No More Learning

'He is your brother,' said my mother, fondling me. 'Davy, my pretty boy!
My poor child! ' Then she kissed me more and more, and clasped me round
the neck. This she was doing when Peggotty came running in, and bounced
down on the ground beside us, and went mad about us both for a quarter
of an hour.

It seemed that I had not been expected so soon, the carrier being much
before his usual time. It seemed, too, that Mr. and Miss Murdstone had
gone out upon a visit in the neighbourhood, and would not return before
night. I had never hoped for this. I had never thought it possible that
we three could be together undisturbed, once more; and I felt, for the
time, as if the old days were come back.

We dined together by the fireside. Peggotty was in attendance to wait
upon us, but my mother wouldn't let her do it, and made her dine with
us. I had my own old plate, with a brown view of a man-of-war in full
sail upon it, which Peggotty had hoarded somewhere all the time I
had been away, and would not have had broken, she said, for a hundred
pounds. I had my own old mug with David on it, and my own old little
knife and fork that wouldn't cut.

While we were at table, I thought it a favourable occasion to tell
Peggotty about Mr. Barkis, who, before I had finished what I had to tell
her, began to laugh, and throw her apron over her face.

'Peggotty,' said my mother. 'What's the matter? '

Peggotty only laughed the more, and held her apron tight over her face
when my mother tried to pull it away, and sat as if her head were in a
bag.

'What are you doing, you stupid creature? ' said my mother, laughing.

'Oh, drat the man! ' cried Peggotty. 'He wants to marry me. '

'It would be a very good match for you; wouldn't it? ' said my mother.

'Oh! I don't know,' said Peggotty. 'Don't ask me. I wouldn't have him if
he was made of gold. Nor I wouldn't have anybody. '

'Then, why don't you tell him so, you ridiculous thing? ' said my mother.

'Tell him so,' retorted Peggotty, looking out of her apron. 'He has
never said a word to me about it. He knows better. If he was to make so
bold as say a word to me, I should slap his face. '

Her own was as red as ever I saw it, or any other face, I think; but she
only covered it again, for a few moments at a time, when she was taken
with a violent fit of laughter; and after two or three of those attacks,
went on with her dinner.

I remarked that my mother, though she smiled when Peggotty looked at
her, became more serious and thoughtful. I had seen at first that she
was changed. Her face was very pretty still, but it looked careworn, and
too delicate; and her hand was so thin and white that it seemed to me
to be almost transparent. But the change to which I now refer was
superadded to this: it was in her manner, which became anxious and
fluttered. At last she said, putting out her hand, and laying it
affectionately on the hand of her old servant,

'Peggotty, dear, you are not going to be married? '

'Me, ma'am? ' returned Peggotty, staring. 'Lord bless you, no! '

'Not just yet? ' said my mother, tenderly.

'Never! ' cried Peggotty.

My mother took her hand, and said:

'Don't leave me, Peggotty. Stay with me. It will not be for long,
perhaps. What should I ever do without you! '

'Me leave you, my precious! ' cried Peggotty. 'Not for all the world and
his wife. Why, what's put that in your silly little head? '--For Peggotty
had been used of old to talk to my mother sometimes like a child.

But my mother made no answer, except to thank her, and Peggotty went
running on in her own fashion.

'Me leave you? I think I see myself. Peggotty go away from you? I should
like to catch her at it! No, no, no,' said Peggotty, shaking her head,
and folding her arms; 'not she, my dear. It isn't that there ain't some
Cats that would be well enough pleased if she did, but they sha'n't be
pleased. They shall be aggravated. I'll stay with you till I am a cross
cranky old woman. And when I'm too deaf, and too lame, and too blind,
and too mumbly for want of teeth, to be of any use at all, even to be
found fault with, than I shall go to my Davy, and ask him to take me
in. '

'And, Peggotty,' says I, 'I shall be glad to see you, and I'll make you
as welcome as a queen. '

'Bless your dear heart! ' cried Peggotty. 'I know you will! ' And she
kissed me beforehand, in grateful acknowledgement of my hospitality.
After that, she covered her head up with her apron again and had another
laugh about Mr. Barkis. After that, she took the baby out of its little
cradle, and nursed it. After that, she cleared the dinner table;
after that, came in with another cap on, and her work-box, and the
yard-measure, and the bit of wax-candle, all just the same as ever.

We sat round the fire, and talked delightfully. I told them what a hard
master Mr. Creakle was, and they pitied me very much. I told them what a
fine fellow Steerforth was, and what a patron of mine, and Peggotty said
she would walk a score of miles to see him. I took the little baby in
my arms when it was awake, and nursed it lovingly. When it was asleep
again, I crept close to my mother's side according to my old custom,
broken now a long time, and sat with my arms embracing her waist, and my
little red cheek on her shoulder, and once more felt her beautiful
hair drooping over me--like an angel's wing as I used to think, I
recollect--and was very happy indeed.

While I sat thus, looking at the fire, and seeing pictures in the
red-hot coals, I almost believed that I had never been away; that Mr.
and Miss Murdstone were such pictures, and would vanish when the fire
got low; and that there was nothing real in all that I remembered, save
my mother, Peggotty, and I.

Peggotty darned away at a stocking as long as she could see, and then
sat with it drawn on her left hand like a glove, and her needle in her
right, ready to take another stitch whenever there was a blaze. I cannot
conceive whose stockings they can have been that Peggotty was always
darning, or where such an unfailing supply of stockings in want of
darning can have come from. From my earliest infancy she seems to have
been always employed in that class of needlework, and never by any
chance in any other.

'I wonder,' said Peggotty, who was sometimes seized with a fit of
wondering on some most unexpected topic, 'what's become of Davy's
great-aunt? ' 'Lor, Peggotty! ' observed my mother, rousing herself from a
reverie, 'what nonsense you talk! '

'Well, but I really do wonder, ma'am,' said Peggotty.

'What can have put such a person in your head? ' inquired my mother. 'Is
there nobody else in the world to come there? '

'I don't know how it is,' said Peggotty, 'unless it's on account of
being stupid, but my head never can pick and choose its people. They
come and they go, and they don't come and they don't go, just as they
like. I wonder what's become of her? '

'How absurd you are, Peggotty! ' returned my mother. 'One would suppose
you wanted a second visit from her. '

'Lord forbid! ' cried Peggotty.

'Well then, don't talk about such uncomfortable things, there's a good
soul,' said my mother. 'Miss Betsey is shut up in her cottage by the
sea, no doubt, and will remain there. At all events, she is not likely
ever to trouble us again. '

'No! ' mused Peggotty. 'No, that ain't likely at all. ---I wonder, if she
was to die, whether she'd leave Davy anything? '

'Good gracious me, Peggotty,' returned my mother, 'what a nonsensical
woman you are! when you know that she took offence at the poor dear
boy's ever being born at all. '

'I suppose she wouldn't be inclined to forgive him now,' hinted
Peggotty.

'Why should she be inclined to forgive him now? ' said my mother, rather
sharply.

'Now that he's got a brother, I mean,' said Peggotty.

My mother immediately began to cry, and wondered how Peggotty dared to
say such a thing.

'As if this poor little innocent in its cradle had ever done any harm to
you or anybody else, you jealous thing! ' said she. 'You had much better
go and marry Mr. Barkis, the carrier. Why don't you? '

'I should make Miss Murdstone happy, if I was to,' said Peggotty.

'What a bad disposition you have, Peggotty! ' returned my mother. 'You
are as jealous of Miss Murdstone as it is possible for a ridiculous
creature to be. You want to keep the keys yourself, and give out all the
things, I suppose? I shouldn't be surprised if you did. When you know
that she only does it out of kindness and the best intentions! You know
she does, Peggotty--you know it well. '

Peggotty muttered something to the effect of 'Bother the best
intentions! ' and something else to the effect that there was a little
too much of the best intentions going on.

'I know what you mean, you cross thing,' said my mother. 'I understand
you, Peggotty, perfectly. You know I do, and I wonder you don't colour
up like fire. But one point at a time. Miss Murdstone is the point now,
Peggotty, and you sha'n't escape from it. Haven't you heard her
say, over and over again, that she thinks I am too thoughtless and
too--a--a--'

'Pretty,' suggested Peggotty.

'Well,' returned my mother, half laughing, 'and if she is so silly as to
say so, can I be blamed for it? '

'No one says you can,' said Peggotty.

'No, I should hope not, indeed! ' returned my mother. 'Haven't you heard
her say, over and over again, that on this account she wished to spare
me a great deal of trouble, which she thinks I am not suited for, and
which I really don't know myself that I AM suited for; and isn't she up
early and late, and going to and fro continually--and doesn't she do
all sorts of things, and grope into all sorts of places, coal-holes and
pantries and I don't know where, that can't be very agreeable--and do
you mean to insinuate that there is not a sort of devotion in that? '

'I don't insinuate at all,' said Peggotty.

'You do, Peggotty,' returned my mother. 'You never do anything else,
except your work. You are always insinuating. You revel in it. And when
you talk of Mr. Murdstone's good intentions--'

'I never talked of 'em,' said Peggotty.

'No, Peggotty,' returned my mother, 'but you insinuated. That's what I
told you just now. That's the worst of you. You WILL insinuate. I said,
at the moment, that I understood you, and you see I did. When you talk
of Mr. Murdstone's good intentions, and pretend to slight them (for I
don't believe you really do, in your heart, Peggotty), you must be as
well convinced as I am how good they are, and how they actuate him in
everything. If he seems to have been at all stern with a certain person,
Peggotty--you understand, and so I am sure does Davy, that I am not
alluding to anybody present--it is solely because he is satisfied that
it is for a certain person's benefit. He naturally loves a certain
person, on my account; and acts solely for a certain person's good. He
is better able to judge of it than I am; for I very well know that I am
a weak, light, girlish creature, and that he is a firm, grave, serious
man. And he takes,' said my mother, with the tears which were engendered
in her affectionate nature, stealing down her face, 'he takes great
pains with me; and I ought to be very thankful to him, and very
submissive to him even in my thoughts; and when I am not, Peggotty, I
worry and condemn myself, and feel doubtful of my own heart, and don't
know what to do. '

Peggotty sat with her chin on the foot of the stocking, looking silently
at the fire.

'There, Peggotty,' said my mother, changing her tone, 'don't let us fall
out with one another, for I couldn't bear it. You are my true friend, I
know, if I have any in the world. When I call you a ridiculous creature,
or a vexatious thing, or anything of that sort, Peggotty, I only mean
that you are my true friend, and always have been, ever since the night
when Mr. Copperfield first brought me home here, and you came out to the
gate to meet me. '

Peggotty was not slow to respond, and ratify the treaty of friendship by
giving me one of her best hugs. I think I had some glimpses of the real
character of this conversation at the time; but I am sure, now, that
the good creature originated it, and took her part in it, merely that
my mother might comfort herself with the little contradictory summary in
which she had indulged. The design was efficacious; for I remember that
my mother seemed more at ease during the rest of the evening, and that
Peggotty observed her less.

When we had had our tea, and the ashes were thrown up, and the candles
snuffed, I read Peggotty a chapter out of the Crocodile Book, in
remembrance of old times--she took it out of her pocket: I don't know
whether she had kept it there ever since--and then we talked about Salem
House, which brought me round again to Steerforth, who was my great
subject. We were very happy; and that evening, as the last of its race,
and destined evermore to close that volume of my life, will never pass
out of my memory.

It was almost ten o'clock before we heard the sound of wheels. We all
got up then; and my mother said hurriedly that, as it was so late, and
Mr. and Miss Murdstone approved of early hours for young people, perhaps
I had better go to bed. I kissed her, and went upstairs with my candle
directly, before they came in. It appeared to my childish fancy, as I
ascended to the bedroom where I had been imprisoned, that they brought
a cold blast of air into the house which blew away the old familiar
feeling like a feather.

I felt uncomfortable about going down to breakfast in the morning, as
I had never set eyes on Mr. Murdstone since the day when I committed my
memorable offence. However, as it must be done, I went down, after two
or three false starts half-way, and as many runs back on tiptoe to my
own room, and presented myself in the parlour.

He was standing before the fire with his back to it, while Miss
Murdstone made the tea. He looked at me steadily as I entered, but made
no sign of recognition whatever. I went up to him, after a moment of
confusion, and said: 'I beg your pardon, sir. I am very sorry for what I
did, and I hope you will forgive me. '

'I am glad to hear you are sorry, David,' he replied.

The hand he gave me was the hand I had bitten. I could not restrain my
eye from resting for an instant on a red spot upon it; but it was not so
red as I turned, when I met that sinister expression in his face.

'How do you do, ma'am? ' I said to Miss Murdstone.

'Ah, dear me! ' sighed Miss Murdstone, giving me the tea-caddy scoop
instead of her fingers. 'How long are the holidays? '

'A month, ma'am. '

'Counting from when? '

'From today, ma'am. '

'Oh! ' said Miss Murdstone. 'Then here's one day off. '

She kept a calendar of the holidays in this way, and every morning
checked a day off in exactly the same manner. She did it gloomily until
she came to ten, but when she got into two figures she became more
hopeful, and, as the time advanced, even jocular.
It was on this very first day that I had the misfortune to throw her,
though she was not subject to such weakness in general, into a state of
violent consternation. I came into the room where she and my mother
were sitting; and the baby (who was only a few weeks old) being on
my mother's lap, I took it very carefully in my arms. Suddenly Miss
Murdstone gave such a scream that I all but dropped it.

'My dear Jane! ' cried my mother.

'Good heavens, Clara, do you see? ' exclaimed Miss Murdstone.

'See what, my dear Jane? ' said my mother; 'where? '

'He's got it! ' cried Miss Murdstone. 'The boy has got the baby! '

She was limp with horror; but stiffened herself to make a dart at me,
and take it out of my arms. Then, she turned faint; and was so very
ill that they were obliged to give her cherry brandy. I was solemnly
interdicted by her, on her recovery, from touching my brother any more
on any pretence whatever; and my poor mother, who, I could see, wished
otherwise, meekly confirmed the interdict, by saying: 'No doubt you are
right, my dear Jane. '

On another occasion, when we three were together, this same dear
baby--it was truly dear to me, for our mother's sake--was the innocent
occasion of Miss Murdstone's going into a passion. My mother, who had
been looking at its eyes as it lay upon her lap, said:

'Davy! come here! ' and looked at mine.

I saw Miss Murdstone lay her beads down.

'I declare,' said my mother, gently, 'they are exactly alike. I suppose
they are mine. I think they are the colour of mine. But they are
wonderfully alike. '

'What are you talking about, Clara? ' said Miss Murdstone.

'My dear Jane,' faltered my mother, a little abashed by the harsh tone
of this inquiry, 'I find that the baby's eyes and Davy's are exactly
alike. '

'Clara! ' said Miss Murdstone, rising angrily, 'you are a positive fool
sometimes. '

'My dear Jane,' remonstrated my mother.

'A positive fool,' said Miss Murdstone. 'Who else could compare my
brother's baby with your boy? They are not at all alike. They are
exactly unlike. They are utterly dissimilar in all respects. I hope
they will ever remain so. I will not sit here, and hear such comparisons
made. ' With that she stalked out, and made the door bang after her.

In short, I was not a favourite with Miss Murdstone. In short, I was not
a favourite there with anybody, not even with myself; for those who did
like me could not show it, and those who did not, showed it so plainly
that I had a sensitive consciousness of always appearing constrained,
boorish, and dull.

I felt that I made them as uncomfortable as they made me. If I came into
the room where they were, and they were talking together and my mother
seemed cheerful, an anxious cloud would steal over her face from the
moment of my entrance. If Mr. Murdstone were in his best humour, I
checked him. If Miss Murdstone were in her worst, I intensified it. I
had perception enough to know that my mother was the victim always; that
she was afraid to speak to me or to be kind to me, lest she should
give them some offence by her manner of doing so, and receive a
lecture afterwards; that she was not only ceaselessly afraid of her own
offending, but of my offending, and uneasily watched their looks if I
only moved. Therefore I resolved to keep myself as much out of their way
as I could; and many a wintry hour did I hear the church clock strike,
when I was sitting in my cheerless bedroom, wrapped in my little
great-coat, poring over a book.

In the evening, sometimes, I went and sat with Peggotty in the kitchen.
There I was comfortable, and not afraid of being myself. But neither of
these resources was approved of in the parlour. The tormenting humour
which was dominant there stopped them both. I was still held to be
necessary to my poor mother's training, and, as one of her trials, could
not be suffered to absent myself.

'David,' said Mr. Murdstone, one day after dinner when I was going to
leave the room as usual; 'I am sorry to observe that you are of a sullen
disposition. '

'As sulky as a bear! ' said Miss Murdstone.

I stood still, and hung my head.

'Now, David,' said Mr. Murdstone, 'a sullen obdurate disposition is, of
all tempers, the worst. '

'And the boy's is, of all such dispositions that ever I have seen,'
remarked his sister, 'the most confirmed and stubborn. I think, my dear
Clara, even you must observe it? '

'I beg your pardon, my dear Jane,' said my mother, 'but are you quite
sure--I am certain you'll excuse me, my dear Jane--that you understand
Davy? '

'I should be somewhat ashamed of myself, Clara,' returned Miss
Murdstone, 'if I could not understand the boy, or any boy. I don't
profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense. '

'No doubt, my dear Jane,' returned my mother, 'your understanding is
very vigorous--'

'Oh dear, no! Pray don't say that, Clara,' interposed Miss Murdstone,
angrily.

'But I am sure it is,' resumed my mother; 'and everybody knows it is. I
profit so much by it myself, in many ways--at least I ought to--that no
one can be more convinced of it than myself; and therefore I speak with
great diffidence, my dear Jane, I assure you. '

'We'll say I don't understand the boy, Clara,' returned Miss Murdstone,
arranging the little fetters on her wrists. 'We'll agree, if you please,
that I don't understand him at all. He is much too deep for me. But
perhaps my brother's penetration may enable him to have some insight
into his character. And I believe my brother was speaking on the subject
when we--not very decently--interrupted him. '

'I think, Clara,' said Mr. Murdstone, in a low grave voice, 'that there
may be better and more dispassionate judges of such a question than
you. '

'Edward,' replied my mother, timidly, 'you are a far better judge of all
questions than I pretend to be. Both you and Jane are. I only said--'

'You only said something weak and inconsiderate,' he replied. 'Try not
to do it again, my dear Clara, and keep a watch upon yourself. '

My mother's lips moved, as if she answered 'Yes, my dear Edward,' but
she said nothing aloud.

'I was sorry, David, I remarked,' said Mr. Murdstone, turning his head
and his eyes stiffly towards me, 'to observe that you are of a sullen
disposition. This is not a character that I can suffer to develop itself
beneath my eyes without an effort at improvement. You must endeavour,
sir, to change it. We must endeavour to change it for you. '

'I beg your pardon, sir,' I faltered. 'I have never meant to be sullen
since I came back. '

'Don't take refuge in a lie, sir! ' he returned so fiercely, that I saw
my mother involuntarily put out her trembling hand as if to interpose
between us. 'You have withdrawn yourself in your sullenness to your own
room. You have kept your own room when you ought to have been here. You
know now, once for all, that I require you to be here, and not there.
Further, that I require you to bring obedience here. You know me, David.
I will have it done. '

Miss Murdstone gave a hoarse chuckle.

'I will have a respectful, prompt, and ready bearing towards myself,' he
continued, 'and towards Jane Murdstone, and towards your mother. I will
not have this room shunned as if it were infected, at the pleasure of a
child. Sit down. '

He ordered me like a dog, and I obeyed like a dog.

'One thing more,' he said. 'I observe that you have an attachment to low
and common company. You are not to associate with servants. The
kitchen will not improve you, in the many respects in which you need
improvement. Of the woman who abets you, I say nothing--since you,
Clara,' addressing my mother in a lower voice, 'from old associations
and long-established fancies, have a weakness respecting her which is
not yet overcome. '

'A most unaccountable delusion it is! ' cried Miss Murdstone.

'I only say,' he resumed, addressing me, 'that I disapprove of your
preferring such company as Mistress Peggotty, and that it is to be
abandoned. Now, David, you understand me, and you know what will be the
consequence if you fail to obey me to the letter. '

I knew well--better perhaps than he thought, as far as my poor mother
was concerned--and I obeyed him to the letter. I retreated to my own
room no more; I took refuge with Peggotty no more; but sat wearily in
the parlour day after day, looking forward to night, and bedtime.

What irksome constraint I underwent, sitting in the same attitude hours
upon hours, afraid to move an arm or a leg lest Miss Murdstone should
complain (as she did on the least pretence) of my restlessness, and
afraid to move an eye lest she should light on some look of dislike
or scrutiny that would find new cause for complaint in mine! What
intolerable dulness to sit listening to the ticking of the clock; and
watching Miss Murdstone's little shiny steel beads as she strung them;
and wondering whether she would ever be married, and if so, to what
sort of unhappy man; and counting the divisions in the moulding of the
chimney-piece; and wandering away, with my eyes, to the ceiling, among
the curls and corkscrews in the paper on the wall!

What walks I took alone, down muddy lanes, in the bad winter weather,
carrying that parlour, and Mr. and Miss Murdstone in it, everywhere: a
monstrous load that I was obliged to bear, a daymare that there was
no possibility of breaking in, a weight that brooded on my wits, and
blunted them!

What meals I had in silence and embarrassment, always feeling that there
were a knife and fork too many, and that mine; an appetite too many, and
that mine; a plate and chair too many, and those mine; a somebody too
many, and that I!

What evenings, when the candles came, and I was expected to employ
myself, but, not daring to read an entertaining book, pored over some
hard-headed, harder-hearted treatise on arithmetic; when the tables of
weights and measures set themselves to tunes, as 'Rule Britannia', or
'Away with Melancholy'; when they wouldn't stand still to be learnt, but
would go threading my grandmother's needle through my unfortunate head,
in at one ear and out at the other! What yawns and dozes I lapsed into,
in spite of all my care; what starts I came out of concealed sleeps
with; what answers I never got, to little observations that I rarely
made; what a blank space I seemed, which everybody overlooked, and
yet was in everybody's way; what a heavy relief it was to hear Miss
Murdstone hail the first stroke of nine at night, and order me to bed!

Thus the holidays lagged away, until the morning came when Miss
Murdstone said: 'Here's the last day off! ' and gave me the closing cup
of tea of the vacation.

I was not sorry to go. I had lapsed into a stupid state; but I was
recovering a little and looking forward to Steerforth, albeit Mr.
Creakle loomed behind him. Again Mr. Barkis appeared at the gate, and
again Miss Murdstone in her warning voice, said: 'Clara! ' when my mother
bent over me, to bid me farewell.

I kissed her, and my baby brother, and was very sorry then; but not
sorry to go away, for the gulf between us was there, and the parting was
there, every day. And it is not so much the embrace she gave me, that
lives in my mind, though it was as fervent as could be, as what followed
the embrace.

I was in the carrier's cart when I heard her calling to me. I looked
out, and she stood at the garden-gate alone, holding her baby up in her
arms for me to see. It was cold still weather; and not a hair of her
head, nor a fold of her dress, was stirred, as she looked intently at
me, holding up her child.

So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards, in my sleep at school--a silent
presence near my bed--looking at me with the same intent face--holding
up her baby in her arms.



CHAPTER 9. I HAVE A MEMORABLE BIRTHDAY


I PASS over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my
birthday came round in March. Except that Steerforth was more to be
admired than ever, I remember nothing. He was going away at the end of
the half-year, if not sooner, and was more spirited and independent than
before in my eyes, and therefore more engaging than before; but beyond
this I remember nothing. The great remembrance by which that time is
marked in my mind, seems to have swallowed up all lesser recollections,
and to exist alone.

It is even difficult for me to believe that there was a gap of full
two months between my return to Salem House and the arrival of that
birthday. I can only understand that the fact was so, because I know it
must have been so; otherwise I should feel convinced that there was no
interval, and that the one occasion trod upon the other's heels.

How well I recollect the kind of day it was! I smell the fog that hung
about the place; I see the hoar frost, ghostly, through it; I feel my
rimy hair fall clammy on my cheek; I look along the dim perspective of
the schoolroom, with a sputtering candle here and there to light up the
foggy morning, and the breath of the boys wreathing and smoking in the
raw cold as they blow upon their fingers, and tap their feet upon the
floor. It was after breakfast, and we had been summoned in from the
playground, when Mr. Sharp entered and said:

'David Copperfield is to go into the parlour. '

I expected a hamper from Peggotty, and brightened at the order. Some
of the boys about me put in their claim not to be forgotten in the
distribution of the good things, as I got out of my seat with great
alacrity.

'Don't hurry, David,' said Mr. Sharp. 'There's time enough, my boy,
don't hurry. '

I might have been surprised by the feeling tone in which he spoke, if I
had given it a thought; but I gave it none until afterwards. I hurried
away to the parlour; and there I found Mr. Creakle, sitting at his
breakfast with the cane and a newspaper before him, and Mrs. Creakle
with an opened letter in her hand. But no hamper.

'David Copperfield,' said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and
sitting down beside me. 'I want to speak to you very particularly. I
have something to tell you, my child. '

Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking
at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast.

'You are too young to know how the world changes every day,' said Mrs.
Creakle, 'and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn
it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old,
some of us at all times of our lives. '

I looked at her earnestly.

'When you came away from home at the end of the vacation,' said Mrs.
Creakle, after a pause, 'were they all well? ' After another pause, 'Was
your mama well? '

I trembled without distinctly knowing why, and still looked at her
earnestly, making no attempt to answer.

'Because,' said she, 'I grieve to tell you that I hear this morning your
mama is very ill. '

A mist rose between Mrs. Creakle and me, and her figure seemed to move
in it for an instant. Then I felt the burning tears run down my face,
and it was steady again.

'She is very dangerously ill,' she added.

I knew all now.

'She is dead. '

There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out into a
desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world.

She was very kind to me. She kept me there all day, and left me alone
sometimes; and I cried, and wore myself to sleep, and awoke and
cried again. When I could cry no more, I began to think; and then the
oppression on my breast was heaviest, and my grief a dull pain that
there was no ease for.

And yet my thoughts were idle; not intent on the calamity that weighed
upon my heart, but idly loitering near it. I thought of our house shut
up and hushed. I thought of the little baby, who, Mrs. Creakle said, had
been pining away for some time, and who, they believed, would die too. I
thought of my father's grave in the churchyard, by our house, and of my
mother lying there beneath the tree I knew so well. I stood upon a chair
when I was left alone, and looked into the glass to see how red my eyes
were, and how sorrowful my face. I considered, after some hours were
gone, if my tears were really hard to flow now, as they seemed to be,
what, in connexion with my loss, it would affect me most to think
of when I drew near home--for I was going home to the funeral. I am
sensible of having felt that a dignity attached to me among the rest of
the boys, and that I was important in my affliction.

If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I remember
that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in
the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I
saw them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their
classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked
slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt
it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take
exactly the same notice of them all, as before.

I was to go home next night; not by the mail, but by the heavy
night-coach, which was called the Farmer, and was principally used by
country-people travelling short intermediate distances upon the road. We
had no story-telling that evening, and Traddles insisted on lending me
his pillow. I don't know what good he thought it would do me, for I
had one of my own: but it was all he had to lend, poor fellow, except a
sheet of letter-paper full of skeletons; and that he gave me at parting,
as a soother of my sorrows and a contribution to my peace of mind.

I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that
I left it, never to return. We travelled very slowly all night, and
did not get into Yarmouth before nine or ten o'clock in the morning. I
looked out for Mr. Barkis, but he was not there; and instead of him a
fat, short-winded, merry-looking, little old man in black, with rusty
little bunches of ribbons at the knees of his breeches, black stockings,
and a broad-brimmed hat, came puffing up to the coach window, and said:

'Master Copperfield? '

'Yes, sir.