按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
window near it； out of which our house can be seen； and is seen
many times during the morning’s service； by Peggotty； who likes
to make herself as sure as she can that it’s not being robbed； or is
not in flames。 But though Peggotty’s eye wanders； she is much
offended if mine does； and frowns to me； as I stand upon the seat；
that I am to look at the clergyman。 But I can’t always look at him—
I know him without that white thing on； and I am afraid of his
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
wondering why I stare so； and perhaps stopping the service to
inquire—and what am I to do？ It’s a dreadful thing to gape； but I
must do something。 I look at my mother； but she pretends not to
see me。 I look at a boy in the aisle； and he makes faces at me。 I
look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch；
and there I see a stray sheep—I don’t mean a sinner； but mutton—
half making up his mind to come into the church。 I feel that if I
looked at him any longer； I might be tempted to say something out
loud； and what would become of me then！ I look up at the
monumental tablets on the wall； and try to think of Mr。 Bodgers
late of this parish； and what the feelings of Mrs。 Bodgers must
have been； when affliction sore； long time Mr。 Bodgers bore； and
physicians were in vain。 I wonder whether they called in Mr。
Chillip； and he was in vain； and if so； how he likes to be reminded
of it once a week。 I look from Mr。 Chillip； in his Sunday neckcloth；
to the pulpit； and think what a good place it would be to play in；
and what a castle it would make； with another boy coming up the
stairs to attack it； and having the velvet cushion with the tassels
thrown down on his head。 In time my eyes gradually shut up； and；
from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the
heat； I hear nothing； until I fall off the seat with a crash； and am
taken out； more dead than alive； by Peggotty。
And now I see the outside of our house； with the latticed
bedroom…windows standing open to let in the sweet…smelling air；
and the ragged old rooks’…nests still dangling in the elm…trees at
the bottom of the front garden。 Now I am in the garden at the
back； beyond the yard where the empty pigeon…house and dog…
kennel are—a very preserve of butterflies； as I remember it； with a
high fence； and a gate and padlock； where the fruit clusters on the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
trees； riper and richer than fruit has ever been since； in any other
garden； and where my mother gathers some in a basket； while I
stand by； bolting furtive gooseberries； and trying to look unmoved。
A great wind rises； and the summer is gone in a moment。 We are
playing in the winter twilight； dancing about the parlour。 When
my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow…chair； I
watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers； and
straitening her waist； and nobody knows better than I do that she
likes to look so well； and is proud of being so pretty。
That is among my very earliest impressions。 That； and a sense
that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty； and submitted
ourselves in most things to her direction； were among the first
opinions—if they may be so called—that I ever derived from what
I saw。
Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlour fire； alone。
I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles。 I must have read
very perspicuously； or the poor soul must have been deeply
interested； for I remember she had a cloudy impression； after I
had done； that they were a sort of vegetable。 I was tired of reading；
and dead sleepy； but having leave； as a high treat； to sit up until
my mother came home from spending the evening at a
neighbour’s； I would rather have died upon my post （of course）
than have gone to bed。 I had reached that stage of sleepiness when
Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large。 I propped
my eyelids open with my two forefingers； and looked
perseveringly at her as she sat at work； at the little bit of wax…
candle she kept for her thread—how old it looked； being so
wrinkled in all directions！—at the little house with a thatched roof；
where the yard…measure lived； at her work…box with a sliding lid；
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
with a view of St。 Paul’s Cathedral （with a pink dome） painted on
the top； at the brass thimble on her finger； at herself； whom I
thought lovely。 I felt so sleepy； that I knew if I lost sight of
anything for a moment； I was gone。
‘Peggotty；’ says I； suddenly； ‘were you ever married？’
‘Lord； Master Davy；’ replied Peggotty。 ‘What’s put marriage in
your head？’
She answered with such a start； that it quite awoke me。 And
then she stopped in her work； and looked at me； with her needle
drawn out to its thread’s length。
‘But were you ever married； Peggotty？’ says I。 ‘You are a very
handsome woman； an’t you？’
I thought her in a different style from my mother； certainly； but
of another school of beauty； I considered her a perfect example。
There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlour； on which my
mother had painted a nosegay。 The ground…work of that stool； and
Peggotty’s complexion appeared to me to be one and the same
thing。 The stool was smooth； and Peggotty was rough； but that
made no difference。
‘Me handsome； Davy！’ said Peggotty。 ‘Lawk； no； my dear！ But
what put marriage in your head？’
‘I don’t know！—You mustn’t marry more than one person at a
time； may you； Peggotty？’
‘Certainly not；’ says Peggotty； with the promptest decision。
‘But if you marry a person； and the person dies； why then you
may marry another person； mayn’t you； Peggotty？’
‘You may；’ says Peggotty； ‘if you choose； my dear。 That’s a
matter of opinion。’
‘But what is your opinion； Peggotty？’ said I。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
I asked her； and looked curiously at her； because she looked so
curiously at me。
‘My opinion is；’ said Peggotty； taking her eyes from me； after a
little indecision and going on with her work； ‘that I never was
married myself； Master Davy； and that I don’t expect to be。 That’s
all I know about the subject。’
‘You an’t cross； I suppose； Peggotty； are you？’ said I； after
sitting quiet for a minute。
I really thought she was； she had been so short with me； but I
was quite mistaken： for she laid aside her work （which was a
stocking of her own）； and opening her arms wide； took my curly
head within them； and gave it a good squeeze。 I know it was a
good squeeze； because； being very plump； whenever she made any
little exertion after she was dressed； some of the buttons on the
back of her gown flew off。 And I recollect two bursting to the
opposite side of the parlour； while she was hugging me。
‘Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills；’ said
Peggotty； who was not quite right in the name yet； ‘for I an’t heard
half enough。’
I couldn’t quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer；