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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hello. Welcome back. I'm so happy you're here. I got several emails this time all about the same topic, but it wasn't about anything that was specifically about this chapter. I got lots of emails about the chapter. I'm going to read some. We're going to talk about the chapter. But it's interesting that several of you wrote to me this time around this week, especially about the fact that we can feel connected and fall in love and care deeply with characters that aren't real. People who never lived, who will never live. That we can love them and worry about them and hate them. And, you know, I'm always saying that reading these books and talking about them will make the world a better place. And this is actually what I mean. You know, the emails that I got this time, many of them said, you know, it, I feel silly. It's so, it's so strange that I love David or I'm worried about him, or that I feel sad for him, or that I love Miss Betsy. It's strange that I can feel this way, way about an imaginary person, someone who doesn't exist. But I don't think that's strange at all. I think that's exactly what books are supposed to do, what novels and what fiction is supposed to do. And if it's a good book, a good novel, that's its job. Its job is to make you fall in love or get angry or be sad or cry. All of the kind of huge range of human emotions that you are capable of are meant to be evoked by fiction. And the wonderful thing about great books is that they cause us to feel and to experience and to do things that we might not ever actually experience and do in real life. But the feelings that we feel are real and they're the things that we feel in our own lives. And often the way that we feel about characters in books helps us to understand things about real people and real situations. But that's not strange at all. I just wanted to say that it's not strange at all to love people who aren't real. It's not strange at all to be thinking about them when you know you're just wandering around going about your day and not reading the book. That's not strange at all. That's beautiful. That's a wonderful thing. It's exactly what fiction is designed to do. So I'm so glad that's happening for you. I'm so glad that this book is doing that for you. I hope lots and lots of books will do that for you over the course of your life. And that's why it makes the world a better place to read these books and then to talk about them. Because these deep, true emotions are the things that we ought to be chasing. Not the whatever dopamine rush or the quick fix that you get from maybe a notification somewhere or scrolling or whatever it is. Those are not the things that we're meant to be chasing. The deep connections, the deep emotions, the things that we feel that matter. Those are the things that we ought to be chasing. And reading great books is the way that we can do that. So thank you for being here and for doing that and for taking the time to fall in love with characters and people who aren't real. It's one of the most wonderful things you can do in this world. So thank you for being a part of it and doing it here with us and with story time for grownups. So today we are going to be reading chapter 46. We read chapter 45 last time and just pretty much all the usual reminders. I do want to remind you that tea time is coming up. It's going to be Thursday, June 25th at 8pm Eastern. That's over in our online community, the drawing room. If you don't know about the drawing room or tea time, you can just scroll into the show notes and find the link that's there. Click on it. It'll tell you everything that you need to know and then you can decide if you want to sign up and if you want to join us. But again, Thursday 25th of June at 8pm Eastern is the next tea time. I hope that you will join us for that. I'm looking forward to it. And of course subscribe. Please tap the 5 stars, leave a positive review, tell a friend, do everything that you can to share this show with other people. Because the more people that listen to the show, the more books that we can do in the future. And also it's just great. Like I was just saying, it's just great to have all these people reading these books. It's what the world needs. I really believe that. So please, please do spread the word. But now let's get into this episode. So let's review what we read last time, then we're going to talk for a bit, then we'll keep going and see what else is going on in David's life. So here is the recap. All right, so where we left off. Mr. Dick comes to David and reveals that he actually understands that he's a bit mad and that he's simple. And he asks David to explain to him what is going on between Dr. Strong and his wife, Annie. David explains, as if he's explaining to a child, that a distance has come between them. Mr. Dick asks why Ms. Betsy or David can't do anything about it, and David says that it's too complicated socially, so Mr. Dick says that he will do something then, since he's only a simpleton. Later, David and Miss Betsy go over to the doctor's house where they find Annie and her mother, Mrs. Markleham. Mrs. Marklehem is constantly trying to get Annie to go out to the theater and other places and is essentially using Dr. Strong for his money. Dr. Strong is with some visitors and Mrs. Markleham accidentally walks in on them and finds that they are lawyers helping Dr. Strong to draw up his will in which he will leave everything to Annie. Ms. Rockleholm reveals this triumphantly to everyone else, which seems tactless to David and Ms. Betsy, and it seems to upset Annie. After the lawyers leave, Mr. Dick leads Annie into Dr. Strong's study and helps her to go to Dr. Strong and speak to him. Everyone else is there too, listening, and Annie asks if there's anyone there who can help them to reconcile. David decides that he must tell her about Uriah. Telling Dr. Strong about Annie and Jack Malden. Annie then reveals that she has always loved Dr. Strong, first as a teacher and a friend, and then as a husband. She had no idea that her mother's motive was that she married for the money, and it has upset her that Mrs. Markleham is always asking for things for her family. She then explains that she did once have a crush on Jack Malden, but she has long since given that up and she knows that she wouldn't have been happy with him. She married Dr. Strong already, having decided this at the party When Jack went to India, she suddenly realized that people were assuming that she and Jack were romantically involved, which was confirmed when Jack asked her to have an affair with him. She was horrified and wanted to tell Dr. Strong, but worried that it would upset upset him too much. So she kept the secret all this time and she dealt with the fact that some people thought she was unfaithful. But she tells him that she has never been unfaithful, even in her mind and she loves him dearly. The doctor is very moved and embraces her and Ms. Betsy commends Mr. Dick for bringing them together. And then David, Mr. Dick and Ms. Betsy leave to give them some privacy. All right, I'm gonna read 4 comments today. The first one comes from Peter Graziano. He says, oh wow, what a roller coaster of a chapter. Go Mr. Dick. And then the drop. When David started repeating that phrase over and over in his head, he just woke up from his adolescent daydream of his mother. Unfortunately, he is still married to that adolescent daydream. Hopefully he can be a good man about it and do right by Dora. The next one comes from Alan Reichert. I hope I'm saying that right. He says, I really started to feel bad for the doctor, dislike his mother in law and gain even more respect for Mr. Dick and Aunt Trotwood. The ending was a salve to the heart. The third one comes from Kathy A she says glad there wasn't any hanky panky going on between the cousins, as we all suspected. And the last one comes from Ursula Poley. She says the realization David came to when he heard Annie say that it would be a mistake to marry someone incompatible of mind and spirit. My heart sunk for him. He is such a dreamer. A wonderful, responsible, successful and kind dreamer. What a tragedy for him yet again if he realizes he married the wrong person. But he is a righteous man who will do right by his wife. Or maybe I'm completely wrong and he'll come to the opposite realization and continue to grow in love with her. Okay, so I mean bombshell, right? Annie Strong is actually not having an affair with Jack Malden. She never was having an affair with Jack Malden. In fact, she loves Dr. Strong and doesn't want to be with anyone else. I mean, like Kathy says, we had all and I count myself here too, since when I first read this book I felt the same way. We had all condemned her in our minds. I didn't get a single letter from anyone at any point saying that maybe we don't have enough evidence to judge her. Maybe she hasn't actually done what David and Mr. Wakefield and everyone thinks that she's done. We all just took David's word for it. But in this case, David wasn't a reliable narrator because he was telling us how it seemed to him at the time. And how it seemed was that she was having an affair. But actually, now that we've heard the story from Annie herself, we learned that all the things that we thought were evidence of an affair can be explained away. And really, Annie has been suffering all this time knowing that people thought this of her, but deciding not to talk to Dr. Strong about it because she knew it would upset him too much and she knew that she wasn't actually doing anything wrong. So she felt it was best to just take the scrutiny and the judgment of other people, including us, onto herself as her own burden. And one thing that's interesting here, I think, is that in the last chapter, so chapter 44, David tells us that he had recently decided to take on to himself the burden of his marriage because he felt that Dora couldn't handle the burden and that it would harm her and it would make her miserable if he tried to make a partner out of her in that way. And here we have Annie making a very similar decision, but for kind of different reasons. And actually, more broadly, I think this is the crux of this chapter. The comparisons that are going on between Dr. And Mrs. Strong's marriage and David and Dora's marriage. Annie says three things, right, that really stick with David. The first one is there can be no disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose. Okay? So obviously this makes David think about Dora and the realization that he's just come to that Dora can't enter into the deeper joys and concerns and whatever of their lives and that he's got to take them all on himself. Because Dora is a much sillier, much simpler, more kind of empty headed sort of person. They are unsuited in mind and purpose. The things that David feels are important are not the things that Dora thinks are important. The things that David thinks about, right, his joys, his dreams, the stories he's writing, the things he's wondering about, Dora can't really understand or enter into those. So even though they do really love each other, and even though Dora really does have strengths that endear her to David, there is a gap there that can't really be denied. And when David hears Annie say that and remember, she's talking about what might have happened had she married Jack Malden the way that she thought she might when she was very young, before she married Dr. Strong. When David hears Annie say that it sticks with him because he is afraid, although subconsciously afraid, right? He says he doesn't actually know it in the moment, why it sticks with him, but clearly he is afraid that that is exactly the kind of marriage that he has made. The second thing that Annie says that sticks with David is the first mistaken impulse of an undisciplined. Again, she's talking about her initial feelings for Jack Malden. And she's saying that, yes, she had a crush on him, essentially when she was younger, but that those first crushes fade. And when you look back, you're really glad that you didn't marry that person. Because it wasn't actual love. It was just infatuation or lust or excitement or whatever. And again, David is realizing, albeit subconsciously, that his love for Dora is that kind of love. It was an impulse of an undisciplined heart. I mean, that's such a great description of it, isn't it? Remember his fawning all over the place and getting dressed up like a fop. And riding his gallant gray. And standing around Adora's window, walking all over the place in too tight boots in case he might bump into her. I mean, he was ridiculous, wasn't he? And none of this is to say that a relationship that begins this way. Can't turn into something deeper, like Ursula and Peter are saying in their letters. But it can't be denied that David's feelings for Dora began as a kind of schoolboy crush. And were based on her looks and her demeanor and her way of being very childish and kind of subconsciously reminding him of his mother and all of this. Which brings me to the third thing that Annie says that sticks with David, which is, my love was founded on a rock. Meaning Annie realizes that the thing that she loves about Dr. Strong so his kindness, his care for her, his protection, the way he taught her everything that she knows, the gratitude she feels for him and the reverence, those are the deeper things that matter when the first flush of attraction and excitement die down. Now, I know that for us as modern readers, we may take some issue with this, particularly the comparison between a husband and a father. But contemporary readers would have been much more comfortable thinking of the husband as a father figure. Because the idea was that the woman would transfer from her father to her husband. And that the husband would perform a lot of the same functions as the father in terms of protection and education and things like that. I mean, obviously there is more to being a husband and that a father wouldn't do, let's just say. But the comparison wouldn't have seemed as odd to people back then as it does to us now. I mean, the concept of giving the daughter away at the wedding. It's like she passes from the father to the husband. So the point here is simply that the deeper, more meaningful things in a relationship are the ones to build your marriage on. Those are the rock, the thing that endures when the first flush of lust or whatever it is, has worn off. And of course David is wondering what his rock is, right? What rock is his marriage with Dora founded on? And I think he's seeing that it's possible there isn't one. That it really is just the first impulse of an undisciplined heart. And the question is, was it a mistaken impulse or can they build a foundation, right? Can they develop a partnership, grow together in mind and purpose and have the kind of marriage that Dr. And Mrs. Strong have? And we still don't know that. But I think that David is realizing little by little that he may not have embarked on this marriage in the best way possible. And that he's been judging Annie for behaving badly when actually he should have been looking at himself. But the comparisons don't end there. Because as Allan says, Mrs. Markleham, Annie's mother, the old soldier, right, she really can't be let off the hook here because in a lot of ways it was actually her and not Annie at all that created the impression that Annie was having an affair with Jack. And, and, and this is the other thing that people thought about incorrectly, including us. And that Annie only married Dr. Strong for his money. It was Mrs. Markleham that was using Dr. Strong for his money. It was Mrs. Markleham that Was using Dr. Strong to help Jack Malden. And all of this reflected badly on Annie who didn't have any of these inclinations. Right? Here is what Annie says. But when I saw how many importunate claims were pressed upon you in my name name, how you were traded on in my name, how generous you were and how Mr. Wickfield, who had your welfare very much at heart, resented it. The first sense of my exposure to the mean suspicion that my tenderness was bought and sold to you of all men on earth fell upon me like unmerited disgrace in which I forced you to participate. Okay. And recently it's been Mrs. Markleham who has seemed to confirm to Dr. Strong what Uriah's revelation caused him to believe, which is that Annie finds him dull and old and wishes that she had married someone younger. When of course, we are learning that actually she doesn't wish that. And she's so glad that she didn't marry Jack when she thought she might want to but Mrs. Markleham says things like, here's a quote, but of course, you don't now, do you enter into the same pursuits and fancies as Annie? And then later, she says it shows that you don't expect, as many elderly people do, expect, old heads on young shoulders. You have studied Annie's character and you understand it. That's what I find so charming. And I say that this is another point of comparison. But this time it's in David's favor. Because While Annie has Mrs. Markleham confusing this situation and making everything worse for her daughter, David has Ms. Betsy clarifying everything and making everything much, much better for her adopted son. And so David and Annie are sort of moving in opposite directions, but hopefully for the good. In both instances. Annie hasn't allowed Dr. Strong into her conf. And hasn't allowed him to shoulder this burden with her because she felt that she was unworthy and that she was a burden to him. And she's learning that a true marriage is a partnership in which the burdens are shared and that her marriage is built on a rock such that it can bear the sorts of burdens that she is now sharing with her husband. And I think it is so beautiful when Annie says, if all this made me shrink within myself, as indeed it did, when I had that to tell, it was still because I honored you so much and hoped that you might one day honor me. And then Dr. Strong replies, that day has shown this long time, Annie, and can have but one long night, my dear. I mean, oh, that's so lovely. But for David, the thing that he has had to learn to do is stop trying to share the burden of his life with Dora, which, of course, is not great. It's sad, it's melancholy, it leaves much to be desired, but it seems to be the right thing to do in this situation, at least at this point in the marriage. And perhaps Dora will grow up. Perhaps motherhood will change her, if that's in the cards for her. Perhaps just watching David and Ms. Betsy and Agnes will, like, over time, cause Dora to grow up a bit and become the partner that David needs. All of that is definitely possible, definitely on the table. But for now, this whole thing that he has witnessed between Annie and Dr. Strong has made David incredibly sad and wistful for himself. And I love this metaphor that he's using for this newfound realization that perhaps he's made the wrong choice, but that it's too late. He says the trodden leaves were lying underfoot and the autumn wind was blowing Meaning the choice is made, there is no going back, and it's all just a little bit sad. But I feel like I cannot move on from this chapter without just quickly touching on Mr. Dick. Dick. Because it is Mr. Dick that brings about this reunion between Dr. And Mrs. Strong. And he does it by cutting through the kind of societal awkwardnesses that have caused everyone else to keep quiet about all of this, even though they've seen their friends getting more and more upset and depressed. And he's able to do this because it turns out that he has an incredible amount of self awareness. You know, Aunt Betsy is always saying that Mr. Dick isn't mad, but he is mad. He just knows he's mad. Here's what he. I am simple. Yes, I am. She pretends I'm not. She won't hear of it, but I am. I know I am. If she hadn't stood my friend, sir, I should have been shut up. To lead a dismal life these many years. Which of course begs the question, if he knows he's mad and he understands that he doesn't operate in the world the way that other people do, is he mad? There's a way in which Miss Betsy is right, don't you think? There's a way in which it's true that Mr. Dick is perfectly sane because he understands who he is, is, and what that means, and he uses it to help other people, which I think is beautiful. And it totally vindicates Ms. Betsy's opinion of him if she needed vindication. Because it is Mr. Dick that essentially tells Dr. And Mrs. Strong that they need to speak to each other, they need to tell each other what's been bothering them, get to the bottom of it and work through it. Because when you love someone, there's no point being at odds with them, which is so simple and so beautiful. And it's a wonderful lesson for everyone, I think. So I wanted to just end with that, with Mr. Dick, but here we are, right? David's still married. He's got a lot to think about after his evening with the Strongs and what's gonna happen next. Well, there is only one way to find that out, which of course is to keep reading. But please don't forget to write to me. It's faithkmore.com click on Contact or scroll into the Show Notes and click that same link. It goes right to my email. I will get back to you. The more emails I get, the longer it takes, which is wonderful for me to get all those emails, but I'm Sorry. It means that it takes usually about a week or so, sometimes 10 days for me to get back to you. But I will get back to you and I would love to hear what you have to say. All right, let's get started with chapter 46 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 46. Intelligence. I must have been married, if I may trust to my imperfect memory, for dates. About a year or so. When one evening as I was returning from a solitary walk, thinking of the book I was then writing for my success had steadily increased with my steady application and I was engaged at that time upon my first work of fiction. I came past Mrs. Steerforth's house. I had often passed it before during my residence in that neighbourhood, though never when I could choose another road. Howbeit it did sometimes happen that it was not easy to find another without making a long circuit. And so I had passed that way upon the whole pretty often. I had never done more than glance at the house as I went by with a quickened step. It had been uniformly gloomy and dull. None of the best rooms abutted on the road and the narrow, heavily framed old fashioned windows, never cheerful under any circumstances, looked very dismal, close shut with their blinds always drawn down. There was a covered way across a little paved court to an entrance that was never used. And there was one round staircase window at odds with all the rest and the only one unshaded by a blind, which had the same unoccupied blank look. I do not remember that I ever saw a light in all the house. If I had been a casual passer by, I should have probably supposed that some childless person lay dead in it. If I had happily possessed no knowledge of the place and had seen it often in that changeless state, I should have pleased my fancy with many ingenious speculations, I dare say. As it was, I thought as little of it as I might. But my mind could not go by it and leave it as my body did. And it usually awakened a long train of meditations coming before me on this particular evening that I mentioned mingled with the childish recollections and later fancies, the ghosts of half formed hopes, the broken shadows of disappointments dimly seen and understood. The blending of experience and imagination incidental to the occupation with which my thoughts had been busy. It was more than commonly suggestive meaning because he was thinking of the novel he's writing which required him to think of his childhood and his fancies and his memories. He was more likely this time to think about everything that happened with Steerforth when he passed his mother's house. I fell into a brown study, meaning he became absorbed in his thoughts as I walked on, and a voice at my side made me start. It was a woman's voice, too. I was not long in recollecting Mrs. Steerforth's little parlour maid, who had formerly worn blue ribbons in her cap. She had taken them out now to adapt herself, I suppose, to the altered character of the house, and wore but one or two disconsolate beaux of the sober brown. If you please, sir, would you have the goodness to walk in and speak to Miss Dardle? Has Miss Dardle sent you for me? I inquired not to night, sir, but it's just the same. Miss Dardle saw you pass a night or two ago, and I was to sit at work on the staircase. And when I saw you pass again to ask you to step in and speak to her, I turned back and inquired of my conductor as we went along how Mrs. Steerforth was. She said her lady was but poorly and kept her own room a good deal. When we arrived at the house, I was directed to Miss Dardalle in the garden and left to make my presence known to her myself. She was sitting on a seat at one end of a kind of terrace overlooking the great city. It was a sombre evening, with a lurid light in the sky, and as I saw the prospect scowling in the distance, with here and there some larger object starting up into the sullen glare, I fancied it was no inapt companion to the memory of this fierce woman. She saw me as I advanced and rose for a moment to receive me. I thought her then still more colourless and thin than when I had seen her last, the flashing eyes still brighter and the scar still plainer. Our meeting was not cordial. We had parted angrily on the last occasion, and there was an air of disdain about her which she took no pains to conceal. I am told you wish to speak to me, Ms. Dardle, said I, standing near her with my hand upon the back of the seat and declining her gesture of invitation to sit down, if you please, said she. Pray, has this girl been found? No. And yet she has run away. I saw her thin lips working while she looked at me as if they were eager to load her with reproaches. Run away? I repeated. Yes, from him, she said with a laugh. If she is not found, perhaps she never will be found. She may be dead. The vaunting cruelty with which she met my glance I never saw expressed in any other face that ever I have seen. To wish her dead, said I, may be the kindest wish that one of her own sex could bestow upon her. I am glad that time has softened you so much, Ms. Dardle. She condescended to make no reply, but turning on me with another scornful laugh, said, the friends of this excellent and much injured young lady are friends of yours. You are their champion and assert their rights. Do you wish to know what is known of her? Yes, said I. She rose with an ill favoured smile, and taking a few steps towards a wall of holly that was near at hand, dividing the lawn from a kitchen garden, said in a louder voice, come here, as if she were calling to some unclean beast, you will restrain any demonstrative championship or vengeance in this place. Of course, Mr. Copperfield, said she, looking over her shoulder at me with the same expression. I inclined my head without knowing what she meant, and she said, come here again, and returned, followed by the respectable Mr. Lidimer, who with undiminished respectability, made me a bow and took up his position behind her. The air of wicked grace, of triumph, in which, strange to say, there was yet something feminine and alluring with which she reclined upon the seat between us and looked at me, was worthy of a cruel princess in a legend. Now, she said imperiously, without glancing at him and touching the old wound as it throbbed, perhaps in this instance with pleasure rather than pain. Tell Mr. Copperfield about the flight, Mr. James. So Mr. James is Steerforth and myself, ma'. Am. Don't address yourself to me, she interrupted with a frown. Mr. James and myself, sir. Nor to me, if you please, said I, Mr. Littimer, without being at all discomposed, signified by a slight obeisance that anything that was most agreeable to us was most agreeable to him, and began again. Mr. James and myself have been abroad with the young woman ever since she left Yarmouth. Under Mr. James's protection we have been in a variety of places and seen a deal of foreign country. We have been in France, Switzerland, Italy, in fact almost all parts. He looked at the back of the seat as if he were addressing himself to that, and softly played upon it with his hands, as if he were striking chords upon a dumb piano. Mr. James took quite uncommonly to the young woman, and was more settled for a length of time than I have known him to be since I have been in his service. The young woman was very improvable and spoke the languages, and wouldn't have been known for the same country person. I Noticed that she was much admired wherever we went. Miss Dardle put her hand upon her side. I saw him steal a glance at her and slightly smile to himself. Very much admired indeed, the young woman was, what with her dress, what with the air and sun, what with being made so much of, what with this and that and the other, her merits really attracted general notice. He made a short pause. Her eyes wandered restlessly over the distant prospect, and she bit her nether lip to stop that busy mouth. Taking his hands from the seat and placing one of them within the other as he settled himself on one leg, Mr. Littimer proceeded with his eyes cast down and his respectable head a little advanced and a little on one side. The young woman went on in this manner for some time, being occasionally low in her spirits, until, I think, she began to weary M. James by giving way to her low spirits and tempers of that kind. And things were not so comfortable, Mr. James. He began to be restless again. The more restless he got, the worse she got. And I must say for myself that I had a very difficult time of it indeed between the two. Still, matters were patched up here and made good there over and over again, and altogether lasted, I am sure, for a longer time than anybody could have expected. Recalling her eyes from the distance, she looked at me again, now with her former air. Mr. Littimer, clearing his throat behind his hand with a respectable short cough, changed legs and went on. At last, when there had been upon the whole a good many words and reproaches, Mr. James, he set off one morning for the neighbourhood of Naples, where we had a villa. The young woman, being very partial to the sea and under pretence of coming back in a day or so, left it in charge with me to break it out that for the general happiness of all concerned he was here. An interruption of the short cough gone. But Mr. James, I must say, certainly did behave extremely honourable, for he proposed that the young woman should marry a very respectable person who was fully prepared to overlook the past past, and who was at least as good as anybody the young woman could have aspired to in a regular way, her connections being very common. He changed legs again and wetted his lips. I was convinced that the scoundrel spoke of himself, and I saw my conviction reflected in Miss Dardall's face, meaning Littimer is the person that Steerforth suggested that Emily should marry. This I also had it in charge to communicate. I was willing to do anything to relieve Mr. James from his difficulty and to restore harmony between himself and an Affectionate parent who has undergone so much on his account. Therefore I undertook the commission. The young woman's violence, when she came to after I broke the fact of his departure, was beyond all expectations. She was quite mad and had to be held by force, or if she couldn't have got to a knife or got to the sea, she'd have beaten her head against the marble floor. Miss Dardell, leaning back upon the seat with a light of exultation in her face, seemed almost to caress the sounds this fellow had uttered. But when I came to the second part of what had been entrusted to me, said Mr. Littimer, rubbing his hands uneasily, which anybody might have supposed would have been at all events appreciated as a kind intention, then the young woman came out in her true colours, a more outrageous person I never did see. Her conduct was surprisingly bad. She had no more gratitude, no more feeling, no more patience, no more reason in her than a stock or a stone. If I hadn't been upon my guard, I am convinced she would have had my blood. I think the better of her for it, said I indignantly. Mr. Littimer bent his head as much as to say, indeed, sir, but you're young, and resumed his narrative. It was necessary, in short, for a time, to take away everything nigh her that she could do herself or anybody else an injury with, and to shut her up close. Notwithstanding which she got out in the night, forced the lattice of a window that I had nailed up myself, dropped on a vine that was trailed below, and never has been seen or heard of to my knowledge since. She is dead. Perhaps, said Miss Dardle with a smile, as if she could have spurned the body of the ruined girl. She may have drowned herself, miss, returned Mr. Littimer, catching at an excuse for addressing himself to somebody. It's very possible, or she may have had assistance from the boatmen and the boatmen's wives and children being given to low company, she was very much in the habit of talking to them on the beach, Miss Dartle, and sitting by their boats. I have known her to do it when Mr. James has been away whole days. Mr. James was far from pleased to find out once that she had told the children she was a boatman's daughter, and that in her own country long ago, she had roamed about the beach like them. Oh, Emily, unhappy beauty. What a picture rose before me of her sitting on the far off shore among the children like herself, when she was innocent, listening to little voices such as might have called her mother, had she been a Poor man's wife. And to the great voice of the sea, with its eternal nevermore, when it was clear that nothing could be done. Ms. Stardle, did I tell you not to speak to me? She said with stern contempt. You spoke to me, miss, he replied. I beg your pardon, but it is my service to obey. Do your service, she returned. Finish your story and go. When it was clear, he said with infinite respectability and an obedient bow, that she was not to be found, I went to Mr. James at the place where it had been agreed that I should write to him, and informed him of what had occurred. Words passed between us in consequence, and I felt it due to my character to leave him. I could bear, and I have borne a great deal from Mr. James. But he insulted me too far. He hurt me. Knowing the unfortunate difference between himself and his mother and what her anxiety of mind was likely to be, I took the liberty of coming home to England and relatingfor money which I paid him, said Miss Dardall to me. Just so, ma', am, and relating what I knew. I am not aware, said Mr. Littimer after a moment's reflection, that there is anything else. I am at present out of employment and should be happy to meet with a respectable situation. Miss Dardall glanced at me as though she would inquire if there were anything that I desired to ask. As there was something which had occurred to my mind, I said in reply, I could wish to know from this creature. I could not bring myself to utter any more conciliatory word whether they intercepted a letter that was written to her from home, or whether he supposes that she received it. He remained calm and silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground and the tip of every finger of his right hand delicately poised against the tip of every finger of his left left. Ms. Darnell turned her head disdainfully towards him. I beg your pardon, miss, he said, awakening from his abstraction, but however submissive to you, I have my position though a servant. Mr. Copperfield and you, miss, are different people. If Mr. Copperfield wishes to know anything from me, I take the liberty of reminding you, Mr. Copperfield, that he can put a question to me. I have a character to maintain. After a momentary struggle with myself, I turned my eyes upon him and said, you have heard my question. Consider it addressed to yourself, if you choose. What answer do you make, sir? He rejoined, with an occasional separation and reunion of those delicate tips. My answer must be qualified, because to betray Mr. James confidence to his mother and to betray it to you are two different actions. It is not probable, I consider, that Mr. James would encourage the receipt of letters likely to increase low spirits and unpleasantness. But further than that, sir, I should wish to avoid going. Meaning that they didn't allow Emily to receive the letters that Mr. Peggotty sent her. So she doesn't know that he still loves her and is looking for her. Is that all? Inquired Ms. Dardall of me. I indicated that I had nothing more to say, except I added, as I saw him moving off, that I understand this fellow's part in the wicked story and that I shall make it known to the honest man who has been her father from her childhood. I would recommend him to avoid going too much into public. He had stopped the moment I began and had listened with his usual repose of manner. Thank you, sir. But you'll excuse me if I say, sir, that there are neither slaves nor slave drivers in this country, and that people are not allowed to take the law into their own hands. If they do, it is more to their own peril, I believe, than to other people. Consequently speaking, I am not at all afraid of going wherever I may wish, sir. With that he made a polite bow, and with another to Miss Dartle went away through the arch in the wall of Holly by which he had come. Miss Dardle and I regarded each other for a little while in silence, her manner being exactly what it was when she had produced the man. He says, besides, she observed with a slow curling of her lip, that his master, as he hears, is coasting Spain. And this done is a way to gratify his seafaring tastes till he is weary. But this is of no interest to you. Between these two proud persons, mother and son, there is a wider breach than before and little hope of its healing. For they are one at heart, and time makes each more obstinate and imperial. Neither is this of any interest to you, but it introduces what I wish to say. This devil whom you make an angel of. I mean this low girl whom he picked out of the tide mud with her black eyes full upon me and her passionate finger up, may be alive, for I believe some common things are hard to die. If she is, is. You will desire to have a pearl of such price found and taken care of. We desire that, too, that he may not by any chance be made her prey again. So far we are united in one interest. And that is why I, who would do her any mischief that so coarse a wretch is capable of feeling, have sent for you to hear what you have heard. I saw by the change in her face that some one was advancing behind me. Me. It was Mrs. Steerforth who gave me her hand more coldly than of yore, and with an augmentation of her former stateliness of manner. But still I perceived, and I was touched by it, with an ineffaceable remembrance of my old love for her son. She was greatly altered. Her fine figure was far less upright, her handsome face was deeply marked and her hair was almost white. But when she sat down on the seat, she was a handsome lady still, and well I knew the bright eye with its lofty look that had been a light in my very dreams at school. Meaning she looks so much like Steerforth. Is Mr. Copperfield informed of everything, Rosa? Yes. And has he heard Littimer himself? Yes. I have told him why you wished it. You are a good girl. I have had some slight correspondence with your former friend, sir. Sir. But it has not restored his sense of duty or natural obligation. Therefore I have no other object in this than what Rosa has mentioned. If by the course which may relieve the mind of the decent man you brought here, for whom I am sorry, I can say no more, my son may be saved from again falling into the snares of a designing enemy. Well. She drew herself up and sat looking straight before her, far away. Madam, I said respectfully, I understand. I assure you I am in no danger of putting any strained construction on your motives. But I must say, even to you, having known this injured family from childhood, that if you suppose the girl so deeply wronged has not been cruelly deluded and would not rather die a hundred deaths than take a cup of water from your son's hand, now you cherish a terrible mistake. Well, rosa? Well said Mrs. Steerforth, as the other was about to interpose. It is no matter. Let it be. You are married, sir? I am told, I answered, that I had been some time married and are doing well. I hear little in the quiet life I lead, but I understand you are beginning to be famous. I have been very fortunate, I said, and find my name connected with some praise. You have no mother? In a softened voice, no. It is a pity she returned. She would have been proud of you. Good night. I took the hand she held out with a dignified, unbending air, and it was as calm in mine as if her breast had been at peace. Her pride could still its very pulses, it appeared, and draw the placid veil before her face, through which she sat looking straight before her on the far distance. As I moved away from them along the terrace, I could not help Observing how steadily they both sat gazing on the prospect and how it thickened and closed around them. Here and there some early lamps were seen to twinkle in the distant city and in the eastern quarter of the sky the lurid light still hovered. But from the greater part of the broad valley interposed a mist was rising like a sea, which, mingling with the darkness, made it seem as if the gathering waters would encompass them. I have reason to remember this and think of it with awe for before I looked upon those two again a stormy sea had risen to their feet. Reflecting on what had been thus told me, I felt it right that it should be communicated to Mr. Peggotty. On the following evening I went into London in quest of him. He was always wandering about from place to place with his one object of recovering his niece before him, but was more in London than elsewhere. Often and often now had I seen him in the dead of night passing along the streets, searching among the few who loitered out of doors at those untimely hours for what he dreaded to find. He kept a lodging over the little chandler's shop in Hungerford Market, which I have had occasion to mention more than once. Once, and from which he first went forth upon his errand of mercy. Hither I directed my walk on making inquiry for him. I learned from the people of the house that he had not gone out yet and I should find him in his room upstairs. He was sitting reading by a window in which he kept a few plants. The room was very neat and orderly. I saw in a moment that it was always kept prepared for her reception and that he never went out. But he thought it possible he might bring her home. Home. He had not heard my tap at the door and only raised his eyes when I laid my hand upon his shoulder. Master Davie. Thank ye, sir. Thank ye hearty for this visit. Sit ye down. You're kindly welcome, sir. Mr. Peggotty, said I, taking the chair he handed me. Don't expect much. I have heard some news of Em'. Ly. He put his hand in a nervous manner on his mouth and turned pale as he fixed his eyes on mine. It gives no clue to where she is, but she is not with him. He sat down looking intently at me and listened in profound silence to all I had to tell. I well remember the sense of dignity, beauty even, with which the patient gravity of his face impressed me. When, having gradually removed his eye from mine, he sat looking downward, leaning his forehead on his hand. He offered no interruption, but remained throughout perfectly still. He seemed to pursue her figure through the narrative, and to let every other shape go by him as if it were nothing. When I had done, he shaded his face and continued silent. I looked out of the window for a little while and occupied myself with the plants. How do you fare to feel about it, Master Deevy? He inquired at length. I think that she is living, I replied. I don't know. Maybe the first shock was too rough, and in the wildness of her art that there blue water as she used to speak on, could she ha thought O that so many year, because it was to be her grave. He said this musing in a low, frightened voice, and walked across the room. And yet he added, master Davie, I have felt so sure as she was living. I have knowed, awake and sleeping as it was so true, that I should find her. I have been so led on by it and held up by it, that I don't believe I can have been deceived. No, Emily is alive. He put his hand down firmly on the table and set his sunburnt face into a resolute expression. My niece Emily is alive, sir, he said steadfastly. I don't know where it comes from or how it is, but I am told that she's alive. He looked almost like a man inspired as he said it. I waited for a few moments until he could give me his undivided attention, and then proceeded to explain the precaution that it had occurred to me last night it would be wise to make. Now, now, my dear friend, I began. Thank ye, thank ye, kind sir, he said, grasping my hand in both of his. If she should make her way to London, which is likely, for where could she lose herself so readily as in this vast city? And what would she wish to do but lose and hide herself if she does not go home? And she won't go home, he interposed, shaking his head mournfully. If she had left of her own accord, she might not. As it was, sir, if she should come here, said I, I believe there is one person here more likely to discover her than any other in the world. Do you remember? Hear what I say with fortitude. Think of your great object. Do you remember Martha of our town? I needed no other answer than his face. Do you know that she is in London? I have seen her in the streets, he answered with a shiver. But you don't know, said I, that Emily was charitable to her with Ham's help, long before she fled from home nor that when we met one night and spoke together in the room yonder over the way she listened at the door. Master Davy, he replied in astonishment. That night when it snew so hard. That night. I have never seen her since. I went back after parting from you to speak to her, but she was gone. I was unwilling to mention her to you then, and I am now. But she is the person of whom I speak and with whom I think we should communicate. Do you understand? Too well, sir, he replied. We had sunk our voices almost to a whisper and continued to speak in that tone. You say you have seen her. Do you think that you could find her? I could only hope to do so by chance. I think, Master Davie, I know where to look. It is dark being together. Shall we go out now and try to find her to night? He assented and prepared to accompany me without appearing to observe what he was doing. I saw how carefully he adjusted the little room. Room put a candle ready and the means of lighting it, arranged the bed, and finally took out of a drawer one of her dresses. I remember to have seen her wear it neatly folded with some other garments and a bonnet, which he placed upon a chair. He made no allusion to these clothes. Neither did I. There they had been waiting for her many and many a night. No doubt the time was. Master Deevee, he said as we came downstairs, when I thought this girl Martha almost like the dirt underneath my Emily's feet. God forgive me, there's a difference. Now, as we went along, partly to hold him in conversation and partly to satisfy myself, I asked him about Ham. He said, almost in the same words as formerly, that Ham was just the same wearin away his life with kinder no care no how for it, but never murmuring and liked by all. I asked him what he thought Ham's state of mind was in reference to the cause of their misfortunes, whether he believed it was dangerous, what he supposed, for example, Ham would do if he and Steerforth ever should encounter. I dunno, sir, he replied. I have thought of it oftentimes, but I can't wise myself of it. No matters. Meaning he doesn't know what would happen if they met? I recalled to his remembrance the morning after her departure, when we were all three on the beach. Do you recollect, said I, a certain wild way in which he looked out to sea and spoke about the end of it? Sure I do, said he. What do you suppose he meant? Master Davy? He replied, I've put the question to myself a mortimes and never found no answer, sir. And there's one curious thing that though he is so pleasant, I wouldn't fare to feel comfortable to try and get his mind upon it. He never said a word to me as warn't, as dootiful as dootiful could be. And it ain't likely as he'd begin to speak any other ways now, but it's fur from being fleet water in his mind where them thoughts lays. It's deep, sir, and I can't see down. You are right, said I, and that has sometimes made me anxious. And me too, Master Deevie, he rejoined. Even more so, I do assure you, than his venturesome ways. Though both belongs to the alteration in him. I don't know as he'd do violence under any circumstances, but I hope as them two may be kept asunders. Meaning they're both saying that they worry he'll murder Steerforth if he sees him. We had come through Temple Bar into the city, conversing no more now, and walking at my side, he yielded himself up to the one aim of his devoted life and went on with that hushed concentration of his faculties which would have made his figure solitary in a multitude. We were not far from Blackfriars Bridge when he turned his head and pointed to a solitary female figure flitting along the opposite side of the street. I knew it readily to be the figure that we sought. We crossed the road and were pressing on towards her, when it occurred to me that she might be more disposed to feel a woman's interest in the lost girl if we spoke her to. To her in a quieter place, aloof from the crowd and where we could be less observed. I advised my companion, therefore, that we should not address her yet, but follow her. Consulting in this, likewise an indistinct desire, I had to know where she went. He acquiescing, we followed at a distance, never losing sight of her, but never caring to come very near, as she frequently looked about. Once she stopped to listen to a band of music, and then we stopped too. She went on a long way. Still we went on. It was evident from the manner in which she held her course that she was going to some fixed destination, and this and her keeping in the busy streets, and I suppose the strange fascination in the secrecy and mystery of so following any one made me adhere to my first purpose. At length she turned into a dull, dark street where the noise and crowd were lost, and I said, we may speak to her now. And mending our pace, we went after 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. 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.