. So the kinds of jobs that might be suitable for him don't really seem very appealing. He says, if I could have been inspired with a knowledge of the science of navigation, taken the command of a fast sailing expedition and gone round the world on a triumphant voyage of discovery, I think I might have considered myself completely suited, which on the one hand, sounds. Sounds very childish, right? That's something that you play at, not something that you really run off and do, necessarily. But David is still very young. He's 17. And like we were talking about last time, he's a romantic. He's passionate, he's idealistic, he's dreamy. So it makes sense that he'd have these kind of grand ambitions and dreams. But if we were his parents or something, I think we would be kind of wondering, like, yeah, okay, but what are you really gonna do with your life? So we might worry about him in that respect. But I do that in Miss Betsy. David has an excellent caregiver and that Miss Betsy's advice to him is incredibly sound. And it also speaks to the fact that she really just wants him to be happy and fulfilled. And useful. She's not going to push him into doing anything that he really doesn't want to do or that is not suited to him. And I think having her guidance and her advice is really going to stand him in good stead. I mean, listen to what she says to him as he leaves on this little journey that he's taking. She says, but what I want you to be, Trot, I don't mean physically, but morally. You are very well physically, is a firm fellow, a fine firm fellow with a will of your own. With resolution, said my aunt, shaking her cap at me and clenching her hand. With determination, with character, Trot, with strength of character that is not to be influenced except on good reason by anybody or anything. That's what I want you to be. I mean, that's excellent advice, I think. And she clearly also really loves him. She has this funny way of never saying it outright and putting all her feelings, her loving feelings onto, like his dead mother instead. But it's clear that she loves him dearly and is very devoted to him. And she's proud of him, too. She just has a hard time coming out and saying it. So she uses this roundabout method. She says, it's a mercy that poor dear baby of a mother of yours didn't live, or she'd have been so vain of her boy by this time that her soft little head would have been completely turned if there was anything of it left to turn. And then David says, my aunt always excused any weakness of her own in my behalf by transferring it in this way to my poor mother. So she's clearly devoted to him and cares deeply about what happens to him. So that's good. And David clearly cares deeply about her and wants her good opinion, right when she tries to tell him to be worthy of his sister, Betsy Trotwood, which is another way that she likes to kind of hide her own feelings. When she says that, David says, I hope I shall be worthy of you, Aunt. That will be enough for me. So he's clearly devoted to her as well, which is also good because it means that he won't want to disappoint her or cause her to disapprove of what he's doing. So he's got Miss Betsy as someone to turn to and to set him straight if he starts to go astray. So that's good. And he's got Agnes. So I agree with Phil now that agnes is also 17 or thereabouts, this situation where she is the like quote unquote little housekeeper for Mr. Wickfield. And she's kind of secluded there in the house with him and everything. It doesn't feel quite right. Agnes is clearly a very impressive sort of person. She should get married and have children. We talked about this a little while ago. She would so clearly make a wonderful wife and mother. And based on what we know about her, I think she would want to be a wife and mother. And she would find a lot of satisfaction, satisfaction and joy in that role, I think. And it was one thing for her to be so devoted to her father when she was a child, but eventually we do want her to make her own family, I think, and not be shut up with Mr. Wickfield and become an old maid or whatever. So that is concerning, as is this little conversation that David and agnes have about Mr. Wickfield. Because as Havoc Jack points out, Mr. Wickfield's drinking seems to have reached a new level. Right. When. When David first moved into the house, it seemed like Mr. Wakefield would start drinking in the evening and he would drink a lot and often become drunk then. But now. So it's been seven years or so. Right. So now it sounds like he's actually starting to drink during the day and that the effects of this are now noticeable to the people around him and that it's starting to affect his work as well. And that Uriah seems to be somehow capitalizing on this or using this or abusing it in some way. We're not really sure. Agnes tells David that whenever Mr. Wickfield is clearly drunk during the day, Uriah seems to want to talk to him about some business or other. So it's like uriah is using Mr. Wakefield's drunken state for his own purposes somehow. But we don't know what it is or what it actually means. But here's that exchange. This is David talking to Agnes. He says his hand trembles, his speech is not plain and his eyes look wild. I have remarked that at those times and when he is least like himself himself, he is most certain to be wanted on some business by Uriah, said Agnes. Yes. And the sense of being unfit for it, or of not having understood it, or of having shown his condition in spite of himself seems to make him so uneasy that next day he is worse and next day worse. And so he becomes jaded and haggard. Okay, so that's bad. And it doesn't bode well for the notion of Agnes getting to find love and settle down in her own household, because the more that Mr. Wickfield needs her, the less likely she is to feel. Feel that she can leave him. And of course, the reason that Mr. Wakefield is drinking in the first place, remember, is that he can't bear the thought of Agnes one day leaving him. So it makes sense that as she gets older and reaches marriageable age and all of this, it makes sense that he would start to drink more and more because the thing he most fears is becoming more and more likely to one day happen. So all of that is concerning for Agnes, but to David. And Agnes continues to be his good angel. You know, Agnes, the name Agnes, it means pure or holy. So Dickens is really pushing this angel idea when it comes to Agnes. And for David, it really is like she's become a part of him, Almost like she's his conscience or something like that. Here's what he says. He says, I seem to want my right hand when I miss you. Though that's not saying much, for there's no head in my right hand and no heart. Everyone who knows you consults with you and is guided by you. Agnes, who. Which is good for David, right, because it's hard to go astray when you have an angel to guide you. But it also means that not only is Agnes sort of shut away taking care of Mr. Wickfield, as Phil points out, she's also sort of above the idea of romantic love. David certainly doesn't see her as a potential romantic partner for him. But it's also hard for David to imagine anyone who would deserve her. Here's what he says about that. He says, there is no one that I know of who deserves to love you. Agnes, someone of a nobler character and more worthy altogether than anyone I have ever seen here, must rise up before I give my consent. In the time to come, I shall have a wary eye on all admirers and shall exact a great deal from the successful one, I assure you. Okay, so this is all very sweet, but it's also potentially concerning because we want Agnes to find someone worthy of her. And we don't want her to become a spinster taking care of the increasingly alcoholic Mr. Wickfield. So I at least feel concerned for Agnes. But the fact that David has these two women in his life, Agnes and Ms. Betsy, who give excellent advice and set excellent examples, it means that David has some protection against getting, like, completely derailed as he sets off on this new adult life. But there are in this chapter these little reminders that life is not all grand adventures in sunshine and that the path ahead might not be completely free of pitfalls. I mean, one of those is the issue of Agnes and Mr. Wickfield that I was just talking about. Another is this situation with Dr. And Mrs. Strong. So we get again in the last chapter this implication that perhaps Mrs. Strong is in love with her cousin Jack Malden, right? Who is now apparently coming back from India. Which doesn't bode well if they are in fact having an affair. And as Havoc, Jack says, Mrs. Markleham, Annie Strong's mother, is clearly still angling for all of these handouts from Dr. Strong. And she doesn't seem to really care. Or maybe she's oblivious to the fact that there may be this romantic relationship between Jack and Annie. But what's interesting is that David, who when he was a child, had no inkling of what might be going on there, he suddenly picks up on it now, he says. And now I must confess, the recollection of what I had seen on that night when Mr. Malden went away first began to return upon me with a meaning it had never had and to trouble me. The innocent beauty of her face was not as innocent to me as it had been. I mistrusted the natural grace and charm of her manner. And when I looked at Agnes by her side and thought how good and true Agnes was, suspicions arose within me that it was an ill assorted friendship. Okay, so he really is older now. And he can see what Mr. Wickfield saw all along. That there might be something untoward here. And also that perhaps Mrs. Strong is not a good friend or good influence for Agnes. So there's that reminder as well that adult life is more complicated and more rocky than childhood is, perhaps. And then at the very end of the chapter, David meets Steerforth again. And there's. There's actually nothing wrong with Steerforth per se. When we met him before at Salem House, we felt like he was kind of self centered. He was kind of arrogant. The whole situation with Mr. Mel was very concerning. But also we felt like he did look out for Davey. He did help him to integrate himself into the group of boys, which was really important for him at that time. So last time we felt like he was maybe not the best role model, but not evil, necessarily. So is it okay that he's shown up again? Maybe. I think havoc Jack's observation that Steerforth hated the play that David loved is really astute. David is kind of swept away by stories. And he allows himself to become transported and to see beauty and emotion in the world. But Steerforth is clearly very jaded. He's much more kind of down to earth, more street smart, maybe. And there is a value in that. But there's also value in David's way of being. And I agree that I think I would rather hang out with David than with Steerforth. And the fact that David is so enamored of Steerforth. He was at school, but he clearly still is. I mean, he burst into tears when he saw him. He was so happy. And Steerforth is happy to see David too, but clearly not to the same degree. So there's an imbalance to the friendship which could be concerning. But just like he did at Salem House, Steerforth does help David and he does make things better for him. Right. David says Steerforth, very much amused at my having been put into 44, laughed again and clapped me on the shoulder again and invited me to breakfast with him next morning at 10 o'. Clock. An invitation I was only too proud and happy to accept. Right. So he helps him to get his room changed from this bad room that they've obviously given him because they can recognize that he's so young and inexperienced into a much, much better room because Deerforth is clearly a very experienced kind of person who they want to listen to. So for me, there is a little bit of uneasiness here that just at the moment that David is setting out on his adult life and trying to be very grown up and make his own way in the world, just at that moment, he falls in with this guy who is much older and clearly enjoys kind of babying him and taking him under his wing and who David clearly idolizes and would follow anywhere. So that does feel. Feel a little concerning. But it remains to be seen whether anything will come of that. So should we be worried about David? Maybe. But he also has a lot of really good influences and people behind him to keep him on the straight and narrow. So I think he's okay, at least for now. Right. But we have to keep reading. So he's in London. He's going to see Steerforth again in the morning. And then the plan is that he's going to go to Yarmouth and Visit Peggy and Mr. Peggy and everyone. And hopefully he will sort out what he's going to. To do with his life. So let's see if he does. Let's see what happens next. Let's keep reading. But of course, don't forget to write to me. It's faith k.moore.com Click on Contact or scroll into the show notes and click the link that's there. I love to hear from you. I always write back, unless you're rude, in which case I just don't respond because I think that's probably the best course of action. But if you write to me and I will get back to you, it usually takes me about a week because I get so many letters which I absolutely love. So please do get in touch and tell me all your thoughts and questions and things about this chapter. All right, let's get started with chapter 20 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 20 steerforth's home when the chambermaid tapped at my door at 8:00 clock and informed me that my shaving water was outside, I felt severely the having no occasion for it, and blushed in my bed. The suspicion that she laughed too when she said it prayed upon my mind all the time I was dressing, and gave me, I was conscious, a sneaking and guilty air when I passed her on the staircase as I was going down to breakfast. I was so sensitively aware indeed of being younger than I could have wished, that for some time I could not make up my mind to pass her at all under the ignoble circumstances of the case, but hearing her there with a broom, stood peeping out of window at King Charles on horseback, surrounded by a maze of hackney coaches and looking anything but regal in a drizzling rain and a dark brown fog, until I was admonished by the waiter that the gentleman was waiting for me. Okay, so he's avoiding the maid by standing with his back to her looking out the window. But he stood there so long that the waiter came to say that Steerforth was waiting for him. It was not in the coffee room that I found Steerforth expecting me, but in a snug private apartment, red curtained and turkey carpeted, where the fire burnt bright, and a fine hot breakfast was set forth on a table covered with a clean cloth and a cheerful miniature of the room. The fire, the breakfast, Steerforth and all, was shining in the little round mirror over the sideboard. I was rather bashful at first, Steerforth being so self possessed and elegant and superior to me in all respects, age included, but his easy patronage soon put that to rights and made me quite at home. I could not enough admire the change he had wrought in the Golden Cross, or compare the dull, forlorn state I had held yesterday with this morning's comfort and this morning's entertainment. As to the waiter's familiarity, it was quenched as if it had never been he attended on us, as I may say, in sackcloth and ashes. Now, Copperfield, said Steerforth, when we were alone, I should like to hear what you are doing and where you are going, and all about you. I feel as if you were my property. Glowing with pleasure to find that he had still this interest in me, I told him how my aunt had proposed the little expedition that I had before me and whither it tended. As you're in no hurry, then, said Steerforth, come home with me to Highgate and stay a day or two. You will be pleased with my mother. She is a little vain and prosy about me, but that you can forgive her, and she will be pleased to see you. I should like to be as sure of that as you are kind enough to say you are, I answered, smiling. Oh, said Steerforth, everyone who likes me has a claim on her that is sure to be acknowledged. Then I think I shall be a favorite, said I. Good, said Steerforth. Come and prove it. We will go and see the lions for an hour or two. It's something to have a fresh fellow like you to show them to Copperfield, and then we'll journ to High Coach. I could hardly believe but that I was in a dream and that I should wake presently in number 44 to the solitary box in the coffee room and the familiar waiter again. After I had written to my aunt and told her of my fortunate meeting with my admired old schoolfellow and my acceptance of his invitation, we went out in a hackney chariot and saw a panorama and some other sights and took a walk through the museum, where I could not help observing how much Steerforth knew on an infinite variety of subjects and of how little account he seemed to make his knowledge. You'll take a high degree at college, Steerforth, said I, if you have not done so already. And they will have good reason to be proud of you. I take a degree, cried Steerforth. Not I, my dear Daisy. Will you mind my calling you Daisy? Not at all, said I. That's a good fellow. My dear Daisy, said Steerforth, laughing. I have not the least desire or intention to distinguish myself in that way. I have done quite sufficient for my purpose. I find that I am heavy company enough for myself as I am. But the fame I was beginning. You romantic Daisy, said Steerforth, laughing still more heartily. Why should I trouble myself that a parcel of heavy headed fellows may gape and hold up their hands? Let them do it at some other man. There's fame for him, and he's welcome to it. I was abashed at having made so great a mistake and was glad to change the subject. Fortunately, it was not difficult to do, for Steerforth could always pass from one subject to another with a carelessness and lightness that were his own. Lunch succeeded to our sightseeing, and the short winter day wore away so fast that it was dusk when the stage coach stopped with us at an old brick house at Highgate on the summit of the hill. An elderly lady, though not very far advanced in years, with a proud carriage and a handsome face, was in the doorway as we alighted, and greeting Steerforth as my dearest James, folded him in her arms. To this lady he presented me as his mother, and she gave me a stately welcome. It was a genteel, old fashioned house, very quiet and orderly. From the windows of my room I saw all London lying in the distance like a great vapour, with here and there some lights twinkling through it. I had only time, in dressing, to glance at the solid furniture, the framed pieces of work done, I suppose, by Steerforth's mother when she was a girl, and some pictures in crayons of ladies with powdered hair and bodices coming and going on the walls as the newly kindled fire crackled and sputtered. When I was called to dinner, there was a second lady in the dining room of a slight short figure, dark and not agreeable to look at, but with some appearance of good looks too, who attracted my attention, perhaps because I had not expected to see her, perhaps because I found myself sitting opposite to her, perhaps because of something really remarkable in her. She had black hair and eager black eyes, and was thin and had a scar upon her lip. It was an old scar, I should rather call it seam, for it was not discoloured, and had healed years ago, which had once cut through her mouth downward towards the chin, but was now barely visible across the table, except above and on her upper lip, the shape of which it had altered. I concluded in my own mind that she was about 30 years of age and that she wished to be married. She was a little dilapidated, like a house with having been so long to let, yet had, as I have said, an appearance of good looks. Her thinness seemed to be the effect of some wasting fire within her, which found vent in her gaunt eyes. She was introduced as Miss Dardle, and both Steerforth and his mother called her Rosa. I found that she lived there, and had been for a long time Mrs. Steerforth's companion. It appeared to me that she never said anything she wanted to say outright, but hinted it, and made a great deal more of it by this practice. For example, when Mrs. Steerforth observed, More in jest than earnest, that she feared her son led but a wild life at college. Miss Dardall put in. Oh, really. You know how ignorant I am and that I only ask for information. But isn't it always so? I thought that kind of life was on all hands understood to be a. It is education for a very grave profession. If you mean that, Rosa, Mrs. Steerforth answered with some coldness. Oh, yes, that's very true, returned Miss Dardle. But isn't it, though I want to be put right if I am wrong, Isn't it really? Really what? Said Mrs. Steerforth. Oh, you mean it's not returned Miss Dardall? Well, I'm very glad to hear it. Now I know what to do. That's the advantage of asking. I shall never allow people to talk before me about wastefulness and profligacy and so forth in connection with that life. Any more and you will be right, said Mrs. Steerforth. My son's tutor is a conscientious gentleman, and if I had not implicit reliance on my son, I should have reliance on him. Should you? Said Miss Dardle. Dear me. Conscientious. Is he really conscientious now? Yes, I am convinced of it, said Mrs. Steerforth. How very nice. Exclaimed Miss Dartle. What a comfort. Really conscientious. Then he's notbut of course, he can't be if he's really conscientious. Well, I shall be quite happy in my opinion of him from this time. You can't think how it elevates him, in my opinion, to know for certain that he's really conscientious. Her own views of every question and her correction of everything that was said to which she was opposed. Miss Dardle insinuated in the same way. Sometimes I could not conceal from myself with great power, though in contradiction even of Steerforth. An instance happened before dinner was done. Mrs. Steerforth speaking to me about my intention of going down into Suffolk, I said at hazard how glad I should be if Steerforth would only go there with me. And explaining to him that I was going to see my old nurse and Mr. Peggotty's family, I reminded him of the boatman whom he had seen at school. Oh, that bluff fellow, said Steerforth. He had a son with him, hadn't he? No, that was his nephew, I replied, whom he adopted, though as a son he has a very pretty little niece Toom, who he adopted as a daughter. In short, his house, or rather his boat, for he lives in one on dry land, is full of people who are objects of his generosity and kindness. You Would be delighted to see that household. Should I? Said Steerforth. Well, I think I should. I must see what can be done. It would be worth a journey. Not to mention the pleasure of a journey with you, Daisy, to see that sort of people together and to make one of em. My heart leaped with a new hope of pleasure. But it was in reference to the tone in which he had spoken of that sort of people that Ms. Dartle, whose sparkling eyes had been watchful of us, now broke in again. Oh, but really, do tell me, are they, though? She said. Are they what? And are who what? Said Steerforth. That sort of people, are they really animals and clods and beings of another order? I want to know so much. Why, there's a pretty wide separation between them and us, said Steerforth with indifference. They are not to be expected to be as sensitive as we are. Their delicacy is not to be shocked or hurt easily. They are wonderfully virtuous, I dare say. Some people contend for that at least, and I am sure I don't want to contradict them. But they have not very fine natures, and they may be thankful that, like their coarse, rough skins, they are not easily wounded. Really? Said Ms. Dartle. Well, I don't know now when I have been better pleased than to hear that. It's so consoling. It's such a delight to know that when they suffer, they don't feel. Sometimes I have been quite uneasy for that sort of people, but now I shall just dismiss the idea of them altogether. Live and learn. I had my doubts, I confess, but now they're cleared up. I didn't know, and now I do know. And that shows the advantage of asking, don't it? I believed that Steerforth had said what he said in jest or to draw Ms. Dardle out, and I expected him to say as much when she was gone and we two were sitting before the fire. But he merely asked me what I thought of her. She is very clever, is she not? I asked. Clever? She brings everything to a grindstone, said Steerforth, and sharpens it. As she has sharpened her own face and finger these years past, she has worn herself away by constant sharpening. She is all edge. What a remarkable scar that is upon her lip, I said. Steerforth's face fell, and he paused a moment. Why, the fact is, he returned. I did that by an unfortunate accident. No, I was a young boy, and she exasperated me, and I threw a hammer at her. A promising young angel, I must have been. I was deeply sorry to have touched on such A painful theme, but that was useless now. She has borne the mark ever since, as you see, said Steerforth, and she'll bear it to her grave, if she ever rests in one, though I can hardly believe she will ever rest anywhere. She was the motherless child of a sort of cousin of my father's. He died one day. My mother, who was then a widow, brought her here to be company to her. She has a couple of thousand pounds of her own and saved the interest of it every year to add to the principal. There's the history of Miss Rosa Dartle for you, and I have no doubt she loves you like a brother, said I. Humph, retorted Steerforth, looking at the fire. Some brothers are not loved overmuch, and some love but help yourself. Copperfield will drink the daisies of the field in compliment to you, and the lilies of the valley that toil not, neither do they spin in compliment to me. The more shame for me. A moody smile that had overspread his features cleared off as he said this merrily, and he was his own frank winning self again. I could not help glancing at the scar with a painful interest when we went in to tea. It was not long before I observed that it was the most susceptible part of her face, and that when she turned pale that mark altered first and became a dull lead colored streak, lengthening out to its full extent like a mark in invisible ink brought to the fire. There was a little altercation between her and Steerforth about a cast of the dice at backgammon when I thought her for one moment in a storm of rage, and then I saw it start forth like the old writing on the wall. It was no matter of wonder to me to find Mrs. Steerforth devoted to her son. She seemed to be able to speak or think of nothing else. She showed me his picture as an infant in a locket with some of his baby hair in it. She showed me his picture as he had been when I first knew him, and she wore at her breast his picture, as he was now. All the letters he had ever written to her she kept in a cabinet near her own chair by the fire, and she would have read me some of them, and I should have been very glad to hear them too, if he had not interposed and coaxed her out of the design. It was at Mr. Creakle's. My son tells me that you first became acquainted, said Mrs. Steerforth, as she and I were talking at one table while they played backgammon at another. Indeed I recollect his speaking at that time of a pupil younger than himself who had taken his fancy there. But your name, as you may suppose, has not lived in my memory. He was very generous and noble to me in those days, I assure you, ma', am, said I, and I stood in need of such a friend. I should have been quite crushed without him. He is always generous and noble, said Mrs. Steerforth proudly. I subscribed to this with all my heart. God knows she knew I did, for the stateliness of her manner already abated towards me, except when she spoke in praise of him, and then her air was always lofty. It was not a fit school generally for my son, said she, far from it. But there were particular circumstances to be considered at the time, of more importance even than that selection. My son's high spirit made it desirable that he should be placed with some man who felt its superiority and would be content to bow himself before it. And we found such a man there. I knew that, knowing the fellow, and yet I did not despise him the more for it, but thought it a redeeming quality in him if he could be allowed any grace for not resisting one so irresistible as Steerforth. My son's great capacity was tempted on there by a feeling of voluntary emulation and conscious pride. The fond lady went on to say, he would have risen against all constraint, but he found himself the monarch of the place, and he haughtily determined to be worthy of his station. It was like himself I echoed with all my heart and soul that it was like himself. So my son took of his own will, and on no compulsion to the course in which he can always, when it is his pleasure, outstrip every competitor she pursued. My son informs me, Mr. Copperfield, that you were quite devoted to him, and that when you met yesterday, you made yourself known to him with tears of joy. I should be an affected woman if I made any pretence of being surprised by my son's inspiring such emotions. But I cannot be indifferent to any one who is so sensible of his merit. And I am very glad to see you here, and can assure you that he feels an unusual friendship for you, and that you may rely on his protection. Ms. Dardall played backgammon as eagerly as she did everything else. If I had seen her first at the board, I should have fancied that her figure had got thin and her eyes had got large over that pursuit and no other in the world. But I am very much mistaken if she missed a word of this, or lost a look of mine as I received it with the Utmost pleasure and honoured by Mrs. Steerforth's confidence, felt older than I had done since I left Canterbury. When the evening was pretty far spent and a tray of glasses and decanters came in, Steerforth promised over the fire that he would seriously think of going down into the country with me. There was no hurry. He said a week hence would do, and his mother hospitably said the same. While we were talking, he more than once called me Daisy, which brought Miss Doddle out again. But really, Mr. Copperfield, she asked, is it a nickname? And why does he give it you? Is it a because he thinks you young and innocent? I am so stupid in these things. I coloured in replying that I believed it was. Oh, said Miss Dartle, now I am glad to know that I ask for information, and I am glad to know it. He thinks you young and innocent, and so you are his friend. Well, that's quite delightful. She went to bed soon after this, and Mrs. Steerforth retired too. Steerforth and I, after lingering for half an hour over the fire, talking about Traddles and all the rest of them at Salem House, went upstairs together. Steerforth's room was next to mine, and I went in to look at it. It was a picture of comfort, full of easy chairs, cushions and footstools worked by his mother's hand, and with no sort of thing omitted that could help to render it complete. Finally, her handsome features looked down on her darling from a portrait on the wall, as if it were even something to her that her likeness should watch him while he slept. I found the fire burning clear enough in my room by this time, and the curtains drawn before the windows and round the bed, giving it a very snug appearance. I sat down in a great chair upon the hearth to meditate on my happiness, and had enjoyed the contemplation of it for some time, when I found a likeness of Miss Dardall looking eagerly at me from above the chimney piece. It was a startling likeness and necessarily had a startling look. The painter hadn't made the scar, but I made it. And there it was, coming and going, now confined to the upper lip as I had seen it at dinner, and now showing the whole extent of the wound inflicted by the hammer as I had seen it when she was passionate. I wondered peevishly why they couldn't put her anywhere else. Instead of quartering her on me to get rid of her. I undressed quickly, extinguished my light and went to bed. But as I fell asleep, I could not forget that she was still there, looking. Is it really though, I want to know. And when I awoke in the night, I found that I was uneasily asking all sorts of people in my dreams whether it really was or not, without knowing what I meant. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our Merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. 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