No More Learning

Franklin
used to fly a kite. He was a Quaker, or something of that sort, if I
am not mistaken. And a Quaker flying a kite is a much more ridiculous
object than anybody else. '

If I could have supposed that my aunt had recounted these particulars
for my especial behoof, and as a piece of confidence in me, I should
have felt very much distinguished, and should have augured favourably
from such a mark of her good opinion. But I could hardly help observing
that she had launched into them, chiefly because the question was raised
in her own mind, and with very little reference to me, though she had
addressed herself to me in the absence of anybody else.

At the same time, I must say that the generosity of her championship
of poor harmless Mr. Dick, not only inspired my young breast with
some selfish hope for myself, but warmed it unselfishly towards her.
I believe that I began to know that there was something about my aunt,
notwithstanding her many eccentricities and odd humours, to be honoured
and trusted in. Though she was just as sharp that day as on the day
before, and was in and out about the donkeys just as often, and was
thrown into a tremendous state of indignation, when a young man, going
by, ogled Janet at a window (which was one of the gravest misdemeanours
that could be committed against my aunt's dignity), she seemed to me to
command more of my respect, if not less of my fear.

The anxiety I underwent, in the interval which necessarily elapsed
before a reply could be received to her letter to Mr. Murdstone, was
extreme; but I made an endeavour to suppress it, and to be as agreeable
as I could in a quiet way, both to my aunt and Mr. Dick. The latter and
I would have gone out to fly the great kite; but that I had still no
other clothes than the anything but ornamental garments with which I
had been decorated on the first day, and which confined me to the house,
except for an hour after dark, when my aunt, for my health's sake,
paraded me up and down on the cliff outside, before going to bed. At
length the reply from Mr. Murdstone came, and my aunt informed me, to my
infinite terror, that he was coming to speak to her herself on the next
day. On the next day, still bundled up in my curious habiliments, I sat
counting the time, flushed and heated by the conflict of sinking hopes
and rising fears within me; and waiting to be startled by the sight of
the gloomy face, whose non-arrival startled me every minute.

My aunt was a little more imperious and stern than usual, but I observed
no other token of her preparing herself to receive the visitor so much
dreaded by me. She sat at work in the window, and I sat by, with my
thoughts running astray on all possible and impossible results of Mr.
Murdstone's visit, until pretty late in the afternoon. Our dinner had
been indefinitely postponed; but it was growing so late, that my aunt
had ordered it to be got ready, when she gave a sudden alarm of donkeys,
and to my consternation and amazement, I beheld Miss Murdstone, on a
side-saddle, ride deliberately over the sacred piece of green, and stop
in front of the house, looking about her.

'Go along with you! ' cried my aunt, shaking her head and her fist at the
window. 'You have no business there. How dare you trespass? Go along!
Oh! you bold-faced thing! '

My aunt was so exasperated by the coolness with which Miss Murdstone
looked about her, that I really believe she was motionless, and unable
for the moment to dart out according to custom. I seized the opportunity
to inform her who it was; and that the gentleman now coming near the
offender (for the way up was very steep, and he had dropped behind), was
Mr. Murdstone himself.

'I don't care who it is! ' cried my aunt, still shaking her head and
gesticulating anything but welcome from the bow-window. 'I won't be
trespassed upon. I won't allow it. Go away! Janet, turn him round.
Lead him off! ' and I saw, from behind my aunt, a sort of hurried
battle-piece, in which the donkey stood resisting everybody, with all
his four legs planted different ways, while Janet tried to pull him
round by the bridle, Mr. Murdstone tried to lead him on, Miss Murdstone
struck at Janet with a parasol, and several boys, who had come to see
the engagement, shouted vigorously. But my aunt, suddenly descrying
among them the young malefactor who was the donkey's guardian, and who
was one of the most inveterate offenders against her, though hardly in
his teens, rushed out to the scene of action, pounced upon him, captured
him, dragged him, with his jacket over his head, and his heels grinding
the ground, into the garden, and, calling upon Janet to fetch the
constables and justices, that he might be taken, tried, and executed on
the spot, held him at bay there. This part of the business, however, did
not last long; for the young rascal, being expert at a variety of feints
and dodges, of which my aunt had no conception, soon went whooping away,
leaving some deep impressions of his nailed boots in the flower-beds,
and taking his donkey in triumph with him.

Miss Murdstone, during the latter portion of the contest, had
dismounted, and was now waiting with her brother at the bottom of the
steps, until my aunt should be at leisure to receive them. My aunt, a
little ruffled by the combat, marched past them into the house, with
great dignity, and took no notice of their presence, until they were
announced by Janet.

'Shall I go away, aunt? ' I asked, trembling.

'No, sir,' said my aunt. 'Certainly not! ' With which she pushed me into
a corner near her, and fenced Me in with a chair, as if it were a prison
or a bar of justice. This position I continued to occupy during the
whole interview, and from it I now saw Mr. and Miss Murdstone enter the
room.

'Oh! ' said my aunt, 'I was not aware at first to whom I had the pleasure
of objecting. But I don't allow anybody to ride over that turf. I make
no exceptions. I don't allow anybody to do it. '

'Your regulation is rather awkward to strangers,' said Miss Murdstone.

'Is it! ' said my aunt.

Mr. Murdstone seemed afraid of a renewal of hostilities, and interposing
began:

'Miss Trotwood! '

'I beg your pardon,' observed my aunt with a keen look. 'You are the Mr.
Murdstone who married the widow of my late nephew, David Copperfield, of
Blunderstone Rookery! --Though why Rookery, I don't know! '

'I am,' said Mr. Murdstone.

'You'll excuse my saying, sir,' returned my aunt, 'that I think it would
have been a much better and happier thing if you had left that poor
child alone. '

'I so far agree with what Miss Trotwood has remarked,' observed Miss
Murdstone, bridling, 'that I consider our lamented Clara to have been,
in all essential respects, a mere child. '

'It is a comfort to you and me, ma'am,' said my aunt, 'who are getting
on in life, and are not likely to be made unhappy by our personal
attractions, that nobody can say the same of us. '

'No doubt! ' returned Miss Murdstone, though, I thought, not with a very
ready or gracious assent. 'And it certainly might have been, as you say,
a better and happier thing for my brother if he had never entered into
such a marriage. I have always been of that opinion. '

'I have no doubt you have,' said my aunt. 'Janet,' ringing the bell, 'my
compliments to Mr. Dick, and beg him to come down. '

Until he came, my aunt sat perfectly upright and stiff, frowning at the
wall. When he came, my aunt performed the ceremony of introduction.

'Mr. Dick. An old and intimate friend. On whose judgement,' said my
aunt, with emphasis, as an admonition to Mr. Dick, who was biting his
forefinger and looking rather foolish, 'I rely. '

Mr. Dick took his finger out of his mouth, on this hint, and stood among
the group, with a grave and attentive expression of face.

My aunt inclined her head to Mr. Murdstone, who went on:

'Miss Trotwood: on the receipt of your letter, I considered it an act of
greater justice to myself, and perhaps of more respect to you--'

'Thank you,' said my aunt, still eyeing him keenly. 'You needn't mind
me. '

'To answer it in person, however inconvenient the journey,' pursued Mr.
Murdstone, 'rather than by letter. This unhappy boy who has run away
from his friends and his occupation--'

'And whose appearance,' interposed his sister, directing general
attention to me in my indefinable costume, 'is perfectly scandalous and
disgraceful. '

'Jane Murdstone,' said her brother, 'have the goodness not to interrupt
me. This unhappy boy, Miss Trotwood, has been the occasion of much
domestic trouble and uneasiness; both during the lifetime of my late
dear wife, and since. He has a sullen, rebellious spirit; a violent
temper; and an untoward, intractable disposition. Both my sister and
myself have endeavoured to correct his vices, but ineffectually. And
I have felt--we both have felt, I may say; my sister being fully in
my confidence--that it is right you should receive this grave and
dispassionate assurance from our lips. '

'It can hardly be necessary for me to confirm anything stated by my
brother,' said Miss Murdstone; 'but I beg to observe, that, of all the
boys in the world, I believe this is the worst boy. '

'Strong! ' said my aunt, shortly.

'But not at all too strong for the facts,' returned Miss Murdstone.

'Ha! ' said my aunt. 'Well, sir? '

'I have my own opinions,' resumed Mr. Murdstone, whose face darkened
more and more, the more he and my aunt observed each other, which they
did very narrowly, 'as to the best mode of bringing him up; they are
founded, in part, on my knowledge of him, and in part on my knowledge of
my own means and resources. I am responsible for them to myself, I act
upon them, and I say no more about them. It is enough that I place this
boy under the eye of a friend of my own, in a respectable business;
that it does not please him; that he runs away from it; makes himself a
common vagabond about the country; and comes here, in rags, to appeal
to you, Miss Trotwood. I wish to set before you, honourably, the exact
consequences--so far as they are within my knowledge--of your abetting
him in this appeal. '

'But about the respectable business first,' said my aunt. 'If he had
been your own boy, you would have put him to it, just the same, I
suppose? '

'If he had been my brother's own boy,' returned Miss Murdstone, striking
in, 'his character, I trust, would have been altogether different. '

'Or if the poor child, his mother, had been alive, he would still have
gone into the respectable business, would he? ' said my aunt.

'I believe,' said Mr. Murdstone, with an inclination of his head,
'that Clara would have disputed nothing which myself and my sister Jane
Murdstone were agreed was for the best. '

Miss Murdstone confirmed this with an audible murmur.

'Humph! ' said my aunt. 'Unfortunate baby! '

Mr. Dick, who had been rattling his money all this time, was rattling it
so loudly now, that my aunt felt it necessary to check him with a look,
before saying:

'The poor child's annuity died with her? '

'Died with her,' replied Mr. Murdstone.

'And there was no settlement of the little property--the house and
garden--the what's-its-name Rookery without any rooks in it--upon her
boy? '

'It had been left to her, unconditionally, by her first husband,'
Mr. Murdstone began, when my aunt caught him up with the greatest
irascibility and impatience.

'Good Lord, man, there's no occasion to say that. Left to her
unconditionally! I think I see David Copperfield looking forward to any
condition of any sort or kind, though it stared him point-blank in the
face! Of course it was left to her unconditionally. But when she married
again--when she took that most disastrous step of marrying you, in
short,' said my aunt, 'to be plain--did no one put in a word for the boy
at that time? '

'My late wife loved her second husband, ma'am,' said Mr. Murdstone, 'and
trusted implicitly in him. '

'Your late wife, sir, was a most unworldly, most unhappy, most
unfortunate baby,' returned my aunt, shaking her head at him. 'That's
what she was. And now, what have you got to say next? '

'Merely this, Miss Trotwood,' he returned. 'I am here to take David
back--to take him back unconditionally, to dispose of him as I think
proper, and to deal with him as I think right. I am not here to make any
promise, or give any pledge to anybody. You may possibly have some
idea, Miss Trotwood, of abetting him in his running away, and in his
complaints to you. Your manner, which I must say does not seem intended
to propitiate, induces me to think it possible. Now I must caution you
that if you abet him once, you abet him for good and all; if you step
in between him and me, now, you must step in, Miss Trotwood, for ever.
I cannot trifle, or be trifled with. I am here, for the first and last
time, to take him away. Is he ready to go? If he is not--and you tell me
he is not; on any pretence; it is indifferent to me what--my doors are
shut against him henceforth, and yours, I take it for granted, are open
to him. '

To this address, my aunt had listened with the closest attention,
sitting perfectly upright, with her hands folded on one knee, and
looking grimly on the speaker. When he had finished, she turned her
eyes so as to command Miss Murdstone, without otherwise disturbing her
attitude, and said:

'Well, ma'am, have YOU got anything to remark? '

'Indeed, Miss Trotwood,' said Miss Murdstone, 'all that I could say has
been so well said by my brother, and all that I know to be the fact
has been so plainly stated by him, that I have nothing to add except my
thanks for your politeness. For your very great politeness, I am sure,'
said Miss Murdstone; with an irony which no more affected my aunt, than
it discomposed the cannon I had slept by at Chatham.

'And what does the boy say? ' said my aunt. 'Are you ready to go, David? '

I answered no, and entreated her not to let me go. I said that neither
Mr. nor Miss Murdstone had ever liked me, or had ever been kind to me.
That they had made my mama, who always loved me dearly, unhappy about
me, and that I knew it well, and that Peggotty knew it. I said that I
had been more miserable than I thought anybody could believe, who only
knew how young I was. And I begged and prayed my aunt--I forget in
what terms now, but I remember that they affected me very much then--to
befriend and protect me, for my father's sake.

'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'what shall I do with this child? '

Mr. Dick considered, hesitated, brightened, and rejoined, 'Have him
measured for a suit of clothes directly. '

'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt triumphantly, 'give me your hand, for your
common sense is invaluable. ' Having shaken it with great cordiality, she
pulled me towards her and said to Mr. Murdstone:

'You can go when you like; I'll take my chance with the boy. If he's all
you say he is, at least I can do as much for him then, as you have done.
But I don't believe a word of it. '

'Miss Trotwood,' rejoined Mr. Murdstone, shrugging his shoulders, as he
rose, 'if you were a gentleman--'

'Bah! Stuff and nonsense! ' said my aunt. 'Don't talk to me! '

'How exquisitely polite! ' exclaimed Miss Murdstone, rising.
'Overpowering, really! '

'Do you think I don't know,' said my aunt, turning a deaf ear to the
sister, and continuing to address the brother, and to shake her head at
him with infinite expression, 'what kind of life you must have led that
poor, unhappy, misdirected baby? Do you think I don't know what a woeful
day it was for the soft little creature when you first came in her
way--smirking and making great eyes at her, I'll be bound, as if you
couldn't say boh! to a goose! '

'I never heard anything so elegant! ' said Miss Murdstone.

'Do you think I can't understand you as well as if I had seen you,'
pursued my aunt, 'now that I DO see and hear you--which, I tell you
candidly, is anything but a pleasure to me? Oh yes, bless us! who so
smooth and silky as Mr. Murdstone at first! The poor, benighted innocent
had never seen such a man. He was made of sweetness. He worshipped her.
He doted on her boy--tenderly doted on him! He was to be another father
to him, and they were all to live together in a garden of roses, weren't
they? Ugh! Get along with you, do! ' said my aunt.

'I never heard anything like this person in my life! ' exclaimed Miss
Murdstone.

'And when you had made sure of the poor little fool,' said my aunt--'God
forgive me that I should call her so, and she gone where YOU won't go in
a hurry--because you had not done wrong enough to her and hers, you
must begin to train her, must you? begin to break her, like a poor
caged bird, and wear her deluded life away, in teaching her to sing YOUR
notes? '

'This is either insanity or intoxication,' said Miss Murdstone, in a
perfect agony at not being able to turn the current of my aunt's address
towards herself; 'and my suspicion is that it's intoxication. '

Miss Betsey, without taking the least notice of the interruption,
continued to address herself to Mr.
Murdstone as if there had been no
such thing.

'Mr. Murdstone,' she said, shaking her finger at him, 'you were a tyrant
to the simple baby, and you broke her heart. She was a loving baby--I
know that; I knew it, years before you ever saw her--and through the
best part of her weakness you gave her the wounds she died of. There
is the truth for your comfort, however you like it. And you and your
instruments may make the most of it. '

'Allow me to inquire, Miss Trotwood,' interposed Miss Murdstone,
'whom you are pleased to call, in a choice of words in which I am not
experienced, my brother's instruments? '

'It was clear enough, as I have told you, years before YOU ever saw
her--and why, in the mysterious dispensations of Providence, you ever
did see her, is more than humanity can comprehend--it was clear enough
that the poor soft little thing would marry somebody, at some time or
other; but I did hope it wouldn't have been as bad as it has turned out.
That was the time, Mr. Murdstone, when she gave birth to her boy here,'
said my aunt; 'to the poor child you sometimes tormented her through
afterwards, which is a disagreeable remembrance and makes the sight of
him odious now. Aye, aye! you needn't wince! ' said my aunt. 'I know it's
true without that. '

He had stood by the door, all this while, observant of her with a smile
upon his face, though his black eyebrows were heavily contracted. I
remarked now, that, though the smile was on his face still, his colour
had gone in a moment, and he seemed to breathe as if he had been
running.

'Good day, sir,' said my aunt, 'and good-bye! Good day to you, too,
ma'am,' said my aunt, turning suddenly upon his sister. 'Let me see you
ride a donkey over my green again, and as sure as you have a head upon
your shoulders, I'll knock your bonnet off, and tread upon it! '

It would require a painter, and no common painter too, to depict my
aunt's face as she delivered herself of this very unexpected sentiment,
and Miss Murdstone's face as she heard it. But the manner of the speech,
no less than the matter, was so fiery, that Miss Murdstone, without a
word in answer, discreetly put her arm through her brother's, and walked
haughtily out of the cottage; my aunt remaining in the window looking
after them; prepared, I have no doubt, in case of the donkey's
reappearance, to carry her threat into instant execution.

No attempt at defiance being made, however, her face gradually relaxed,
and became so pleasant, that I was emboldened to kiss and thank her;
which I did with great heartiness, and with both my arms clasped round
her neck. I then shook hands with Mr. Dick, who shook hands with me a
great many times, and hailed this happy close of the proceedings with
repeated bursts of laughter.

'You'll consider yourself guardian, jointly with me, of this child, Mr.
Dick,' said my aunt.

'I shall be delighted,' said Mr. Dick, 'to be the guardian of David's
son. '

'Very good,' returned my aunt, 'that's settled. I have been thinking, do
you know, Mr. Dick, that I might call him Trotwood? '

'Certainly, certainly. Call him Trotwood, certainly,' said Mr. Dick.
'David's son's Trotwood. '

'Trotwood Copperfield, you mean,' returned my aunt.

'Yes, to be sure. Yes. Trotwood Copperfield,' said Mr. Dick, a little
abashed.

My aunt took so kindly to the notion, that some ready-made clothes,
which were purchased for me that afternoon, were marked 'Trotwood
Copperfield', in her own handwriting, and in indelible marking-ink,
before I put them on; and it was settled that all the other clothes
which were ordered to be made for me (a complete outfit was bespoke that
afternoon) should be marked in the same way.

Thus I began my new life, in a new name, and with everything new about
me. Now that the state of doubt was over, I felt, for many days,
like one in a dream. I never thought that I had a curious couple of
guardians, in my aunt and Mr. Dick. I never thought of anything about
myself, distinctly. The two things clearest in my mind were, that a
remoteness had come upon the old Blunderstone life--which seemed to lie
in the haze of an immeasurable distance; and that a curtain had for ever
fallen on my life at Murdstone and Grinby's. No one has ever raised that
curtain since. I have lifted it for a moment, even in this narrative,
with a reluctant hand, and dropped it gladly. The remembrance of that
life is fraught with so much pain to me, with so much mental suffering
and want of hope, that I have never had the courage even to examine how
long I was doomed to lead it. Whether it lasted for a year, or more, or
less, I do not know. I only know that it was, and ceased to be; and that
I have written, and there I leave it.



CHAPTER 15. I MAKE ANOTHER BEGINNING


Mr. Dick and I soon became the best of friends, and very often, when his
day's work was done, went out together to fly the great kite. Every day
of his life he had a long sitting at the Memorial, which never made the
least progress, however hard he laboured, for King Charles the First
always strayed into it, sooner or later, and then it was thrown aside,
and another one begun. The patience and hope with which he bore these
perpetual disappointments, the mild perception he had that there was
something wrong about King Charles the First, the feeble efforts he made
to keep him out, and the certainty with which he came in, and tumbled
the Memorial out of all shape, made a deep impression on me. What Mr.
Dick supposed would come of the Memorial, if it were completed; where he
thought it was to go, or what he thought it was to do; he knew no more
than anybody else, I believe. Nor was it at all necessary that he should
trouble himself with such questions, for if anything were certain under
the sun, it was certain that the Memorial never would be finished. It
was quite an affecting sight, I used to think, to see him with the kite
when it was up a great height in the air. What he had told me, in his
room, about his belief in its disseminating the statements pasted on it,
which were nothing but old leaves of abortive Memorials, might have been
a fancy with him sometimes; but not when he was out, looking up at
the kite in the sky, and feeling it pull and tug at his hand. He never
looked so serene as he did then. I used to fancy, as I sat by him of an
evening, on a green slope, and saw him watch the kite high in the quiet
air, that it lifted his mind out of its confusion, and bore it (such was
my boyish thought) into the skies. As he wound the string in and it came
lower and lower down out of the beautiful light, until it fluttered to
the ground, and lay there like a dead thing, he seemed to wake gradually
out of a dream; and I remember to have seen him take it up, and look
about him in a lost way, as if they had both come down together, so that
I pitied him with all my heart.

While I advanced in friendship and intimacy with Mr. Dick, I did not
go backward in the favour of his staunch friend, my aunt. She took
so kindly to me, that, in the course of a few weeks, she shortened my
adopted name of Trotwood into Trot; and even encouraged me to hope, that
if I went on as I had begun, I might take equal rank in her affections
with my sister Betsey Trotwood.

'Trot,' said my aunt one evening, when the backgammon-board was placed
as usual for herself and Mr. Dick, 'we must not forget your education. '

This was my only subject of anxiety, and I felt quite delighted by her
referring to it.

'Should you like to go to school at Canterbury? ' said my aunt.

I replied that I should like it very much, as it was so near her.

'Good,' said my aunt. 'Should you like to go tomorrow? '

Being already no stranger to the general rapidity of my aunt's
evolutions, I was not surprised by the suddenness of the proposal, and
said: 'Yes. '

'Good,' said my aunt again. 'Janet, hire the grey pony and chaise
tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, and pack up Master Trotwood's clothes
tonight. '

I was greatly elated by these orders; but my heart smote me for my
selfishness, when I witnessed their effect on Mr. Dick, who was so
low-spirited at the prospect of our separation, and played so ill in
consequence, that my aunt, after giving him several admonitory raps on
the knuckles with her dice-box, shut up the board, and declined to play
with him any more. But, on hearing from my aunt that I should sometimes
come over on a Saturday, and that he could sometimes come and see me
on a Wednesday, he revived; and vowed to make another kite for those
occasions, of proportions greatly surpassing the present one. In the
morning he was downhearted again, and would have sustained himself by
giving me all the money he had in his possession, gold and silver too,
if my aunt had not interposed, and limited the gift to five shillings,
which, at his earnest petition, were afterwards increased to ten. We
parted at the garden-gate in a most affectionate manner, and Mr. Dick
did not go into the house until my aunt had driven me out of sight of
it.

My aunt, who was perfectly indifferent to public opinion, drove the grey
pony through Dover in a masterly manner; sitting high and stiff like
a state coachman, keeping a steady eye upon him wherever he went, and
making a point of not letting him have his own way in any respect. When
we came into the country road, she permitted him to relax a little,
however; and looking at me down in a valley of cushion by her side,
asked me whether I was happy?

'Very happy indeed, thank you, aunt,' I said.

She was much gratified; and both her hands being occupied, patted me on
the head with her whip.

'Is it a large school, aunt? ' I asked.

'Why, I don't know,' said my aunt. 'We are going to Mr. Wickfield's
first. '

'Does he keep a school? ' I asked.

'No, Trot,' said my aunt. 'He keeps an office. '

I asked for no more information about Mr. Wickfield, as she offered
none, and we conversed on other subjects until we came to Canterbury,
where, as it was market-day, my aunt had a great opportunity of
insinuating the grey pony among carts, baskets, vegetables, and
huckster's goods. The hair-breadth turns and twists we made, drew down
upon us a variety of speeches from the people standing about, which
were not always complimentary; but my aunt drove on with perfect
indifference, and I dare say would have taken her own way with as much
coolness through an enemy's country.

At length we stopped before a very old house bulging out over the road;
a house with long low lattice-windows bulging out still farther, and
beams with carved heads on the ends bulging out too, so that I fancied
the whole house was leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on
the narrow pavement below. It was quite spotless in its cleanliness.
The old-fashioned brass knocker on the low arched door, ornamented with
carved garlands of fruit and flowers, twinkled like a star; the two
stone steps descending to the door were as white as if they had been
covered with fair linen; and all the angles and corners, and carvings
and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass, and quainter little
windows, though as old as the hills, were as pure as any snow that ever
fell upon the hills.

When the pony-chaise stopped at the door, and my eyes were intent upon
the house, I saw a cadaverous face appear at a small window on the
ground floor (in a little round tower that formed one side of the
house), and quickly disappear. The low arched door then opened, and
the face came out. It was quite as cadaverous as it had looked in the
window, though in the grain of it there was that tinge of red which is
sometimes to be observed in the skins of red-haired people. It belonged
to a red-haired person--a youth of fifteen, as I take it now, but
looking much older--whose hair was cropped as close as the closest
stubble; who had hardly any eyebrows, and no eyelashes, and eyes of a
red-brown, so unsheltered and unshaded, that I remember wondering how he
went to sleep. He was high-shouldered and bony; dressed in decent black,
with a white wisp of a neckcloth; buttoned up to the throat; and had a
long, lank, skeleton hand, which particularly attracted my attention, as
he stood at the pony's head, rubbing his chin with it, and looking up at
us in the chaise.

'Is Mr. Wickfield at home, Uriah Heep? ' said my aunt.

'Mr. Wickfield's at home, ma'am,' said Uriah Heep, 'if you'll please to
walk in there'--pointing with his long hand to the room he meant.

We got out; and leaving him to hold the pony, went into a long low
parlour looking towards the street, from the window of which I caught a
glimpse, as I went in, of Uriah Heep breathing into the pony's nostrils,
and immediately covering them with his hand, as if he were putting
some spell upon him. Opposite to the tall old chimney-piece were two
portraits: one of a gentleman with grey hair (though not by any means
an old man) and black eyebrows, who was looking over some papers tied
together with red tape; the other, of a lady, with a very placid and
sweet expression of face, who was looking at me.

I believe I was turning about in search of Uriah's picture, when, a door
at the farther end of the room opening, a gentleman entered, at sight of
whom I turned to the first-mentioned portrait again, to make quite sure
that it had not come out of its frame. But it was stationary; and as the
gentleman advanced into the light, I saw that he was some years older
than when he had had his picture painted.

'Miss Betsey Trotwood,' said the gentleman, 'pray walk in. I was engaged
for a moment, but you'll excuse my being busy. You know my motive. I
have but one in life. '

Miss Betsey thanked him, and we went into his room, which was furnished
as an office, with books, papers, tin boxes, and so forth. It looked
into a garden, and had an iron safe let into the wall; so immediately
over the mantelshelf, that I wondered, as I sat down, how the sweeps got
round it when they swept the chimney.

'Well, Miss Trotwood,' said Mr. Wickfield; for I soon found that it
was he, and that he was a lawyer, and steward of the estates of a rich
gentleman of the county; 'what wind blows you here? Not an ill wind, I
hope? '

'No,' replied my aunt. 'I have not come for any law. '

'That's right, ma'am,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'You had better come for
anything else. ' His hair was quite white now, though his eyebrows were
still black. He had a very agreeable face, and, I thought, was handsome.
There was a certain richness in his complexion, which I had been long
accustomed, under Peggotty's tuition, to connect with port wine; and I
fancied it was in his voice too, and referred his growing corpulency
to the same cause. He was very cleanly dressed, in a blue coat, striped
waistcoat, and nankeen trousers; and his fine frilled shirt and cambric
neckcloth looked unusually soft and white, reminding my strolling fancy
(I call to mind) of the plumage on the breast of a swan.

'This is my nephew,' said my aunt.

'Wasn't aware you had one, Miss Trotwood,' said Mr. Wickfield.

'My grand-nephew, that is to say,' observed my aunt.

'Wasn't aware you had a grand-nephew, I give you my word,' said Mr.
Wickfield.

'I have adopted him,' said my aunt, with a wave of her hand, importing
that his knowledge and his ignorance were all one to her, 'and I have
brought him here, to put to a school where he may be thoroughly well
taught, and well treated. Now tell me where that school is, and what it
is, and all about it. '

'Before I can advise you properly,' said Mr. Wickfield--'the old
question, you know. What's your motive in this? '

'Deuce take the man! ' exclaimed my aunt. 'Always fishing for motives,
when they're on the surface! Why, to make the child happy and useful. '

'It must be a mixed motive, I think,' said Mr. Wickfield, shaking his
head and smiling incredulously.

'A mixed fiddlestick,' returned my aunt. 'You claim to have one plain
motive in all you do yourself. You don't suppose, I hope, that you are
the only plain dealer in the world? '

'Ay, but I have only one motive in life, Miss Trotwood,' he rejoined,
smiling. 'Other people have dozens, scores, hundreds. I have only one.
There's the difference. However, that's beside the question. The best
school? Whatever the motive, you want the best? '

My aunt nodded assent.

'At the best we have,' said Mr. Wickfield, considering, 'your nephew
couldn't board just now. '

'But he could board somewhere else, I suppose? ' suggested my aunt.

Mr. Wickfield thought I could. After a little discussion, he proposed to
take my aunt to the school, that she might see it and judge for herself;
also, to take her, with the same object, to two or three houses where he
thought I could be boarded. My aunt embracing the proposal, we were all
three going out together, when he stopped and said:

'Our little friend here might have some motive, perhaps, for objecting
to the arrangements. I think we had better leave him behind? '

My aunt seemed disposed to contest the point; but to facilitate matters
I said I would gladly remain behind, if they pleased; and returned into
Mr. Wickfield's office, where I sat down again, in the chair I had first
occupied, to await their return.

It so happened that this chair was opposite a narrow passage, which
ended in the little circular room where I had seen Uriah Heep's pale
face looking out of the window. Uriah, having taken the pony to a
neighbouring stable, was at work at a desk in this room, which had a
brass frame on the top to hang paper upon, and on which the writing he
was making a copy of was then hanging. Though his face was towards me, I
thought, for some time, the writing being between us, that he could not
see me; but looking that way more attentively, it made me uncomfortable
to observe that, every now and then, his sleepless eyes would come below
the writing, like two red suns, and stealthily stare at me for I dare
say a whole minute at a time, during which his pen went, or pretended
to go, as cleverly as ever. I made several attempts to get out of their
way--such as standing on a chair to look at a map on the other side of
the room, and poring over the columns of a Kentish newspaper--but they
always attracted me back again; and whenever I looked towards those two
red suns, I was sure to find them, either just rising or just setting.

At length, much to my relief, my aunt and Mr. Wickfield came back,
after a pretty long absence. They were not so successful as I could have
wished; for though the advantages of the school were undeniable, my aunt
had not approved of any of the boarding-houses proposed for me.

'It's very unfortunate,' said my aunt. 'I don't know what to do, Trot. '

'It does happen unfortunately,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'But I'll tell you
what you can do, Miss Trotwood. '

'What's that? ' inquired my aunt.

'Leave your nephew here, for the present. He's a quiet fellow. He
won't disturb me at all. It's a capital house for study. As quiet as a
monastery, and almost as roomy. Leave him here. '

My aunt evidently liked the offer, though she was delicate of accepting
it. So did I. 'Come, Miss Trotwood,' said Mr. Wickfield. 'This is the
way out of the difficulty. It's only a temporary arrangement, you know.