"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--"G.o.d 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. d.i.c.k, 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.
d.i.c.k," said my aunt.
"I shall be delighted," said Mr. d.i.c.k, "to be the guardian of David"s son."
"Very good," returned my aunt, "that"s settled. I have been thinking, do you know, Mr. d.i.c.k, that I might call him Trotwood?"
"Certainly, certainly. Call him Trotwood, certainly," said Mr. d.i.c.k.
"David"s son"s Trotwood."
"Trotwood Copperfield, you mean," returned my aunt.
"Yes, to be sure. Yes. Trotwood Copperfield," said Mr. d.i.c.k, 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. d.i.c.k. 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. d.i.c.k 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.
d.i.c.k 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. d.i.c.k, 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. d.i.c.k, "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. d.i.c.k, 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 Sat.u.r.day, 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 surpa.s.sing 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 pet.i.tion, were afterwards increased to ten. We parted at the garden-gate in a most affectionate manner, and Mr. d.i.c.k 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.