"I beg your pardon," observed my aunt, with a keen look. "You are the
Mr. Murdstone."
"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."
Mr. Murdstone colored, and Miss Murdstone looked as though she could
bite nails.
"I received your letter," said Mr. Murdstone, "and thought it best to
see you personally about this unhappy boy who has run away from his
friends and his position. I need not tell you that he has always given
us great trouble and uneasiness. He is sullen and stubborn and has a
violent temper. I thought it best that you should know this."
"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?"
"Upon the death of his mother," continued Mr. Murdstone, scowling, "I
obtained a respectable place for him--"
"Was it the sort of place you would have put a boy of your own in?"
asked my aunt.
"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 a nod of his head, "that Clara
would have disputed nothing which myself and my sister were agreed was
for the best."
"Humph!" said my aunt. "Well, sir, what next?"
"Merely this, Miss Trotwood," he returned. "I am here to take David
back--to take him back unconditionally, and to deal with him as I think
right. I am not here to make any promise to anybody. You may possibly
have some idea, Miss Trotwood, of abetting him in his running away.
Your manner induces me to think it possible. Now I must caution you
that if you abet him once, you abet him for good and all. 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, my doors are shut
against him henceforth, and yours, I take it for granted, are opened 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, 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, that I have nothing to add except my
thanks for your politeness."
This ironical remark, however, was wholly lost.
"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 mamma, who always loved me dearly, unhappy about
me, and that I knew it well, and that Peggotty knew it. 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?"
"Have him measured for a suit of clothes, directly," said Mr. Dick, in
his usual sudden way.
"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, "what kind of life you must have led that poor, little woman you
cajoled into marrying you? Do you think I don't know what a woeful day
it was for her and her boy when _you_ first came in her way?"
And thereupon she read him such a lecture as I warrant he had never
listened to before in his life, nor ever would again. He bit his lip in
silence while she lectured, and all the color left his face. Miss
Murdstone tried to interrupt the flow of words repeatedly, with no
success at all. When she had ended--
"Good day, sir," said my aunt, "and good-bye! Good day to you, too,
ma'am," 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, 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?"
"Yes, to be sure. Trotwood Copperfield," said Mr. Dick.
My aunt took so kindly to the notion, that some ready-made clothes,
which were purchased for me the next day, were marked "Trotwood
Copperfield," in her own handwriting, and in indelible marking-ink,
before I put them on.
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. While a remoteness had come upon the old
life--which seemed to lie in the haze of an immeasurable distance.
In my new life I was to realize some of my youthful ambitions. I was to
struggle, perhaps, but I was to succeed. And I was to find that my
aunt--for all her gruff exterior--had a heart of gold.
But whatever there was of happiness or of sorrow, of success or of
failure, in my new life, does not belong to these pages. The identity
of the child, and of the boy, David Copperfield, is now forever merged
in the personality of Trotwood Copperfield, Esquire, the Prospective
Man.
* * * * * * * *
*THE "SILVER FOX FARM" SERIES*