I could not repress a cry of joy.
"Mas'r Davyl" he said, gripping my hand in that strong hand of his, "it was you as first made mention of her to me. I thankee, sir! She was arnest. She had know'd of her bitter knowledge wheer to watch and what to do. She had done it. And the Lord was above all! She come, white and hurried, upon Em'ly 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 as soon have stopped the sea. 'Stand away from me,' she says, 'I am a ghost that calls her from beside her open grave!' She told Em'ly she had seen me, and know'd I loved her, and forgive her. She wrapped her, hasty, in her clothes. She took her, faint and trembling, on her arm. She heeded no more what they said, than if she had had no ears. She walked among 'em 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 Em'ly," said Mr. Peggotty, who had released my hand, and put his own hand on his heaving chest, "she attended to my Em'ly, lying wearied out, and wandering betwixt whiles, till late next day. Then she went in search of me, then in search of you, Mas'r Davy. She didn't tell Em'ly what she come out fur, lest her 'art should fail, and she should think of hiding of herself. How the cruel lady know'd of her being theer, I can't say. Whether him as I have spoke so much of, chanced to see 'em going theer, or whether (which is most like to my thinking) he had heerd it from the woman, I doen't greatly ask myself. My niece is found.
"All night long," said Mr. Peggotty, "we have been together, Em'ly and me. 'Tis little (considering the time) as she has said, in wureds, through them broken-hearted tears, 'tis less as I have seen of her dear face, as grow'd into a woman's at my hearth. But, all night long, her arms has been about my neck, and her head has laid heer, and we knows 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 Betsey Trotwood, who disappointed me, but, next to that, hardly anything would have given me greater 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, Mas'r Davy," he returned, "and told Em'ly. There's mighty countries, fur from heer. 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't reproach my darling in Australia. We will begin a new life over theer!"
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 see her this morning--went aboard--and we shall take our passage in her."
"Quite alone?" I asked.
"Aye, Mas'r Davy!" he returned. "My sister, you see, she's that fond of you and yourn, and that accustomed to think on'y of her own country, that it wouldn't be hardly fair to let her go. Besides which, theer's one she has in charge, Mr. Davy, as doen'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 set and talk to her, with a calm spirit, wen it's like he couldn't bring himself to open his lips to another. Poor fellow!" said Mr. Peggotty, shaking his head, "theer's not so much left him, that he could spare the little as he has!"
"And Mrs. Gummidge?" said I.
"Well, I've had a mort of consideration, I do tell you," returned Mr. Peggotty, with a perplexed look which gradually cleared as he went on, "concerning of Missis Gummidge. You see, wen Missis Gummidge falls a-thinking of the old 'un, she an't what you may call good company. Betwixt you and me, Mas'r Davy--and you, ma'am--wen Mrs. Gummidge takes to wimicking,"--our old county word for crying--"she's liable to be considered to be, by them as didn't know the old 'un, peevish-like. Now I did know the old 'un," said Mr.
Peggotty, "and I know'd his merits, so I unnerstan' her, but 'tan't entirely so, you see, with others--nat'rally can't be!"
My aunt and I both acquiesced.
"Wheerby," said Mr. Peggotty, "my sister might--I doen't say she would, but might--find Missis Gummidge give her a leetle trouble now-and-again. Theerfur 'tan't my intentions to moor Missis Gummidge 'long with them, but to find a Bein! fur her wheer she can fisherate for herself." (A Bein' signifies, in that dialect, a home, and to fisherate is to provide.) "Fur which purpose," said Mr. Peggotty, "I means to make her a 'lowance afore I go, as'll leave her pretty comfort'ble. She's the faithfullest of creeturs. Tan't to be expected, of course, at her time of life, and being lone and lorn, as the good old Mawther is to be knocked about aboardship, and in the woods and wilds of a new and fur-away country. So that's what I'm a-going to do with her."
He forgot nobody. He thought of everybody's claims and strivings, but his own.
"Em'ly," he continued, "will keep along with me--poor child, she's sore in need of peace and rest!--until such time as we goes upon our voyage. She'll work at them clothes, as must be made, and I hope her troubles will begin to seem longer ago than they was, wen she finds herself once more by her rough but loving uncle."
My aunt nodded confirmation of this hope, and imparted great satisfaction to Mr. Peggotty.
"Theer's one thing furder, Mas'r Davy," said he, 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. "Theer's these .heer bank-notes--fifty pound, and ten. To them I wish to add the money as she come away with. I've asked her about that (but not saying why) and have added of it up, I an't a scholar. Would you be so kind as see how 'tis?"
He handed me, apologetically for his scholarship, a piece of paper, and observed me while I looked it over. It was quite right.
"Thankee, sir," he said, taking it back. "This money, if you doen't see objections, Mas'r Davy, I shall put up jest afore I go, in a cover d'rected to him, and put that up in another, d'rected to his mother. I shall tell her, in no more wureds than I speak to you, what it's the price on, and that I'm 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 to be right.
"I said that theer was on'y one thing furder," he proceeded with a grave smile, when he had made up his little bundle again, and put it in his pocket, "but theer was two. I warn't sure in my mind, wen I come out this morning, as I could go and break to Ham, of my own self, what had so thankfully happened. So I writ a letter while I was out, and put it in the post-office, telling of 'em how all was as 'tis, and that. I should come down tomorrow to unload my mind of what little needs a-doing of down theer, and, most-like, take my farewell 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, Mas'r 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 despite of all my
remonstrances, carrying my bag--I glanced into Omer and Joram's shop, and saw my old friend Mr. Omer there, smoking his pipe. I felt reluctant to be present when Mr. Peggotty first met his sister and Ham, and made Mr. Omer 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 recognized 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, hows'ever, I am as hearty as a man can be, I'm 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 true as a mail coach. Bless you, my little Minnie--my grand-daughter you know, Minnie's child--puts her little strength against the back, gives it a shove, and away we go, as clever and merry as ever you see anything! And I tell you what--it's a 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 the enjoyment of it, as Mr. Omer. He was as radiant as if his chair, his asthma, and the failure of his limbs, were the various branches of a great invention for enhancing the luxury of a 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'd 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've taken to this chair, as there used to be. As to general reading, dear me, what a lot of it I do get through! That's what I feel so strong, you know! If it had been my eyes, what should I have done? If it had been my ears, what should I have done? Being my limbs, what does it signify? Why, my limbs only made my breath shorter when I used 'em. And now, if I want to go out into the street or down to the sands, I've only 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 Mr. Omer, resuming his pipe, "a man must take the fat with the lean, that's what he must make up his mind to, in this life. Joram does a fine business. Excellent business!"
"I am very glad to hear it," said I.
"I knew you would be," said Mr. 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 pleasantest oddities I have ever encountered.
"And since I've took to general reading, you've 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 Mr. Omer, "that when I lay that book upon the table, and look at it outside, compact in three separate and indiwidual wollumes--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 a 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 him that I did not forget how interested he had always been in 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 the utmost attention, and said, feelingly, when I had done:
"I am rejoiced at it, sir! It's the best news I have heard for many 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 has not forgotten it. He forgets nothing that is disinterested and good."
"Because you know," said Mr. Omer, taking himself up, where he had left off, "whatever is done, I should 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's not. So will my daughter Minnie be. Young women are contradictory creatures in some things --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, will you be so good?--and drop me a line where to forward it. Dear me!" said Mr. 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 his chair, expressly made for its reception.
"There's Em'ly's cousin, him that she was to have been married to," said Mr. Omer, rubbing his hands feebly, "as fine a fellow as there is in Yarmouth! He'll come and talk or read to me, and in the evening, for an hour together sometimes. That's a kindness, I should call it! All his life's a kindness."
"I am going to see him now," said I.
"Are you?" said Mr. Omer. "Tell him I was hearty, and sent my respects. Minnie and Joram's at a ball. They would be as proud to see you as I am, if they was at home. Minnie won't 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'd go to bed at six. In consequence of which," Mr. Omer shook himself and his chair, with laughter at the success of his device, "she and Joram's at a ball."
I shook hands with him, and wished him good night.
"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, little elephant!"
The little elephant set the door of the parlour open, enabling me to see that, in these latter 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 a 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 doorpost, 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 town, I went to Ham's house. Peggotty had now removed here for 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 t
hem in the neat 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 cheerfulness, of Mr. Peggotty's growing rich in a new country, and of 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 told me, when she lighted 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 as 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 fishing-boat and tackle, in packing up, and sending to London by waggon, such of his little domestic possessions 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.
David Copperfield Page 86
