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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. Hi. Welcome back. I'm just so glad to be here with you. I know it sort of sounds silly, but I really am. I'm just so happy to be here with you. What a joy it is to get do this podcast. I was talking to someone just the other day and explaining what I do and I just was thinking, wow, this is a gift. This is amazing. So thank you for letting me do this. I couldn't do it if you weren't there listening. So thank you so much for being here and for tuning in. And David thanks you as well and all the wonderful characters that Dickens has left behind him. Thank you for wanting to spend all of this time in their world and getting to know them. Because these books, these stories are also nothing without you. If nobody reads them, these characters can't live and these worlds can't be real. And so you are doing that for this book. You're doing it for each other. And I'm just so grateful that we get to do this. So here we are. Last time we read chapter 28. Today we're going to be reading chapter 29. It's a shorter chapter this time, as you may have noticed when you opened up your podcast player, but that's okay. Some are long, some are short. It all evens out in the end. I did promise that I would let you know the date of the next tea time today, and I am ready to do that. It's going to be April 30, which is a Thursday. That's different. Usually or often it's on a Tuesday, but there's doesn't have to be on a Tuesday. And this time it's not. It's on a Thursday, which is April 30th at 8pm Eastern. In our online community, the drawing room, if you don't know what tea time is, it is a voice change chat that we do every month. It's kind of like a group phone call. I'm there, you're there. We can hear each other, but not see each other. And we talk for about an hour about the book. We talk about our impressions of where we are in the book so far. You can also ask me anything. So I collect ask me anything questions. And you can do that and I will answer them. You can also just ask me when you're there in the call. You don't have to talk if you don't want to talk. I love it if you do, though, because otherwise it's just me talking into the void. But you don't have to. You can just show up and listen, or you can participate. And we talk about all kinds of other things, too, other books that we're reading, things that are going on. So it's really a fun time. It always flies by. I love it. I love checking in with you guys and hearing what you're up to. So if you've never joined us, but you'd like to, if this sounds interesting to you, the first thing you have to do is become a member of our online community, which is called the Drawing Room. Not because we draw a lot there, but because it is the drawing room of our lovely Victorian mansion, which means the withdrawing room. It's where we withdraw after what we do in the main room, which is this podcast, and we withdraw to discuss the book some more among friends, which the Victorian house party in our imagination would do if they were in a lovely Victorian house, which I like to pretend this podcast is because I'm semi delusional and it's really, really fun. So I hope you'll join in my delusion with me and pretend that you are coming into our drawing room with us. And you can do that by scrolling into the show notes and clicking on the link that's there, it's clearly labeled. And become a member. You have to be Landed Gentry. There are a couple of different membership tiers, but Landed Gentry is the one that gains you access to tea time. So if you would like to do that, that's what you should sign up for. And if you don't want to do that, but you would like to join a community of people who are talking about this book just on a regular basis, by typing into the various chat channels that we have there, you can become a house guest. And that will give you access to that, but not to teatime. So I hope you'll click on that link if you haven't checked out Drawing Room before, and just decide if you'd like to join us. I would love it. I know some people have signed up since the last tea time, so I hope that I'm going to be able to meet some new friends on the call. And of course I'm always looking forward, as I am now, to checking in with my old friends. So, tea time April 30th. It's a Thursday at 8pm Eastern, and I'll remind you as we go along. I hope to see you there. Okay? Other than that, all the usual things. Subscribe, tap the five stars if you're enjoying the show. Leave a positive review, tell a friend, tell everyone, tell straight strangers. Just the more the merrier. So please, please, please spread the word about the show if you can. If you're able to make a financial donation, there's a link there to do that. I really, really appreciate it because it means that I can spend more time on this show instead of other things that make money. So I would love it if you would donate to the show and allow me to continue to be as joyful as I feel right now. So do that if you can. If you can't, you still make me happy. You still bring me joy because you are here and you are listening. So let's do it. Let's get into this episode. So, so, as I say, last time was chapter 28. So let's find out or remind ourselves of what happened and then we'll talk for a bit and then we'll get into chapter 29. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, the Macabre and Traddles come over to David's rooms for dinner. They have a very nice time, and Mrs. Macabre explains that she thinks Mr. Macabre should take out an advertisement in the paper saying that he's looking for work and that this will surely find him some employment. She thinks that in order to do this, he should take out a loan so that he can pay the fee. Fee for the advertisement. While all this is going on, they're cooking their meat on a little griddle that David has because Mrs. Krupp hasn't cooked anything properly. And they're having a grand old time doing this when Littimer, Steerforth's manservant, comes in. Thinking that Steerforth is there, David explains that he's not. But Littimer insists on helping them with the food and makes everybody feel much less exuberant. Once Littimer leaves, they all talk some more, and as they are leaving, Mr. McCawber slips a letter into David's hand and tells him to read it. Later, David stops Traddles to warn him not to lend anything to the Macabers because he won't get it back, and Traddles says he has no money to lend but that he has lent his name to something which worries David. After they're gone, Steerforth shows up and says he's just been at Yarmouth where Mr. Barkis is dying and he gives David a letter for Peggy. David decides to go to Yarmouth to be with Peggy, but Steerforth convinces him to come and visit his mother with him first and then go the next day. Steerforth is still the same as usual, but David feels like there's something bothering him. David remembers what Agnes said about him but can't help loving him still when he's around him. After Steerforth leaves, David reads the letter from Mr. Macawber and discovers that all of the Macabre's possessions and all of Traddles possessions are going to be taken away. And this makes David very worried and sad for Traddles. Alright, I'm going to read 3 comments today. The first one comes from Maria. She says so much happened in this chapter. I was surprised to see David show so much understanding of Macawber's machinations to take Tommy aside and warn him. I don't like it when Steerforth shows up. He always seems to get David into some sort of trouble. He also really takes advantage of David's hospitality and generous nature. This next one comes from K. Kleinfelter. She says from the very first mention of Steerforth when Davy was so young. Through each accounting, my read of him is a conniving, sketchy, cheeky, in a way kind of person. Between Steerforth and Agnes, I just can't stop the feeling of wanting to smack DV upside his head and yell at him, snap out of it. I must continually remind myself that he is so young and naive and immature. And the last one comes from Ari Buck. Ari says it takes a good book to get me invested in the characters and David Copperfield is a great book. I do feel bad for the Macawbers, but I really resonate with David's view of them as being able to bounce back from debt. And I can't help but dislike like them for crushing Traddles dreams. Okay, so I want to start by clarifying something that I said last time because people were discussing this in the drawing room and I want to touch on it and I think it's a good launching point for today's conversation. So last time I said that the Macabre are kind and generous and they don't take advantage of anyone and I stand by this. But I wanted to clarify that this doesn't mean that no one is harmed by their behavior. Clearly in this chapter, chapter 28. We learn that Traddles is going to be very much harmed by the Macabre's behavior because he signed his name as a guarantor on a loan for the Macabre's, which they won't be able to pay of course. And now it looks like his possessions, including the table and the flower pot that he has so lovingly put aside for his future home with his fiance, his possessions are going to be seized. And that's definitely bad. But the Macabre's are sort of incapable of understanding that something isn't going to turn up. When they take out a loan, they believe completely that they'll be able to pay it back because they believe completely that some sort of lucrative thing is just around the corner all the time. So asking Traddles to sign as a guarantor is for them just a formality because of course they'll pay back the loan before Traddles has to become involved at all. Now of course we can say that this is completely deranged, it's delusional of them, that it's shortsighted, it's childish, whatever we want. But I don't think that we can say that they intentionally took advantage of Traddles knowing full well that he was going to be on the hook for the loan. I don't think they did think he would be on the hook for the loan. And when they told Traddles that it would be provided for, I think they truly, truly believed that. That's what I mean by them not taking advantage of anyone. But they can certainly be destructive and they have been destructive it seems to Traddles. And I think we're allowed to be exasperated with them and to feel like they really are ought to have a more kind of clear eyed view of their situation. But whether they ought or not is kind of neither here nor there. Because they don't. They legitimately don't. They believe all the time that something is about to turn up and their intentions are always good even if the reality of the situation leaves much to be desired. You know, Mr. Macawer is most likely based on Dickens's own father. Remember we talked before about how Dickens father was someone who spent more than he had and he ended up in debtors prison. Which is why Dickens ended up working at the the boot blacking factory for a while. But it was his mother that Dickens ended up being angry with. Because when they finally got out of prison she thought that Dickens should continue working at the factory. Probably because she knew that her husband might end up in prison again, and they needed the money, but she wanted him to keep working there, and he hated it so much, and he wanted desperately to go back to school. And it was his father that agreed to send him back to school, probably because, like Mr. Macawer, he thought it would all just kind of work out financially somehow. So Dickens clearly had a fondness for his father, even as he understood that his way of dealing with money wasn't feasible. So he has made the character of Mr. Macawber a really likable character with a kind of a moral core and a generous nature, but with this fatal flaw of being completely incapable of making or keeping his money. And I think, as Ari says, Dickens does a great job of making us like the Macawers and feel bad for them, but also making us totally exasperated and sometimes even angry with them. And I imagine that that's the way that Dickens felt about his father as well. I mean, obviously, I don't know, but that's what I imag imagine. But as Maria says, David has figured out that you can't lend anything to the Macawers, including your name, because they won't be able to pay it back. And you might be on the hook. Which is interesting, because in other areas, he's still allowing people to take advantage of him the way he has been since he was a child. In this chapter, we get Mrs. Krupp, who David is meant to be in charge of, right? She's meant to do what he asks, but she's always finding ways to get out of it. And David doesn't seem to have the backbone to stand up to her. And he says, this is a quote. In short, I would have done anything in an honorable way rather than give Mrs. Crupp offense. And she was the terror of my life. So it's not like David has finally figured out how to not let people take advantage of him. But I think the difference with the macabre is what I was just saying. They're not taking advantage of him or of anyone else. They're operating in good faith, but they have a completely delusional view of the world. And I think that means that David isn't afraid of them and he can see them more clearly and he pities them. But he also knows to warn Traddles. But Traddles and I said this last time, but I think it's pretty interesting and we saw it again here. So Traddles is essentially a sort of alternate version of David here. He became. He has become enmeshed with the macabre. And he's been taken in by them because he has no real family of his own. Here's what David Mr. Micawber then delivered a warm eulogy on Traddles. He said Traddles's was a character to the steady virtues of which he, Mr. Micawber, could lay no claim, but which he thanked heaven he could admire. He feelingly alluded to the young lady unknown, whom Traddles had honors with his affection and who had reciprocated that affection by honoring and blessing Traddles with her affection. So it's nice in a way, because Traddles doesn't have, like a Miss Betsy. But it also puts him at risk because he wants to help them the way that David once wanted to help them as well. Which of course, speaks to his kindness and his desire to do the right thing. Which makes it interesting, I think, that Steerforth shows up in this chapter because, as we discussed last time, Traddles seems like a much better friend for David than Steerforth. So having Steerforth show up right after Traddles does kind of bring that home. I mean, Traddles is very generous. It's misguided to be generous to the macabre, but he is generous. Whereas Steerforth, as Maria points out, kind of shows up out of nowhere and makes David cook him a meal and get him some wine. And all of this. Traddles, as far as we can tell, is completely straightforward. He's honest. What you see is what you get. But there seems to potentially be something kind of shifty going on with Steerforth. I mean, first of all, his servant Littomer shows up looking for him as if he thought he was with David. So Steerforth seems not to have been honest with Littomer about his whereabouts or at the very least, not to have just told him where he was going. Which is sort of odd because generally his manservant would travel with him, and he has been in Yarmouth, which is David's place to visit, not his. What was he doing in Yarmouth? And remember, Littomer was staying behind in Yarmouth for some undisclosed reason the last time we heard about him. And now Steerforth is going to Yarmouth without David. So that's kind of weird. And he's not particularly forthcoming about why he went down there. Traddles clearly cares about people, as evidenced by how happy he was to see David again after all these years, how kind he is to the Macabers and all of this. Whereas Steerforth can't even remember Traddles at first. And when he does he says, oh, that fellow. Right. As if he doesn't really care one way or the other. So, as K. Points out, every time Steerforth shows up, we kind of like him less and less. He's not doing much to make a good impression on us, even though David still loves him as much as ever, in some spite of Agnes's warnings about him. But the other thing that we learn in this chapter is that Mr. Barkis, Peggy's husband, is ill and potentially dying, which is very sad for Peggy and therefore sad for David, who loves Peggy. And again, Steerforth is kind of like, oh, yeah, I forgot your friend's dying or whatever, and his indifference to people, or at least people who aren't him. It's thrown into further relief by David's description of Peggy's letter, which is so loving and so loyal and really ought Steerforth to shame or at least clue David in to how different from Steerforth she is. Although, of course it doesn't. But here's what David says about the it was from Peggy something less legible than usual and brief. It informed me of her husband's hopeless state and hinted at his being a little nearer than heretofore and consequently more difficult to manage for his own comfort. It said nothing of her weariness and watching and praised him highly. It was written with a plain, unaffected, homely piety that I knew to be genuine and ended with my duty to my ever darling, meaning myself. Okay, so this is all very touching, and it's very sad that Vargas is dying. And it speaks well of David that he immediately thinks he must go there and be with Peggy. And it speaks ill of Steerforth that he tries to detain David for a day. I mean, a day when someone is dying is a long time. But David loves Steerforth so much that he can't pass up the opportunity to spend time with him. So he agrees to wait and go to Yarmouth the following day and to see stay with Steerforth in the meantime. But he does have this one kind of inkling, this very small inkling that perhaps Steerforth isn't using all his talents to their best purpose, that perhaps he's kind of wasting his life. He says he was in great spirits all the way. And when we parted and I looked after him going so gallantly and airily homeward, I thought of his saying, ride on over all obstacles and win the race, and wished for the first time that he had some worthy race to run. Okay, so he's not seeing Steerforth the way we do. He's not realizing that there's something sort of narcissistic or shifty about him. But he is realizing that he's not really doing much with his life, that Steerforth isn't doing much with his life, and that that's not a good thing. Which makes sense since one of David's big dreams is that he will make something of himself. So it's odd to him that his idol isn't doing that. Which might bode well, since any crack in the facade of David's adoration of Steerforth is probably a good thing. But now there are several questions kind of hanging in the air. Will Traddles get his money and his possessions back such that he can look forward to marrying his fiance? What will happen to the macabre? What is actually going on with Littimer and Steerforth? What will happen when David ends up in Yarmouth to see Peggy and the dying Mr. Barkis? And I think that's a lot of questions. Right? Who needs more questions than that? So let's see if any of them are going to be answered in this next chapter. But of course. So don't forget to write to me. It's faithkmoore.com click on contact or scroll into the Show Notes and click the link that's there. It's the same link and you're never bothering me. I love to hear from you. So please do write in with your thoughts and your reactions to this chapter. All right, let's get started with chapter 29 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 29. I visit Steerforth at his home again. I mentioned to Mr. Spenlo in the morning that I wanted leave of absence for a short time, and as I was not in the receipt of any salary and consequently was not obnoxious to the implacable Jorkins, there was no difficulty about it. Meaning, since it won't cost the firm any money if he takes a vacation, it's fine. I took that opportunity with my voice sticking in my throat and my sight failing as I uttered the words to express my hope that Ms. Spenlo was quite well. To which Mr. Spenlow replied with no more emotion than if he had been speaking of an ordinary human being, that he was much obliged to me and she was very well. We articled clerks, as germs of the patrician order of proctors, were treated with so much consideration that I was almost my own master at all times. Meaning they're so unimportant that no one really cares what they do. As I did not care, however, to get to Highgate before one or two o' clock in the day. And as we had another little excommunication case in court that morning, which was called the office of the Judge, promoted by Tipkins against Bullock for his soul's correction, I passed an hour or two in attendance on it with Mr. Spenlow. Very agreeably it arose out of a scuffle between two church wardens, one of whom was alleged to have pushed the other against a pump, the handle of which pump, projecting into a schoolhouse, which schoolhouse was under a gable of the church roof, made the push an ecclesiastical office. Office. It was an amusing case, and sent me up to Highgate on the box of the stage coach, thinking about the Commons and what Mr. Spenlow had said about touching the commons and bringing down the country. Mrs. Steerforth was pleased to see me, and so was Rosa Dartle. I was agreeably surprised to find that Littimer was not there, and that we were attended by a modest little parlour maid with blue ribbons in her cap, whose eye it was much more pleasant and much less disconcerting to catch by accident than the eye of that respectable man. But what I particularly observed, before I had been half an hour in the house, was the close and attentive watch Miss Dardell kept upon me, and the lurking manner in which she seemed to compare my face with Steerforth's, and Steerforth's with mine, and to lie in wait for something to come out between the two. So surely as I looked towards her did I see that eager visage with its gaunt black eyes and searching brow intent on mine mine, or passing suddenly from mine to Steerforths, or comprehending both of us at once in this lynx like scrutiny. She was so far from faltering when she saw I observed it, that at such a time she only fixed her piercing look upon me with a more intent expression. Still blameless as I was, and knew that I was in reference to any wrong she could possibly suspect me of, I shrunk before her strange eyes, quite unable to endure their hungry lustre. All day she seemed to pervade the whole house. If I talked to Steerforth in his room, I heard her dress rustle in the little gallery outside. When he and I engaged in some of our old exercises on the lawn behind the house, I saw her face pass from window to window like a wandering light, until it fixed itself in one, and watched us. When we all four went out walking in the afternoon, she closed her thin hand on my arm like a Sweet spring to keep me back while Steerforth and his mother went on out of hearing and then spoke to me. You have been a long time, she said, without coming here. Is your profession really so engaging and interesting as to absorb your whole attention? I ask because I always want to be informed when I am ignorant. Is it really, though? I replied that I liked it well enough, but that I certainly could not claim so much for it. Oh, I am glad to know that, because I always like to be put right when I am wrong, said Miss Rosa Dartle. You mean it's a little dry, perhaps? Well, I replied, perhaps it was a little dry. Oh, and that's the reason why you want relief and change, excitement and all that, said she. Ah, very true. But isn't it a little a for him? I don't mean you. A quick glance of her eye towards the spot where Steerforth was walking with his mother leaning on his arm, showed me whom she meant. But beyond that I was quite lost. And I looked so. I have no doubt, don't it? I don't say that it does, mind. I want to know. Don't it rather engross him? Don't it make him perhaps a little more remiss than usual in his visits to his blindly doting, eh? With another quick glance at them, and such a glance at me as seemed to look into my innermost thoughts, Ms. Dardle, I returned. Pray, do not think I don't, she said. Oh, dear me, don't suppose that I think anything. I am not suspicious. I only ask a question. I don't state any opinion. I want to found an opinion on what you tell me. Then it's not so. Well, I am very glad to know. Certainly is not the fact, said I, perplexed, that I am accountable for Steerforth's having been away from home longer than usualif he has been, which I really don't know at this moment, unless I understand it from you, I have not seen him this long while until last night. No, indeed, Miss Dardell, no. As she looked full at me, I saw her face grow sharper and paler, and the marks of the old wound lengthen out until it cut through the disfigured lip and deep into the nether lip and slanted down the face. There was something positively awful to me in this and in the brightness of her eyes as she said, looking fixedly at me, what is he doing? I repeated the words more to myself than her being so amazed. What is he doing? She said with an eagerness that seemed enough to consume her like a Fire. In what is that man assisting him who never looks at me without an inscrutable falsehood in his eyes? If you are honourable and faithful, I don't ask you to betray your friend. I ask you only to tell me. Is it anger? Is it hatred? Is it pride? Is it restlessness? Is it some wild fancy? Is it love? What is it that is leading him? Miss Dardle? I returned. How shall I tell you so that you will believe me, that I know of nothing in Steerforth different from what there was when I first came here? I can think of nothing. I firmly believe there is nothing. I hardly understand even what you mean. As she still stood looking fixedly at me, a twitching or throbbing from which I could not dissociate, the idea of pain came into that cruel mark and lifted up the corner of her lip. As if with scorn, or with a pity that despised its object, she put her hand upon it hurriedly, a hand so thin and delicate that when I had seen her hold it up before the fire to shade her face, I had compared it in my thoughts to fine porcelain. And saying in a quick, fierce, passionate way, I swear you to secrecy about this, said not a word more. Mrs. Steerforth was particularly happy in her son's society, and Steerforth was, on this occasion, particularly attentive and respectful to her. It was very interesting to me to see them together, not only on account of their mutual affection, but because of the strong personal resemblance between them and the manner in which what was haughty or impetuous in him was softened by age and sex in her to a gracious dignity. I thought more than once that it was. Well, no serious cause of division had ever come between them, or two such natures. I ought rather to express it. Two such shades of the same nature might have been harder to reconcile than the two extremest opposites in creation. The idea did not originate in my own discernment, I am bound to confess, but in a speech of Rosa Dardell, she said at dinner, oh, but do tell me though, somebody, because I have been thinking about it all day and I want to know. You want to know What? Rosa returned Mrs. Steerforth. Pray, Rosa, do not be mysterious. Mysterious? She cried. Oh, really. Do you consider me so? Do I constantly entreat you, said Mrs. Steerforth, to speak plainly in your own natural manner? Oh, then this is not my natural manner, she rejoined. Now you must really bear with me, because I ask for information we never know ourselves. It has become a second nature, said Mrs. Steerforth, without any displeasure. But I remember. And so Must you, I think, when your manner was different, Rosa, when it was not so guarded and was more trustful. I am sure you are right, she returned. And so it is that bad habits grow upon one really less guarded and more trustful. How can I imperceptibly have changed, I wonder. Well, that's very odd. I must study to regain my former self. I wish you would, said Mrs. Steerforth with a smile. Oh, I really will, you know, she answered. I will learn frankness from, let me see, from James. James is Steerforth. You cannot learn Frankness, Rosa, said Mrs. Steerforth quickly, for there was always some effect of sarcasm in what Rosa Dardle said, though it was said, as was in the most unconscious manner in the world, in a better school that I am sure of, she answered with uncommon fervour, if I am sure of anything. Of course, you know I am sure of that. Mrs. Steerforth appeared to me to regret having been a little nettled, for she presently said in a kind tone, well, my dear Rosa, we have not heard what it is that you want to be satisfied about. That I want to be satisfied about, she replied with provoking coldness. Oh, it was only whether people who are like each other in their moral constitution. Is that the phrase? It's as good a phrase as another, said Steerforth. Thank you. Whether people who are like each other in their moral constitution are in greater danger than people not so circumstanced to posing any serious cause of variance to arise between them, of being divided angrily and deeply. So, she's saying, if two people have a disagreement, will it be worse if the two people are similar to each other? I should say yes, said Steerforth. Should you? She retorted. Dear me. Supposing then, for instance, any unlikely thing will do for a supposition that you and your mother would have a serious quarrel. My Dear Rosa, interposed Mrs. Steerforth, laughing good naturedly, suggests some other supposition. James and I know our duty to each other better, I pray heaven. Oh, said Miss Dardle, nodding her head thoughtfully to be sure that would prevent it. Why, of course it would. Exactly. Now I am glad I have been so foolish as to put the case, for it is so very good to know that your duty to each other would prevent it. Thank you very much. One other little circumstance connected with Miss Dardle I must not omit, for I had reason to remember it thereafter, when all the irredeemable past was rendered plain. During the whole of this day, but especially from this period of it, Steerforth exerted himself with his utmost skill, and that was with his utmost ease to charm this singular creature into a pleasant and pleased companion. That he should succeed was no matter of surprise to me. That she should struggle against the fascinating influence of his delightful art. Delightful nature, I thought it then, did not surprise me either, for I knew that she was sometimes jaundiced and perverse. I saw her features and her manner slowly change. I saw her look at him with growing admiration. I saw her try more and more faintly, but always angrily, as if she condemned a weakness in herself to resist the captivating power that he possessed. And finally I saw her sharp glance soften and her smile become quite gentle. And I ceased to be afraid of her as I had really been all day. And we all sat about the fire, talking and laughing together with as little reserve as if we had been children. Whether it was because we had sat there so long or because Steerforth was resolved not to lose the advantage he had gained, I do not know. But we did not remain in the dining room more than five minutes after her departure. She is playing her harp, said Steerforth softly at the drawing room door. And nobody but my mother has heard her do that, I believe, these three years. He said it with a curious smile, which was gone directly, and we went into the room and found her alone. Don't get up, said Steerforth, which she had already done. My dear Rosa, don't be kind for once and sing us an Irish song. What do you care for an Irish song? She returned much, said Steerforth, much more than for any other. Here is Daisy too, loves music from his soul. Remember, Daisy is what Steerforth calls David. Sing us an Irish song, Rosa, and let me sit and listen as I used to do. He did not touch her or the chair from which she had risen, but he sat himself near the harp. She stood beside it for some little while in a curious way, going through the motion of playing it with her right hand, but not sounding it. At length she sat down and drew it to her with one sudden action and played and sang. I don't know what it was in her touch or voice that made that song the most unearthly I have ever heard in my life or can imagine. There was something fearful in the reality of it. It was as if it had never been written or set to music, but sprung out of passion within her, which found imperfect utterance in the low sounds of her voice, and crouched again when all was still. I was dumb when she leaned beside the harp again, playing it but not sounding it with her right hand. A minute more and this had roused me from my trance. Steerforth had left his seat and gone to her, and had put his arm laughingly about her and had said, come, Rosa, for the future we will love each other very much. And she had struck him and had thrown him off with the fury of a wild cat and had burst out of the room. What is the matter with Rosa? Said Mrs. Steerforth, coming in. She has been an angel, Mother returned Steerforth, for a little while, and has run into the opposite extreme since by way of compensation. You should be careful not to irritate her, James. Her temper has been soured, remember, and ought not to be tried. Rosa did not come back, and no other mention was made of her until I went with Steerforth into his room to say good night. Then he laughed about her and asked me if I had ever seen such a fierce little piece of incomprehensibility. Lady, I expressed as much of my astonishment as was then capable of expression, and asked if he could guess what it was that she had taken so much amiss so suddenly. Oh, heaven knows, said Steerforth, anything you like or nothing. I told you. She took everything, herself included, to a grindstone and sharpened it. She is an edge tool and requires great care in dealing with. She is always dangerous. Good night. Good night, said I, my dear Steerforth, I shall be gone before you wake in the morning. Good night. He was unwilling to let me go and stood holding me out with a hand on each of my shoulders, as he had done in my own room. Daisy, he said with a smile, for though that's not the name your godfathers and godmothers gave you, it's the name I like best to call you by. And I wish, I wish, I wish you could give it to me. Why, so I can if I choose, said I. Daisy, if anything should ever separate us, you must think of me at my best, old boy. Come, let us make that bargain. Think of me at my best if circumstances should ever part us. You have no best to me, Steerforth, said I, and no worst you are always equally loved and cherished in my heart. So much compunction for having ever wronged him, even by a shapeless thought did I feel within me me that the confession of having done so was rising to my lips, but for the reluctance I had to betray the confidence of Agnes, but for my uncertainty how to approach the subject with no risk of doing so, it would have reached them before he said, God bless you, Daisy, and good night. In my doubt it did not reach them, and we shook hands and we parted, meaning he was thinking of apologizing to Steerforth for even thinking badly of him after Agnes. Agnes warned him, but he didn't want to bring Agnes into it. And then the moment passed, so he didn't say anything. I was up with the dull dawn, and, having dressed as quietly as I could, looked into his room. He was fast asleep, lying easily with his head upon his arm, as I had often seen him lie at school. The time came in its season, and that was very soon, when I almost wondered that nothing troubled his repose as I looked at him. But he slept let me think of him so again, as I had often seen him sleep at school. And thus in this silent hour I left him. Nevermore, O God, forgive you Steerforth, to touch that passive hand in love and friendship. Never, nevermore. 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. 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