The Adelphi - EIGHT: The Will of Barkis

Peggotty had already bought, out of her savings, a small piece of ground in the Churchyard in Blundestone near the grave of her 'sweet girl' Clara Copperfield, and the remains of Mr Barkis to rest there.  She requested David to stay at the inn until after the remains of the carrier have made their last journey to Blunderstone.

On the day of the funeral Trotwood walked over to Blundestone, early in the morning, and was in the Churchyard when it came, attended only by Peggotty and her brother.  The mad gentleman looked on out of the little window of Rookery; Mr Chillip's baby wagged its heavy head and rolled its eyes, at the clergyman over its nurse's shoulder, Mr Omer breathed short in the background, no one else was there, and it was very quiet.  David walked about the churchyard for sometime, and pulled some leaves from the tree above his mother's grave.

The will of Barkis was found in his box, at the bottom of a horse's nose-bag.  Besides the will, other belongings were: an old gold watch, which Mr Barkis had worn on his wedding day, a silver tobacco- stopper, an imitation lemon, full of minute cups and saucers, eighty-seven guineas and a half in guineas and half guineas, two hundred and ten pounds in perfectly clean Bank notes, certain receipts for Bank of England's stock, an old horse shoe, a bad shilling, a piece of camphor, and an oyster shell, and some hay.

For years and years Mr Barkis carried this box, on the lid of which were written the words, 'Mr Blackboy' 'to be left with Barkis till called for'. The characters, being old, are not legible - a fiction created by him to escape notice.

His money amounted to nearly three thousand pounds.  Of this he bequeathed the interest of one thousand to Mr Peggotty for his life; the principal to be equally divided among Peggotty, little Emily and David.  All the rest he bequeathed to Peggotty.

Peggotty was to go to Londom next week with Trotwood, on the business of the will.

Trotwood was within the sight of Mr Peggotty's boathouse.  A light within it shined through the window. 

He entered the boathouse.  Peggotty sat, enjoying his evening pipe.  The fire was bright, the ashes were thrown up, the locker was ready for little Emily in her old place.  In her old place sat Peggotty.  She had fallen back on the society of her work-box, with St Paul's upon its lid.  Mrs Gummidge appeared to be fretting a little, in her old corner.

Mr Peggotty asked him to take off the coat if it were wet.

'Thank you Mr Peggotty,' said Trotwood, giving him the outer coat to hang up. 

Mr Peggotty welcomed him formally.

'Thank you Mr Peggotty,' said Trotwood. 

 'Well Peggotty,' said Trotwood as he kissed her old nurse.

'Ha,ha!' laughed Peggotty, rubbing his hands, 'there is no woman, in the world, sir, that need to feel more easy in her mind. She done her duty to the departed, and the departed what was right by her!'

Mrs Gummidge groaned.

'Cheer up my pretty mother,' he said.  He would have said more, but he was prevented by Peggotty pulling his sleeves and shooking her head.  After looking at Mrs Gummidge, for some moments, he glanced at the Dutch clock, rose, snuffed the candle, and put it in the window.

'I put the light in the window for our Em'ly,' said he.

'You are a baby,' said Peggotty; very fond of him for it.

'She weren't not higher than my knee, when she came here,' said Peggotty, 'when she's married and gone, I shall put that candle there, expecting her, here she is.'

A knock on the door.

It was Ham only.  The night should have been more wet, since he had a large sou'wester hat on, the brim of which bent over his face.

He had made a motion with his head, towards Trotwood, without entering the house.  Mr Peggotty took the light from the window, trimmed it and put it on the table, and was busily stirring the fire, when Ham, who had not moved said: 

'Master Davy, will you come out a minute, and see what Em'ly and me has got to show you?

Both Trotwood and Mr Peggotty went out.  As Trotwood passed at the door, Ham pulled him hastily into the open air, and closed the door.  He was deadly pale.

Frightened and astonished, Trotwood said, 'Ham! What's the matter?'

'Master Davy!' He looked broken hearted and dreadfully he wept!

'Ham! Poor good fellow! For Heaven's sake, tell me what's the matter!' said Trotwood.

'My love, Master Davy - the pride and hope of my heart - her that I would have died for, and would die now - she's gone!'

'Em'ly's run away! Master Davy, think how she's run away, when I pray my God and Gracious God to kill her, sooner than let her come to ruin and disgrace!'

The face he turned up to the troubled sky, the quivering of his clasped hands, the agony of his figure remained in the darkness of the night.

'You're a scholar,' he said hurriedly, 'and know what's right and what's best. What am I to say indoors? How am I ever to break it to him, Master Davy?'

Trotwood saw the door move, and instinctively tried to hold the latch on the outside, to gain a moment.  It was too late.  Mr Peggotty thrust forth his face, and he saw them hush up in the darkness.

He let out a great wail.  The women gave a start to the door.  All were now standing in the room; Trotwood with a paper in his hand, which Ham had given him; Mr Peggotty with his vest torn open, his hair wild, his face and lips quite white, looking fixedly at the paper.

'Read it sir,' he said, in a low shivering voice.  'Slow please. I don't know as I can understand.'

In the midst of silence of death, Trotwood read thus, from a blotted letter:

"'When you, who love me so much better than I have deserved, even my mind was innocent, see this I shall be far away."'

'I shall be far away,' he repeated slowly. 'Stop Em'ly far away. We'll!'

"'When I leave my dear home - my dear home - oh, my dear home! In the morning.'"

The letter bore date of previous night.

"'- it will be never to come back unless he bring me back a lady.  This will be found at night, many hours after, instead of me.  Oh, if you knew how my heart is torn.  If even you that I have wronged so much, that never can forgive me, could only know what I suffer!  I am too wicked to write about myself!  Oh, take comfort in thinking that I am so bad. Oh, for mercy's sake, tell uncle that I never half so dear as now.  Oh, don't remember how affectionate and kind you have all been to me - don't remember we ever to be married - but try to think as if I died when I was little, and was buried somewhere.  Pray Heaven that I am going away from, have compassion on my uncle!  Tell him that I never loved him half so dear.  Be his comfort.  Love some good girl that will be what I was to uncle, and be true to you, and worthy of you, and I know no shame but me.  God bless all!  And I'll pray for all, often on my knees.  If he doesn't bring me back a lady, I don't pray for my own self, I'll pray for all, I'll pray for all.  My parting love to uncle.  My last tears, and my last thanks for uncle!"'

That was all.

He stood still looking at Trotwood, who ventured to take his hand, and entreated him, to take some command over himself.  He  replied with his thanks.

No one dared to speak to him.  At last he moved, and cast his eyes round the room.

'Who is the man?  I want to know his name.'

Ham glanced at Trotwood, who suddenly felt a shock.

'There's a man suspected,' said Peggotty.

'Master Davy!' implored Ham, 'Go out a bit, and let me tell him. You oughtn't hear it, sir.'

Trotwood felt another shock and sank down in his chair.

'For some time past,' Ham faltered, 'there has been a servent about here at odd times.  There has been a gentleman too.  Both of them belonged to one another.'

Mr Peggotty stood fixed as before, but now looked at Ham.

'The servant,' pursued Ham, 'was seen along with -our poor girl - last night.  He has been hiding about here, this week or over.  He was thought to have gone, but he was hiding. 'Don't stay Master Davy, don't!'

Trotwood felt the house was falling, and Peggoty's arm around his neck.

'A strange chaise and horses were outside town, this morning on the Norwich road, almost before daybreak,' Ham went on.  The servant went to it, and came from it, and went to it again, Em'ly was nigh him.  The other was inside.  He's the man.'

'For Lord's love,' said Mr Peggotty, falling back, and putting out his hand, as if to keep off what he dreaded, 'Don't tell me his name is Steerforth.'

'Master Davy,' exclaimed Ham, in a broken voice, 'it ain't no fault of yours, but his name is Steerforth, and he's the dam villian.'

Mr Peggotty uttered no cry, and he'd no tears, and moved no more, until he seemed to wake again, all at once, and pulled down his rough coat from its peg in a corner.

'Now give me my hat,' said Mr Peggotty.

Ham asked where he was going.

'I am going to seek my niece, my Em'ly.  First I am going to stave that boat and sink it where I would have drowned him if I had had one thought of what was in him!  I am going to seek my niece.'

'Where?' cried Ham interposiing himself before the door.

'Anywhere!  I am going to seek my niece throughout the world.'

'No, no,' cried Mrs Gummidge, coming between them, in a fit of crying, 'No, Dan'l, and that'll be but right! but not as you are now. Sit you down, and give me your forgiveness for having ever been a worry to you. Let us speak a word about them times when she was first an orphan, and Ham was too, and I was a poor widow, and you took me in.  It will soften your poor heart, Dan'l.'

He was quite passive now.  When Trotwood saw him crying, he had an impulse to go down upon his knees, and ask their pardon for the desolation caused, and he cried too, and found some relief.

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