Chapter 7 Chapter 3 My Family Has Changed

I think the owner's horse is the laziest horse in the world.It lowered its head and dawdled.It seems that those who want to receive the package will keep waiting.I fantasize, really fantasize, that he sometimes laughs at the idea, but the owner says it's just coughing. The owner of the car also bowed his head like his horse, and dozed off with his head down while driving the car, with one arm resting on his knee.Though I say he drives the cart, I feel that the horse is actually doing it all, and that the cart could have reached Yarmouth without him.As for chatting, he didn't want to, he just whistled.

Peggotty had a basket of pastries on his lap, which would have sufficed us to go all the way to London in the same coach.We eat a lot and sleep a lot.Peggotty fell asleep quickly with her chin on the handle of the basket, which she never let go of.If I hadn't heard her snoring with my own ears, I couldn't believe that a woman who was defenseless could snore so loudly. We stopped many times in some alleys and sidewalks.I am very weary of taking so long to deliver a bed frame to a small hotel, and to stop and sojourn elsewhere.So when I saw Yarmouth, I was very happy.I looked across the dreary wasteland across the river, and it seemed to me that it looked damp and water-sucked.I can't help but feel strange—if the world is really round like the geography textbook says, why is everything so flat?But then I thought maybe Yarmouth is on one of the poles and that's why.

We came closer and closer, and saw that everything nearby was like a low straight line under the sky.I hinted at Peggotty saying that it would look better if there was a hill or something, and it would be better if the town and the tide didn't mix like toast and water.Peggotty, speaking more emphatically than usual, said that we should accept everything as it is, and as for her, she was proud to call herself a Yarmouth fish. We came to the street, and the street surprised me too.The smell of fish, mud, lint, asphalt, and sailors walking around, bouncing back and forth on the stones, and the carts jingling bells, I think I underestimated such a bustling and bustling place before. landed.I told Peggotty the idea, and she was delighted to hear it, and told me that everyone (I guess it was those lucky enough to be born Yarmouth fish) knew that Yarmouth in general It is the best place in the world.

"Here's my Eminem!" cried Peggotty, "and too big to be recognized!" In fact, he was waiting for us at his hotel.He asked me how I felt like an old acquaintance.At first, I didn't feel that I knew him as well as he knew me, because he hadn't been to our house since the night I was born, and of course he knew me and I didn't know him.He put me on his back, and carried me home, and our friendship went a long way.He was six feet tall, a big, round-shouldered man, but he had a boyish smirk and curly light hair that made him look like a sheep.He wore a canvas jacket, and he wore trousers so stiff they would stand upright without legs in them.He had on what you might call a hat, like an old house with some sort of black, dirty thing on top of it.

Ham carried me on his back, with one of our little trunks under his arm, and Peggotty the other.We wandered in and out of small sandy alleys strewn with splintered wood, past gasworks, rope yards, small shipyards, large shipyards, shipbreaking yards, shiprepair yards, rope yards, ironworks, and a host of such I came to the dreary wasteland that I had seen in the distance.At this time, Ham said. "That's our house, Master Weiwei!" I looked around, as far as I could see to the end of the moor, to the coast, to the river.But I can't see any houses.Only not far away was a black barge or some other kind of old ship lying on the ground, out of the reach of the tide.An iron funnel protruded from there to act as a chimney, and smoke slowly came out.I don't see anything like a human habitation.

"Wouldn't it be it?" I said. "Wouldn't it be that boat-like thing?" "That's it, Master Weiwei," replied Ham. Even Aladdin's palace in "The Arabian Nights" or the roc's egg, I don't think, is more fascinating to me than the absurd idea of ​​being able to live in this boat.On one side of it, there is an interesting little door, which leads directly to the roof, and there are some small windows.The most fascinating thing about this place is that it is really a boat that has been launched hundreds of times, and no one ever imagined that people lived in it on dry land.I think that's what got me hooked.Had it been built for human habitation, I might have thought it too small, too inconvenient, or too lonely.But just because it wasn't made for that, it's the perfect place to call home.

It was lovely clean inside, as tidy as it could be.Inside there was a table, a Dutch clock, a chest of drawers with a tea tray on which a woman with a parasol was painted, walking with a little boy dressed as a soldier, who was still rolling a hoop.A Bible held up the tea tray to keep it from falling.If the tea tray should fall, it would smash the cups, saucers, and teapots gathered around the book.The walls were covered with the usual colored pictures of Bible stories in glass frames.So, after that, whenever I saw the peddler with these things, I couldn't help thinking of Brother Peggotty making everything in the house.Abraham in red sacrificing Isaac in blue and Daniel in yellow thrown into the green lion's den are two of the best, on a small mantelpiece , there is a painting of a little boat called Sarah Jane, built at Sandra, with the stern still of real wood pasted; it is a true masterpiece of art and carpentry, and I think it is an astonishing one. The most envied treasure in the world.Hooks were hung from the beams under the ceiling, and chests and chests of the sort were used as seating to complement the chairs.

This was all I saw as soon as I came in--very childish, I theorized--and then Peggotty opened another little door to show me my bedroom.It's the most perfect and loveliest bedroom I've ever seen--it's right at the stern of that ship, with a little window across the old rudder; Here, hung a small mirror with a frame inlaid with seashells; a small bed just big enough for me to sleep on; and on the table a bunch of seaweed in a blue enamel cup.The walls were whitewashed, white as milk, and the sheets of rags were so shiny that it hurt my eyes.One other thing that caught my attention in this little room I couldn't help but love was the smell of fish, so that when I wiped my nose with the little handkerchief I had in my pocket, it seemed to me that it was wrapped in a fish too. The sea prawns are the same inside.I whispered this discovery to Peggotty, who told me that her brother traded in prawns, crabs, and lobsters.Later, I used to see a lot of these things in the small wooden house outside where I kept some pots and barrels. Let go.

A woman in a white apron greets us politely at the door.On Ham's shoulder I saw her curtsy at the door a quarter of a mile from her.And one of the prettiest little girls (I think she does) saluted as well.The little girl wore a necklace of blue beads, and when I tried to kiss her, she refused and ran away to hide.Later, while we were strutting down on halibut, crème fraîche and potatoes (I got a rib too) a man returned with a hairy but nice face.He called Peggotty "little girl," and kissed her loudly and hard on the cheek, and from her usual manners I was sure it was her brother.He really was--people introduced him to me as Mr. Peggotty, the head of the family.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," said Mr. Peggotty. "You will find us rude, but we have a heart." I thanked him and said I would be happy in such a place. "How was your mother, master?" asked Mr. Peggotty. "Was she happy when you went away?" I managed to make Mr. Peggotty understand that she was as happy as I had hoped, and said she wished me to send my regards—a polite phrase I had invented. "Thanks a lot to her, really," said Mr. Peggotty. "Why, sir, if you'd be with her," he nodded to his sister, "Ham, and little Emily, to be here together." If we stay for two more weeks, we will feel very honored."

After such a warm and earnest gesture of friendship, Mr. Peggotty went outside, and bathed himself in a bucket full of hot water, saying, "Cold water will never wash my mud off." Presently he entered again His face has improved a lot, but it’s so red that I can’t help but think that his face is similar to sea shrimp, crabs, and lobsters in this respect—it’s very dark before entering the hot water, and it’s red after leaving the hot water . After tea, with the door shut and the slits plugged (the night was foggy and cold), I thought it was the loveliest hermitage imaginable.Listening to the gust of wind blowing over the sea, knowing that the cold fog is creeping across the desolate beach outside the house, looking at the fire, thinking that there are no other houses here but this one, and this one is a boat, it is simply It feels fantastic.Little Emily had overcome her shyness, and sat with me on the lowest and smallest chest, which was just big enough for us both, and fitted just right into the corner of the chimney.Mrs Peggotty in her white apron sat knitting by the fire.Peggotty sewed with the ease with which St. Paul's was painted on it, and the candle stub, as if they had always been there.Ham, who had given me my first poker lesson, was now trying desperately to remember a fortune-telling method with the dirty deck, leaving the fishy smell of his thumb on the cards as he turned them. Mr. Peggotty was smoking his pipe, and I thought it time for a heart-to-heart talk. "Mr Peggotty!" I said. "Master," he said. "Did you name your son Ham because you lived on a kind of ark?" Mr. Peggotty seemed to think that this was a rather profound question, but he still answered: "No, sir. I never gave him a name." -------- ①According to the "Old Testament" of the "Bible", the second son of Noah who built the ark was named Ham. "And who named him that?" I asked Mr. Peggotty with the second question of the catechism. "Oh, sir, his father brought it for him," said Mr. Peggotty. "I thought you were his father before!" "My brother, is  his  father," said Mr. Peggotty. "Is he dead, Mr. Peggotty?" I asked again, after a respectful silence. "Drowned," said Mr. Peggotty. I was much surprised that Mr. Peggotty was not Ham's father.I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting all the relationships here wrong.I was so anxious to get this cleared up that I resolved to ask Mr. Peggotty. "Little Emily," said I, casting a glance at her, "is your daughter, isn't it, Mr. Peggotty?" "No, sir. My brother-in-law Tom is her father." I can't help it. "—dead, Mr. Peggotty?" I asked, after another respectful silence. "Drowned," said Mr. Peggotty. I don't think it's easy to continue talking about this topic.But I didn't ask the end, and I should have asked the end anyway.So I said: "Have you no children, Mr. Peggotty?" "No, sir," he said with a smile, "I'm a bachelor." "A bachelor!" said I, startled. "Oh, then who is that, Mr. Peggotty?" I asked, pointing to the man in the white apron who was knitting. "That's Mrs. Gormidge," said Mr. Peggotty. "Gormidge, Mr Peggotty?" But just then Peggotty--I mean my Peggotty--signed me to stop asking any more, so I just sat there and watched everyone sitting there in silence until bedtime .It was only in my own little bedroom that she told me that Ham and Emily were bereft nephews and nieces, children who were nothing when they were left alone, and that Mr. Peggotty Adopted them back then.Mrs. Gummidge was the widow of a fellow-boater with whom he had died in poverty.He was a poor man himself, she said, but he was as good as gold, as true as steel—she put it figuratively.She told me that the only thing that could make him rage or curse was talking about his deeds. If any of them mentioned it, he would thump the table with his right hand (breaking a table once!) and utter a terrible curse; You have to leave and never come back, or be "buried"①.When I asked, no one seemed to know what it meant to be buried, but everyone agreed that it was the most dreadful of curses. -------- ①Gormed is the corrupted sound of God—damned, which means to be condemned by God. I fully felt how kind the master is, and as sleepiness deepened, I felt more at ease.I heard the woman go to bed in another similar cabin at the far end of the boat, and he and Ham hung up the two hammocks on the roof from the same hooks I had seen earlier.Drowsiness crept over me, and at the same time I could hear the sea wind blowing so fiercely across the beach that I could not help feeling a vague uneasiness about the nocturnal heaving and churning of the sea.But I consoled myself that, after all, I was in a boat; and if anything happened, it couldn't do any harm to have a man like Mr. Peggotty on board. But like during the day, nothing happened.As soon as the morning light fell on the shell frame of my mirror, I got up, and went out with little Emily to pick up stones by the sea. "You're quite a sailor, aren't you, I suppose?" I said to Emily.I don't know if I thought it that way, but I thought I'd have to say something to be polite; and just then there was a sail so close to us that made such a pretty little shadow in her bright eyes , so I suddenly remembered these words. "No," replied Emily, shaking her head, "I'm afraid of the sea." "Afraid?" I looked at the sea and said bravely, "I'm not afraid." "Oh! but the sea is cruel," said Emily, "and I have seen how it has treated some of us cruelly. I have seen it tear a ship as big as our house to pieces. "I hope the boat isn't—" "Not the one my father drowned with?" said Emily. "No. Not that one. I never saw that one." "Haven't you seen him?" I asked. Little Emily shook her head. "Can not remember." What a coincidence!I told her right away: I have never seen my father, and how my mother and I independently lived as happy a life as we could imagine, not only living like this now, but also living like this forever in the future.I also told her: My father's grave is in the churchyard near my house, under the shade of a big tree. Many pleasant mornings, I went under the tree and listened to the birds singing.It's just that this seems to be different from Emily's orphan life.She had lost her mother before her father, and no one knew where her father was buried, only that he was buried deep under the sea. "And," said Emily, looking for shells and stones, "your father was a gentleman, and your mother a lady; my father was a fisherman, and my mother was a fisherman's daughter, and my Uncle Dan was a fisherman too." "Dan is Mr. Peggotty, isn't he?" I said. "Uncle Dan—right there," Emily nodded at the boat-turned-house. "Yes. I mean him. He must be very good, I suppose?" "Very well," said Emily, "if I could be Mrs., I would give him a sky-blue jacket with diamond buttons, a pair of bleached cloth trousers, a red velvet waistcoat, and a curled top. hat, a large gold watch, a silver pipe, and a chest of money." I said I had no doubt at all that Mr. Peggotty deserved it.I must confess that at the time I found it difficult to imagine him being comfortable in the clothes his grateful little niece had designed for him, and I especially doubted that the rolled-brimmed hat would fit; but I didn't say those thoughts. Little Emily had stopped, counting these things, and looking up at the sky, as if they were a very splendid sight.We went on again, picking up shells and stones. "You want to be a lady?" I said. Emily looked at me and smiled, and nodded, "Yes." "I should like that. Then we--me, Uncle, Ham, and Mrs. Gormidge--we'll be gentlemen. We won't have to worry about stormy weather any more--and I'm not just saying that For ourselves. And for the poor fishermen, really, and in case any misfortune happens to them, we help them with our money." I think the idea really suits me, and it doesn't look impossible at all.I applauded and appreciated the idea; encouraged by this, little Em'ly said timidly again: "Now do you still think you are not afraid of the sea?" Now the sea is quiet enough to reassure me, but I'm sure: if I see a bigger wave coming in, I'll think of her drowned relatives, and run away.But I said no, and I added, "You don't look scared, even though you say you are"—I said that because she was always on the edge of the old pier or gangway when we were just now I was worried that she would fall. "I'm not afraid at such times," said little Emily, "and when the wind blows I wake up, trembling with fear, thinking of Uncle Dan and Ham, and believe I hear their cries for help. So Well, I'd love to be a lady. I'm not afraid at times like this, not at all, look!" She ran away from me, and from where we stood onto a ragged-edged log that jutted out at a considerable height from the deep water, without any enclosure.The scene has left such a deep impression on my memory, that if I could draw, I would paint it all here, and I dare say I could paint the exact scene of that day; and little Emily jumping. I will never forget the way she went up to where she died (as it seemed to me at the time), facing the distant sea. As soon as the nimble, brave, jumping little man came back safe and sound to me, I laughed at my fear, and at the cries I had made.Anyway, it was useless to yell because there was no one around.But since then—and as an adult—I have wondered many times whether, among the possibilities of the unknowable, there was the possibility that the child suddenly became reckless because of a The attraction that favors her drives her to take the risk, because she is somehow lured toward him by her late father so that she can end her life that day.For a while since then I have wondered: if her future life had been foreshadowed to me in that glimpse (in a way a child can fully understand), if only I could help her If she is saved, should I reach out to rescue her?There has been a period since then (I won't say it was a long period, but there was a period) when I have repeatedly asked myself: Would it not have been better if little Emily had been drowned in front of my eyes that morning?I have said to myself: yes, that is better. Maybe it's too early, I'm too hasty to think so, maybe.Still, let it be. We walked a long way, took many treasures we thought were rare, and returned some stranded starfish to the water-even now I don't know much about such things, and I don't know what they are. Thank us for that or just the other way around--then head back to Mr. Peggotty's place.Under the eaves of the Lobster Outhouse we kissed each other innocently before going in for breakfast full of health and joy. "Like two young Amis," said Mr. Peggotty.I understand that in our local dialect this is equivalent to saying "two young thrushes," and I accepted that as a compliment. Of course I fell in love with little Emily.I believe that my love for the child was no less true, stronger, more innocent and noble than my later love, which may be called the best, however sublime and great.I believe that something sublimated out of my vision of the blue-eyed child and made her an angel in my mind.Even on a sunny morning, I would never find it inconceivable that she spread her small wings and flew away from my eyes. We used to walk, hour after hour, lovingly, on the misty old beach of Yarmouth.The days are spent leisurely like this, time is like a child who will never grow up playing contentedly.I told Emily I loved her so much that if she didn't admit she loved me too I'd have to kill myself with a knife.She said she loves me extremely, and I also believe that she loves me extremely. When it comes to misfits, being too young, or other handicaps, little Emily and I don't feel that way at all, nor do we have any such distress, because we have no future.We don't even imagine what it would be like to be older, nor what would be like if we were younger.In the evenings, when we sat affectionately side by side on the little cupboard, we were the objects of compliments from Mrs. Gummidge and Peggotty, who used to whisper, "My God! How pretty!" Mr. Peggotty stood behind his pipe. Smiling at us, Ham did nothing but grin all night.They find us lovable, I suppose, the same way they would find a nice toy or a pocket model of a Roman theater lovable. I soon discovered that, though Mrs. Gummidge lived with Mr. Peggotty, she was not so agreeable as was supposed.Mrs. Gummidge's temper was quite twisted, and she sobbed so often in such a small living quarters, which made everyone uncomfortable.I thought it would be much better for everyone if Mrs. Gummidge had herself a convenient room of her own to hide in, and stay there till she came out refreshed. Mr. Peggotty went now and then to a tavern called the Merry Place.The second or third night after our arrival he was not at home, and Mrs. Gummidge looked up at the Dutch clock, and between eight and nine o'clock, she said he was there, and that she knew he would Been there, so I know about it. Mrs. Gummidge was unhappy all day long.She cried when the stove smoked in the morning.When that unpleasant thing happened, she would say this: "I'm a miserable lonely old woman, and everything is against me." "Oh, the smoke's going to go," said Peggotty--I mean our Peggotty--"and besides, the smoke isn't just to be disliked by you alone, nor is it disliked by us. " "I think it doesn't like me even more," said Mrs. Gummidge. It was a very cold day, with a bone-chilling wind.Mrs. Gummidge's place in front of the fire seemed to me the warmest and most agreeable, and her chair was the most comfortable.But that day, nothing happened to her.She kept complaining about the cold weather and how it hit her back from time to time (she called that attack "sneak crawling.") Finally, she shed tears about it, and said that she was a miserable old woman, and everything was in harmony with her. She can't get through. "Of course it's cold," said Peggotty, "everyone must feel that way." "I feel colder than other people," said Mrs. Gummidge. The same goes for eating.When the food was served, I was treated as a distinguished guest and enjoyed priority, and Mrs. Gao Mizhi immediately served the food to me.The fish was small and spiny, and the potatoes were a bit mushy, which we can all admit was a bit disappointing.But Mrs. Gummidge said she was more disappointed than us.She wept again, and repeated the previous declaration with great sorrow. So it was always the case when Mr Peggotty came home about nine o'clock in the evening--Mrs Gummidge always sat knitting in her place, in a very miserable state of mind.Peggotty had been quite merry about her handiwork.Ham mended a great, great water-boot; and I sat with little Emily, and read to her.Mrs. Gummidge said nothing but sighed, and had not raised her eyes since tea-time. "Ah! my friends," said Mr. Peggotty, sitting down, "how are you all?" We all said something, or made some gesture of welcome, and only Mrs. Gummidge shook her head at her knitting. "So unhappy," said Mr. Peggotty, clapping his hands, "be merry, good mother!" (Mr. Peggotty meant "good girl.") Mrs. Gormidge did not show any signs of cheering up.She took out an old black handkerchief and wiped her eyes, and instead of putting it back in her pocket after wiping it, she held it in her hand and wiped it again, and still kept it in her pocket, ready to use it again at any time . "So unhappy, ma'am!" said Mr. Peggotty. "Nothing," replied Mrs. Gummidge. "You came back happily, Dan?" "No, I've had a little blissful rest to-night," said Mr. Peggotty. "I'm so sorry I drove you there," said Mrs. Gummidge. "Forced? I'm not compelled to go," said Mr. Peggotty, laughing frankly. "I'd love to be there!" "Yes, very much," said Mrs. Gummidge, shaking her head, and rubbing her eyes again. "Yes, yes, very much. I'm sorry, but it's because of me that you're so eager to go there." "Because of you? It has nothing to do with you!" said Mr. Peggotty. "Don't believe it." "Yes, yes, because of me," cried Mrs. Gummidge, "I know who I am. I'm a miserable orphan, and not only can I get along with everything, but I can't get along with everyone." .Yes, yes, I feel it more than anyone else, and I show it more. It's just my bad luck." As I sat there watching all this, I couldn't help thinking: This bad fate has extended to every member of this family that is not Mrs. Gummidge.But Mr. Peggotty made no such objection, and all he answered was to entreat Mrs. Gummidge to cheer up. "I'm not what I'd like to be," said Mrs. Gormidge, "far from it. I know what I am. My troubles make me ill-tempered. I always feel that those troubles are the ones that make me I'm such a jerk. I wish I couldn't feel those troubles, but I just can't. I wish I could be indifferent to them, but I can't. I've made this family unhappy I don't doubt it at all. I made your sister unhappy all day, and Master Wei." At this moment, I softened and cried out, "No, you didn't, Mrs. Gummidge." At that time, I felt extremely guilty. "It's not right for me to do it," said Mrs. Gummidge. "It's no good at all. I'd better go to the poorhouse and die. I'm a wretched old widow, and I'd better not get in trouble here. If everything happens It’s all against me, and I want to make it against myself, so let me go back to my previous parish, Dale, I’d better go to the poorhouse, and die, so as not to be disgusted.” Having said all this, Mrs. Gummidge went to bed.After she had gone, Mr. Peggotty, who had been expressing no emotion but profound sympathy, looked at us all, and nodding his head with genuine sympathy still on his face, said in a low voice: "She was thinking of the old man." I didn't quite understand who the old man everyone thought Mrs. Gummidge was thinking of, until Peggotty put me to bed and she told me that it was the late Mr. Gummidge.Her brother always took it for granted in that case, and it always moved him.That night, after he climbed into the hammock, I heard him say repeatedly to Ham, "Poor thing! She's thinking of the old man!" When he did that again (not many times), he was always very sympathetic and understanding, and said such things. Two weeks just slipped by.The only change was that of the tide, and this changed the frequency of Mr. Peggotty's comings and goings, and how busy Ham was at work.Ham walked with us when he had nothing else to do, and showed us the boats and boats, and took us rowing once or twice.I believe that most people are like this, especially when they associate their childhood, they always think that a certain group of ordinary impressions is more closely associated with one place than others, although I don't know why.As soon as I hear or read the word Yarmouth, I immediately think of a Sunday, when the bells ring for people to go to church on the beach, little Emily leaning on my shoulder, lazily going Ham throwing stones in the water, and the sun just breaking out of the fog on the distant sea, it shows the shadowy ships. The day to go home has finally arrived.I could bear being parted from Mr. Peggotty and Mrs. Gummidge, but leaving little Em'ly was very painful to me.We walked arm in arm to the hotel where the luggage driver was staying, and on the way I promised to write her a letter (I kept my promise, in letters larger than a handwritten rental advertisement).We were all sad when we parted.If I've ever had a deficiency in my life, I created one that day. When I'm away as a guest, I'm truly ungrateful to my home - giving little or no thought to it.But when I started to walk in the direction of home, my immature conscience began to blame myself, as if pointing the direction of home with a firm finger; when I was depressed, I felt that home was my nest My mother is my relatives and friends who comfort me. I had this feeling as we walked toward home; and the closer we got to home, the more familiar the things we passed, the more anxious I was to get back there and fall into her arms.But Peggotty, instead of feeling like I did, had--though very kindly-- To calm it down, and she looked restless and not in a great mood. But no matter what she is, if the luggage driver's bird is willing, it will always go to Brandes' nest.And it did.I remember it clearly: it was a cold afternoon, the sky was gloomy, and it seemed that it was going to rain. The door opened.I was happy and excited, half crying and half laughing, looking for my mother.But it wasn't her, but a servant she had never seen before. "Why, Peggotty!" I said sadly. "Hasn't she come home?" "She's back, she's back, Master Wei," said Peggotty, "she's gone home. Wait a minute, Master Wei, I have something to tell you. " Peggotty, by agitation, and her irreversible clumsiness when she got out of the car, now transformed herself into a most queer ball of color, though I thought it too disappointing and unexpected to take it tell her.After she got out of the car, she took my hand and led me, who was full of doubts, into the kitchen and closed the door. "Peggotty!" said I, in horror, "what's going on?" "Nothing, bless you, dear Young Master Wei!" She replied with a forced look of joy. "There must be something wrong, I'm sure. Where's mother?" "Where is mother, Master Wei?" repeated Peggotty. "Yes. Why doesn't she come out the gate, and what are we doing here then? Oh, Peggotty!" I was in tears, and I thought I was going to fall. "Bless the darling boy!" cried Peggotty, holding me tightly. "What's the matter? Speak, my darling!" "Not dead, too! Oh, she's not dead, Peggotty?" Peggotty said "No," surprisingly loudly.Then she sat down and gasped and said I had startled her. I gave her a hug to help her recover from the shock, and stood in front of her again, looking at her with anxiety and questioning. "You know, my dear, I should have told you," said Peggotty, "but I didn't get my chance. I should have had one, but I couldn't return it"—in Peggotty's vocabulary ，还绢总表示完全的意思—— “打定主意。” “说下去吧，皮果提”我说，心里更加惶恐了。 “卫少爷，”皮果提说着用一只手颤抖地解开她的小帽，这时她说话有些喘不过气了，“你觉得怎么样？你有个爸爸了。” 我发抖了，脸色也变白了。一种东西——我不知道是什么或怎么样的——一种与墓场的坟墓和死者复生有关的东西像一阵有毒的风一样朝我吹来。 “一个新的，”皮果提说道。 “一个新的？”我重复道。 皮果提吃力地喘了一口气，好象在咽什么很硬的东西，然后伸出双手说： “去吧，去见他。” “我不要见他。” ——“还有你的妈妈呢。”皮果提说。 我不再往后退了。我们来到最好的那间客厅，她就离开我去了。在火炉的一边坐着我母亲，另一边则坐着默德斯通先生。我母亲放下手里的针线活，急忙站了起来，不过我觉得她动作里带有几分怯意。 “啊，克拉拉，我亲爱的，”默德斯通先生说，“镇静！控制住自己，要永远控制住自己！卫卫小子，你好吗？” 我向他伸出了手。犹豫了一下，我去亲吻母亲，她也亲吻我，并轻轻拍拍我的肩膀后才又坐下来继续做针线活。我不能看她，我不能看他，我知道得很清楚：他正在看我们俩。 我转身走到窗前往外看，看那些在寒冷中垂下头来的草。 到了可以溜走的时候，我就马上溜走了。我那亲爱的老卧室已经变了样，我得睡在很远的地方。我不经意地走下楼，想看看还有什么保持了旧貌，但一切都似乎改变了。我又悠悠走到院子里，但又马上回来。那以前的空狗屋现在被一条大狗塞得满满的——那狗像·他一样声音低沉、毛发黑黑—— 一看到我，它就大发脾气，朝我一下扑过来。