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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.
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So brew a pot of tea, find
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a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time.
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Hi.
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Welcome back. I want to say thank you to everyone who came to tea time on Thursday. That was such a fun time. It's always so wonderful to chat with you guys. It's a. I'm so glad that we have this, that we have the Drawing Room, which is our online community, because it means that I get to actually talk to you sometimes. And I really love that. I love that we get to do that. We had a lot of people this time. I think that might have been our biggest turnout yet. So thank you to all of you who showed up and thank you for supporting the show that way. We got to talk about the book, we talked about Dora some more. We talked about Mr. Peggoty and Martha and Emily. It was a really lovely time. So I will let you know in the coming weeks when the next one will be. It will probably be at some point near the end of July. And if you'd like to join us and you haven't yet, and you aren't yet even a member of the Drawing Room, which is our online community, as I say, then you can just scroll into the show notes, into the description of this episode, and you will find a link there that will take you to our online community. It will not automatically sign you up or take your money or anything like that. It will just give you more information and then you can make a decision. So if you are interested at all in joining us, either either for these monthly voice chats, which we call tea time, or to just join the community and get to type into the various channels that we have there, please do click that link and check it out. I hope you'll join us. Other than that, I have one other announcement which is just to let you know, I mentioned this before, but just to let you know that the next two episodes, so the episode on July 2nd and July 6th, I will be away. So I'm gonna be away for those two. But there will still be episodes. They will still drop as usual on those dates. I just won't have questions from you because I'm going to have to record them in advance before I go away. So I don't like doing that. I love your questions. They make the discussion so much richer and so much better. But this is what I'm going to do in order to keep the episodes coming on time while I have to do some travel.
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So this, that will happen.
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And then when I come back, anything that, you know, you guys raised while I was gone, I will read those comments to you and let you know what people are thinking and feeling. And I won't just leave you in the dark about that because I know that you guys like to know what you are all talking about and writing in about. So while I'm away, please do keep writing in. Please do keep your thoughts, your questions coming. And then I will read some of those when I get back. So just those two episodes and then I'll be back. And I have one more kind of chunk of travel in July, so there will be a few other episodes like this. But again, I will let you know before that happens. So just to keep you posted on all of that, other than that, all the usual things, please subscribe. Please tap the five stars if you're enjoying the show and you haven't done that already. Please leave a positive review in your podcast player. And most importantly of all, please tell a friend, a family member, a colleague, a random stranger who just kind of looks like they might like classic books, Anybody at all, please spread the word about this show. It's working. People are finding the show. People are telling me that they found it because it popped up in their podcast player. They're telling me that they found it because somebody told them about it. So you guys are doing a fantastic job. Please keep it up. It's wonderful. And I just. The more the merrier. I just love having new people come and get to share these books with them. So please do spread the word if you can. Okay, let's get into this chapter and into this episode. Last time we read chapter 49, today we're going to be reading chapter 50. We have some, some chatting to do as a couple of things that I want to make sure that we touch on before we get into the chapter and then we'll keep reading. So let's first just remind ourselves about what happened in chapter 49. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, David
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receives a letter from Mr. Macawer which
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seems to be saying that he feels
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he has done something terrible and can't hold it in any longer. He asked David and Traddles to meet him outside the prison at an appointed time. David is Very confused by this. And as he's thinking about it, Traddles
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comes in with a letter from Mrs. Macawer.
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That letter says that Mr. Micawber has not been himself for a long time and is acting erratically and being very secretive. And she's asking Traddles and David to speak with him. David and Traddles are very concerned and they agree to meet Mr. Micawber at the appointed time. And they also write to Mrs. Micawber saying they will speak with him at the appointed time. They find Mr. Micawber waiting for them and he's very upset and agitated.
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He keeps implying that something awful is
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going on but not telling them what it is. They take him back to Ms. Betsy's house where Mr. Dick is very welcoming
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and Ms. Betsy tries to get Mr.
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Macawer to explain what the problem is. Eventually, Mr. Micawber has a kind of
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fit and says that everything bad that's
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happening has to do with Uriah Heep. But he won't tell them what it is. Instead he asks them to meet him at the inn in Canterbury in a week's time. And then he runs off.
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All right, I'm going to read three questions today. The first one comes from Donald Sutherland. He says, poor, poor Micawber. The man is so stressed and conflicted, he totally glitched, which never happens with his oratory. But he simply must explain, expose whatever he has on our old friend Uriah Heep. I can't wait to find out. This next one comes from Corinthia. She says, although I feel so bad for Mr. And Mrs. Macawber and the hardships they have endured, I also feel a surge of excitement that Uriah Heep is finally about to face the consequences of his actions. That sniveling, manipulative man does nothing but
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spread misery wherever he goes. And thank goodness for the kindness of
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Mr. Dick and the wisdom of Aunt
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Betsy, whose steady presence brings much need,
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needed hope and balance to the situation. And the last one comes from our online community, the Drawing Room. And this person goes by the handle it, she says, when Mr. Macawber loses his train of thought and Mr. Dick brings him back and they shake hands
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again, that was my favorite part, other
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than, of course, the thought of Uriah going down. Okay, so the thing that I love Most about chapter 49 is the way that the chapter itself is a lot like the Macabre's. You know, it starts off with this letter from Mr. Macabre and you're sort of like, oh my gosh, get to the point, what are you even talking about? Why are we wasting our time with this? Dora is potentially dying, Little Emily is still missing. Why are we stuck here waiting around in Mr. Macabre's like, prose? And then we get the letter from Mrs.
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Macabre.
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And that too is initially sort of like, yeah, we know that we had this letter already. We know something bad is going on with Mr. Macabre, but something bad is always going on with Mr.
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Macabre.
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So could we please get back to the main plot lines? And then Suddenly, like, wham. Mr. Macawer gets to the point and we learn that he seems to have some kind of dirt on Uriah Heep and that he's potentially willing to reveal it and bring Uriah down. And all of a sudden, we care very deeply about this chapter. And it's kind of like how in amongst the macabre silliness and long windedness, we actually have come to really love and care about them as well. So I think that's really cool. But plus, like Wit says, it is hilarious, I think, when Mr. Macawer gets going and he has this sort of fit at the end, and that's fantastic too.
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But let's take a look at what
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is actually going on here, because Mr. Macawer wasn't really that clear, right? But I think we can kind of piece it together and it's important. So for a while now, right, something has been up with Mr. Macabre. David got that letter from Mrs. Macabre a while back saying that he's changed. And now Traddles has gotten another letter saying that he's still secretive and violent and all of this. And David has gotten a letter from Mr. Macabre saying that his life is over, he can't go on. But he's kind of always saying stuff like that, so it's hard to tell what he means. But he says, this is a quote. My brightest visions are forever dispelled. That my peace is shattered and my power of enjoyment destroyed.
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That my heart is no longer in
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the right place, and that I no more walk erect before my fellow man. The canker is in the flower, the cup is bitter to the brim, and the worm is at his work and will soon dispose of his victim. So this sounds a lot like all the other times that he's written to say that his life is over because his debts have come due, only to be seen moments later eating shrimp out of his pocket or whatever it was. But the difference here, I think if we try to parse Mr. Macawer's very verbose and kind of roundabout writing. But the difference is that he seems this time to be saying that he has done something that he feels guilty about. You know, all this stuff about not being able to walk erect hard. Not being in the right place and all of that. That is different than his usual lamentations. Because normally, even though it is him that gets himself into debt. But normally he's not blaming himself. He usually acts like a sort of victim of fate or something. But now he seems to be saying that he has a guilty conscience.
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So that's different.
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And Mrs. Macawer's letter also describes a situation that seems quite different. Than the kind of maudlin grief and hopelessness that Mr. Macabre us expresses. She says Mr. T. Can form no adequate idea of the change in Mr. Macabre's conduct, of his wildness, of his violence. It has gradually augmented until it assumes the appearance of aberration of intellect. Scarcely a day passes, I assure Mr. Tradles, on which some paroxysm does not take place. Mr. T. Will not require me to depict my feelings. When I inform him that I have
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become accustomed to hear Mr. Bawber assert
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that he has sold himself to the D. Okay, so again, it seems like Mr. Macawer is keeping a secret. And that it's a secret he feels very, very guilty about keeping. And the funny thing about Mr. Macawer is that even though he is in debt and he borrows money and he can't pay it back. And all of this we've talked before about. He's actually a very moral, very upstanding kind of guy. He doesn't take advantage of people on purpose. He doesn't cheat people or swindle them. He always implies intends to pay them back. And so the fact that he's being secretive and feeling guilty is an entirely new situation for him.
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And all of this is further impressed upon us.
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When David and Traddles go to meet with Mr. McCabe outside of the prison. And Mr. Macabre is going on about the time he spent in the prison. And saying it's the happiest time of his life. So, I mean, this is very funny. It's very. Mr. Macawer, he says, I was about to observe that I again behold the serene spot. Where some of the happiest hours of my existence fleeted by. And, you know, they were the happiest because he was in prison. And so he didn't incur any debts. No one was after him for money. He was Able to live free of all the pecuniary difficulties, as he calls them, that he's always suffering from. So in a funny way, you could see how he would look back on that time fondly. But it's not just that that makes his time in the prison feel like a fond memory to Mr. Macawer. He says, when I was an inmate
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of that retreat, I could look my
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fellow man in the face and punch his head if he offended me.
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My fellow man and myself are no
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longer on those glorious terms. So again, he's telling us that he has done something bad. Something he feels deeply guilty about and which violates his own code of moral conduct. And he seems to have done this thing while working for Uriah Heap. Now remember, the last time that David saw Mr. Micawber was at the Wakefields house where Uriah had taken over as
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joint partner of the law firm.
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And at that time Mr. Macawer was sort of distant. He refused to talk about his business and what was going on at the office. And he spoke actually very highly of uriah. But now Mr. Macawer clearly feels that Uriah is akin to the devil as we also kind of feel, right? He says, if you ask after my employer as your friend, I am sorry for it. If you ask after him as my friend, I sardonically smile at it. In whatever capacity you ask after my employer, I beg without offense to you to limit my reply to this. That whatever his state of health may be, his appearance is foxy, not to say diabolical. Okay, so now we can perhaps begin to link this thing that Mr. Macawer has done and that he feels terrible about but for whatever reason feels he must keep doing. We can begin to potentially link this to Uriah Heep. And he also gives us a clue about why he might be doing something bad while working for Uriah. Even though he hates what he's doing and really doesn't want to be doing it. He says, my employer, ma', am, Mr. Heap once did me the favor to
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observe to me that if I were
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not in the receipt of the stipendiary emoluments appertaining to my engagement with him, I should probably be a Montebank about the country swallowing a sword blade and eating the devouring element. Meaning Uriah is the source of Mr. Macawer's income. And Uriah has clearly threatened Mr. Macawer
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that if he were ever to speak,
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stop doing whatever it is that he's doing for Uriah, then Uriah would fire him immediately and leave him Totally penniless and potentially in debt again, since we know from earlier that Mr. Macawer has had to ask for advances on his salary and that Uriah has given them. So this gives us the sense that
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uriah has asked Mr. Macawber to do something shady.
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That Mr. Macawer has been doing it because he wants to keep being able
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to provide for his family but that
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he hates doing it because he thinks it's wrong. But as Donald says in his letter it seems like Mr. Macawer has reached a point of not being able to do whatever this bad thing is anymore. That his conscience has won out and that he will face the financial consequences of breaking away from Uriah in order to clear his conscience and restore his loving relationship with his family. He says, I have been under a taboo in that infernal scoundrel's service. Give me back my wife. Give me back my family. Substitute macabre for the petty wretch who walks about in the boots at present on my feet and call upon me to swallow a sword tomorrow and I'll do it with an appetite. Meaning Uriah has told me to keep quiet and threaten me with debt and poverty if I spoke up. But now he sees that it's much better to be destitute and honest than it is to be financially secure but doing something harmful, which is actually really courageous and upstanding of him which again points to the fact that even though Mr. Macawer is always in debt and always borrowed, borrowing from people and things like that he actually is a good and upstanding man and it's been eating him up inside that he has fallen prey to Uriah in whatever way he has and that he has allowed himself to go against his own principles for money.
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And while we don't know yet what
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it actually is that uriah has gotten Mr. Macawer to do we do get this one clue. Mr. Macawer says, what is the matter, gentlemen? What is not the matter? Villainy is the matter. Baseness is the matter. Deception, fraud, conspiracy are the matter. And the name of the whole atrocious mass is heap. Okay, so deception, fraud and conspiracy. Assuming that Mr. Macawer isn't, like, exaggerating for effect those are all things that Uriah could actually be found guilty of in a court of law. So if Mr. Macawer actually does have something on him and if he sticks to his guns and reveals it which I think is still kind of an open question given how upsetting it clearly is for Mr. McCabe to speak out but if he does reveal whatever this is, Uriah Heat might actually get what's coming to him, which would be so delicious, wouldn't it? And maybe it would even save Agnes from having to marry him one day. So a lot is riding now on Mr. Macawber doing the right thing here and on him actually having some sort of evidence against Uriah that would stand up in court or something. But I want to just end by touching on what Corinthia is talking about in her letter which is that the way in which miss Betsy and Mr. Dick yet again provide the kind of emotional center of the scene. This thing where Mr. Dick keeps shaking Mr. Macawer's hand. I mean, it's really funny, but it. It also is almost unbearably sweet. David says Mr. Dick was at home. He was by nature so exceedingly compassionate of anyone who seemed to be ill at ease and was so quick to find any such person out that he sh. Hands with Mr. Macawer at least half a dozen times in five minutes. And Mr. Macawer is clearly very touched by this and touched that as he is standing there saying that he himself has done a terrible thing and ought to be cast out by all mankind. Here is a stranger coming to him and offering him a gesture of friendship. And that is what Mr. Dick is so good at. He's so good at sensing when someone is in need of care and love and. And cutting through all of the kind of social rules and etiquette to give that love. And he does that here, which I think is so lovely. And Miss Betsy is her usual kind of shrewd and practical self and she takes the situation in hand so that Mr. Micawber feels comfortable enough to eventually reveal his situation. David says, my aunt, though I saw that her shrewdest observation was concentrated on her new guest had more useful possession of her wits than either of us, for she held him in conversation and made it necessary for him to talk whether he liked it or not. Okay. So, as Corinthia says, Mr. Dick and Ms. Betsy bring a kind of calmness and care and attention to the situation that it desperately needs. And I don't know that Mr. Macawber would have eventually got to the point if they hadn't been there.
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So as things now stand, in one
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week, David and Traddles and Miss Betsy are supposed to go to Canterbury and meet Mr. Macawber at the inn there where he will apparently reveal this terrible thing that Uriah has been asking him to do. So hopefully that will happen, and hopefully we will get to watch Uriah get his comeuppance, which would be so great. But I think there's a lot that could actually go wrong between now and then, so we're going to have to just wait and see what happens. And there is only one way to do that, of course, which is to keep reading. So we're going to do that now. We're going to get to the chapter, but please don't forget to write to me even though I'm going to be away for the next two episodes. Please do keep, keep writing. I will talk about the next two chapters as well as I possibly can in the next two episodes and then I'll come back to your comments and questions because I love those and I don't want to miss them. So please do get in touch even when I'm away.
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All right, let's get started with chapter 50 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 50. Mr. Peggotty's dream comes true. By this time, some months had passed since our interview on the bank of the river with Martha. I had never seen her since, but she had communicated with Mr. Peggotty on several occasions. Nothing had come of her zealous intervention, nor could I infer from what he told me that any clue had been obtained for a moment to Emily's fate. I confess that I began to despair of her recovery and gradually to sink deeper and deeper into the belief that she was dead. His conviction remained unchanged, so far as I know, and I believe his honest heart was transparent to me. He never wavered again in his solemn certainty of finding her. His patience never tired. And although I trembled for the agony it might one day be to him to have his strong assurance shivered at a blow, there was something so religious in it, so affectingly expressive of its anchor, being in the purest depths of his fine nature, that the respect and honour in which I held him were exalted every day. His was not a lazy trustfulness that hoped and did no more. He had been a man of sturdy action all his life, and he knew that in all things wherein he wanted help, he must do his own part faithfully and help himself. I have known him set out in the night on a misgiving that the light might not be by some accident in the window of the old boat and walk to Yarmouth. I have known him on reading something in the newspaper that might apply to her, take up his stick and go forth on a journey of three or fourscore miles. He made his way by sea to Naples and Back after hearing the narrative to which Ms. Dardall had assisted me. All his journeys were ruggedly performed, for he was always steadfast in a purpose of saving money for Emily's sake when she should be found ground in all this long pursuit. I never heard him repine. I never heard him say he was fatigued or out of heart. Dora had often seen him since our marriage and was quite fond of him. I fancy his figure before me now, standing near her sofa with his rough cap in his hand and the blue eyes of my child wife raised with a timid wonder to his face sometimes of an evening about twilight when he came to talk with me, I would induce him to smoke his pipe in the garden as we slowly paced to and fro together. And then the picture of his deserted home and the comfortable air it used to have in my childish eyes of an evening when the fire was burning and the wind moaning round it came most vividly into my mind one evening at this hour. He told me that he had found Martha waiting near his lodging on the preceding night when he came out account, and that she had asked him not to leave London on any account until he should have seen her again.
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Did she tell you why?
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I inquired. I asked her, Master Davie, he replied, but it is but few words as she ever says, and she only got my promise and she went away.
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Did she say when you might expect to see her again?
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I demanded. No, Master Davie, he returned, drawing his hand thoughtfully down his face. I asked that too. But it was more she said than she could tell, as I had long forborne to encourage him with hopes that hung on threads. I made no other comment on this information than that I supposed he would see her soon. Such speculations as it engendered within me I kept to myself, and those were faint enough.
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Meaning.
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He wonders if Martha has found Emily, but he's not overly hopeful. I was walking alone in the garden one evening about a fortnight afterwards.
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Afterwards?
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I remember that evening well. It was the second in Mr. Micawber's week of suspense. There had been rain all day and there was a damp feeling in the air. The leaves were thick upon the trees and heavy with wet. But the rain had ceased, though the sky was still dark and the hopeful birds were singing cheerfully as I walked to and fro in the garden and the twilight began to close around me. Their little voices were hushed and that peculiar silence which belongs to such an evening in the country when the lightest trees are quite still save for the occasional droppings from their boughs prevailed. There was a little green perspective of trellis work and ivy at the side of our cottage, through which I could see from the garden where I was walking into the road before the house. I happened to turn my eyes towards this place as I was thinking of many things, and I saw a figure beyond, dressed in a plain cloak. It was bending eagerly towards me and beckoning. Martha said, I going to it. Can you come with me? She inquired in an agitated whisper. I have been to him, and he
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is not at home.
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I wrote down where he was to come and left it on his table with my own hand. They said he would not be out long. I have tidings for him.
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Can you come directly?
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My answer was to pass out at the gate immediately. She made a hasty gesture with her hand, as if to entreat my patience and my silence, and turned towards London, whence, as her dress betokened, she had come expeditiously on foot. I asked her if that were not our destination on her, motioning yes, with the same hasty gesture as before, I stopped an empty coach that was coming by, and we got into it. When I asked her where the coachman was to drive, she answered, anywhere near Golden Square and quick, then shrunk into a corner with one trembling hand before her face and the other making the former gesture as if she could not bear a voice, now much disturbed and dazzled with conflicting gleams of hope and dread. I looked at her for some explanation, but seeing how strongly she desired to remain quiet, and feeling that it was my own natural inclination too, at such a time I did not attempt to break the silence. We proceeded without a word being spoken. Sometimes she glanced out of the window as though she thought we were going slowly, though indeed we were going fast, but otherwise remained exactly as at first. We alighted at one of the entrances to the square she had mentioned, where I directed the coach to wait. Not knowing but that we might have some occasion for it, she laid her hand on my arm and hurried me on to one of the sombre streets, of which there are several in that part where the houses were once fair dwellings and the occupation of single families, families, but have and had long degenerated into poor lodgings let off in rooms. Entering at the open door of one of these and releasing my arm, she beckoned me to follow her up the common staircase, which was like a tributary channel to the street. The house swarmed with inmates as we went up. Doors of rooms were opened and people's heads put out, and we passed other people on the stairs, who were coming down in, glancing up from the outside. Before we entered, I had seen women and children lolling at the windows over flower pants pots, and we seem to have attracted their curiosity, for these were principally the observers who looked out of their doors. It was a broad panelled staircase with massive balustrades of some dark wood cornices above the doors ornamented with carved fruit and flowers, and broad seats in the windows. But all these tokens of past grandeur were miserably decayed and dirty. Rot, damp, and age had weakened the flooring, which in many places was unsound and even unsafe. Some attempts had been made, I noticed, to infuse new blood into this dwindling frame by repairing the costly old woodwork here and there with common deal. But it was like the marriage of a reduced old noble to a plebeian pauper, and each party to the ill assorted union shrunk away from the other. Several of the back windows on the staircase had been darkened or wholly blocked up. In those that remained there was scarcely any glass.
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Glass.
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And through the crumbling frames by which the bad air seemed always to come in and never to go out, I saw through other glassless windows into other houses in a similar condition, and looked giddily down into a wretched yard which was the common dust heap of the mansion. We proceeded to the top story of the house two or three times. By the way, I thought, I observed in the indistinct light the skirts of a female figure going up before us.
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Us.
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As we turned to ascend the last flight of stairs between us and the roof. We caught a full view of this figure, pausing for a moment at a door. Then it turned the handle and went in.
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What's this?
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Said Martha in a whisper. She has gone into my room. I don't know her. I knew her. I had recognized her with amazement. For Miss Dardle I said something to the effect that it was a lady whom I had seen before in a few words, words to my conductress, and had scarcely done so when we heard her voice in the room, though not from where we stood. What she was saying. Martha, with an astonished look, repeated her former action and softly led me up the stairs. And then by a little back door which seemed to have no lock, and which she pushed open with a touch into a small empty garret with a low sloping roof, little better than a cupboard. Between this and the room she had called hers, there was a small door of communication standing partly open Here. We stopped breathless with our assent, and she placed her hand lightly on my lips. I could only see of the room beyond that it was pretty large, that there was a bed in it, and that there were some common pictures of ships upon the walls. I could not see Miss Dardell or the person whom we had heard her address. Certainly my companion could not, for my position was the best. A dead silence prevailed for some moments.
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Moments.
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A
Martha kept one hand on my lips and raised the other in a listening attitude. It matters little to me, her not being at home, said Rosa Dartle haughtily. I know nothing of her. It is you I come to see. Me, replied a soft voice. At the sound of it, a thrill went through my frame, for it was Emily's. Yes, returned Miss Dardley. I have come to look at you. What, you are not ashamed of the face that has done so much? The resolute and unrelenting hatred of her tone, its cold stern sharpness and its mastered rage presented her before me as if I had seen her standing in the light. I saw the flashing black eyes and the passion wasted figure, and I saw the scar with its white track cutting through her lips, quivering and throbbing as she spoke. I have come to see, she said, James Steerforth's fancy, the girl who ran away with him and is the town talk of the commonest people of her native place, the bold, flaunting, practised companion of persons like James Steerforth. I want to know what such a thing is like. There was a rustle, as if the unhappy girl on whom she heaped these taunts ran towards the door, and the speaker swiftly interposed herself before was succeeded by a moment's pause. When Miss Dardle spoke again, it was through her set teeth and with a stamp upon the ground. Stay there, she said, or I'll proclaim you to the house and the whole street. If you try to evade me, I'll stop you if it's by the hair and raise the very stones against you. A frightened murmur was the only reply that reached my ear. Years a silence succeeded. I did not know what to do. Much as I desired to put an end to the interview, I felt that I had no right to present myself, that it was for Mr. Peggotty alone to see her and recover her. Would he never come? I thought impatiently. So said Rosa Dardle with a contemptuous laugh. I see her at last. Why, he was a poor creature to be taken by that. That delicate mock modesty and that hanging head.
- [31:45]
C
Oh, for heaven's sake, spare me.
- [31:47]
A
Exclaimed Emily.
- [31:49]
C
Whoever you are, you know my pitiable story. And for heaven's Sake, spare me if you would be spared yourself.
- [31:57]
A
If I would be spared, returned the other fiercely. What is there in common between us, do you think? Nothing but our sex, said Emily with a burst of tears. And that, said Rosa Dartle, is so strong a claim preferred by one so infamous that if I had any feeling in my breast but scorn and abhorrence of you, it would freeze up our sex. You are an honour to our sex. I have deserved this, said Emily, but it's dreadful.
- [32:35]
C
Dear, dear lady, think what I have suffered and how I am fallen. Oh, Martha, come back. Oh, home, home.
- [32:44]
A
Miss Dardall placed herself in a chair within view of the door and looked downward, as if Emily were crouching on the floor before her. Being now between me and the light, I could see her curled lip and her cruel eyes intently fixed on one place with a greedy triumph.
- [33:00]
C
Triumph.
- [33:01]
A
Listen to what I say, she said, and reserve your false arts for your dupes. Do you hope to move me by your tears? No more than you could charm me by your smiles, you purchased slave.
- [33:15]
C
Oh, have some mercy on me, cried Emily. Show me some compassion, or I shall die mad.
- [33:22]
A
It would be no great penance, said Rosa Dartle, for your crimes. Do you know what you have done? Do you ever think of the home you have laid waste?
- [33:33]
C
Oh, is there ever night or day
- [33:36]
B
when I don't think of it?
- [33:38]
A
Cried Emily. And now I could just see her on her knees with her head thrown back, her pale face looking upward, her hands wildly clasped and held out, and her hair streaming about her.
- [33:50]
C
Has there ever been a single minute it waking or sleeping, when it hasn't been before me, just as it used to be in the lost days when I turned my back upon it forever and ever. Oh, home, home. Oh, dear, dear uncle. If you ever could have known the agony your love would cause me when I fell away from good, you never would have shown it to me so constantly, it much as you felt it, but would have been angry to me at least once in my life, that I might have had some comfort. I have none, none, no comfort upon earth, for all of them were always fond of me.
- [34:36]
A
She dropped on her face before the imperious figure in the chair with an imploring effort to clasp the skirts of her dress. Rosa Dardall sat looking down upon her, as inflexible as a figure of brass glass. Her lips were tightly compressed, as if she knew that she must keep a strong constraint upon herself. I write what I sincerely believe, or she would be tempted to strike the beautiful form with her Foot I saw her distinctly, and the whole power of her face and character seemed forced into that expression. Would he never come? The miserable vanity of these earthworms, she said, when she had so far controlled the angry heavings of her breast that she could trust herself to speak. Your home, do you imagine that I bestow a thought on it? Or suppose you could do any harm to that low place which money would not pay for and handsomely?
- [35:33]
C
Your home.
- [35:34]
A
You were a part of the trade of your home, and were bought and sold like any other vendable thing your people dealt with.
- [35:43]
C
Oh, not that.
- [35:44]
A
Cried Emily.
- [35:45]
C
Say anything of me, but don't visit
- [35:48]
A
disgrace and shame more than I have
- [35:51]
C
done on folks who are as honourable as you. Have some respect for them, as you are a lady. If you have no mercy for me,
- [36:00]
A
I speak, she said, not deigning to take any heed of this appeal, and drawing away her dress from the contamination of Emily Billy's touch. I speak of his home where I live. Here, she said, stretching out her hand with her contemptuous laugh, and looking down upon the prostrate girl, is a worthy cause of division between lady mother and gentleman son of grief in a house where she wouldn't have been admitted as a kitchen girl of anger and repining and reproach, this piece of pollution picked up from the waterside to be made much of for an hour, and then tossed back to her original place.
- [36:45]
C
No, no.
- [36:47]
A
Cried Emily, clasping her hands together when
- [36:50]
C
first he came into my way, that the day had never dawned upon me and he had met me being carried to my grave.
- [36:58]
A
I had been brought up as virtuous as you or any lady, and was
- [37:03]
C
going to be the wife of as good a man as you or any lady in the world can ever marry. If you live in his home and know him, you know perhaps what his power with a weak, vain girl might be. I don't defend myself, but I know well, and he knows well, or he will know when he comes to die, and his mind is troubled with that. He used all his power to deceive me, and that I believed him, trusted him, and loved him.
- [37:38]
A
Rosa Dardle sprang up from her seat, recoiled, and in recoiling, struck at her with a face of such malignity, so darkened and disfigured by passion that I had almost thrown myself between them. The blow, which had no aim, fell upon the air, as she now stood panting, looking at her with the utmost detestation that she was capable of expressing, and trembling from head to foot with
- [38:02]
B
rage and scorn I thought I had
- [38:04]
A
never seen such a sight and never could see another.
- [38:07]
C
You love him, you.
- [38:11]
A
She cried, with her clenched hand quivering
- [38:14]
B
as if it only wanted a weapon
- [38:16]
A
to stab the object of her wrath. Emily had shrunk out of my view. There was no reply. And tell that to me, she added, with your shameful lips. Why don't they whip these creatures? If I could order it to be done, I would have this girl whipped to death. And so she would, I have no doubt. I would not have trusted her with the rack itself. While that furious look lasted, she slowly, very slowly, broke into a laugh and pointed at Emily with her hand as if she were a sight of shame for gods and men she love, she said, that carrion and he ever cared for her, she'd tell me ha ha. The liars that these traitors are. Her mockery was worse than her undisguised rage. Of the two, I would have much preferred to be the object of the latter. But when she suffered it to break loose, it was only for a moment she had chained it up again, and however it might tear her within, she subdued it herself. I came here, you pure fountain of love, she said, to see. As I began by telling you what such a thing as you was like, I was curious. I am satisfied also to tell you you that you had best seek that home of yours with all speed and hide your head among those excellent people who are expecting you and whom your money will console when it's all gone. You can believe and trust and love again. You know, I thought you a broken toy that had lasted its time, a worthless spangle that was tarnished and thrown away. But finding you true gold, a very lady and an ill used innocent with a fresh heart, full of love and trustfulness, which you look like and is quite consistent with your story. I have something more to say. Attend to it, for what I say I'll do. Do you hear me, you fairy spirit? What I say, I mean to do. Her rage got the better of her again for a moment, but it passed over her face like a spasm and left her smiling. Hide yourself, she pursued. If not at home somewhere, let it be somewhere beyond reach in some obscure life, or better still, in some obscure death. I wonder if your loving heart will not break. You have found no way of helping it to be still. I have heard of such means. Sometimes I believe they may be easily found. A low crying on the part of Emily interrupted her. Here she stopped and listened to it as if it were music. I am of a strange nature. Perhaps Rosa Dardle went on. But I can't breathe freely in the air you breathe. I find it sickly. Therefore I will have it cleared. I will have it purified of you. If you live here to morrow, I'll have your story and your character proclaimed on the common stair. There are decent women in this house, I am told, and it is a pity such a light as you should be among them and concealed. If, leaving here you seek any refuge in this town, in any character but your true one, which you are welcome to bear without molestation from me, the same service shall be done you. If I hear of your retreat being assisted by a gentleman who not long ago aspired to the favour of your hand, I am sanguine as to that that would he never come? How long was I to bear this? How long could I bear it?
- [42:02]
C
Oh me. Oh me.
- [42:04]
A
Exclaimed the wretched Emily in a tone that might have touched the hardest heart. I should have thought. But there was no relenting in Rosa Dardall's smile.
- [42:13]
C
What? What shall I do?
- [42:17]
A
Do, returned the other.
- [42:19]
B
Live happy in your own reflections.
- [42:22]
A
Consecrate your existence to the recollection of James Steerforth's tenderness.
- [42:27]
C
He would have made you his serving
- [42:28]
B
man's wife, would he not?
- [42:30]
A
Or to feeling grateful to the upright and deserving creature who would have taken you as his gift. Or if those proud remembrances and the consciousness of your own virtue and the honourable position to which they have raised you in the eyes of everything that wears the human shape will not not sustain you, marry that good man and be happy in his condescension. If this will not do either. Die. There are doorways and dust heaps for such deaths and such despair. Find one and take your flight to heaven. I heard a distant foot upon the stairs. I knew it. I was certain it was his. Thank God she moved slowly from before the door when she said this and passed out of my sight. But Mark, she added slowly and sternly, opening the other door, to go away, I am resolved, for reasons that I have and hatreds that I entertain, to cast you out, unless you withdraw from my reach altogether or drop your pretty mask. This is what I had to say, and what I say I mean to do. The foot upon the stairs came nearer, nearer, nearer. Passed her as she went down, rushed into the room.
- [43:45]
C
Uncle.
- [43:47]
A
A fearful cry followed the word. I paused a moment and looking in, saw him supporting her insensible figure in his arms. He gazed for a few seconds in the face, then stooped to kiss it, oh, how tenderly, and drew a handkerchief before it, Master Davy, he said in
- [44:08]
B
a low, tremulous voice when it was covered.
- [44:10]
A
I thank my Heavenly Father as my dreams come true. I thank him heartily for having guided
- [44:18]
B
of me in his own ways.
- [44:20]
A
To my darling. With those words he took her up in his arms and, with the veiled face lying on his bosom and addressed towards his own, carried her, motionless and unconscious, down the stairs. 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
- [45:37]
B
Show Notes to make a donation.
- [45:38]
A
I would really, really appreciate it. Alright everyone, story time is over.
- [45:44]
C
To be continued.