David Copperfield, Charles Dickens [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

thought came into my head that it might be my mother⁠—I had only thought of Mr. or Miss Murdstone until then⁠—I drew back my hand from the lock, and stopped to have a sob before I went in.

At first I saw nobody; but feeling a pressure against the door, I looked round it, and there, to my amazement, were Mr. Peggotty and Ham, ducking at me with their hats, and squeezing one another against the wall. I could not help laughing; but it was much more in the pleasure of seeing them, than at the appearance they made. We shook hands in a very cordial way; and I laughed and laughed, until I pulled out my pocket-handkerchief and wiped my eyes.

Mr. Peggotty (who never shut his mouth once, I remember, during the visit) showed great concern when he saw me do this, and nudged Ham to say something.

“Cheer up, Mas’r Davy bor’!” said Ham, in his simpering way. “Why, how you have growed!”

“Am I grown?” I said, drying my eyes. I was not crying at anything in particular that I know of; but somehow it made me cry, to see old friends.

“Growed, Mas’r Davy bor’? Ain’t he growed!” said Ham.

“Ain’t he growed!” said Mr. Peggotty.

They made me laugh again by laughing at each other, and then we all three laughed until I was in danger of crying again.

“Do you know how mama is, Mr. Peggotty?” I said. “And how my dear, dear, old Peggotty is?”

“Oncommon,” said Mr. Peggotty.

“And little Em’ly, and Mrs. Gummidge?”

“On⁠—common,” said Mr. Peggotty.

There was a silence. Mr. Peggotty, to relieve it, took two prodigious lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, out of his pockets, and piled them up in Ham’s arms.

“You see,” said Mr. Peggotty, “knowing as you was partial to a little relish with your wittles when you was along with us, we took the liberty. The old Mawther biled ’em, she did. Mrs. Gummidge biled ’em. Yes,” said Mr. Peggotty, slowly, who I thought appeared to stick to the subject on account of having no other subject ready, “Mrs. Gummidge, I do assure you, she biled ’em.”

I expressed my thanks; and Mr. Peggotty, after looking at Ham, who stood smiling sheepishly over the shellfish, without making any attempt to help him, said:

“We come, you see, the wind and tide making in our favour, in one of our Yarmouth lugs to Gravesen’. My sister she wrote to me the name of this here place, and wrote to me as if ever I chanced to come to Gravesen’, I was to come over and inquire for Mas’r Davy and give her dooty, humbly wishing him well and reporting of the fam’ly as they was oncommon toe-be-sure. Little Em’ly, you see, she’ll write to my sister when I go back, as I see you and as you was similarly oncommon, and so we make it quite a merry-go-rounder.”

I was obliged to consider a little before I understood what Mr. Peggotty meant by this figure, expressive of a complete circle of intelligence. I then thanked him heartily; and said, with a consciousness of reddening, that I supposed little Em’ly was altered too, since we used to pick up shells and pebbles on the beach?

“She’s getting to be a woman, that’s wot she’s getting to be,” said Mr. Peggotty. “Ask him.”

He meant Ham, who beamed with delight and assent over the bag of shrimps.

“Her pretty face!” said Mr. Peggotty, with his own shining like a light.

“Her learning!” said Ham.

“Her writing!” said Mr. Peggotty. “Why it’s as black as jet! And so large it is, you might see it anywheres.”

It was perfectly delightful to behold with what enthusiasm Mr. Peggotty became inspired when he thought of his little favourite. He stands before me again, his bluff hairy face irradiating with a joyful love and pride, for which I can find no description. His honest eyes fire up, and sparkle, as if their depths were stirred by something bright. His broad chest heaves with pleasure. His strong loose hands clench themselves, in his earnestness; and he emphasizes what he says with a right arm that shows, in my pigmy view, like a sledgehammer.

Ham was quite as earnest as he. I dare say they would have said much more about her, if they had not been abashed by the unexpected coming in of Steerforth, who, seeing me in a corner speaking with two strangers, stopped in a song he was singing, and said: “I didn’t know you were here, young Copperfield!” (for it was not the usual visiting room) and crossed by us on his way out.

I am not sure whether it was in the pride of having such a friend as Steerforth, or in the desire to explain to him how I came to have such a friend as Mr. Peggotty, that I called to him as he was going away. But I said, modestly⁠—Good Heaven, how it all comes back to me this long time afterwards⁠—!

“Don’t go, Steerforth, if you please. These are two Yarmouth boatmen⁠—very kind, good people⁠—who are relations of my nurse, and have come from Gravesend to see me.”

“Aye, aye?” said Steerforth, returning. “I am glad to see them. How are you both?”

There was an ease in his manner⁠—a gay and light manner it was, but not swaggering⁠—which I still believe to have borne a kind of enchantment with it. I still believe him, in virtue of this carriage, his animal spirits, his delightful voice, his handsome face and figure, and, for aught I know, of some inborn power of attraction besides (which I think a few people possess), to have carried a spell with him to which it was a natural weakness to yield, and which not many persons could withstand. I could not but see how pleased they were with him, and how they seemed to open their hearts to him in a moment.

“You must let them know at home, if you please, Mr. Peggotty,” I said, “when that letter is sent, that Mr. Steerforth is very kind to me, and that I don’t know what I should ever do here without