51. CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 51: THE BEGINNING OF A LONGER JOURNEY

Early morning of the following day, I was walking in my garden with my aunt.  As much of her time was spent in attendance of Dora, she got less time to exercise, except this little morning walk in the garden. I was told that Mr Peggotty desired to speak with me. He came into the garden to meet me half-way, on my going towards the gate.  He bared his head, as it was always his custom to do when he saw my aunt, for whom he had a high respect.  I had been telling her all that had happened overnight.  Without saying a word, she walked up with a cordial face, shook hands with him, and patted him on the arm.  It was so expressively done, that she had no need to say a word.  Mr Peggotty understood her quite as well as if she had said a thousand.

'I'll go in now, Trot,' said my aunt, 'and look after Little Blossom, who will be getting up presently.'

'Not long of my being here, ma'am,' said Peggotty,' you are going to quit us?'

'You have something to say, my good friend,' returned my aunt, 'and will do better without me.'

'By your leave ma'am,' said Peggotty, 'I should appreciate it, if you stay.'

'Would you?' said my aunt, with short good nature.  'Then I am sure, I will!'

So she drew her arms with Mr Peggotty's, and walked with him to a leafy little summer house there was at the bottom of the garden, where she sat down on a bench, and I beside her.  There was a seat for Mr Peggotty too, but he preferred to stand, leaning his hand on the small rustic table.  As he stood, looking at his cap for a little while before beginning to speak, I could not help observing what power and force of character his sinewy hand expressed, and what a good and trusty companion it was to his honest brow and iron-grey hair.

'I took my dear child last night,' Mr Peggotty began, as he raised his eyes to ours, 'to my lodging, for I have been a long time been expecting of her and preparing for her.  It was hours before she knew me right, and when she did, she kneeled down at my feet and said to me, as if it was her prayers, how it all come to be.  You may believe me, when I heard her voice, when I had heard at home so playful - and see her humbled, as it might be in the dust our Saviour wrote in with his blessed hand - I felt a wound go to my heart in the midst of all thankfulness. 

He drew his sleeve accross his face, without any pretence of concealing why, and then cleared his voice.

'It weren't for long as I felt that, for she was found, I had only to think as  she was found, and it was gone.  I don't know why so much mention of it now, I am sure.  I didn't have it in my mind a minute ago, to say a word about myself, but it come up natural, I yeilded to it, before I was aware.

'You are a self-denying soul,' said my aunt, 'and will have your reward.'

Mr Peggotty, with shadows of leaves moving on his face, made a surprised inclination of the head towards my aunt, as an acknowledgement of her good opinion, then took up the thread he had relinquished.

'When my Emily took flight,' he said, in stern wrath for the moment, 'from the house she was where she was made a prisoner by that there spotted snake as Master Davy see - and his story is true, and may God confound him! - she took flight in the night.  It was a dark night, with a many stars shining.  She was wild.  She ran along the sea beach, believing the old boat was there; and calling out to us to turn away our faces, for she was  coming by.  She heard herself crying out, like as if it was another person, and cut herself on them sharp pointed stones and rocks, and felt it no more than if she had been rock herself.  Ever so far she ran, and there were fire before her eyes, and roarings in her ears.  Of a sudden or so she thought - you understand - the day broke, wet and windy, and she was lying below a heap of stone upon the shore, and a woman was speaking to her, saying, in the language of that country, what was it as had gone so much amiss?'

He saw everything he related.  It passed before him, as he spoke, so vividly, that in the intensity of his earnestness, he presented what he described to me, with greater distinctness than I can express.  I can hardly believe, writing now long afterwards, but that I was actually present in these scenes.  They were impressed upon me with such an astonishing air of fidelity.

'As Emily's eyes - which was heavy - sees this woman better,' Peggotty went on, 'she knew as she was one of them as she had often talked to on the beach.  For though she had run ever so far in the night, she had often wandered long ways, partly afoot, and partly in boats and carriages, and knew all that country, along the coast, miles and miles.  She hadn't no children of her own, this woman being a young wife, but she was looking to have one before long.  And may my prayers go upto Heaven, that it will be happiness to her, and a comfort, and a honour, all her life.  May it love her and be dutiful to her, in her old age, helpful of her; an Angel to her here, and hereafter.

'Amen,' said my aunt.

'She had been somewhat timorous and down,' said Peggotty, 'and had sat, at first, a little way off, at her spinning, or such work as it was, when Emily talked to children.  But Emily had took notice of her, and had gone and spoke to her, and the young woman was partial to the children herself, they had soon made friends.

Sermuchser, that when Emily went that way, she always gave Emily flowers.  This was her as now asked what it was that had gone so such amiss.  Emily told her and she took her home.  She did indeed.  She took her home,' said Mr Peggotty, covering his face.

He was more affected by this act of kindness, than I had ever seen him affected by anything since the night she went away.  My aunt and I did not attempt to disturb him.

'It was a cottage, you may suppose,' he said presently, but she found space for Emily in it - her husband was away at sea - and she kept it secret, and prevailed upon such neighbours she had (there were not many) to keep it a secret too.  Emily was took bad with fever, and what is very strange to me is - may be it is no do strange to scholars - the language of that country went out of her head, and she could speak only her own, that no one understood.  She recollects, as if she had dreamed it, that she lay there always talking her own tongue, always believing as the old boat was round the next point in the bay, and begging and imploring of them to send there and tell how she was dying, and bring back a message of forgiveness, if it was only a word.  Almost the whole time, she thought, - now, that him as I made mention of just now lurking for her underneath the window; now that him as had brought her to this was in the room - and cried to the good young woman not to give her up, and knew at the same time, that she couldn't understand, and dreaded that she must be took away.  Likewise the fire was before her eyes, and the roarings in her ears; and there was no today, nor yesterday, not yet tomorrow; but everything in her life as ever had been, and as never could be; was a crowding on her all at once; and nothing clear nor welcome, and yet she sang and laughed about it!  How long this lasted I don't know, but then there came a sleep, and in that sleep, from being a many times stronger than her own self, she fell into the weakness of little child.' 

Here he stopped, as if for relief from the terrors of his own description.  After being silent for a few moments, he pursued his story.

'It was a pleasant afternoon when she was awoke; and so quiet, that there weren't a sound but the rippling of that blue sea without a tide, upon the shore.  It was her belief, at first, that she was at home upon a Sunday morning; but the vine leaves as she see at the window, and the hills beyond weren't home, and contradicted of her.  Then, come her friend alongside of the bed to watch her, and then she knew as the old boat wasn't round that next point in the bay no more, but was far off, and knew where she was, and why; and broke out crying on the good woman's bosom, where I hope her baby is lying now, cheering of her with its pretty eyes!'

He could not speak of this good friend of Emily without a flow of tears.  It was in vain to try.  He broke down again and endeavoured to bless her! 

'That done my Emily good,' he returned after such emotion as I could not behold without sharing in, and as to my aunt, she wept with all her heart; 'that done Emily good and she began to mend.  But, the language of that country was quite gone from her, and she was forced to make signs.  So she went on, getting better from day to day, slow, but sure, and trying to learn the names of common things - names as she seemed never to have heard in all her life - till one evening came, when she was sitting at her window, looking at a little girl playing upon the beach.  And of a sudden this child held out her hand, and said, what would be in English "Fisherman's daughter, here's a shell!" - for you are to understand that they used at first to call her "Pretty Lady" as the general way in that country is, and that she had taught them to call her "Fisherman's daughter" instead.  The child says of a sudden, "Fisherman's daughter, here's a shell!"  Then Emily understands her, and she answers bursting out crying, and it all comes back!

'When Emily got strong again,' said Mr Peggotty, after another short interval of silence, 'she cast about to leave that good young woman and get to her own country.  The husband was come home then and the two together put her aboard a trader bound to Leghom, and from there to France.  She had a little money, but it was less than little as they would take for all they done.  I am almost glad on it, they were so poor.  What they did is clear, neither moth nor rust does corrupt it.  No thief can break through or steal it; it will outlast all the treasure in the world.

'Emily got to France, and took service to wait on travelling ladies at an inn in the port.  There, there come one day the snake.  Let him never come nigh me.  I don't know what hurt I might do him! - soon as she see him, without him seeing her, all her fear and wildness returned upon her, and she fled before the very breath he drew.  She came to England and was set ashore at Dover 

'I don't know,' said Mr Peggotty, 'for sure, when her heart begun to fail her, but all the way to England she had thought to come to her dear home.  Soon as she got to England, she turned her face towards it.  But fear of not being forgiven, fear of being pointed at, fear of some of us being dead along of her, fear of many things, turned her from it, upon the road.  "Uncle, uncle" she says to me, "the fear of being not worthy to do what my torn and bleeding breast so longed to do was the most frightening fear of all!  I turned back,  when my hear was full of prayers that I might crawl to the old door-step, in the night, kiss it, and lay my wicked face upon it, and there be found dead in the morning."

'She came,' said Peggotty, dropping his voice to an awe-stricken whisper, 'to London.  She - as had never seen it in his life - alone - without a penny - young - so pretty - come to London.  Almost the moment she lighted here, all so desolate, she found (as she believed) a friend, a decent woman as spoke to her about the needle-work as she had been brought up to do, about finding plenty of it for her, about a lodging for the night, and making secret inquiries concerning me and all at home, tomorrow.  When my child,' he said aloud, and with an energy of gratitude that shook him from head to foot, 'stood upon the brink of more than I can say or think on - Martha, true to her promise saved her.'

I could not repress a cry of joy.

'Master Davy,' said he, gripping my hand in that strong hand of his, 'it was you as first made mention of her to me.  I thank you sir!   She was earnest.  She had of her bitter knowledge where to watch and what to do.  She had done it.  And the Lord was above all!  She came white and hurried upon Emily in her sleep.  She says to her, "Rise up from worse than death, and come with me!"  Them belonging to the house would have stopped her, but they might soon have stopped the sea.  "Stand away from me," she says, "I am a ghost that calls her from beside her grave!" She told Emily she had seen me, and knew I would love her, and forgive her.  She wrapped her, hasty, in her clothes.  She took her, faint and trembling, on her arm.  She needed no more what they said, than she had had no ears.  She walked among them with my child, minding only her, and brought her safe out, in the dead of the night, from that black pit of ruin! 

'She attended on Emily,' said Peggotty, who had released my hand, and put his own hand on his heaving chest, 'she attended to my Emily, lying wearied out, and wandering betwixt whiles till late next day.  Then she went in search of me, then in search of you, Master Davy.  She didn't tell Emily what she come out for, lest her heart should fail, and she should think of hiding of herself.  How the cruel lady knew of her being there, I can't say.  Whether him as I have spoken so much of, chanced to see them going there or whether ( which is most likely) he had heard it from the woman, I don't greatly ask myself.  My niece is found.

'All night long,' said Mr Peggotty, we have been together.  Emily and me.  It's little (considering the time) as she has said, in words, through them broken hearted tears; it's less as I have seen of her dear face, as grown into a woman's at my heart.  But all night long, her arms had been about my neck; and her head had laid here, and we know full well, as we can put our trust in one another, ever more.' 

He ceased to speak, and his hand upon the table, rested there in perfect repose, with a resolution in it that might have conquered lions.

'It was a gleam of light upon me, Trot,' said my aunt, drying her eyes, 'when I formed the resolution of being godmother to your sister Betsy Trotwood, who disappointed me, but, next to that, hardly anything would have given me great pleasure, than to be godmother to that good young creature's baby!'

Mr Peggotty nodded his understanding of my aunt's feelings, but could not trust himself with any verbal reference to the subject of her commendation.  We all remained silent, and occupied with our own reflections (my aunt drying her eyes, and now sobbing convulsively, and now laughing and calling herself a fool) until I spoke.

'You have quite made up your mind,' said I to Mr Peggotty, 'as to the future, good friend? I need scarcely ask you.'

'Quite, Master Davy,' he returned, 'and told Emily there's mighty countries, far from here, our future life lays over the sea.'  

'They will emigrate together, aunt,' said I.

'Yes,' said Mr Peggotty, with a hopeful smile. No one can reproach my darling in Australia.  We will begin a new life over there!'

I asked him if he yet proposed to himself any time for going away.

'I was down at the Docks early this morning, sir,' he returned, 'to get information concerning of them ships.  In about six weeks or two months from now, there'll be one sailing - I saw her this morning - went aboard - and we shall take our passage in her.'

'Quite alone?' 

'Aye, Master Davy,' he returned.  'My sister, you see, she is that fond of you and yours, and that accustomed to think only of her own country, that it wouldn't be hardly fair to let her go.  Besides, there's one she has in charge, Master Davy, as doesn't ought to be forgot.' 

'Poor Ham!' said I.

My good sister takes care of his house, you see, ma'am, and he takes kindly to her,' Mr Peggotty explained for my aunt's better information.  'He'll sit and talk to her, with a calm spirit, when it's like he couldn't bring himself to open his lips to another.  Poor fellow!' said Mr Peggotty, shaking his head, 'there's not so much left him, that he could spare the little as he has!'

'And Mrs Gummidge?' said I.

'Well, I have had a mort of consideration, I do tell you.' returned Mr Peggotty with a perplexed look which gradually cleared as he went on, 'concerning Mrs Gummidge, you see, when Mrs Gummidge falls a-thinking of the old one, she an't what you may call good company.  Between you and me, Master Davy - and you, ma'am, when Mrs Gummidge takes to mimicking - our old country word crying - she's liable to be considered to be, by them as didn't know the old one peevish like.  Now I did know the old one,' said Mr Peggotty, and I know his merits, so I understand her; but that's not entirely so, you see, with others - naturally can't be!'

My aunt and I both acquiesced.

'Whereby,' said Mr Peggotty,  'my sister might - I don't say she would, but might - find Mrs Gummidge give her a little trouble now and again.  Therefore it isn't my intention to moor Mrs Gummidge along with them, but find a being for her where she can fisherate for herself.  For which purpose I mean to make her an allowance before I go, as it will leave her pretty comfortable.  She is a faithful creature.

He forgot nobody.  He thought of everybody's claims and strivings but his own.

'Emily,' he continued, 'will keep along with me - poor child, she is sure in need of peace and rest - until such time as we go upon our voyage.  She'll work at them clothes, as must be made, and I hope her troubles will begin to seem no longer ago than they were, when she finds herself once more by her rough but loving uncle.'

My aunt nodded confirmation of this hope, and imparted satisfaction to Mr Peggotty.

'There is something further, Master Davy,' said Peggotty, putting his hand in his breast-pocket, and gravely taking out the little paper bundle I had seen before, which he unrolled on the table.  'There's these herto - bank notes - fifty pound, and ten.  To them I wish to add the money, as she came away with.  I had asked her about that, and had added it up.  I ain't a scholar.  Would you be so kind as see how it's? 

He handed me apologetically for his scholarship, a piece of paper, and observed me while I looked it over.  It was quite right.

'Thank you sir,' he said taking it back, 'this money, if you don't see objections, Master Davy, I shall put up just before I go, in a cover directed to him, and put that up in another.  I shall tell her, in no more words than I speak to you, what it's the price on, and that I am gone, and past receiving of it back.'

I told him that I thought it would be right to do so - that I was thoroughly convinced it would be, since he felt it would be right.

'I said that there was only one thing further,' he proceeded with a grave smile, when he had made up his little bundle again, and put it in his pocket; but there was two.  I wasn't sure in my mind, when I came out this morning, as I could go and break Ham, of my own self, what had so thankfully happened.  So I wrote a letter while I was out, and put it in the post office, telling of them how all was as it's; and that I should come down tomorrow to unload my mind of what little needs a- doing of down there, and mostly take my farwell leave of Yarmouth.'

'And do you wish me to go with you?' said I, seeing that he left something unsaid.

'If you could do me that kind favour, Master Davy,' he replied, 'I know the sight on you would cheer 'em up a bit.'

My little Dora being in good spirits, and very desirous that I should go - as I found on talking it over with her - I readily pledged myself to accompany him in accordance with his wish.  Next morning, consequently, we were on the Yarmouth coach, and again travelling over the old ground.

As we passed along the familiar street at night - Mr Peggotty, in spite of all my remonstrances, carrying my bag - I glanced into Omar and Joram's shop, and saw my old friend Mr Omar there, smoking his pipe.  I felt reluctant to be present, when Mr Peggotty first met his sister and Ham; and made Mr Omar my excuse for lingering behind.

'How is Mr Omer, after this long time?' said I, going in.

He fanned away the smoke of his pipe, that he might get a better view of me, and soon recognised me with great delight.

'I should get up, sir, to acknowledge such an honour as this visit,' said he, 'only my limbs are rather out of sorts, and I am wheeled about.  With the exception of my limbs, and my breath however, I am as hearty as a man can be, I am thankful to say.'

I congratulated him on his contented looks and his good spirits, and saw, now, that his easy-chair went on wheels.

'It's an ingenious thing, ain't it?' he inquired, following the direction of my glance, and polishing the elbow with his arm.  'It runs as light as a feather, and tracks as smooth as a mail-coach.  Bless you, my little Minnie - my grand daughter you know, Minnie's child - put her little strength against the back, gives it a shove, and away we go, as clever and merry as ever you see anything!  And tell you what - it's most uncommon chair to smoke a pipe in.'

I never saw such a good old fellow to make the best of a thing, and find out enjoyment of it, as Mr Omer.  He was as radiant, as if his chair, his asthma, and the failure of his limbs, were the branches of a great invention for enhancing the luxury of his pipe.

'I see more of the world, I can assure you,' said Mr Omer, 'in this chair, than ever I see out of it.  You would be surprised at the number of people that looks in of a day to have a chat.  You really would!  There's twice as much in the newspaper, since I have taken to this chair, as there used to be.  As to genaral reading, dear me, what a lot of it I do to get through!  That's what I feel so strong, you know!  If it had been my eyes, what should I have don?  Being my limbs, what does it signify?  Why, my limbs only made my breath shorter when I used them.  And now, if I want to go out into the street of down to the sands, I've got to call Dick, Joram's youngest 'prentice, and away I go in my own carriage like the Lord Mayor of London.'

He half suffocated himself with laughing here.

'Lord bless you!' said Omer, resuming his pipe, 'a man must take the fat with the lean; that's what he makes up his mind to, in this life.  Joram does a fine business!

'I am very glad to hear it,' said I.

'I knew you would be,' said Omer.  'And Joram and Minnie are like Valentines.  What more can a man expect?  What's his limbs to that!'

His supreme contempt for his own limbs, as he sat smoking, was one of the pleasant oddities I have ever encountered.

'And since I have  took to general reading, you have took to general writing, eh, sir,' said Mr Omer surveying me admiringly.  What a lovely work that was of yours!  What expressions in it!  I read it every word - every word.  And as to feeling sleepy!  Not at all.

I laughingly expressed my satisfaction, but I must confess that I thought this association of ideas significant.  

'I give you my word and honour, sir,' said Omer, 'that when I lay that book upon the table, and look at outside; compact in three separate and individual volumes - one, two, three; I am as proud as Punch to think that I once had the honour of being connected with your family.  And dear me, it's a long time ago now, ain't it?  Over at Blunderstone.  With this pretty little party, laid along with the other party.  And you quite a small party then, yourself.  Dear, dear!'

I changed the subject by referring to Emily.  After assuring that I did not forget how interested he had always been on her, and how kindly he had always treated her, I gave him a general account of her restoration to her uncle by the aid of Martha; which I knew would please the old man.  He listened with utmost attention, and said, feelingly, when I had done.

'I am rejoiced at it, sir!  It's the best news I had heard for many of a day.   Dear, dear, dear!  And what's going to be undertook for that unfortunate young woman, Martha, now?'

'You touch a point that my thoughts have been dwelling on since yesterday,' said I, but on which I can give you no information yet, Mr Omer.  Mr Peggotty has not alluded to it, and I have a delicacy in doing so. I am sure he had not forgotten it.  He forgets nothing that is disiterested and good.' 

'Because you know,' said Mr Omer, taking himself up where he had left off, 'whatever is done, I would wish to be a member of.  Put me down for anything you may consider right, and let me know.  I never could think the girl all bad, and I am glad to find she is not.  So my daughter Minnie be.  Young women are contradictory creatures in somethings - her mother was just the same as her - but their hearts are soft and kind.  It's all show with Minnie about Martha.  Why she should consider it necessary to make any show, I don't undertake to tell you.  But it's all show, bless you.  She'd do her any kindness in private.  So, put me down for whatever you may consider right, and will you be so good? and drop me a line where to forward it.  Dear me! said Omer, 'when a man is drawing on to a time of life, where the two ends of life meet, when he finds himself, however hearty he is, being wheeled about for the second time in a speeches of go-cart, he should be over rejoiced to do a kindness if he can.  He wants plenty.  And I don't speak of myself particular,' said Mr Omer, 'because, sir, the way I look at it is, that we are all drawing on to the bottom of the hill, whatever age we are, on account of time never standing still for a single moment.  So let us always do a kindness, and be over rejoiced.  To be sure!'

He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it on a ledge in the back of the chair, expressly made for its reception.

'There's Emily's cousin, him that she was to have been married to,' said Omer, rubbing his hands feebly, 'as fine a fellow as there is in Yarmouth!  He'll come and talk or read to me, in the evening, for an hour together sometimes.  That's a kindness, I should call it!  All his life is a kindness.'

'I am going to see him now,' said I.

'Are you?' said Omer.  'Tell him I was hearty, and send my respects.  Minnie and Joram's at ball.  They would be as proud to see you as I am, if they were at home.  Minnie. hardly go out at all, you see, "on account of father" as she says.  So, I swore tonight, that if she didn't go, I would go to bed at six.  In consequence of which,' Mr Omer shook himself and his chair with a laugher at the success of his device, 'she and Joram's at ball.' 

I shook hands with him and wished him goodnight.

'Half a minute, sir,' said Mr Omer, 'if you was to go without seeing my little elephant, you'd lose the best of sights.  You never see such a sight!  Minnie!'

A musical little voice answered, from somewhere upstairs, 'I am coming grandfather!' and a pretty little girl, with long, flaxen curling hair, soon came running into the shop.

'This is my little elephant, sir,' said Mr Omer, fondling the child, 'Siamese breed, sir.  Now the little elephant!'

The little elephant set the doors of the parlour open, enabling me to see that, in these days, it was converted into a bedroom for Mr Omer, who could not be easily conveyed upstairs; and then hid her pretty forehead, and tumbled her long hair, against the back of Mr Omer's chair.

'The elephant butts, you know sir,' said Mr Omer winking, 'when he goes at an object.  Once, elephant. Twice. Three times!'

At this signal, the little elephant, with a dexterity that was next to marvellous in so small an animal, whisked the chair round with Mr Omer in it, and rattled it off, pell-mell into the parlour, without touching the door post: Mr Omer indescribably enjoying the performance, and looking back at me on the road as if it were the triumphant issue of his life's exertions.

After a stroll about the house I went to Ham's house.  Peggotty had now moved here good; and had let her own house to the successor of Mr Barkis in the carrying business, who had paid her very well for the goodwill cart and horse.  I believe the very same slow horse that Mr Barkis drove was still at work.

I found them in the kitchen, accompanied by Mrs Gummidge, who had been fetched from the old boat by Mr Peggotty himself.  I doubt if she could have been induced to desert her post, by anyone else.  He had evidently told them all.  Both Peggotty and Mrs Gummidge had their aprons to their eyes, and Ham had just stepped out to 'take a turn on the beach'.  He presently came home very glad to see me; and I hope they were all the better for my being there.  We spoke, with some approach to the cheerfulness, of Mr Peggotty's growing rich in the new country, and the wonders he would describe in his letters.  We said nothing of Emily by name, but distantly referred to her more than once.  Ham was the serenest of the party.

But, Peggotty had told me, when she lighted to me to a little chamber, where the crocodile book was lying ready for me on the table, that he always was the same.  She believed, she told me crying that he was broken hearted though he was full of courage as of sweetness, and worked harder and better than any boat builder in any yard in all that part.  There were times, she said, of an evening, when he talked of their old life in the boat house, and then he mentioned Emily as a child.  But he never mentioned her as a woman.

I thought I had read in his face that he would like to speak to me alone.  I therefore resolved to put myself in his way next evening, as he came home from his work.  Having settled this with myself, I fell asleep.  That night, for the first time, in all those many nights, the candle was taken out of the window, Mr Peggotty swung in his old hammock in the old boat, and the wind murmured with the old sound round his head.

All next day, he was occupied in disposing of his fishng boat and tackle; in picking up, and sending to London by waggon, such of his little domestic possession as he thought would be useful to him, and in parting with the rest, or bestowing them on Mrs Gummidge.  She was with him all day.  As I had a sorrowful wish to see the old place once more, before it was locked up, I engaged to meet them there in the evening.  But I so arranged it, as that I should meet Ham first.

It was easy to come in his way, as I knew where he worked.  I met him at the retired part of sands, which I knew he would cross, and turned back with him, that he might have leisure to speak to me if he really wished.  I had not mistaken the expression of his face.  We had walked but a little way together, when he said, without looking at me.

'Master Davy, have you seen her?'

'Only for a moment, when she was in swoon,' I softly answered.

We walked a little farther, and he said.

'Master Davy, shall you see her, do you think?

'It would be too painful to her, perhaps,' said I.

'I have thought of that,' he replied.  'So it would, sir, so it would.'

'But, Ham,' said I gently, 'if there is anything that I could write to her, for you, in case I could not tell it, if there is anything you would wish to make known to her through me, I should consider it a sacred trust.,'

'I am sure on it.  I thank you; sir, most kind!  I think there is something I could wish said or wrote.'

'What's it?'

We walked a little farther in silence, and then he spoke.

'It is not that I forgive her. It is not that so much.  It's more as I beg of her to forgive me, for having pressed my affections upon her.  Odd times, that if I hadn't had her promise to marry me, sir, she was that trustful of me, in a friendly way, that she'd have told me what was struggling in her mind, and would have consulted with me, and I might have saved her.'

I pressed his hand.  'Is that all?'

'There's yet something else,' he returned, 'if I can say it, Master Davy.'

We walked on, farther than we had walked yet, before he spoke again.  He was not crying when he made the pauses I shall express by lines.  He was merely collecting himself to speak very plainly.

'I loved her, and love the memory of her - too deep- to be able to lead her to believe of my own self as I am a happy man.  I could only be happy by forgetting her - and I am afraid I could hardly bear her as she should be told.  But if you, so full of learning, Master Davy, could think of anything to say as might bring her to believe,  as I was not tired of my life, and yet was hoping to see her without blame, where the wicked cease troubling her, and the weary are at rest - anything as would ease her sorrowful mind, and yet not make her think as I could ever marry, or as 'twas possible that any one could ever be to me what she was - should ask you to say that - with my prayers for her - that was so dear.'

I pressed his manly hand again, and told him I would charge myself to do this as well as I could.

I thank you, sir,' he answered, 'Twas kind of you to meet me.  It was kind of you to bear him company down.  Master Davy, I understand very well, though my aunt will come to London, before they sail, and they will unite once more, that I am not like to see him again.  I fare to feel sure of it.  We don't say so, but so it will be, and better so.  The last you saw on him - the very last - will you give him the loving duty  and thanks of the orphan, as he ever more than a father to?'

This I also promised faithfully.

'I thank you again, sir,' he said, heartily shaking hands.  'I know where you are going.  Good bye.'

With a slight wave of his hand, as though to explain to me, that he could not enter the old place, he turned away.  As I looked after his figure, crossing the waste in the moonlight, I saw him turn his face towards a strip of silvery light upon the sea, and pass on looking at it, until he was a shadow in the distance.

The door of the boathouse stood open when I approached; and on entering, I found emptied of all its furniture, saving one of the old lockers, on which Mrs Gummidge, with a basket on her knee, was seated, looking at Mr Peggotty.  He leaned his elbow on the rough chimney-piece, and gazed upon a few expiring embers in the grate, but he raised his head, hopefully, on my coming in, and spoke in a cheery manner.

'Come, according to promise, to bid  farewell to, eh, Master Davy?' he said, taking up the candle.  

'Bare enough, now, ain't it?  Indeed you have made good use of time,' said I.

'Why, we have not been idle, sir.  Mrs Gummidge has worked like a - I don't know what Mrs Gummidge an't worked like,' said he, looking at her, at a loss for a sufficiently approving smile.

Mrs Gummidge, leaning on her basket, made no observation.

'There's the very locker you used to sit on, along with Emily!' said Mr Peggotty, in a whisper.  'I am going to carry it away with me, last of all.  And here's your old bedroom, see, Master Davy!  Almost bleak tonight, as heart could wish!'

In truth, the wind, though it was low, had a solemn sound, and crept around the deserted house with a whispered wailing that was very mournful.  Everything was gone, down to the little mirror with the oyster-shell frame.  I thought of  myself lying here, when that great change was being wrought at home.  I thought of the blue eyed child who had enchanted me.  I thought of Steerforth; and a foolish, fearful fancy came upon me of his being near at hand, and liable to be met at any turn.

'Tis like to be long,' said Mr Peggotty, in a low voice, 'before the boat finds its new tenants.  They look upon 't, down be here as being unfortunate now!

'Does it belong to anybody in the neighborhood?' I asked.

'To a mast-maker up town,' said Peggotty, 'I going to give the key to him tonight.'

We looked into other little room, and came back to Mrs Gummidge, sitting on the locker, whom Mr Peggotty, putting the light on the chimney-piece, requested to rise, that he might carry it outside the door before extinguishing the candle.

'Dan't,' said Mrs Gummidge, suddenly deserving her basket, and clinging to his arm, 'my dear dan't, the parting words I speak in this house is, I mustn't be left behind, dan't think of leaving me behind.  Dan't oh! Dan't you ever do it.'

Mr Peggotty, taken aback, looked from Mrs Gummidge to me, and from me to Mrs Gummidge, as if he had been awaken from a sleep.

'Dan't ye dearest dan't, cried Mrs Gummidge fervently.  'Take me along with you.  Take me along with you and Emily.  I will be your servent, constant and true.  If there is slaves in them parts where you are going, I will be bound to you for one, and happy, but dan't leave me deary dear!'

'My good soul,' said Mr Peggotty, shaking his head, 'you don't know what a long voyage, and what a hard life it is.'

'Yes I do. Dan't I can guess!' cried Mrs Gummidge.  'But my parting words under this roof is, I shall go into the house and die, if I am not took.  I can dig, dan't I can work? I can live hard.  I can be loving and patient now - more than you think, if you only try me.  I wouldn't touch the allowance, even if I am dying of want.  Dan't Peggotty, I will go with you and Emily, if you'll only let me, to the world's end!  I know how it's; I know you think that I am lone and torn, but deary love, that's so no more.  I ain't sat here so long a- watching and a-thinking of your trials, without some good being done me.  Master Davy, speak to him for me.  I know his ways, and Emily's, and know their sorrows, and can be a comfort to them, some odd times, and labour for them always.  Dan't deary dan't, let me go along with you!'

And Mrs Gummidge took his hand, and kissed it with a homely pathos and affection, in a homely rapture of devotion and gratitude, that he well deserved.

We brought the locker out, extinguished the candle, fastened the door on the outside, and left the old boat close shut up, a dark speck in the cloudy night.  Next day, when we were returning to London outside the coach, Mrs Gummidge and her basket were on the seat behind, and Mrs Gummidge was happy.

END OF THE CHAPTER