Chapter 18 Chapter Fourteen My Aunt Made a Decision on My Arrangement

When I went downstairs in the morning, I found my aunt leaning on the dining table with her elbows resting on the tea tray, lost in thought. Even the contents of the teapot spilled out and soaked the entire tablecloth, but she didn't realize it.She just came out of meditation when I came in.Convinced that I was the center of her trance, I was all the more eager to know what she would do with me.But I was afraid that she would be unhappy, so I didn't dare to show the anxiety in my heart. However, my eyes are not as obedient as my tongue, and they are always attracted by my aunt at breakfast.I don’t have to look at her continuously, otherwise I always find that she is looking at me—with a very strange way of thinking, as if I am not sitting opposite her at the round table, but sitting far away .After breakfast, my aunt leaned on her chair, frowned, folded her arms, and stared at me leisurely.I was disturbed by her watching so intently.I hadn't finished my breakfast, so I tried to hide my uneasiness by eating; but my knife fell on my fork, and my fork caught my knife again.I hadn't put the ham in my mouth yet, but the minced ham flew amazingly into the air, and the tea I drank went astray instead of right, and choked me.In the end, I completely gave up my efforts and sat there with my face flushed, letting my aunt and grandma check carefully.

"Hello!" said my aunt after a long time. I raised my head and greeted her sharp and bright eyes respectfully. "I have written to him," said my aunt. "Give--?" "To your stepfather," said my aunt, "I've sent him a letter telling him to be careful, or he and I will have a theory, I can tell him so!" "Does he know where I am, Auntie?" I asked in alarm. "I've already told him." My aunt nodded and said. "Give me—to—him?" I stammered. "I don't know," said my aunt, "it depends."

"Oh! if I'm forced to go back to Mr. Murdstone," I cried, "I can't think of what to do!" "I don't know that at all," said my aunt, shaking her head. "To be honest, I can't say anything. It depends." Hearing this, I was immediately discouraged, depressed, and very sad.My aunt didn't seem to notice me, she just took out a coarse cloth apron with a chest scarf from the closet and put it on, washed the teacups with her own hands; washed the teacups one by one and put them on the tea tray, folded the tablecloth and put them away on the teacup, and ring the bell for Jenny to take it.After this she swept the crumbs with the broom (gloves still on) until the carpet was free of specks of dust;When all the housework was done to her satisfaction, she took off her gloves, untied her apron, folded them, and put them back in a special corner in the closet.She took her work-box to the table by the open window, and sat down, shielded from the sun by the screen, to work.

"I wish you would go upstairs," said my aunt, as she threaded the needle, "and give Mr. Dick my compliments. I should like to know how his petition is getting on." I got up quickly and went to carry out this task. "I reckon," said my aunt, squinting at me like a needle, "that you think Mr. Dick's name is short, eh?" "I thought it was a short name yesterday," I admitted. "Don't you think he can't have a long name if he wants to," said my aunt proudly. "Barbury—Mr. Richard Babley is the gentleman's real name."

I was about to say, with the humility and disrespect of a young man, that I had better call him by his full name, when my aunt went on: "You don't call him by that name under any circumstances, though. He's afraid to hear his name. It's a feature of him, but I'm not sure if it's a feature. He's had enough of that name." The torment of man, and so disgusted with that name, God knows. Now, here or anywhere—if he goes anywhere, but he doesn’t—his name is Mr. Dick. So, Take care, boy, and call him Mr. Dick and nothing else." I promised to do it, and went upstairs with this mission.As I walked I thought: When I came down the stairs earlier, I saw Mr. Dick writing a statement through the open door, and if he had been writing at that rate until now, he must have written a lot.I saw him still scribbling with a long pen, his head almost touching the paper.He was so focused, I had enough time to observe a big kite in the corner before he noticed my arrival; there were also rolls of manuscripts and pens, especially the bottles of eye-catching ink. , he seems to have a dozen half-gallon bottles of ink.

"Ha! Sun-god!" said Mr. Dick, putting down his pen. "How the world goes? I'll tell you," he added in a low voice, "I don't want it to be mentioned, but it's a— —" Here he leaned towards me, and whispered into my ear, "a mad world. As mad as a madhouse, boy!" said Mr. Dick, taking snuff from a round box on the table, And laugh happily. I don't want to express any opinion on this matter, I convey my mission. "Well," said Mr. Dick, "give her my respects, I—I believe I've made a beginning. I've made a beginning," said Mr. Dick, stroking his gray hair, and He looked at his own manuscript without much confidence, "Have you ever been to school?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, "for a short time." "Do you remember that day," said Mr. Dick, looking at me kindly, and taking up his pen to write down, "when was Charles I beheaded?" I said I believed it was in the year six hundred and forty-nine. "Well," replied Mr. Dick, scratching his ear and looking at me suspiciously, "the book says so, but I don't know how it's possible. Because, if it was so many years ago, all around him How can someone put the problems in his head into my head all these years after his head was cut off?"

This question surprised me, but I can't express anything about it. "Strange," said Mr. Dick, stroking his hair and looking at his manuscript with a look of disappointment, "I can't get this right. I can't get this right. But never mind." It's okay!" He cheered himself up excitedly, "There's plenty of time! Give my regards to Miss Trowood, I'm going very well." I was about to leave when he asked me to look at the kite again. "What do you think of the kite?" he said. I replied that the kite is really beautiful.I think it's seven feet high.

"I did it. We'll go and set it—you and I," said Mr. Dick. "Did you see this?" He pointed out to me that the kite was covered with drafts, and the handwriting was dense and serious, and the handwriting was very clear. I read it line by line, and thought I saw one or two hints to Charles I's head. "The thread is a long one," said Mr. Dick, "and when it flies high it carries these facts a long way. That's how I spread them. I don't know where they fall Place. It all depends on the situation, the direction of the wind, etc.; but I'll try."

He looked in good spirits, though his face was so gentle and friendly, with a certain dignity that I couldn't be sure if he was joking with me.I laughed, and he laughed too.When we broke up, we became best friends. "Hey, boy," said my aunt to me when I came downstairs, "how's Mr. Dick this morning?" I reported to her that he greeted her, and he wrote well. "What do you think of him?" said my aunt. With a vague idea of ​​avoiding the question, I simply replied: I think he's a good man.But my aunt didn't allow me to be so perfunctory. She put the needlework on her knees, then put her hands on top of it, and said:

"Hey! Your sister Bessie Trowood will tell me straight up what she really thinks about anybody. You should try to be like your sister, and tell the truth!" "Then he—Mr. Dick—I ask because I don't know, Aunt—he's not quite clear enough?" I stammered.I feel like I'm in some kind of dangerous situation. "That's not the case at all," said my aunt. "Oh, indeed!" I said weakly. "Whatever Mr. Dick may be," said my aunt firmly and unquestionably, "he is by no means insane." I couldn't do any better than to say timidly, "Oh, indeed!" "He's called crazy," said my aunt, "and I take a selfish pleasure when it comes to saying he's called crazy, because if it weren't for that, the decades—in fact, since Since your sister Bessie Trowood disappointed me— I never had the chance to have his company and hear his advice. " "So long?" I said. "Those who have the right to call him mad are good men," went on my aunt. "Mr. Dick is a distant relation of mine—never mind what kind; I needn't speak of those. Not because of me, his own brother must lock him up for life. That's all." I'm afraid I'm being disingenuous in doing so, and I try to look as if I'm indignant, because I see how indignant my aunt is when she talks about it. "A proud fool!" said my aunt. "Because the younger brother was a little eccentric--though not half as eccentric as most people--his brother would not let him be seen near where he lived, and was sending him to a private madhouse. Their dead father Almost took him for an idiot, and asked his brother to take care of him. What a clever man he was to think of him! He was the madman himself, no doubt about it." Because my aunt and grandma seemed so convinced, I also pretended to be convinced. "So I put my foot in," said my aunt, "and made him a promise. I said, your brother is normal—much more normal than you, and I suppose he'll always be like that. Let He gets his meager income and comes to live with me. I'm not afraid of him, I'm not self-righteous, I'll take care of him, I won't abuse him like some people (except the patients in the asylum) After a long argument, the aunt said, "I got him.He has lived here ever since.He was the kindest and most obedient man in the world; as for his advice! ——No one knows what his heart is like except me. " My aunt touched her clothes and shook her head, as if she wanted to shake the world's contempt off her clothes and out of her head. "He's got a nice sister," said my aunt, "a nice person, and treated him well. But she's acting like everybody else—got a husband. He's acting like everybody—abuse He. This had an effect on Mr. Dick's mind (I hope it wasn't madness!), combined with the fear of his brother and the cruel feeling for his brother, he had a fever. It all happened when he arrived Before I came here. Still, it hurts him to think about it. He told you about Charles I, boy?" "Yes, auntie." "Ah!" My aunt said as she touched her nose annoyed. "That's the metaphor he uses for that moment. He associates his illness with great upheaval and passion, and naturally that's the metaphor, or symbol, or whatever it's called. If he If you think it's appropriate, why not?" I said, "Of course, auntie." "This way of speaking is incoherent," said my aunt, "nor is it reasonable. I understand it; so I insist on this: nothing to do with it in his submission." "Is he writing a statement of his own history, aunt?" "Yes, boy," said my aunt, rubbing her nose again, "he's writing papers to the Lord Chancellor on his account, or some great man, or whatever--one of those who pay to see papers anyway." One. I think the paper is due some day soon. He can't write it in that way of expressing himself yet; The truth is, I found out later that Mr. Dick had been trying to keep King Charles I out of his submission for more than ten years, but he kept throwing himself into it, and now he is immersed in it. "I repeat," said my aunt, "nobody knows what is in his heart but me; he is the kindest and most obedient fellow. What if he likes to fly a kite sometimes Franklin used to fly kites, too. He was a Quaker or something, if I'm not mistaken. A Quaker flies a kite more absurdly than anyone else." If I could have guessed that my aunt told me these trivial things in order to express her confidence in me, I should be very honored and optimistic that she valued my expression.But I can't help thinking that she's talking about these things because they've come to her mind and have nothing to do with me, even though she's talking to me when no one else is around. At the same time, I should say that her generosity to poor, harmless Mr. Dick aroused not only a selfish hope in my young heart, but also an unselfish warmth towards her. .I am convinced that I began to know at that time that apart from being a bit perverse and eccentric, my aunt also had a lot to praise and trust.That day, she was still as strict as ever, and she was still rushing in and out for the donkey as usual, and when a passing youth gave Jenny a flying eye at the window—this was the greatest offense to my aunt—she was deeply resentful; Still, it seemed to me that she made me respect her more, if not make me less afraid of her. During the period before she received Mr. Murdstone's reply, I was troubled with apprehension, but I tried my best to restrain myself, and to do everything I could to please my aunt and Mr. Dick.I had nothing but the clothes I had been able to wear on the first day (if it hadn't been so, Mr. Dick and I would have been flying that big kite).That attire kept me locked in the house except for my aunt taking me outside for an hour's walk on the cliffs, after dark, before going to bed.At last Mr. Murdstone's reply came, and my aunt surprised me by telling me that he was coming to speak to her himself the next day.The next day, I sat there wrapped up in that grotesque attire and counted the seconds, my face flushed and hot as hope sank and fear rose, each minute ticking by. I was surprised once when he didn't come, and I waited to see that gloomy face. My aunt was more severe and irritated than usual, but I could see nothing in her preparations for a guest I was so afraid of.While she sat at her work at the window, I sat by, dreaming of all the probable and impossible consequences of Mr. Murdstone's visit, till late in the afternoon.Our lunch had been postponed indefinitely, and when our aunt gave the order for dinner, she suddenly sounded the alarm for the donkey.To my horror and astonishment, I saw Miss Murdstone sitting sideways on the donkey's back.She rode the donkey all the way across the sacrosanct meadow, stopped in front of the house, and looked around. "Go away!" said my aunt, shaking her head and waving her fists out of the window. "You have no right to stay there. How dare you do such nonsense? Go away! Oh, you thick-skinned thing!" And the calmness with which Miss Murdstone looked about made my aunt so indignant - I really believe it - that she could not move for a moment, as usual, to rush out.I hastened this opportunity to tell her who it was, and that the man who had just walked up to the object was Mr. Murdstone himself, (who was drawn behind on account of the steepness of the ascent) . "I don't care who it is!" My aunt shook her head and shouted, and stood in the curved window and made an unwelcome gesture to the outside of the window, "I will not be violated. I will not allow this. Get out! Jenny, pull away It, drive it away." So, behind my aunt and grandma, I saw a hastily drawn battle map.In the picture, the donkey stands on all fours and resists everyone. Jenny grabs the rein and tries to pull it back, but Mr. Murdstone tries to pull it forward. Miss Murdstone hits Jenny with a parasol, and A group of children jumped forward and backward, yelling and shouting to watch the fun.However, my aunt suddenly saw the young perpetrator among those people—the donkey driver, who offended her the most, even though he was only a little over ten years old.So she rushed to the battlefield, threw herself on him, captured him, and dragged the captive, whose head was covered and kicking on the ground, into the garden.Holding him tight, she ordered Jenny to ask the police and the judge to take him away so that he could be executed immediately after interrogation.But this part of the war did not last very long, for the little rascal knew a great deal about detours, and my aunt knew nothing about them, so he quickly broke away, yelling and running away, leaving a trail of There were deep spike marks, and he proudly got the donkey. Later in the battle, Miss Murdstone got off her donkey.She and her brother stood on the bottom step, waiting until their aunt had time to receive them.Because of the war, my aunt's clothes were a little disheveled, but she still walked past them and entered the house without losing her dignity.My aunt paid no attention to them until Jenny announced their visit. "Shall I avoid it, Auntie?" I asked tremblingly. "No, sir," said my aunt, "of course not!" Then she pushed me into a corner beside her, and put a chair in front of me, as if it were a prison or the dock of a court.I remained in that area throughout the interview, and from there I saw Mr. and Miss Murdstone enter the room. "Oh!" said my aunt, "I didn't know at first who I had the honor of opposing. But I won't let anyone ride across that meadow. Nobody should be an exception. I won't let anyone do that." "Your rules are rather awkward for strangers," said Miss Murdstone. "Really?" said my aunt. Mr. Murdstone seemed to be afraid of causing another battle, and hurried in and said: "Miss Trotwood!" "I beg your pardon," said my aunt, with a sharp look, "but you are married to my late nephew David who lived at the Crow's Nest at Blandstone, though I don't know why it was called the Crow's Nest." Mr Murdstone of Copperfield's widow?" "I am," said Mr. Murdstone. "If you will forgive me for saying so, sir," continued the aunt, "it would be much better and much happier if you would leave the poor child alone." "I agree with Miss Trowood on that point," said Miss Murdstone, with dignity, "that our poor Clara seems to me to be but a child in all important respects." "That's the consolation for you and me, madam," said my aunt, "that as we grow older, our looks no longer cause us misfortune, and no one will say such things to us." "Undoubtedly," replied Miss Murdstone, though, I do not think she would have liked or approved of it, "it would be, as you say, much better for my brother if he does not have such a marriage." Much, much happier." "I have no doubt that you think so," said my aunt. "Jenny," she said, ringing the bell, "give my respects to Mr. Dick, and ask him to come down." Before he came down, my aunt sat there with her back straight, frowning and facing the wall.When he came, the aunt and grandma performed the introduction etiquette. "Mr. Dick. He is a dear old friend. I have great confidence," said the aunt, emphatically, in a suggestive reminder to Mr. Dick, who was biting his fingertips and looking silly. "His judgement." At this cue, Mr. Dick removed his finger from his mouth, and assumed a serious and intent expression on his face, and stood in the middle of the group.The aunt turned her head towards Mr. Murdstone, who said: "As soon as I received your letter, Miss Trotwood, I felt that, to be more justly myself, and perhaps to show more respect to you—" "Thank you," said my aunt, still looking sharply at him, "you don't have to care about me." "It is better to talk in person than by letter," continued Mr. Murdstone, "though the journey will be inconvenient. The unfortunate boy, who has deserted his friends and duties—" "Look at him like that," put in his sister, calling attention to me in my indescribable attire, "how disgraceful and indecent." "Jane Murdstone," said his brother, "please kindly leave me alone. The unfortunate child, Miss Trotwood, has caused much disturbance in the family, both in the life of my dear late wife. He has a gloomy and rebellious mentality, a rough and savage temper, and an unruly temperament. My sister and I have tried hard to change his bad habits, but to no avail. Therefore, I think —I may say that we both thought, because my sister had complete confidence in me—that you ought to accept our measured and airless verbal judgment." "What my brother says needs no proof from me," said Miss Murdstone, "but I beg to add that I think the child is the worst of all children in the world— "Too much!" said my aunt. "But actually it's not too much," said Miss Murdstone. "Ha!" said my aunt. "Hey, sir?" "As to the best way of bringing him up," went on Mr. Murdstone, his face growing darker the longer he and his aunt looked at each other, "I have my own opinion, which An opinion based partly on what I know of him, and partly on what I know of my own assets. As far as this opinion is concerned, I am responsible to myself, I fulfill it, and I will say no more. I have put the boy in a Respected profession, and put him in the care of a friend of mine, but he didn't like it; he ran away, and became one of those wandering beggars you see everywhere, coming here in rags to you Miss Trowood Pray for mercy. If you believe his plea for mercy and will defend him, I will tell you the consequences of all this as far as I know." "Let's talk about the respectable profession first," said my aunt. "If he had been your child, I suppose you would have sent him to do that?" "If he had been my brother's own child," interposed Miss Murdstone, "I am sure his character would have been otherwise." "Suppose, then, that if the poor boy—that is, his mother—lived, he would go into that respectable profession, wouldn't he?" said the aunt. "I am convinced," said Murdstone, tilting his head, "that Clara has no objection to anything that my sister and I agree are the best." Miss Murdstone confirmed this, but her murmur was barely audible. "Alas!" said my aunt, "unfortunate nursing baby!" Mr. Dick, who had been rattling the money, rattled it even louder now, and my aunt had to stop him with her eyes before saying: "Is the poor child's annuity gone with her too?" "None, like her," replied Mr. Murdstone. "Then that little property—the house and the garden— What crow's nest without crows--and no arrangements were made to leave her children? " "That fortune was bequeathed to her unconditionally by her first husband," began Mr. Murdstone, and my aunt stopped him at once with great anger and impatience. "Oh, God! Hey, there's no reason to say that. Leave it to him unconditionally! I think I see David Copperfield hoping for conditions, even though they are clearly in front of his eyes! Unconditionally, of course Leave it to her. But when she remarried—in short, when she took the most miserable step to marry you,” said my aunt, “to tell the truth—there was no one to speak for the child. A word?" "My late wife loved her second husband," said Mr. Murdstone, "and trusted him unreservedly." "Your late wife, sir, was the most unintelligent, unhappy, unlucky suckling baby," said my aunt, shaking her head at him. "She was like that. Now, what have you got to say?" "That's all, Miss Trotwood," he answered, "and I've come here to take David back—unconditionally. To deal with him as I think best, and as I think best. Treat him justly and unmistakably. I have not come here to make any promises, or promises to anyone. You, Miss Trowood, may be partial to his escape and begging for mercy. For, I should say, you I don't think you're trying to be conciliatory, so I think you might be thinking that way. Now, I should draw your attention: if you take his side once, you'll have to take his side forever; if you get between him and me, you Miss Trotwood is always involved. I will not be vexatious, nor will I be vexatious, and I am here to take him away, for the first and last time. Is he going? If he is not—then you Tell me he's not going; and whatever excuses you may cite, I don't care—my door is no longer open to him; and yours, I naturally think, is open to him." My aunt and grandma listened attentively to this.Now she sat upright, with her hands folded on her knees, staring resentfully at the speaker, and when he had finished, she turned her eyes so that she could see Miss Murdstone again without changing her position, and then Only then said: "Hey miss, do you have anything to say?" "As a matter of fact, Miss Trotwood," said Miss Murdstone, "everything I can say has been said so plainly by my brother, and all the facts known to me have been set out in such detail that I Nothing else to say but thank you for your kindness. I do say thank you for your very kindness," said Miss Murdstone.Her quips had the same effect on my aunt as they had on the cannon at Chatham, by which I slept the night. "What is the boy going to say?" said the aunt. "Would you like to go, David?" I answered with the word "no".I also beg not to let me go.I said Mr and Miss Murdstone never liked or treated me well.They made my mother, who always loved me, sorry for me, and I knew it well, and Peggotty knew it too.I said I believed that no one who knew how old I was could believe what I had suffered.I begged my great aunt—I don’t remember what I said exactly now, but I remember being touched at the time—to take care of me and protect me for my father’s sake. "Mr. Dick," said my aunt, "what shall I do with the boy?" Mr. Dick thought for a while, hesitated for a moment, and then replied with a smile on his face: "I will make a tailor-made suit for him immediately." "Mr. Dick," said my aunt proudly, "give me your hand, for your insight is invaluable." After shaking hands cordially, my aunt drew me to her, and spoke to Murdstone. Mr. said: "You can go if you like; I'm going to try the boy. If he's what you say, at least I can treat him as you do. But I don't believe anything you say. " "Miss Trotwood," replied Mr. Murdstone, rising, with a shrug, "if you were a man—" "Bah! Nonsense!" cried my aunt. "Don't talk to me!" "What an admirable courtesy!" cried Miss Murdstone, rising. "What a wonderful guest!" "You think I don't know," said the aunt, ignoring the older sister, and shaking her head at the younger brother, with the utmost sharpness, "what did you let that poor, unfortunate, misguided suckling baby do? Do you think I don't know what a sad day it is for the weakling, when you try to get close to her--I dare say you flirt with her so that you don't dare to hiss to a goose?" "I never heard such elegant words!" said Miss Murdstone. "You think I can see you but not understand you?" went on my aunt, "and now I can see you and hear you--honestly, I don't want to--oh my God! Who could be as docile and obedient as Mr. Murdstone at first! That poor, gullible, brainless boy never saw such a man. He's made of sugar. He adores her. He dotes on her son —doting him very, very much! He's going to be a second father to the boy, and they're going to live together in a garden full of roses, aren't they? Pooh! Go away! Go away!" said the aunt. "I've never heard of such a man in my life!" exclaimed Miss Murdstone. "Once you got hold of that poor little fool," continued my aunt, "—God forgive me for calling her that, she's gone where you won't go right away, because you haven't trampled her son enough— You start training her, don't you? Start tossing her around like a poor caged bird, just to teach her to sing your tunes, and drain the life of her being duped?" "It's either mad or drunk," said Miss Murdstone, who was troubled by her inability to direct her aunt's chatter to herself. "I suspect she's drunk." Miss Basie ignored the remark, and went on talking to Mr. Murdstone as if nothing had happened. "Mr. Murdstone," she said, waving her finger at him, "you are a tyrannical king in the eyes of that mindless suckling-baby, and you have broken his heart. She was a lovely child—I know This, I've known this for years before you met her - you fatally wounded her by exploiting the greatest of her weaknesses. That fact reassures you, whether you like it or not .You and your accomplices can think about it." "Permit me to ask, Miss Trotwood," interposed Miss Murdstone, "who is it that you call my brother's accomplice in terms I do not know?" Still ignoring, still undisturbed by the voice, Miss Bessie went on. "It's clear, as I told you, years before you knew her--God knows why you knew her, it's a mind-numbing mystery--it's clear, poor poor The weak little child will marry sooner or later; but I hope it will not be so. Mr. Murdstone, even when she was born here this poor child, you have been born to torture her constantly. When I was a poor child being trampled on," said my aunt, "--it's really unpleasant to think about--making this child such a hated look. Oh, alas! You don't have to avoid it!" said my aunt, "Even if If you don't see it, I know it's true!" At this moment, he has been standing by the door, looking at his aunt with a certain smile on his face, but his black eyebrows and black eyes are tightly knit together.I could see that although he was still smiling, his face had changed and he was panting like he had just run. "Good day, sir!" said my aunt, "good-bye! Good day to you too, madam," said my aunt, turning suddenly to his sister, "if I ever see you ride across my meadow on a donkey again, it's like believing you Believe with a head on your neck: I'm going to knock your hat off and kick it off!" It would take a painter, and a good one, to describe my aunt's expression as she vented her unexpected sentiments, and Miss Murdstone's expression upon hearing them.My aunt's expression was as strong and hard as these words.Miss Murdstone, without answering a word, took her brother's arm cautiously, and walked out of the cabin with dignity.My aunt was watching them from the window, and I was sure she would turn her warning into action if the donkey showed up. With no further provocation, her face gradually softened and became friendly and cheerful, so that I had the audacity to kiss her and thank her.I put my arms around her neck sincerely and did so.Then I shook hands with Mr. Dick, who shook hands with me many times, and laughed many times to celebrate the happy ending. "You and I will look upon ourselves as guardians of the boy together, Mr. Dick," said the aunt. “我高兴极了，”狄克先生说，“能做大卫的儿子的监护人。” “那好，”姨奶奶说，“一言为定好了。你知道吗，狄克先生，我还想过让他姓特洛伍德呢？” “当然，，当然，让他姓特洛伍德，当然，”狄克先生说道。 “大卫的儿子特洛伍德。” “你的意思是特洛伍德·科波菲尔，”姨奶奶接着说。 “是呀，的确。是的。特洛伍德·科波菲尔。”狄克先生说道，有点不好意思了。 姨奶奶对这建议是那么喜欢，那天下午就在为我买回的一些成衣上亲笔写上“特洛伍德·科波菲尔”，是用不褪色的记号墨水写的，我穿上身前就写了；而且规定所有为我订做的其它衣服（那天下午订下了里外齐全的一套）都得这么写上才行。 就这样，我用一个新名字，在一个全新的环境中开始了我的新生活。那么些日子来我所处的疑虑状态过去了，我觉得就像一场梦一样。我从没想到我有了姨奶奶和狄克先生这么两个怪怪的监护人。我也从没明明白白想过我的一切。我心中有两件事是清清楚楚的：昔日的布兰德斯通生活变得很遥远了——仿佛留在无法丈量的雾中了；我在默德斯通——格林伯公司的生活永远被一层幕布罩上了。从此那幕布不曾被人揭开过，就是我在讲述这一切时也勉强用手把它揭开一下便急忙放下。回忆那生活令我感到那么痛苦，那么多的烦恼和失望，以至我连回顾一下我受命运安排把那生活过了多久的勇气也不曾有过。那生活是否有一年，或更多，或更少，或并不知道。我只知道：曾有过那种生活，但结束了；我已把它写了下来，就把它留在这里吧。