Chapter 21 Chapter Seventeen Someone Appeared

I had not thought of Peggotty since my escape; but I wrote her a letter as soon as I was taken in at Dover, and a long letter to her when my aunt formally left me in her custody. After I was sent to Dr. Strong's school, I sent her another letter, informing me of my happy status and future.In this letter, I am enclosing her the first half of a guinea to repay the money I had previously borrowed from her.In this way, I have never been happier than I have ever been in using the money Mr. Dick gave me.I didn't mention the young man driving the donkey cart until I wrote this letter. Peggotty answered these letters with all the promptness, if not simplicity, of a merchant's clerk.Her extraordinary powers of expressiveness (albeit not very strong in terms of writing) came to the fore when she wrote about my travels.Four full sheets of letter paper all began with incoherent exclamation sentences, which still left her unsatisfied.These sentences are not only blurred in some places, and have no end; but those blurrings move me more than any of the best articles, because they tell me that Peggotty cried incessantly when he wrote the letter.What else can I expect?

It was easy for me to understand that she still couldn't like my aunt very much.Because of the antipathy that had been in my heart for so long, this new discovery was too sudden.We never really got to know each other, she wrote; but it was a good thing to think that Miss Bessie was so different from what everyone thought (here she wrote 'strange' for 'good')!Evidently she was still in awe of Miss Betsy, who paid her only timid homage; and she was also evidently afraid of me, lest I should soon flee again, for she hinted again and again that she was always ready for me to go to Yale. Mouth fare.

She told me something that made me very sad: We had three furniture sales in our old home, Mr or Miss Murdstone had gone, and the house was locked up for sale or to let.God knows I didn't have a share of the old house when they were there, but the thought of the dear old place having nothing to do with it, the weeds growing tall in the gardens and the wet leaves growing thick on the paths, made me It hurts.I imagine how the cold winter wind howls around it, how the bleak rain knocks on the glass of its windows, how the moonlight casts ghost shadows on the walls of those empty rooms to accompany its loneliness all night long.I thought again of the graves in the cemetery under the trees: the house seemed to be dead now, and everything about my parents faded away.

There was nothing new in Peggotty's letter.She said Mr. Barkis was an excellent husband, if still a little stingy; but everybody has faults, and she had quite a few (to tell the truth, I don't know any of her faults); The little bedroom is always there for me.Mr. Peggotty was very well, and so was Ham, and Mrs. Gormidge was not very well, and little Em'ly would not enclose a greeting, but said that Peggotty would send my regards in her stead if it pleased her. I dutifully told my aunt all this, except that little Emily was not mentioned, because I had an instinct that my aunt would not like little Emily.I had not been long in Dr. Strong's school, but my aunt visited me several times, each time at an unexpected time, and, I think, to learn about me unexpectedly.Since she saw that I worked hard and behaved well, and heard from various sources that I was rising rapidly in school, she quickly stopped this kind of interview.Every three or four weeks I see her once on a Saturday, while I go to Dover for Sunday.Every fortnight I saw Mr. Dick on a Wednesday, and he drove in at noon, and stayed till the next morning.

Mr. Dick always carried a leather case in which were some stationery and the paper; and this is what he thought of the paper now: the time was pressing, and the paper had to be written and delivered at once. Mr. Dick loves gingerbread.In order to make his visit more agreeable to him, my aunt ordered me to open a credit account for him in a pastry shop, and stipulated that his purchases of food should not exceed a shilling on any given day.In addition, all the odd bills in the hotel where he stayed had to be checked by my aunt before paying.Therefore, I suspect that my aunt only allowed him to shake the purse and not allow him to use the money in it.A closer look proved that my idea was true, or at least he had an appointment with his aunt, and he had to tell his aunt about the expenses.Since he never thought of cheating her and always wanted to make her happy, he was also very careful when spending money.In this, as in other respects, Mr. Dick believed that my aunt was the wisest and best woman, and he always conveyed this to me in a low, mysterious voice.

"Troughwood," said Mr. Dick mysteriously, one Wednesday, after having conveyed the above thoughts to me confidently, "who is that man who hides around our house to frighten her?" "Scare my aunt, sir?" Mr. Dick nodded: "I'm sure nothing can frighten her," he said; "because she—" here he dropped his voice, "is needless to say—the brightest and best woman. With that, he pulled his head back to observe the effect of that comment on me. "The first time he came," said Mr. Dick, "was—I think—in 1649, the year King Charles was killed. You said it was 1649, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir." "I don't know how it's possible," said Mr. Dick, shaking his head, looking puzzled. "I can't believe I'm that old." "What year did the man appear, sir?" I asked. "No, really," said Mr. Dick, "I don't see how it could be that year, Trotwood. Did you find the date from the history?" "Yes, sir." "History never lies, I suppose, does it?" said Mr. Dick hopefully. "Oh, no, sir!" I answered with certainty, and as I was young and naive at the time, I thought it was so.

"I can't think," said Mr. Dick, shaking his head, "what could have been wrong? But the man who first It was just after dark, and Miss Trotwood and I went out after tea, and he was near our house." "Walking around?" I asked. "Walking around?" repeated Mr. Dick. "I'll see. I'll see. No—no, he didn't walk around. " I asked the man bluntly what he was doing at that time. "Well, before he came behind her and whispered," said Mr. Dick, "he couldn't see where he was at all; then she turned and passed out. I stood there watching him. ;he's gone; he's been hidden since then, underground or something, and that's a strange thing!"

"He's been hiding since then?" I asked. "That's right," said Mr. Dick, nodding gravely. "Not until last night! Last night, when we were walking, he came up behind her again, and I recognized him again." "He scared my aunt again?" "Shake it," said Mr. Dick, gritting his teeth, imitating that. "Hold on to the railing. Cry. But, Trotwood, come here," and he drew me close to him to speak to me in a low voice. Say, "Son, why did she give him money in the moonlight?" "Maybe he's a beggar." Mr. Dick shook his head, denying the idea at all.He repeated, "Not a beggar, not a beggar, not a beggar, boy!" Then he went on with firm conviction, and at a later hour he saw through the window his aunt giving money to the beggar outside the garden fence. Someone, and then this person left ghostly and never showed up again.He thought the man had gone underground again.My aunt and grandma hurried home on tiptoe, and they were still different from usual until that morning.Let Mr. Dick worry about her.

When I first heard the story, I rather thought the stranger was nothing more than Mr. Dick's fancy, some sort of outdated king who made his life so difficult.But after thinking about it, I began to wonder whether there had been an attempt or an attempt to intimidate Mr. Dick twice from my aunt's protection, and whether my aunt had been induced to pay for his peace, Because I can see in her the great concern and affection she has for Mr. Dick.I am on good terms with Mr. Dick, and I am very concerned about his happiness, so my anxiety is full, and I think this suspicion is not groundless.For a long time, whenever the Wednesday of his due came, I had a suspicion that he might not be present in the carriage as usual.However, the gray-haired man always appeared there with a smile and a high spirit; as for the person who could scare my aunt, I never heard anything from him.

Such Wednesdays were always the happiest in Mr. Dick's life; and they brought me much joy.Before long everyone at the school knew him; he was indifferent to any game except kite-flying, but was very interested in all our sports.How many times have I seen him throw himself into a game of rock-ball or spinning top, with such unspeakable interest in his face that he can't even breathe in a pinch!How many times, when playing a game of dogs chasing rabbits, I have seen him cheering for the audience on a small slope, holding his hat on his white-haired head and waving it vigorously, forgetting the dead Charlie at that moment King and everything about it!How many summers have I known how happy he was when he was on the cricket field!How many winter days have I seen him standing in the wind and snow with his nose blue from the cold, watching the children go down the long ski run, and patted his fleece gloves with joy. He was popular with all, and no one was so good at making tricks in trinket.He can carve an orange into something none of us can imagine.He could make a boat out of pins or whatever.He could make chess pieces out of sheep hoof bones; out of old playing cards into models of Roman chariots; out of cotton spools into turning wheels; out of old wire into birdcages.The most remarkable thing is that he can make things out of thread and grass, so that everyone believes that there is nothing that other people can make with hands that he cannot do. Mr. Dick's reputation was not always confined to our pupils.After a few Wednesdays, Dr. Strong himself asked me some questions about him, and I told all I knew from my aunt.The doctor was so interested in what I said that he asked me to introduce him to Mr. Dick when he next called.I performed the ceremony of introduction, and the doctor asked Mr. Dick to come to him anytime he couldn't find me at the box office and wait there for us from morning school.Mr. Dick soon got into the habit of going to him too.If we were late from get out of class (which often happens on Wednesdays), he would take a walk in the yard and wait for me.Here, he also met the doctor's young and beautiful wife (she is paler these days than before, and I don't think it is easy for me or others to see her, and she is not so happy, but she is still as beautiful as before) .So, he became more and more familiar, and finally walked into the classroom and waited for me.He always sat on some stool in some corner, so that the stool was called Dick because of him.There he sat, his white-haired head bowed forward, listening to whatever class was being taught, with a deep respect for the learning he could not acquire. Mr. Dick extended this respect to the doctor, who he believed to be the most profound and accomplished philosopher ever since.After a long time, Mr. Dick still took off his hat when talking to him; even after he and the doctor became good friends, when they regularly walked in the place in the courtyard that we call "the doctor's walk", Mr. Dick would often Take off your hat to show respect for wisdom and knowledge.How the doctor read fragments of the famous dictionary during such walks I do not know at all.At first, perhaps, he thought he was reading it to himself, but it became a habit; and Mr. Dick beamed, and thought in his heart that the Dictionary was the most interesting book in the world. Thinking of them passing by the classroom window--the Doctor reading with a gentle smile, sometimes elaborating, or shaking his head gravely; Where the wings swam, God only knows--I think that's the most pleasant thing in the air.It seemed to me that they would go on going back and forth in this way forever, and that the world would benefit from their walk; and there are a thousand tumultuous things in the world that do not compare to this one for me. Half of the matter benefits greatly. Agnes, too, soon became Mr. Dick's friend.Because he often went to the doctor's residence, Mr. Dick also got to know Uriah.Mr. Dick's growing friendship with me rested on this peculiar foundation--Mr. Dick's taking care of me as my guardian, yet consulting me and taking my advice on every detail.Not only did he admire my natural intelligence, but he also believed that I had inherited a lot from my aunt. One Thursday morning, before going back to school (for we had an hour's lesson before breakfast), Mr. Dick and I were walking from the hotel to the coach office when we met Uriah on the way.Uriah reminded me of the promise I had made to drink tea with him and his mother, and then twisted around and said, "But I don't expect you to come, Master Copperfield, we are so humble." I couldn't decide then whether I liked or hated Uriah; I still hesitated when we stood face to face in the street.But I thought it would be dishonorable to be considered proud, so I said I was just waiting to be invited. "Well, if that's the case, Master Copperfield," said Uriah, "if you really don't worry about our lowliness, would you please come tonight? Scruples, I wish you would admit it, Master Copperfield; for we are well aware of who we are." I said I must speak to Mr. Wickfield about it, and if he would agree to my going as I thought I should, I should be glad to go.In this way, at six o'clock that night (as usual, I left work early that night) I told Uriah that I was going to leave. "Mother must be proud," said he, as we set off together, "if pride is no sin, she must be, Master Copperfield!" "But you thought I was proud this morning," I replied. "Oh no, Master Copperfield!" replied Uriah, "oh, believe me, it's not! I never thought that! If you think we're too low for you, I'll I will never think you are proud because of this, because we are too humble." "Have you been studying law lately?" I asked, intent on changing the subject. "Oh, Master Copperfield," he said humbly, "my reading is hardly a study. Sometimes I read Mr. Teedd's great book for an hour or two at night." "It's difficult, I suppose?" I said. "Sometimes, I think his stuff is very difficult," Uriah replied, "but I don't know what intelligent people will say about this masterpiece." As we walked forward, he made a small tune with two fingers on his thin right hand under his chin, and then said: "There are some words in Mr. Teed's book, you know, Master Copperfield, which are Latin words or Latin terms, and which are quite difficult for a humble and shallow reader like me." "Would you like to learn Latin?" I said boldly. "I'd like to teach you, because I'm learning it." "Oh, thank you, Master Copperfield," he replied, shaking his head. "I believe you are kind enough to suggest it, but I am too humble to accept it." "What nonsense, Uriah!" "Oh, you must forgive me, Master Copperfield! I am very grateful, and, frankly, I would love to learn from you, but I am too humble. Many people trample on me before I can learn to offend them. I am a lowly one. Learning is not for me. A man like me had better not have delusions. If he lives, he must live lowly, Master Copperfield!" He kept shaking his head, and humbly twisting his body to say the above, with such a wide grin and such deep wrinkles on his cheeks, I have never seen it before. "I think you are mistaken, Uriah," I said, "and I think there are a few things I can teach you, if you will learn." "Oh, I don't doubt it, Master Copperfield," he answered, "not at all. But, as you are not mean yourself, you may be less able to conceive of the mean. I would not use knowledge To offend and piss off people nobler than me, thank you. I am so humble.This is my humble dwelling, Master Copperfield! " We went straight from the street into an old-fashioned low house, and there we saw Mrs. Heep; she was an exact copy of Julia, only a little shorter.She received me very humbly.She also apologized to me for kissing her son, saying that, despite their low status, they have nature and emotions, which I hope will not offend anyone.It was a respectable room, half a living room and half a kitchen.It's just that the room is not comfortable at all.There was a tea service on the table, and a kettle burning on the hob.A cabinet with drawers and tabletops was specially used for Uriah's reading and writing at night. On it lay Uriah's blue bag for spitting out documents, and a team of books led by Mr. Tidd. The books were Uriah's; there was a corner cabinet; and the usual utensils and furniture.I don't remember anything looking bare, squeezed, poor, but I do remember how everything looked that way there. Mrs. Heep was still in widow's mourning, and perhaps that was part of Mrs. Heep's humility.Though Mr. Heep has been dead for many years, she still wears a widow's mourning, and I think her hat has changed a bit, but everything else is as new as mourning. "It is a memorable day, I believe, my Uriah," said Mrs. Heep, preparing the tea, "for Master Copperfield is visiting us." "I told you that you would think so, mother," Uriah said. "If, I may wish, your father, for whatever reason, is still with us," said Mrs. Heep, "he must be very proud of himself this afternoon." These compliments really disturbed me, but I knew to appreciate being treated like a guest of honor.So I thought Mrs. Heep was a lovely woman. "My Uriah," said Mrs. Heep, "has been looking forward to this day, sir. He was afraid that our baseness should be a hindrance, as I am. We are base, we were base, and we shall be Forever mean," said Mrs. Heep. "I trust you won't, ma'am," I said, "unless you want to." "Thank you, sir," returned Mrs. Heep, "we know who we are, and that's what we are, and we thank Heaven with all our hearts." I felt that Mrs. Heep was getting closer to me, and Uriah was coming towards me.They respectfully advised me to take the best food on the table.Of course, there is nothing I particularly like in those foods, but I think human feelings are more important than material things, and I also think they are hospitable and enthusiastic.Presently they began to talk of aunts, and I told them my opinion; then of parents, and I told them of mine; and then Mrs. Heep began of stepfathers , I began to tell them my opinion again--but I stopped again, because my aunt had told me not to talk about this subject.But just as an unsophisticated cork cannot withstand a pair of corkscrews, just as a young tooth cannot withstand two dentists, just as a small shuttlecock cannot withstand a pair of shuttlecock rackets I can't resist Uriah and Mrs. Heep that way.They literally did with me what they wanted, and squeezed out bits and pieces of things I didn't want to say or that I was really ashamed to think about.When I was young and frank, I thought it was decent to trust people without defense, and I thought I was cared for and loved by these two worthy masters, and everything was left to them. They are very dear to each other, there is no doubt about it.This worked for me, and I took it for granted; but I couldn't resist their knack of always taking up the conversation no matter what the one said.When nothing more could be said about myself (for I never spoke of my life at Murdstone-Grinber & Company, nor of my travels), they began to talk about Wickfield. Mr. Alder and Agnes.Uriah throws the ball to Mrs. Heep, and Mrs. Heep catches it and throws it back to Uriah, and Uriah catches it for a little while and throws it to Mrs. Heep, and so they toss , until I was dizzy and couldn't tell whose hand the ball was in.The ball itself also changes.Sometimes it is Mr. Wickfield, sometimes it is Agnes, sometimes it is Mr. Wickfield's good character, sometimes it is my admiration for Agnes.Now the extent of Mr. Wickfield's business and possessions, now our family life after supper, now what Mr Wickfield drank, why he drank, and the lamentation over his excess; In short, sometimes this matter, sometimes that matter, and sometimes several things are mentioned together.I don't seem to talk much, except that I'm afraid they'll be squeamish about their own lowliness and my presence, and I don't seem to do anything now and then with a little encouragement; but I find I keep saying things I don't have to say Something like that, and the effect of it can be seen in the twitching of Uriah's deep nostrils. I started to feel a little uneasy and wanted to end this visit early.At this moment, a person was seen from the door walking through the street-the door was left open for ventilation, because the weather was stuffy and the house was stuffy-come back, look into the house and come in. People also shouted: "Copperfield! Is this possible!" This is Mr. Micawber!Mr. Micawber, with his monocle, his cane, and his collar, with all his upper-class air, and the condescending, condescending tone of his voice, nothing less! "My dear Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber, holding out his hand, "it was indeed a meeting in which the perpetualness of human change was impressed--in short, a most extraordinary meeting. I Walking along the street, thinking that something unexpected might happen (I am currently very optimistic about such things), I noticed the appearance of a young but precious friend who was connected with a great turning point in my life. Copperfield, my dear companion, how are you?" I cannot say now, really cannot say, that I was glad to see Mr. Micawber there; but I was glad to see him, and shook his hand affectionately, and greeted Mrs. Micawber. "Thank you," said Mr. Micawber, waving his hands as before, and sinking his chin into his collar. "She is generally well. The twins no longer take their food from the source of nature—in short," said Mr. Micawber with another sudden burst of courage, "they are weaned. Micawber Mrs Cowper, at present, is my traveling companion. She will be very glad to see you, Copperfield, and she will be glad to see you again, the most precious priest before the altar of friendship which has proved in every way to be sacred. .” I said of course I would like to see her. "It's very kind of you," said Mr. Micawber. Mr. Micawber again tucked his chin and smiled as he looked about him. "I have found that my friend Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber politely, without specifying to whom, "was not solitary, but at a social dinner with a widow and one who is evidently her descendant—in short,” said Mr. Micawber with a burst of courage, “her son. I shall be honored to be presented to them.” I was therefore obliged to introduce Mr. Micawber to Uriah Heep and his mother, which I did.While they belittled themselves to him, Mr. Micawber sat down and waved his hands in the most polite manner. "Any friend of Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber, "is my friend." "We are too low, sir," said Mrs. Heep, "my son and I are too low to be friends with Master Copperfield. We thank him for coming, as he kindly condescends to join us at tea, Thank you for coming too, sir." "Ma'am," said Mr. Micawber, bowing, "you are very kind. Copperfield, what are you doing now, are you still in the liquor business?" Eager to show Mr. Micawber away, I took up my hat (no doubt blushing) and replied that I was a student of Dr. Strong's. "Student?" said Mr. Micawber, raising his eyebrows. "I am delighted to hear that. Though my friend Copperfield's mind"--he said to Uriah and Mrs. Heep--"doesn't No need for that kind of training. Even without a knowledge of human affairs, his mind is a fertile field in which great gains are expected--in a word," said Mr. Micawber, laughing with renewed courage, "this It’s a kind of intelligence that can be learned from time to time.” Uriah twisted those two long hands slowly back and forth, and twisted her upper body horribly to show her respect for me. "May we go and see Mrs. Micawber, sir," said I, wishing only to take Mr. Micawber away. "If you will do her a favour, Copperfield," replied Mr. Micawber, rising, "I do not hesitate, in the presence of all my friends, to say that I have been in a state of financial distress for many years." I know He was going to say something of the sort, for he was always proud of his embarrassment, "Sometimes I get the upper hand on the difficulties, and sometimes the difficulties - in short, beat me. Sometimes I respond to the difficulties in a series of blows, Sometimes the difficulties are so great that I have to give in, and Mrs. Micawber quotes Cato: 'Plato, your prophecy is very true. It is all over, and I cannot fight again.' But never in my life, " M. Mr. Cowper said, "To put my sorrow (if I may use that word for the difficulties caused chiefly by the warrants and the two- and four-month bills) into the heart of my friend Copperfield. Get so much satisfaction." -------- ① Stoic Roman philosopher in the first century BC. Mr. Micawber concluded his stately tribute with these words: "Mr. Heep! Farewell. Mrs. Heep! Your servant." And he left with me in the most decency.As we walked, he made a lot of noise on the pavement with his shoes and hummed a tune. Mr. Micawber lodged at a small inn.A room used for lodging and sales by itinerant vendors was partitioned off and became his room, which smelled strongly of tobacco.I thought the room was the kitchen below, because there was a hot oily smell coming from the floorboards, and there were stains of sweat on the walls.From the smell of alcohol and the sound of wine glasses, I knew that there was a place selling alcohol not far from here.There was a little sofa under a picture of a horse race, and Mrs. Micawber lay on it, with her head toward the fire, and kicked the mustard seeds off a little table at the far end of the room.Mr. Micawber went in first and said to her, "My dear, let me introduce you to a student of Dr. Strong's school." I gradually saw that, though Mr. Micawber was still confused about my age and status, he remembered me as a student of Dr. Strong's, which was a respectable position. Mrs. Micawber was startled, but glad to see me, and I was glad to see her.After we greeted each other warmly, I sat down next to her on the little sofa. "My dear," said Mr. Micawber, "if you wish to tell Copperfield how we are--which he is no doubt keen to know--I can go to the papers and see what will be in the advertisements. There's no chance." "I thought you were at Plymouth, ma'am," I said to Mrs. Micawber after he had gone out. "My dear Mr. Copperfield," she answered, "we have been to Plymouth."! "Want to wait for an opportunity nearby?" I hinted. "That's right," said Mrs. Micawber, "wait for a chance. But the fact is, Customs don't want talent. My family's influence in that area is not enough to attract a person of Mr. Micawber's ability to seek employment in that agency." They won't hire a man of Mr. Micawber's talents. He can only make others look worse. Besides," said Mrs. Micawber, "I don't want to hide it from you, my dear Copper. Phil, of the branch where my natal family settled in Plymouth, knew that when Mr. Micawber, myself, and little Wilkin and his sister and twins came together, they did not look like they had just been released from detention. He was received as warmly as he had hoped when he was freed. In fact," said Mrs. Micawber in a low voice, "this can only be said of our own—we were received indifferently." "Oh!" I said. "Yes," said Mrs. Micawber, "it is painful indeed, Mr. Copperfield, to look at humanity in that light, but we have received a truly indifferent reception. There can be no doubt of that. In fact We've been there less than a week, and the branch where my parents settled in Plymouth has been very unkind to Mr Micawber." I said I too thought they should be ashamed. "But it is so," continued Mrs. Micawber. "What is a man of the spirit of Mr. Micawber to do in that case? There is evidently only one way to go--to borrow money from my natal branch and return to London, and return at any rate. " "You're back again, ma'am?" I said. "We are back again," replied Mrs. Micawber, "and since then I have consulted with the other sections of my natal family what Mr. Mr. Bofill," said Mrs. Micawber in a very reasonable and convincing manner, "a family of six, not counting the female workers, must not live on air." "Of course, ma'am," I said. "The other tribes of my natal family think," continued Mrs. Micawber, "that Mr. Micawber should at once turn his energies to coal." "Turn to what, madam?" "Coal," replied Mrs. Micawber, "turned to the coal industry. Mr. Micawber also felt that there might be such an opportunity in the Medway coal industry for a man of his ability." .so, Mr. Micawber is right, the first step should of course be to see Medved. We have seen that place. I say 'we', Mr. Copperfield, because I Never," said Mrs. Micawber with emotion, "I will never abandon Mr. Micawber." I said a few vague words to express my praise and agreement. "We," repeated Mrs. Micawber, "have been to see Mayverde. And the coal industry on that river, I think it may need talent, but it definitely needs capital. Talent, Micawber Mr. Micawber has the funds, Mr. Micawber does not. I think I have personally come to this conclusion after reading most of Medway. As it is very close to here, Mr. Micawber thinks that if you don't come here Look at the church, that's too hasty. First, it's worth looking at, and we haven't seen it before; second, there's a good chance that something could happen in a town with a church. We'll Here," said Mrs Micawber, "it has been three days, and nothing has happened; my dear Mr. Copperfield, if you know that we are now expecting a remittance from London to pay our bill to this hotel , you may not be surprised; but it would be a shock to a stranger. Until the remittance is received," said Mrs. Micawber excitedly, "I cannot go home (I mean Ben Downville's), cannot To see my son and daughter, and not to see my twins." With the utmost sympathy for the Micawbers in their most difficult position, I said so to Mr. Micawber, who had just returned home, adding that I wished I could give them what they needed. lend them money.Mr. Micawber's answer revealed the excitement in his heart.He took my hand and said, "You are a true friend, Copperfield, but at the end of the day every man with a razor has a friend." Mrs. Burke put her arms around Mr. Micawber's neck, and begged him to be calm.他哭了，但几乎又同时兴致大增，竟摇铃叫茶房，定下一个热腰布丁和一碟小虾做为次日早晨的点心了。 我向他们告别时，他们俩都恳切至甚地邀我在他们离开前去吃晚饭，我竟无法拒绝。可我知道我第二天来不了，因为我在晚上有许多功课要做，米考伯先生便约定他将在早上造访斯特朗博士的学校（他预感到那汇款会随早班邮车到达），并建议说，如果于我更方便，可改在后天。果然，次日早晨我被从教室里喊了出来，只见米考伯先生在客厅里，他是来通知晚餐照原议举行的。我问他汇款是否已到，他把我手握了一下，就走了。就在那天晚上，我朝窗外看去，不禁又惊又不安——我看到米考伯先生和尤来亚臂挽臂走过；尤来亚谦卑有加地承受这一光荣。米考伯先生则为自己的看顾竟泛施于尤来亚了而感到无憾半分的欣喜。我次日按预定的时间——下午四点——去那家小旅店时，从米考伯先生的谈吐中获悉他曾和尤来亚一起回家，在希普太太家里喝过搀水的白兰地，我更加吃惊了。 “我要告诉你，我亲爱的科波菲尔，”米考伯先生说道，“你的朋友希普是一个可以做首席辩护律师的青年，如果我在困难达到危急状态时认识了那青年，我可以说，我相信我的债主们都会好好学到点东西。” 明知米考伯先生其实一分钱也没还给他们，我不明白这话又从何说起；不过我不喜欢追问。我不愿说我希望他不要对尤来亚过于坦率，也不愿问他们对我是不是谈得很多。我怕伤了米考伯先生的感情，或者说我怎么也怕伤了米考伯太太的感情，因为她很敏感。可这事总让我悬心不安，后来不时惦着它。 我们吃了一顿精美的小规模晚餐。一碟很清淡的鱼，一个烤过的小牛腰，炸香肠，一只鹧鸪，一个布丁。有葡萄酒，有很烈的麦酒，吃过晚饭后，米考伯太太亲自为我们调制了一大盆热的潘趣酒。 米考伯先生高兴异常，我从没看见他这么高兴开怀过。由于潘趣酒，他的脸上闪着光，看上去那张脸就像涂满了油漆似的。他对那小镇生了好感，为它祝福；他说米考伯太太和他在坎特伯雷过得极舒适愉快，他们都决不会忘记在这小镇上度过的好时光。后来，他又为我祝福；他、米考伯太太和我回忆了我们昔日的交情，于是我们又把财产重新变卖一遍。随后我为米考伯太太祝福；或者，我至少说道：“如果你允许，米考伯太太，请让我为你的健康干杯，夫人。”于是，米考伯先生对米考伯太太的品性发表了一番颂扬之词，并说她一直是他的指导者，哲学家和密友，他还向我建议说，我要结婚时，应娶一个像她那样的女人——如果还找得到那样的女人的话。 潘趣酒喝光了，米考伯先生变得更可亲更高兴了。米考伯太太的情绪也高涨了，我们唱起《友谊地久天长》。当唱到“这儿有一只手，我忠实的朋友”时，我们手拉手围着桌子；当我们唱道“满满喝下好心肠”时，虽然谁也不明白那意思，却都认为自己很受感动。 一句话，我从没见过什么人像米考伯先生那样开心过，直到那晚最后的时刻，直到我向他和他那慈爱的太太告别时，他都是那样。所以，次晨七点，我很意外地接到下面那封信，信上署明写信时间是头天夜里九点半，即我离开他们一刻钟后。 我亲爱的年轻朋友： 骰子已掷出——一切都结束了。用令人厌恶的欢快之面具遮掩住忧伤，今晚我没告诉你：汇款已无希望！在这种情形下，耻于忍受，耻于多想，耻于道来，我已用一张期票打发了这里的欠帐，并写明十四天后在伦敦我的本唐维尔寓所兑现。期票到期时，一定无法兑付，其后果是毁灭。霹雳要击下，树定会倒下。 让现在这个给你写信的可怜人，亲爱的科波菲尔，做你一生之鉴吧。他正为此写这封信，并希望能如此。如果他可以相信他还多少有点用处，也可能他没有欢乐可言的阴郁余生会透进一缕阳光呢——虽说他的生命在目前（至少是这样）还极成问题。 我亲爱的科波菲尔，这是你收到我的最后一封信了。 沦为乞丐的流浪者 威尔金·米考伯启 这封令人心碎的信是那么叫我震惊，我便马上赶往那家小客栈，一面想从那儿绕道去斯特朗博士的学校，一面想用一番话安慰米考伯先生。可是，跑到半路，我就遇见后部载着米考伯夫妇的伦敦马车。镇定快活的米考伯先生一面笑，一面听密考伯太太说话，还一面吃着纸包里的核桃，胸袋里还插了一个瓶子。由于他们没有看见我，从各方面想，我也觉得最好不去看他们了。于是，如获重释的我转进一条去学校最近的小巷，并感到，无论怎么说，非常轻松，因为他们走了；不过，我仍然很喜欢他们呢。