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I said： ‘Yes。’
‘And your shirts；’ said Miss Murdstone； ‘have you brought ’em
home？’
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
‘Yes； ma’am。 I have brought home all my clothes。’
This was all the consolation that her firmness administered to
me。 I do not doubt that she had a choice pleasure in exhibiting
what she called her self…command； and her firmness； and her
strength of mind； and her common sense； and the whole diabolical
catalogue of her unamiable qualities； on such an occasion。 She was
particularly proud of her turn for business； and she showed it now
in reducing everything to pen and ink； and being moved by
nothing。 All the rest of that day； and from morning to night
afterwards； she sat at that desk； scratching composedly with a
hard pen； speaking in the same imperturbable whisper to
everybody； never relaxing a muscle of her face； or softening a tone
of her voice； or appearing with an atom of her dress astray。
Her brother took a book sometimes； but never read it that I
saw。 He would open it and look at it as if he were reading； but
would remain for a whole hour without turning the leaf； and then
put it down and walk to and fro in the room。 I used to sit with
folded hands watching him； and counting his footsteps； hour after
hour。 He very seldom spoke to her； and never to me。 He seemed to
be the only restless thing； except the clocks； in the whole
motionless house。
In these days before the funeral； I saw but little of Peggotty；
except that； in passing up or down stairs； I always found her close
to the room where my mother and her baby lay； and except that
she came to me every night； and sat by my bed’s head while I went
to sleep。 A day or two before the burial—I think it was a day or two
before； but I am conscious of confusion in my mind about that
heavy time； with nothing to mark its progress—she took me into
the room。 I only recollect that underneath some white covering on
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
the bed； with a beautiful cleanliness and freshness all around it；
there seemed to me to lie embodied the solemn stillness that was
in the house； and that when she would have turned the cover
gently back； I cried： ‘Oh no！ oh no！’ and held her hand。
If the funeral had been yesterday； I could not recollect it better。
The very air of the best parlour； when I went in at the door； the
bright condition of the fire； the shining of the wine in the
decanters； the patterns of the glasses and plates； the faint sweet
smell of cake； the odour of Miss Murdstone’s dress； and our black
clothes。 Mr。 Chillip is in the room； and comes to speak to me。
‘And how is Master David？’ he says； kindly。
I cannot tell him very well。 I give him my hand； which he holds
in his。
‘Dear me！’ says Mr。 Chillip； meekly smiling； with something
shining in his eye。 ‘Our little friends grow up around us。 They
grow out of our knowledge； ma’am？’ This is to Miss Murdstone；
who makes no reply。
‘There is a great improvement here； ma’am？’ says Mr。 Chillip。
Miss Murdstone merely answers with a frown and a formal
bend： Mr。 Chillip； discomfited； goes into a corner； keeping me with
him； and opens his mouth no more。
I remark this； because I remark everything that happens； not
because I care about myself； or have done since I came home。 And
now the bell begins to sound； and Mr。 Omer and another come to
make us ready。 As Peggotty was wont to tell me； long ago； the
followers of my father to the same grave were made ready in the
same room。
There are Mr。 Murdstone； our neighbour Mr。 Grayper； Mr。
Chillip； and I。 When we go out to the door； the Bearers and their
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
load are in the garden； and they move before us down the path；
and past the elms； and through the gate； and into the churchyard；
where I have so often heard the birds sing on a summer morning。
We stand around the grave。 The day seems different to me from
every other day； and the light not of the same colour—of a sadder
colour。 Now there is a solemn hush； which we have brought from
home with what is resting in the mould； and while we stand
bareheaded； I hear the voice of the clergyman； sounding remote in
the open air； and yet distinct and plain； saying： ‘I am the
Resurrection and the Life； saith the Lord！’ Then I hear sobs； and；
standing apart among the lookers…on； I see that good and faithful
servant； whom of all the people upon earth I love the best； and
unto whom my childish heart is certain that the Lord will one day
say： ‘Well done。’
There are many faces that I know； among the little crowd； faces
that I knew in church； when mine was always wondering there；
faces that first saw my mother； when she came to the village in her
youthful bloom。 I do not mind them—I mind nothing but my
grief—and yet I see and know them all； and even in the
background； far away； see Minnie looking on； and her eye glancing
on her sweetheart； who is near me。
It is over； and the earth is filled in； and we turn to come away。
Before us stands our house； so pretty and unchanged； so linked in
my mind with the young idea of what is gone； that all my sorrow
has been nothing to the sorrow it calls forth。 But they take me on；
and Mr。 Chillip talks to me； and when we get home； puts some
water to my lips； and when I ask his leave to go up to my room；
dismisses me with the gentleness of a woman。
All this； I say； is yesterday’s event。 Events of later date have
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
floated from me to the shore where all forgotten things will
reappear； but this stands like a high rock in the ocean。
I knew that Peggotty would come to me in my room。 The
Sabbath stillness of the time （the day was so like Sunday！ I have
forgotten that） was suited to us both。 She sat down by my side
upon my little bed； and holding my hand； and sometimes putting it
to her lips； and sometimes smoothing it with hers； as she might
have comforted my little brother； told me； in her way； all that she
had to tell concerning what had happened。
‘She was never well；’ said Peggotty； ‘for a long time。 She was
uncertain in her mind； and not happy。 When her baby was born； I
thought at first she would get better； but she was more delicate；
and sunk a little every day。 She used to like to sit alone before her
baby came； and then she cried； but afterwards she used to sing to
it—so soft； that I once thought； when I heard her； it was like a
voice up in the air； that was rising away。
‘I think she got to be more timid； and more frightened…like； of
late； and that a hard word was like a blow to her。 But she was
always the same to me。 She never changed to her foolish Peggotty；
didn’t my sweet girl。’
Here Peggotty stopped； and softly beat upon my hand a little
while。
‘The last time that I saw her like her own old self； was the night
when you came home； my dear。 The day you went away； she said
to me； “I never shall see my pretty darling again