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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. Welcome to the other side of the revelation of what this thing is that we've been waiting to find out so long, long. And now we know. It is that Steerforth has run off with little Emily. Emily has run off with Steerforth, however you want to put it. And we are going to talk about that today. I have a lot to say. I got lots of great letters. I was expecting to hear from you and I did. You guys did not disappoint. You never disappoint. You always write in with the most wonderful things, the most wonderful questions and comments. And I got some today and I'm going to read them to you and we're going to talk. We're going to talk about this revelation and what it means, and then we're going to keep reading and see what else we learned. But we did it. We've come to the revelation that has been on the table for so long, hanging over our heads for such a long time. The other thing that has happened is that we are halfway through the book. This book has 64 chapters, so if I'm doing the math correctly, 32 chapters is halfway through. So congratulations, we've made it halfway. It's funny, normally at this time of the year, I would be saying that we were pretty much almost done. We usually finish about the end of May, so I would say, oh, we have about a month left, probably in the last quarter of the book. Things are probably starting to come to their exciting conclusions, but we are not at all there. We are only halfway. And there's something kind of wonderful about that because I don't know about you, but I love this book so much. It's wonderful to get to stay in it. It's wonderful that there is so much time left that we get to spend with David and all of his friends and some of his enemies. And so. But I did want to let you know because I said I would let you know. So we are just about halfway through the book at this point. So thank you for sticking around this long and I hope you'll stick around for the second half of the book as I say I have a lot to talk about and this chapter is a fairly long one, so I'm going to try not to talk too much here at the beginning. So just the reminder is that tea Time is this week on Thursday, April 30 at 8pm Eastern over in our online community the Drawing Room. If you'd like to join but you're not yet a member of the the Drawing Room community, just scroll into the show notes, click the link that's there, sign up to be Landed Gentry because you have to be Landed Gentry to participate in Tea Time. And so I hope to meet some new friends over there and I'm really excited to get to talk to my old friends as usual over there as well. So tea time this Thursday the 30th at 8pm Eastern. I hope to see you or at least hear you there and then otherwise, just subscribe, tap the 5 stars, tell all your friends, have a big party. Shout it out to the whole world that subscribe. Storytime for Grown Ups is a podcast that we should be listening to so that we can all talk together about these great books. Because what would be better than that? I don't know. I can't think of much. So please do spread the word about the show and scroll into the show notes, check out all the links and let's get into this episode so in case we need a reminder. I don't think we do. I think the events of chapter 31 were quite momentous enough to remember, but just in case, let's first review and then we'll chat. So here is the recap. All right, so where we left off. David helps Peggy to take care of Mr. Barkus's will and they learn that he saved up quite a fortune and he left most of it to Peggy. Mr. Peggy and David. David stays with Peggy and goes to the funeral and he's going to take her to London to sort out the will. But the night before that they go over to Mr. Peggotty's house and they're having a nice comfortable evening, waiting for Ham and Emily to arrive. But Ham arrives alone and calls David out into the yard and tells him that Emily has run away. Mr. Peggotty comes out and too, and everyone is distraught. Ham shows them the letter that Emily left and Mr. Peggy has David read it out to them. It says that she's run off with a man and hopes that he'll marry her, although she isn't sure that he will. She's very sorry and she feels terrible and she loves them all but she's gone away. Mr. Peggotty is beside himself and asks who this man is, and it comes out that it is Steerforth. David feels responsible because he introduced Steerforth into their lives, and Mr. Peggotty is ready to go searching for Emily everywhere until he finds her and then kicks hill Steerforth. But Mrs. Gummage tells him to wait a little while and they all huddle together and cry over the loss of Emily. Okay, I'm going to read 4 comments today. The first one comes from Marco Santos. He says, wow, Steerforth is a snake. The writing was on the wall, but I still had to sit and take in the chapter after hearing it. Now there's the added worry of whether he will actually marry and make Emily a lady, which is doubtful, considering his character. I can't wait to read more. This next one comes from Maureen Aiken. She says, let me join with everyone else in saying, I knew it. I actually stopped listening to this chapter for a few minutes because I didn't want to hear it. Mr. Peggotty speaks so tenderly about his feelings for Emily. When he visits her anticipated home and picks up her things, I touches them as delicate as if they was our Emily. So it is with her little bonnets and that I couldn't see one of them roughed and used a purpose not for the whole world. What devastating foreshadowing. How terrible to be right. The third one comes from Amanda B. She says, genuine question. Okay, so obviously terrible situation, but what is the best of the situation? Steerforth actually marries her, or are we all thinking he is playing an awful game with her? And this last one comes from Lania Berger. She says, do you think that if just the story of Emily and Steerforth was told today from Emily's perspective and Steerforth was played by Ryan Gosling or something like that, that modern audiences would find Steerforth sexy and root for Emily to choose him over am? All right. So, yes, like I was saying a minute ago, finally we have our answer. We know what the terrible thing is that Steerforth does that ends his friendship with David. We know what the terrible thing is that happens to little Emily that might possibly be worse than death. It is that Emily has run off with Steerforth. Now, last time I said that, when we did finally discover what it was, we'd have to ask ourselves, was it worth it? Was it worth all of the foreshadowing and the waiting and the thinking we were going to be told only to have to wait some more? Was it, in fact as bad as David has been leading us to believe it was going to be all of this time. And I think that the answer to that is yes, but I think it's possible. We need to talk a little bit about why, because. And this is why I chose Lanya's and Amanda's letters specifically, because the reason why what's happened to Emily is so bad is potentially a little bit lost to us as modern readers. I mean, I think that even today this would be a pretty bad situation. We know that Steerforth is kind of a narcissist. He's charming and he's funny, fun, but he doesn't really care about anyone except for himself. So exploding Emily's relationship with Ham, who is a good, steady, kind, loving man, exploding that to be with this charming but ultimately selfish guy is bad no matter what time period you come from, because it's devastating to Ham. It's devastating to Mr. Peggy, who is so happy about this match between his two adopted children. And it's probably not going to turn out great for Emily because Steerforth doesn't really seem like the kind of guy who's going to make like a great romantic partner after the novelty wears off or whatever. So if this were happening in a story set in the modern day, I think Lania is right that there is probably a way to spin it so that we are rooting for Emily and Steerforth. Ham would be the sort of nice but ultimately boring guy and Steerforth would be the exciting bad boy who in this made up movie might turn out to have a heart of gold or something. But you could also set it in the modern day in which Ham is the seemingly boring but actually steadfast and loyal guy who the girl has to realize is really the one for her after initially falling for the bad boy. So you can definitely think of this situation in a modern context and feel like it's bad. Like Emily should not have run off with Steerforth. But if you said it in the modern day, the enormity of the situation actually gets completely lost. Because there's an element here that in most modern contexts isn't really in play. And that element is the societal consequences of sex before marriage. Now, we've talked about this on the show before. I won't say when or in what context. In case you haven't listened to all the books that we've done on the show yet and because that would make it a spoiler, but I can think of at least two books that we've done so far where this issue has come up. So let's just remind ourselves of it a little bit, but mostly let's talk about it now in the specific context of Emily and Steerforth. So at the time this book was written, if a woman lost her virginity to a man who was not her husband, that woman would be considered quote unquote, ruined. And what that meant was that if it was known that this had happened, it was very, very unlikely that she would be able to find a husband. Her only hope would be marry the man that she had slept with, which was often not on the table, because often that man wanted to sleep with her but didn't want to marry her. And that's why they didn't wait until marriage. So she probably won't be able to marry that guy. And no other respectable man would want to marry a woman who had had sex before. Why? Well, most of the social taboos around extramarital sex have to do with pregnancy. If a woman had sex with a man who was not her husband and became pregnant, the woman would have no way to provide for that child. The father would have no legal oblig to take responsibility for the child. So like to pay for its care or to acknowledge it as his own child, the woman would have no way to earn her own money, both because the opportunities for women to be breadwinners were slim to none back then, but also once she has a baby out of wedlock, she's a social pariah and no one would hire her or do business with her. Children born out of wedlock wouldn't be entitled to the family lineage or the inheritance or land or property or anything of their father. So essentially, the taboo around premarital sex is there to protect the woman so that the father of her children will be legally bound to provide for them and for her. But in order to kind of socially enforce the taboo, what ended up happening was that all of the onus and all of the repercussions fell on the woman, because it's the woman that gets pregnant. A woman can't give birth to a baby and say, oh, actually that's not mine. I mean, it just came out of her body. Of course it's hers. Whereas a man can say, oh, that's not my baby. That woman sleeps around. I mean, look at having a baby and she's not even married. She might have slept with any number of men. So it's not me, I'm not the dad. And there was no way to prove whether he was or wasn't. So the burden fell on the woman to not have premarital sex. And what that did was create this situation where women who did have premarital sex were viewed as fallen or loose or ruined. And the men who had premarital sex essentially got off scot free. So Emily has run off with Steerforth, and the implication here is that she has slept with him and that she will continue to sleep with him, literally living with him as what we would today call his girlfriend, not his wife. So essentially, the damage is already done. Emily is already ruined. So to answer Amanda's question, the best case scenario here at this point is that Steerforth will marry her because that would legitimize this relationship and it would save Emily from being ostracized. And that is what this whole business about bringing me back a lady is all about. In the letter that Emily leaves for Ham, she says if he don't bring me back a lady and I don't pray for my own self, I'll pray for all meaning. If he doesn't marry her and make an honest woman of her, then that'll be a disaster for her and for everyone that she loves and cares about, and she will pray for all of them. So the implication of Emily's letter is that she has run off with Steerforth, hoping that he's going to marry her and thus transform her into what she has always wanted to be, which is a lady. Remember, Steerforth is an upper class, wealthy gentleman from a good family. If Emily married him, then she believes she would automatically be raised out of her lower class status into an upper class one. And this has been her dream ever since she was a little girl. Right? She doesn't want to be a boat builder's wife. She wants to be a lady. And marrying Steerforth would do that for her. So clearly it was too great a temptation to resist, and so she's jumped at the chance. But she's allowed Steerforth to talk her into leaving without getting married. And as I said, the implication is that they will sleep together before marriage and live together unmarried, at least for some period of time. Time it's her hope that they'll marry. Steerforth probably told her that they would in order to get her to run away with him. But she jumped the gun, essentially, and allowed him to take her away with him before any sort of marriage took place. So the best scenario here is that they get married. But that's still a tragedy because it leaves Ham in the lurch. Ham, who loves her so much and is so honest and good and true and would have kept her safe and loved her until his dying breath. So that's bad. It's still a tragedy because it takes her away from Mr. Peggotty, who loves her so much and wants her to marry Ham. And it's still a tragedy because Steerforth, we know, is not an honest, good, true, loyal man. And it's hard to imagine that their marriage would ultimately be a happy one. So, best case scenario, they get married, which would still be bad, but would at least mean that Emily would be legally protected and her children would be provided for and she wouldn't be a social outcast. The worst case scenario is that they run off, they sleep together, they live together for a while, then Steerforth gets tired of her, leaves her, maybe even leaves her with a baby. And she's a total social outcast with no way to care for herself or any children that she might have. And then, of course, there are all sorts of in between things, which would be bad, but not as bad or whatever. So the point here is this is not good. And a man who runs off with an innocent girl doesn't marry her immediately, but does sleep with her, that is a bad guy, even if he does end up marrying her in the end. So I think what we're hoping for now is that Emily does come back a lady. But as Marco says in his letter, things aren't really looking great on that front. You know, some of you wrote in to ask what motive Steerforth might have to do this if he doesn't intend to marry her. Does he have some sort of evil plan here? And the answer is that we don't yet know for sure exactly what he's up to. But our assumption at this point is that in his Steerforth like, way of kind of just seizing on the next exciting and interesting thing, he has decided to run off with Emily because she's beautiful, he wants to sleep with her, he likes her, she likes him. Him. And he's not really thinking much beyond that. Remember, he's been planning this for a while now. We know that now. He left Littimer behind to make arrangements. He told David he wished he had a father to advise him on how to behave. He knew on parting with David the last time that the next time they saw each other, David would be pretty mad at him. As far as we can tell, he got the hots for Emily, she was willing, and off they went together. He's dear force. He doesn't need much more reason than that. But there are a lot of victims in this. This situation, right? Emily is a victim, although she's also responsible. She's Fallen victim to Steerforth's charms and his promises of marriage. Such that she ran off with him. Of course, she could have held firm and demanded that he marry her first or just turn him down flat because she's already engaged to someone else. But she didn't do that. She gave in. And she knows that what she's doing is wrong. And she knows that she's not the only victim, right? In her letter she says, pray heaven that I am going away from. Have compassion on my uncle. Tell him that I never loved him half so dear. Be his comfort, love some good girl. That will be what I was once to uncle. And be true to you and worthy of you. And know no shame but me. Okay, so there are two other victims here, right? Ham is a victim in this situation because as we were talking about a minute ago, there is now no chance that he can marry Emily. He can't marry her if she marries Dearforth, because she'll be married to somebody else. And he can't marry her if she doesn't marry him and ends up coming back. Not necessarily because she'll be ruined. Ham loves her so much he might marry her anyway, but because he knows that she doesn't love him and she doesn't want to be his wife. And he wouldn't force her to do that. And it's Ham that echoes David's sentiment from way back at the beginning of the book and says that Emily might be better off dead than ruined this way. He says, emily's run away. Oh, Master Davie, think how she's run away when I pray my good and gracious God to kill her. Her that is so dear above all things. Sooner than let her come to ruin and disgrace, right? Running off with a man, sleeping with a man out of wedlock. These things are so disgraceful and so calamitous in the eyes of society that it's potentially a fate worse than death. Which is another reason that Ham is a victim. Because he loves her so much and he can't bear for this to happen to her. And the second victim that Emily mentions is Mr. Peggy. And he's a victim for the same reason that I was just saying Ham was. Because now his beloved girl, his beloved Emily, is potentially going suffer a fate worse than death. And Dickens sets this chapter up so beautifully. First with the foreshadowing from David where he says, this is a quote. A dread falls on me here. A cloud is lowering on the distant town towards which I retraced my solitary steps. I fear to approach it. I cannot Bear to think of what did come upon that memorable night, of what must come. Again, if I go on. Okay, so we know that we finally come to it. This is it. The bad thing is going to happen. And it gives the chapter a kind of of somber gravitas right out of the gate. But then Dickens gives us these really touching moments which Maureen talked about in her letter with Mr. Peggotty, kind of waxing poetic about his love for little Emily. He says, this is the quote that Maureen mentioned. I can't say more if I don't feel as if the littlest things was her almost. I takes em up and I put em down and I touches of em as delicate as if they was our Emily. So tis with her little bonnets and that I couldn't see one on him. Ruff used a purpose not for the whole world. And then, of course, there's this really moving image of Mr. Peggedy putting the candle in the window for Emily. He tells us that every night if he's at home, he puts the candle in the window to light Emily's way and to let her know that someone who loves her is waiting for her there. And that even after she's married to Ham, he will still put the candle there because this is her home always and forever. And he will love her always and forever. I mean, and it's so moving. Here's that quote. He says, I know wery well that arter she's married and gone. I shall put that candle there just the same as now. I know very well that when I'm here o nights and where else should I live? Bless your hearts, whatever fortune I come into and she ain't here or I ain't there, I shall put the candle in the winder and sit afore the fire pretending I'm expecting of her like I'm a doin now. Okay, so Mr. Peggotty is certainly a victim here because it's going to break his heart that this has happened to his beloved girl. And. And the other victim, although he too is also sort of responsible. But another victim is David. David is the one who brought Steerforth into their lives. Of course, he didn't know what Steerforth would do, but he also couldn't see what we all saw, what Agnes saw, which was that Steerforth is not a trustworthy person. He's not actually someone to be idolized and to be proud of. He's dangerous. And if it weren't for David, Emily never would have met him. So David is, in some sense, sense responsible. But he's also in some sense a victim, because he now has to live both with the guilt of his part in this and with the complete dissolution of this friendship that he thought was the great friendship of his life. And Ham, just to further hit home how good a man Ham is and what Emily has given up in leaving him behind, Ham is able to think of David in this moment. Mr. Peggotty keeps asking who the man is that Emily has run off with, and Ham keeps telling David to leave the room so he doesn't have to hear it. But David won't leave, and eventually Ham says, it ain't no fault of yourn, and I am far from laying of it to you, but his name is Steerforth and he's a damned villain. Okay, so Ham, who on the one hand has seemed like a sort of galumphing, kind of simple, kind of boring sort of guy, he is turning out here to really, truly be the better man, the man that Emily should have been with. And that makes this disaster even greater and Emily's situation even more upsetting. And I mean, Dickens does such a wonderful job of giving us all the emotions of the various characters and also of conjuring for us the total devastation that this news has caused amongst the Peggotty family. He says, I remember a great wail and cry and the women hanging about him. And we all standing in the room, I with a paper in my hand, which Ham had given me. Mr. Peggotty, with his vest torn open, his hair wild, his face enlisted, lips quite white and blood trickling down his bosom. It had sprung from his mouth, I think, looking fixedly at me. I mean, that's almost like high melodrama or something. But it's not over the top. It's just incredibly evocative because it really is that bad. And one last thing that might be sort of hard for us to understand from our modern perspective is that often when a daughter does something like this and runs off with a man and sleeps with him out of wedlock, the father's response is often to disown her. Her. That's part of the stigma and part of the thing that might stop a woman from doing this. The shame that this brings doesn't fall only on the girl. It falls on the whole family. And choosing to stand by a daughter who does this causes the family to also become a social pariahs in some way. So the fact that Mr. Peggy's very first impulse is to go out there and find Emily and bring her home speaks to his incredible love and devotion For Emily. Not only is he saying he won't disown her, he's saying that the one single purpose of his life now will be to find her and to bring her home. You know, they ask him where he's going and this is what he says, anywhere. I'm going to seek my niece through the world. I'm going to find my poor niece in her shame and bring her back. No one stopped me, I tell you, I'm going to seek my niece. I mean, it's so moving. This whole chapter is so affecting, I think, and it really is the sudden uncoiling of that spring that Dickens was so expertly winding and winding and winding some more, even when we thought it couldn't get any tighter. So for me, the payoff was worth the wait. But of course, it's a terrible blow to everyone that we care about and we still don't know exactly how it all will end. Will Steerforth do the right thing here and MARRY Emily? Will Mr. Peggotty find them and fix things somehow? There are still a lot of questions and there is only one way to find out the answers, which of course is to keep reading. So we're going to do that. But don't forget to write to me. I really want to know what you're thinking and feeling about these chapters, so. So please do get in touch. It's faithkmoore.com and you click on Contact. Or you can scroll into the show notes and click the link that's there. And please do get in touch. I always, always love to hear from you. All right, let's get started with Chapter 32 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 32. The beginning of a long journey. What is natural in me is natural in many other men, I infer. And so I am not afraid to write that I never had loved Steerforth better than when the ties that bound me to him were broken in the keen distress of the discovery of his unworthiness. I thought more of all that was brilliant in him. I softened more towards all that was good in him. Him. I did more justice to the qualities that might have made him a man of noble nature and a great name than I ever had done in the height of my devotion to him. Deeply as I felt my own unconscious part in his pollution of an honest home. I believed that if I had been brought face to face with him, I could not have uttered one reproach. I should have loved him so well. Still, though he fascinated me no longer. I should have held in so much tenderness the memory of my affection for him that I think I should have been as weak as a spirit wounded child in all but the entertainment of a thought that we could ever be reunited. That thought I never had. I felt as he had felt, that all was at an end between us. What his remembrances of me were, I have never known. They were light enough, perhaps, and easily dismissed. But mine of him were as the remembrances of a cherished friend who was dead. Yes, Steerforth, long removed from the scenes of this poor history. My sorrow may bear involuntary witness against you at the judgment throne, but my angry thoughts or my reproaches never will I know. The news of what had happened soon spread through the town, insomuch that as I passed along the streets next morning I overheard the people speaking of it at their doors. Many were hard upon her. Some few were hard upon him. But towards her second father and her lover there was but one sentiment among all kinds of people. A respect for them in their distress prevailed, which was full of gentleness and delicacy the seafaring men kept apart. When those two were seen early walking with slow steps on the beach and stood in knots, talking compassionately among themselves. It was on the beach, close down by the sea, that I found them. It would have been easy to perceive that they had not slept all night, even if Peggy had failed to tell me of their still sitting just as I left them when it was broad day. They looked worn, and I thought Mr. Peggotty's head was bowed in one night more than in all the years I had known him. But they were both as grave and steady as the sea itself, then lying beneath a dark sky, waveless yet with a heavy roll upon it as if it breathed in its rest, and touched on the horizon with a strip of silvery light from the unseen sun. We have had a mort of talk, sir, said Mr. Peggotty to me, when we had all three walked a little while in silence of what we ought and don't ought to do, but we see our course now. I happened to glance at Ham then, looking out to sea upon the distant light, and a frightful thought came into my mind. Not that his face was angry, for it was not, I recall nothing but an expression of stern determination in it that if ever he encountered Steerforth, he would kill him. My duty here, sir, said Mr. Peggotty, is done. I'm a going to seek my he stopped and went on in a firmer voice. I'm a going to seek her. That's my duty Evermore. He shook his head when I asked him where he would seek her and inquired if I were going to London tomorrow. I told him I had not gone to day, fearing to lose the chance of being of any service to him, but that I was ready to go when he would. I'll go along with you, sir, he rejoined, if you're agreeable. Tomorrow. We walked again for a while in silence. Ham, he presently resumed, he'll hold to his present work and go and live along with my sister. The old boat yonder. Will you desert the old boat, Mr. Peggotty? I gently interposed my station. Master Davy, he returned, ain't there no longer. And if ever a boat foundered since there was darkness on the face of the deep, that one's gone down. But no, sir, no, I don't mean as it should be deserted. Far from that. We walked again for a while as before, until he explained my wishes Is, sir, as it shall look day and night, winter and summer, as it has always looked since she first knowed it. If ever she should come wandering back, I wouldn't have. The old place seem to cast her off, you understand, but seem to tempt her to draw nigher to it and to peep in maybe like a ghost out of the wind and rain through the old winder at the old seat by the fire. Then maybe, Master Davy, seeing none but Mrs. Gummidge there, she might take heart to creep in trembling and might come to be laid down in her old bed and rest her weary head where it was once so gay. I could not speak to him in reply, though I tried meaning. He's so moved by this that he can't speak every night, said Mr. Peggotty. As reglar as the night comes, the candle must be stood in its old pane of glass, that if ever she should see it, it may seem to say, come back, my child, come back. If ever there's a knock, Ham particular, a soft knock after dark at your aunt's door, don't you go nigh it. Let it be her, not you, that sees my fallen child. He walked a little in front of us and kept before us for some minutes. Minutes. During this interval I glanced at Ham again and observing the same expression on his face and his eyes still directed to the distant light, I touched his arm twice. I called him by his name in the tone in which I might have tried to rouse a sleeper before he heeded me. When I at last inquire on what his thoughts were so bent, he replied on what's afore me, Master Davie. Hand over yon on the life before you. Do you mean? He had pointed confusedly out to sea. Ay, Master Davie, I don't rightly know how tis but from over yon there seems to me to come the end of it like looking at me as if he were waking, but with the same determined face. What end? I asked, possessed by my former fear. I don't know, he said thoughtfully. I was calling to mind that the beginning of it all did take place here, and then the end come. But it's done, Master Davie, he added, answering as I think my look, you ha' n't no call to be afeard of me, but I'm kinder muddled. I don't fare to feel no matters. Which was as much as to say that he was not himself and quite confounded. Meaning Ham is completely blindsided by this, and he doesn't know how to go on with his life. Mr. Peggotty stopping for us to join him, we did so, and said no more. The remembrance of this in connection with my former thought, however, haunted me at intervals, even until the inexorable end came. At its appointed time we insensibly approached the old boat and entered. Mrs. Gummidge, no longer moping in her especial corner, was busy preparing breakfast. She took Mr. Peggotty's hat and placed his seat for him, and spoke so comfortably and softly that I hardly knew her. Dan', l, my good man, said she, you must eat and drink and keep up your strength, for without it you'll do naught, meaning you won't be able to do anything. Try. That's a dear soul, and if I disturb you with my clickitinshe meant her chattering tell me so, Dan', l, and I won't. When she had served us all, she withdrew to the window, where she sedulously meaning very carefully and diligently, employed herself in repairing some shirts and other clothes belonging to Mr. Peggotty, and neatly folding and packing them in an old oilskin bag such as sailors carry. Meanwhile she continued talking in the same quiet manner all times and seasons. You know, dan', l, said Mrs. Gummidge, I shall be all wisier, and everythink will look accordin to your wishes. I'm a poor scholar, but I shall write to you odd times when you're away, and send my letters to Master Davie. Maybe you'll write to me too, Dannel, od times and tell me how you fare to feel upon your lone lorn journeys. You'll be a solitary woman here. I'm afeard, said Mr. Peggotty. No, no, Dan', l. She returned. I shan't be that. Don't you mind me. I shall have enough to do to keep a beIN for you. Mrs. Gummidge meant a home again. You come back to keep a beIN here for any that may hap to come back. Dan'. L. In the fine time I shall set outside the door as I used to do. If any should come nigh, they shall see the old widder woman true to em a long way off. What a change in Mrs. Gummidge. In a little time she was another woman. She was so devoted. She had such a quick perception of what it would be well to say and what it would be well to leave unsaid. She was so forgetful of herself, and so regardful of the sorrow about her, that I held her in a sort of veneration. The work she did that day. There were many things to be brought up from the beach and stored in the outhouse, as oars, nets, sails, cordage, spars, lobster pots, bags of ballast, and the like and though there was abundance of assistance rendered, there being not a pair of working hands on all that shore, but would have laboured hard for Mr. Peggotty, and been well paid in being asked to do it it, yet she persisted all day long in toiling under weights that she was quite unequal to, and fagging to and fro on all sorts of unnecessary errands as to deploring her misfortunes, she appeared to have entirely lost the recollection of ever having had any. She preserved an equable cheerfulness in the midst of her sympathy, which was not the least astonishing. Part of the change that had come over her querulousness was out of the question. I did not even observe her voice to falter, or a tear to escape from her eyes the whole day through until twilight, when she And I and Mr. Peggotty, being alone together, and he having fallen asleep in perfect exhaustion, she broke into a half suppressed fit of sobbing and crying, and taking me to the door, said, ever bless you, Master Davie. Be a friend to him, poor dear. Then she immediately ran out of the house to wash her face in order that she might sit quietly beside him, and be found at work there when he should awake. In short, I left her when I went away at night the prop and staff of Mr. Peggotty's Affliction and I could not meditate enough upon the lesson that I read in Mrs. Gummidge and the new experience she unfolded to me. It was between nine and ten o'clock when, strolling in a melancholy manner through the town, I stopped at Mr. Omer's door. Mr. Omer had taken it so much to heart. His daughter told me that he had been very low and poorly all day and had gone to bed without his his pipe. A deceitful, bad hearted girl, said Mrs. Joram. There was no good in her ever. Don't say so, I returned. You don't think so? Yes, I do. Cried Mrs. Joram angrily. No, no. Said I. Mrs. Joram tossed her head, endeavouring to be very stern and cross, but she could not command her softer self and began to cry. I was young, to be sure, but I thought much the better of her for this sympathy and fancied it became her as a virtuous wife and mother very well indeed. What will she ever do? Sobbed Minnie. Where will she go? What will become of her? Oh, how could she be so cruel to herself and him? I remembered the time when Minnie was a young and pretty girl and I was glad she remembered it too, so feelingly. My Little Minnie, said Mrs. Joram has only just now been got to sleep. Even in her sleep she is sobbing for Emily. All day long little Minnie has cried for her and asked me over and over again whether Emily was wicked. What can I say to her when Emily tied a ribbon off her own neck round little Minnie's the last night she was here and laid her head down on the pillow beside her till she was fast asleep? Sleep. The ribbon's round my little Minnie's neck now. It ought not to be, perhaps, but what can I do? Emily is very bad, but they were fond of one another and the child knows nothing. Mrs. Joram was so unhappy that her husband came out to take care of her. Leaving them together, I went home to Peggotty's, more melancholy myself if possible, than I had been. Yet that good creature, I mean Peggotty Peggy, all untired by her late anxieties and sleepless nights, was at her brother's, where she meant to stay till morning, an old woman who had been employed about the house for some weeks past while Peggotty had been unable to attend to it, was the house's only other occupant besides myself. As I had no occasion for her services, I sent her to bed by no means against her will, and sat down before the kitchen fire a little while to think about all this. This I was blending it with the death bed of the late Mr. Barkis, and was driving out with the tide towards the distance at which Ham had looked so singularly in the morning, when I was recalled from my wanderings by a knock at the door. There was a knocker upon the door, but it was not that which made the sound. The tap was from a hand and low down upon the door, as if it were given by a child, it made me start as much as if it had been the knock of a footman to a person of distinction. I opened the door and at first looked down, to my amazement, on nothing but a great umbrella that appeared to be walking about of itself. But presently I discovered underneath it. Miss Moucher. Remember, Miss Moucher is the woman who came to cut Steerforth's hair, and she's a dwarf. I might not have been prepared to give the little creature a very kind reception if on her removing the umbrella which her utmost efforts were unable to shut up, she had shown me the volatile expression of. Of face which had made so great an impression on me at our first and last meeting. But her face, as she turned it up to mine, was so earnest. And when I relieved her of the umbrella, which would have been an inconvenient one for the Irish giant, she wrung her little hands in such an afflicted manner that I rather inclined towards her. Miss Moucher, said I, after glancing up and down the empty street, without distinctly knowing what I expected to see. Besides, how do you come here? What is the matter? She motioned to me with her short right arm to shut the umbrella for her and passing me, hurriedly went into the kitchen. When I had closed the door and followed with the umbrella in my hand, I found her sitting on the corner of the fender. It was a low iron one with two flat bars at top to stand plates upon in the shadow of the boiler, swaying herself backwards and forwards and chafing her hands upon her knees like a person in pain. Quite alarmed at being the only recipient of this untimely visit and the only spectator of this portentous behavior, I exclaimed again. Pray tell me, Miss Mowcher, what is the matter? Are you ill, my dear young soul? Cried Miss Moucher, squeezing her hands upon her heart one over the other. I am ill here. I am very ill. To think that it should come to this when I might have known it and perhaps prevented it, if I hadn't been a thoughtless fool. Again, her large bonnet, very disproportionate to the figure, went backwards and forwards in her swaying of her little body to and fro, while a most gigantic bonnet Rocked in unison with it upon the wall. I am surprised I began to see you so distressed and serious when she interrupted me. Yes, it's always so, she said. They are all surprised, these inconsiderate young people. Fairly unfulgrown to see any natural feeling in a little thing like me. They make a plaything of me, use me for their amusement, throw me away when they are tired and wonder that I feel more than a toy horse or a wooden soldier. Yes, yes, that's the way. The old way. It may be with others I returned, but I do assure you it is not with me. Perhaps I ought not to be at all surprised to see you as you are now. I know so little of you, I said without consideration what I thought. What can I do? Returned the little woman, standing up and holding out her arms to show herself. See, I am what my father was and my sister is, and my brother is. I have worked for sister and brother these many years. Hard, Mr. Copperfield. All day I must live. I do no harm. If there are people so unreflecting or so cruel as to make a jest of me. What is left for me to do but to make a jest of myself? Them and everything, if I do so for the time, whose fault is that? Mine? No, not Miss Moucher's, I perceived if I had shown myself a sensitive dwarf to your false friend, pursued the little woman, shaking her head at me with reproachful earnestness. How much of his help or goodwill do you think I should ever have had? If little Mowcher, who had no hand, young gentleman in the making of herself, addressed herself to him or the like of him because of her misfortunes, when do you suppose her small voice would have been heard? Little Mowcher would have as much need to live if she was the bitterest and dullest of pigmies. But she couldn't do it. No, she might whistle for her bread and butter till she died of air. Miss Mowcher sat down on the fender again and took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Be thankful for me if you have a kind heart as I think you have. She said that while I know well what I am, I can be cheerful and endure it all. I am thankful for myself, at any rate, that I can find my tiny way through the world without being beholden to anyone, and that in return for all that is thrown at me in folly or vanity as I go along, I can throw bubbles back if I don't brood over all I want, it is the better for me and not the worse for anyone. If I am a plaything for you giants, be gentle with me. Miss Mowcher replaced her handkerchief in her pocket, looking at me with very intent expression all the while, and pursued. I saw you in the street just now. You may suppose I am not able to walk as fast as you, with my short legs and short breath, and I couldn't overtake you. You. But I guessed where you came and came after you. I have been here before to day. But the good woman wasn't at ome. Do you know her? I demanded. I know of her and about her, she replied. From Allmer and Joram. I was there at 7 o' clock this morning. Do you remember what Steerforth said to me about this unfortunate girl? That time when I saw you both at the inn, the great bonnet on Miss Mowcher's head head and the greater bonnet on the wall began to go backwards and forwards again. When she asked this question, I remembered very well what she referred to. Having had it in my thoughts many times that day, I told her so. Remember when Miss Moucher came to cut Steerforth's hair? They were talking about little Emily. May the father of all evil confound him, said the little woman, holding up her forefinger between me and her sparkling eyes, and ten times more confound that wicked servant. But I believed it was you who had a boyish passion for her. I? I repeated. Child, child, in the name of blind ill fortune. Cried Miss Mowcher, wringing her hands impatiently as she went to and fro again upon the fender. Why did you praise her so, and blush and look disturbed? I could not conceal from myself that I had done this, though for a reason very different from her supposition. What did I know? Said Miss Mowcher, taking out her handkerchief again and giving one little stamp on the ground whenever at short intervals she applied it to her eyes with both hands. At once he was crossing you and wheedling you, I saw, and you were soft wax in his hands, I saw. Had I left the room a minute when his man told me that young innocence, so he called you, and you may call him old guilt all the days of your life. Wife had set his heart upon her, and she was giddy and liked him. But his master was resolved that no harm should come of it more for your sake than for hers, and that that was their business here. How could I but believe him? I saw Steerforth soothe and please you by his praise of her. You were the first to mention her name. You owned to an old admiration of her you were hot and cold and red and white all at once. When I spoke to you of her, what could I think? What did I think but that you were a young libertine in everything but experience and had fallen into hands that had experience enough and could manage you having the fancy for your own good? Oh. Oh, oh. They were afraid of my finding out the truth. Exclaimed Miss Mowcher, getting off the fender and trotting up and down the kitchen with her two short arms distressfully lifted up, because I am a sharp little thing I need to be to get through the world at all. And they deceived me altogether. And I gave the poor unfortunate girl a letter which I fully believe was the beginning of her ever speaking to Littimer, who was left behind on purpose. Okay, so Steerforth and his servant Littimer gave Miss Moucher a letter to deliver to Emily, which Miss Moucher did because she thought it was from David, not from Steerforth. I stood amazed at the revelation of all this perfidy, looking at Miss Mowcher as she walked up and down the kitchen until she was out of breath when she sat upon the fender again and, drying her face with her handkerchief, shook her head for a long time without otherwise moving and without breaking silence. My country rounds, she said at length, brought me to Norwich, Mr. Copperfield, the night before last. What I happened to find there about their secret way of coming and going without you, which was strangeled to my suspecting something wrong. I got into the coach from London last night as it came through Norwich, and was here this morning. Oh, oh, oh, too late. Poor little Mowcher turned so chilly after all her crying and fretting, that she turned round on the fender, putting her poor little wet feet in among the ashes to warm them, and sat looking at the fire like a large doll. I sat in a chair on the other side of the hearth, forth lost in unhappy reflections and looking at the fire too, and sometimes at her. I must go, she said at last, rising as she spoke. Islay, you don't mistrust me, Meeting her sharp glance, which was as sharp as ever when she asked me I could not, on that short challenge, answer no, quite frankly. Come, she said, accepting the offer of my hand to help her over the fender and looking wistfully up into my face. You know you wouldn't mistrust me if I was a full sized woman. I felt that there was much truth in this, and I felt rather ashamed of myself. You are a young man, she said, nodding. Take a word of advice even from free footnothing. Try not to associate bodily defects with mental, my good friend, except for a solid reason. She had got over the fender now, and I had got over my suspicions. I told her that I believed she had given me a faithful account of herself, and that we had both been hapless instruments in designing hands. She thanked me and said I was a good fellow. Now mind. She exclaimed, turning back on her way to the door and looking shrewdly at me with her forefinger up again, I have some reason to suspect from what I have heard, my ears are always open. I can't afford to spare what powers I have that they are gone abroad but if they ever return, if ever any one of them returns while I am alive, I am more likely than another going about as I do to find it out soon. Whatever I know, you shall know. If ever I can do anything to serve the poor betrayed girl, I will do it faithfully. Please heaven. And Littimer had better have a bloodhound at his back than little Mowcher. I placed implicit faith in this last statement when I marked the look with which it was accompanied. Trust me no more, but trust me no less than you would trust a full sized woman, said the little creature, touching me appealingly on the wrist. If ever you see me again, unlike what I am now, and like what I was when you first saw me, observe what company I am in. Call to mind that I am a very helpless and defenceless little thing. Think of me at home with my brother like myself, and my sister like myself, when my day's work is done. Perhaps you won't then be very ard upon me, or surprised if I can be distressed and serious. Good night. I gave Miss Mowcher my hand with a very different opinion of her from that which I had hitherto entertained, and opened the door to let her out. It was not a trifling business to get the great umbrella up and properly balanced in her grasp, but at last I successfully accomplished this, and saw it go bobbing down the street through the rain without the least appearance of having anybody underneath it it, except when a heavier fall than usual from some overcharged water spout sent it toppling over on one side, and discovered Ms. Moucher struggling violently to get it right, after making one or two sallies to her relief, which were rendered futile by the umbrellas, hopping on again like an immense bird before I could reach it. I came in, went to bed, and slept till morning. In the morning I was joined by Mr. Peggotty, and by my old nurse horse, and we went at an early hour to the coach office, where Mrs. Gummidge and Ham were waiting to take leave of us. Master Davy, Ham whispered, drawing me aside while Mr. Peggotty was stowing his bag among the luggage. His life is quite broke up. He don't know where he's going, he don't know what's afore him. He's bound upon a voyage that'll last on and off whole the rest of his days, take my word for it, unless he finds what he's a seeking of. I am sure you'll be a friend to him, Master Davie. Trust me, I will indeed, said I, shaking hands with Ham earnestly. Thanky, thank ye. Very kind, sir. One thing, Furder. I'm in good employ, you know, Master Davie, and I had no way now of spending what I gets. Money's of no use to me no more, except to live. If you can lay it out for him, I shall do my work with a better art, though. As to that, sir. And he spoke very steadily and mildly, you're not to think but I shall work at all times like a man and act the best that lays in my power. I told him I was well convinced of it, and I hinted that I hoped the time might even come when he would cease to lead the lonely life he naturally contemplated now. No, sir, he said, shaking his head, all that's past and over with me, sir. No one can never fill the place that's empty. But you'll bear in mind about the money, as there's at all times some laying by for em reminding him of the fact that Mr. Peggotty derived a steady, though certainly a very moderate income from the bequest of his late brother in law. I promised to do so. We then took leave of each other. I cannot leave him even now without remembering with a pang at once his modest fortitude and his great sorrow. As to Mrs. Gummidge, if I were to endeavour to describe how she ran down the street by the side of the coach, seeing nothing but Mr. Peggotty on the roof, through the tears she tried to repress and dashing herself against the people who were coming in the opposite direction, I should enter on a task of some difficulty. Therefore I had better leave her sitting on a baker's doorstep out of breath, breath with no shape at all remaining in her bonnet, and one of her shoes off, lying on the pavement at a considerable distance. When we got to our journey's end, our first pursuit was to look about for a little lodging for Peggotty where her Brother could have a bed. We were so fortunate as to find one of a very clean and cheap description over a chandler's shop only two streets removed from me. When we had engaged this domicile, I bought some cold meat at an eating house and took my fellow travelers home to tea. A proceeding, I regret to state, which did not meet with Mrs. Crupp's approval, but quite the contrary. I ought to observe, however, in explanation of that lady's state of mind, that she was much offended by Peggotty's tucking up her widow's gown before she had been 10 minutes in the place and setting to work to dust my bedroom. This Mrs. Crupp regarded in the light of a liberty, and a liberty, she said, was a thing she never allowed. Mr. Peggotty had made a communication to me on the way to London, for which I was not unprepared. It was that he proposed first seeing Mrs. Steerforth, as I felt bound to assist him in this, and also to mediate between them with the view of sparing the mother's feelings as much as possible. I wrote to her that night. I told her as mildly as I could what his wrong was, and what my own share in his injury. I said he was a man in very common life, but of a most gentle and upright character, and that I ventured to express a hope that she would not refuse to see him in his heavy troubles. I mentioned two o' clock in the afternoon as the hour of our coming, and I sent the letter myself by the first coach. In the morning, at the appointed time we stood at the door, the door of that house where I had been a few days since, so happy, where my youthful confidence and warmth of heart had been yielded up so freely, which was closed against me henceforth, which was now a waste, a ruin. No littomer appeared. The pleasanter face which had replaced his on the occasion of my last visit answered to our summons and went before us to the drawing room. Mrs. Steerforth was sitting there. Rosa Dardall glided as we went in from another part of the room and stood behind her chair. I saw directly in his mother's face that she knew from himself what he had done. It was very pale and bore the traces of deeper emotion than my letter alone. Weakened by the doubts her fondness would have raised upon it would have been likely to create. I thought her more like him than ever I had thought her, and I felt rather than saw that the resemblance was not lost on my companion. She sat upright in her arm chair with a stately immovable passionless air that it seemed as if nothing could disturb. She looked very steadfastly at Mr. Peggotty when he stood before her, and he looked quite as steadfastly at her. Rosa Dardle's keen glance comprehended all of us. For some moments not a word was spoken. She motioned to Mr. Peggotty to be seated. He said in a low voice, I shouldn't feel natural, ma', am, to sit down in this house. I'd sooner stand. And this was succeeded by another silence, which she broke thus I know with deep regret what has brought you here. What do you want of me? What do you ask me to do? He put his hat under his arm and, feeling in his breast for Emily's letter, took it out, unfolded it, and gave it to her. Please to read that, ma'. Am. That's my niece's hand. She read it in the same stately and impassive way, untouched by its contents as far as I could see, and returned it to him. Unless he brings me back a lady, said Mr. Peggotty, tracing out that part with his finger. I come to know, ma', am, whether he will keep his word. So he's asking her whether Steerforth is going to marry Emily. No, she returned. Why not? Said Mr. Peggotty. It is impossible he would disgrace himself. You cannot fail to know that she is far below him. Them raise her up, said Mr. Peggotty. She is uneducated and ignorant. Maybe she's not. Maybe she is, said Mr. Peggotty. I think not, ma'. Am. But I'm no judge of them. Things teach her better. Since you oblige me to speak more plainly, which I am very unwilling to do, her humble connections would render such a thing immediately impossible, if nothing else did hark to this, ma'. Am. He returned slowly and quietly. You know what it is to love your child. So do I. If she was a hundred times my child, I couldn't love her more. You don't know what it is to lose your child. I do. All the heaps of riches in the world would be naught to me me if they was mine to buy her back. But save her from this disgrace, and she shall never be disgraced by us, not one of us that she's growed up among, not one of us that's lived along with her and had her for there all in all these many year will ever look upon her pretty face again. We'll be content to let her be, will be content to think of her far off, as if she was underneath another sun and sky will be content to trust her to her husband, to her little children perhaps, and bide the time when all of us shall be alike in quality for our God. The rugged eloquence with which he spoke was not devoid of all effect. She still preserved her proud manner, but there was a touch of softness in her voice as she answered, I justify nothing. I make no counter accusations. But I am sorry to repeat, it is impossible. Such a marriage would irretrievably blight my son's character and ruin his prospects. Nothing is more certain than that it never can take place and never will, if there is any other compensation. I am looking at the likeness of the face, interrupted Mr. Peggotty with a steady but a kindling eye that has looked at me in my home, at my fireside, in my boat, were not smiling and friendly when it was so treacherous that I go half wild when I think of it, if the likeness of that face don't turn to burning fire at the thought of offering money to me for my child's blight and ruin. It's as bad, I don't know, being a lady's but what? It's worse. I was essentially saying, how dare you offer me money in exchange for the innocence of my child? She changed now in a moment an angry flush overspread her features, and she said in an intolerant manner, grasping the armchair tightly with her hands, what compensation can you make to me for opening such a pit between me and my son? What is your love to mine? What is your separation to ours? Ms. Dardall softly touched her and bent down her head to whisper, but she would not hear a word. No, Rosa, not a word. Let the man listen to what I say. My son, who has been the object of my life, to whom its every thought has been devoted, whom I have gratified from a child in every wish, from whom I have had no separate existence since his birth, to take up in a moment with a miserable girl and avoid me. Me to repay my confidence with systematic deception for her sake, and quit me for her to set this wretched fancy against his mother's claims upon his duty, love, respect, gratitude, claims that every day and hour of his life should have strengthened into ties that nothing could be proof against. Is this no injury? Again Rosa Dardle tried to soothe her. Again, ineffectually I say, Rosa, not a word. If he can stake his all upon the lightest object, I can stake my all upon a greater purpose. Let him go where he will with the means that my love has secured to him does he think to reduce me by long absence? He knows his mother very little. If he does, let him put away his whims now, and he is welcome back. Let him not put her away now, and he shall never come near me, me living or dying, while I can raise my hand to make a sign against it. Unless, being rid of her forever, he comes humbly to me and begs for my forgiveness. This is my right. This is the acknowledgment I will have. This is the separation that there is between us. And is this, she added, looking at her visitor, with the proud intolerant air with which she had begun no injury. While I heard and saw the mother as she said these words, I seemed to hear and see the Son defying them all that I had ever seen in him of unyielding, wilful spirit. I saw in her all the understanding that I had now of his misdirected energy became an understanding of her character too, and a perception that it was in its strongest springs the saints. She now observed to me aloud, resuming her former restraint that it was useless to hear more or to say more, and that she begged to put an end to the interview. She rose with an air of dignity to leave the room when Mr. Peggotty signified that it was needless. Don't fear me beIN any indrance to you. I have no more to say, ma', am, he remarked as he moved towards the door, I come here with no hope. Hope, and I take away no hope. I have done what I thought should be done, but I never looked for any good to come of my standing where I do. This has been too evil a house for me and mine, for me to be in my right senses and expect it. With this we departed, leaving her standing by her elbow chair, a picture of a noble presence and a handsome face we had on our way out to cross a paved hall with glass sides and roofs, roof over which a vine was trained. Its leaves and shoots were green then, and the day being sunny, a pair of glass doors leading to the garden were thrown open. Rosa Dartle, entering this way with a noiseless step when we were close to them, addressed herself to me. You do well, she said. Indeed, to bring this fellow here such a concentration of rage and scorn as darkened her face, face and flashed in her jet black eyes I could not have thought comprehensible even into that face. The scar made by the hammer was as usual in this excited state of her features strongly marked. When the throbbing I had seen before came into it as I looked at her. She absolutely lifted up her hand and struck it. This is a fellow she said to champion and bring here, is he not? You are a true man, Miss Dardle, I returned. You are surely not so unjust as to condemn me. Why do you bring division between these two mad creatures? She returned. Don't you know that they are both mad with their own self will and pride? Is it my doing? I returned? It is your doing, she retorted. Why do you bring this man here? He is a deeply injured man, Ms. Dartley, I replied. You may not know it. I know that James Steerforth, she said with her hand on her bosom, as if to prevent the storm that was raging there from being loud, has a false corrupt heart and is a traitor. But what need I know or care about this fellow and his common niece? Miss Dardle, I returned. You deepen the injury. It is sufficient already. I will only say at parting that you do him a great wrong. I do him no wrong, she returned. They are a depraved, worthless set. I would have her whipped. Mr. Peggotty passed on without a word and went out at the door. Oh, shame, Ms. Dardle, shame, I said indignantly. How can you bear to trample on his undeserved affliction? I would trample on them all, she answered. I would have his house pulled down. I would have her branded on the face, dressed in rags and cast out in the streets to starve. If I had the power to sit in judgment on her, I would see it done. See it done. I would do it. I detest her. If I ever could reproach her with her infamous condition, I would go anywhere to do so. If I could hunt her to her grave, I would. If there was any word of comfort, that would be a solace to her in her dying hour, and only I possessed it. It. I wouldn't part with it for life itself. The mere vehemence of her words can convey I am sensible, but a weak impression of the passion by which she was possessed and which made itself articulate in her whole figure, though her voice, instead of being raised, was lower than usual. No description I could give of her would do justice to my recollection of her, or to her entire deliverance of herself to her anger. I have seen passion in many forms, but I have never seen it in such a form as that. When I joined Mr. Peggotty, he was walking slowly and thoughtfully down the hill. He told me as soon as I came up with him that having now discharged his mind of what he had proposed doing in London. He meant to set out on his travels that night. I asked him where he meant to go. He only answered, I'm a going, sir, to seek my niece. We went back to the little lodging over the chandler's shop and there I found an opportunity of repeating to Peggotty what he had said to me. She informed me in return that he had said the same to her that morning. She knew no more than I did where he was going, but she thought he had some project shaped out in his mind. I did not like to leave him under such circumstances and we all three dined together off a beefsteak piece pie, which was one of the many good things for which Peggotty was famous, and which was curiously flavoured on this occasion I recollect well by a miscellaneous taste of tea, coffee, butter, bacon, cheese, new loaves, firewood, candles and walnut catsup continually ascending from the shop. After dinner we sat for an hour or so near the window without talking much, and then Mr. Peggotty got up and brought his oilskin bag and his stout stick and laid them on the table. He accepted from his sister's stock of ready money a small sum on account of his legacy, barely enough, I should have thought, to keep him for a month. He promised to communicate with me when anything befell him, and he slung his bag about him, took his hat and stick, and bade us both good bye all. Good attend, you dear old woman, he said, embracing Peggotty. And you too, Master Davie, shaking hands with me. I'm a going to seek her far and wide if she should come home while I'm away. But ah, that ain't like to be. Or if I should bring her back, my meaning is that she and me shall live and die where no one can't reproach her. If any hurt should come to me, remember that the last words I left for her was my unchanged love is with my darling child and I forgiver. He said this solemnly, bareheaded. Then putting on his hat, he went down the stairs and away we followed to the door. It was a warm dusty evening, just the time when in the great main thoroughfare out of which that byway turned, there was a temporary lull in the eternal tread of feet upon the pavement and a strong red sunshine. He turned alone at the corner of our shady street into a glow of light in which we lost him. Rarely did that hour of the evening come. Rarely did I wake at night, rarely did I look up at the moon or stars, or watch the falling rain, or hear the wind, but I thought of his solitary figure toiling on poor Pilgrim, and recalled the words I'm a going to seeker fur and wide. If any hurt should come to me, remember that the last words I left for her was my unchanged love is with my darling child and I forgive her. 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. 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. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. Alright everyone, story time is over. To be continued.