Chapter 24 Chapter 20 The Steerforth House

At eight o'clock the maid knocked on my door and reported to me that shaving water was left outside, and I blushed on the bed with a deep and painful feeling that I had no need of it.I suspect she was laughing when she reported it too.I was troubled by my suspicions in dressing; and I found myself adding a sort of secret guilt to my suspicions as I passed her on the stairs as I went down to breakfast.Indeed, I felt very keenly that I was younger than I desired, so in that low self-esteem state of mind, I couldn't make up my mind to walk past her, and when I saw her holding a broom, I just kept looking at her. Outside the window, the bronze statue of Charlie on horseback, surrounded by chaotic cabs, and shrouded in a drizzle and a layer of dense fog, the bronze statue is not at all airy.That's how I looked, and kept seeing the waiter coming to remind me that a gentleman was waiting for me.

I did not find Steerforth in the coffee-room; he was waiting for me in a comfortable back room.It had red curtains, a Turkish rug, a well-burning fire, and a nice breakfast, still hot, on a table with a clean cloth; Steerforth and everything else was reflected in it.At first I was a little reserved, for Steerforth was so calm, refined, and superior in every way (including age); but his easy care of me soon made me feel very comfortable and at ease. .I am so amazed at the change he has made at the Golden Cross, that I cannot compare the dreary solitude I endured yesterday with the ease and enjoyment of this morning.The irreverence of that waiter was gone, as if he had never been that way.I can say that he served us with an ascetic attitude.

"Now, Copperfield," said Steerforth, when we were alone in the room, "I should like to hear what you intend to do, where you are going, and everything about you. I think you are like my Like treasure." I blushed with joy to find that he was still so interested in me.I told him how my aunt suggested that I take a little trip, and where I was going. "You're not busy, then," said Steerforth, "come with me to Highgate, and stay with me for a day or two. You'll love my mother—she loves to praise me, and she loves to talk about me." , but you'll forgive her—she'll love you, too."

"I hope everything is as you said." I replied with a smile. "Oh!" said Steerforth, "she will like anyone who likes me, absolutely." "Then I'm sure I'll be favored," I said. "Well!" said Steerforth, "to prove it. We'll have two hours' sight-seeing--pleasure to take such a newcomer as you, Copperfield--and then we'll take a carriage to High Key. special." I almost thought I was dreaming, that I was about to wake up in room forty-four and face the lonely seat in the coffee room with the disrespectful waiter again.I wrote to my aunt, telling her that I was lucky enough to meet an old classmate I liked, and that I accepted his invitation.After writing the first letter, we drove around in a cab, saw some animations and some scenery, and walked around the museum; in the museum, I not only found that Steerforth knew a lot about everything, And notice how self-righteous he is about how well-informed he is.

"You're going to get a high degree at the University, Steerforth," said I, "and they should be proud of you if you haven't." "I got a degree!" cried Steerforth, "not me! My dear Daisy—you don't mind my calling you Daisy?" "Not at all!" I said. "You're a very good fellow! My dear Daisy," said Steerforth, laughing, "I show nothing of my own ideas or ambitions. I've done enough for myself. I think I'm being ridiculous enough now. " "But reputation—" I began to think. "You ridiculous daisy!" laughed Steerforth more earnestly. "Why should I bother to make those stupid fellows look up at me? Let them look up at somebody else. Reputation is for that fellow." Yes, wait for those guys to go."

I'm embarrassed because I'm being so ridiculous, so I want to change the subject.It was not difficult, for Steerforth had always been able to pass from one subject to another with his easy-going nature. Eat after sightseeing.The short winter days passed by.It was dusk when the carriage brought us to an old brick house on top of Highgate Hill.An elderly woman (though not too old) was standing at the door as we alighted, and she called Steerforth "my dearest James" and put her arms around him.This woman has an elegant temperament and a beautiful face.Steerforth introduced the woman as his mother, and she welcomed me with great dignity.

This is an old-fashioned house with a family style, very quiet and tidy.From my bedroom window I had a great view of London, and the city hung in the distance like a cloud of mist, from which twinkling lights shone.While I was dressing, I only had time to look at the solid furniture, the framed handiwork (I guessed that Steerforth's mother had made it before she married), and the crayon portraits of women with hair in their hair. The top and the whalebone backing were powdered, and I was invited to dine as the women loomed on the walls as the fire crackled and steamed from the fresh fire.

There is also a woman in the restaurant, not tall, with a dark complexion, looks awkward, but still pretty.I was attracted to this woman, perhaps because I was a little surprised to see her, or because I was sitting opposite her; or because there was something remarkable about her.She had black hair, piercing dark eyes, and was very thin, with a scar on her lip.It's an old scar - I should call it a seam, because it hasn't changed color, and it's been healed for years - that cut through her mouth, right down to her chin, and now because of the Looking at the table, I can't see clearly anymore, except for the upper lip, which is also a little deformed.I judged in my heart that she was about thirty years old, and she was very willing to marry.She's a bit of a dead flower, like a house that's been rented out a long time ago; but, as I said before, there's something about her that's still pretty.She was so thin as if scorched by a consuming fire within her that found vents in her forbidding eyes.

She was introduced as Miss Dartle, and both Steerforth and his mother called her Rosa.I found her living here, and for many years Mrs Steerforth's companion.I feel that she never speaks directly what is in her heart, but keeps hinting, and the more she hints, the less clear the meaning becomes.For instance, Mrs. Steerforth said, more jestly than earnestly, that she was afraid her son was leading a ridiculous life at college, and Miss Dartle broke in to say: "Oh, really? You know I'm ignorant, I'm just asking for advice, but isn't it always like that? I think everybody thinks that kind of life is—isn't it?"

"That's an education for a very serious profession, if that's what you mean, Rosa," replied Mrs. Steerforth, somewhat dryly. "Oh! yes! it is so," went on Miss Dartle, "but is it so? If I'm wrong, I wish someone would correct me— Is that really the case? " "What is it really like?" said Mrs Steerforth. "Oh! You mean-no!' went on Miss Dartle. "Well, I'm so glad to hear that! Now, I know how to do it. That's the good thing about asking a lot. About That kind of life, I'll never allow anyone to say to my face that it's profligacy, or debauchery, or anything like that."

"You will be right," said Mrs. Steerforth, "my son's tutor was a square man; and if I do not absolutely trust my son, I should trust him." "You should?" said Miss Dartle. "My God! Fangfang, is he Fangfang? The real place is right, isn't it? " "Yes, I believe so," said Mrs Steerforth. "How nice!" said Miss Dartle, "how reassuring! Is it really square? Then he isn't--of course he wouldn't be if he were. Why, now I'm sure He's very optimistic. You can't imagine how much I value him when I know he's really upright!" She hinted at every comment she asked, and every correction that was objected to after she had said it.Sometimes she even came into conflict with Steerforth, and it took me a lot of effort not to pretend I didn't know.Just before dinner was over, this happened.Mrs Steerforth spoke to me of my intention of going to Suffolk, and I casually remarked how glad I would be if Steerforth would go there with me.I explained to Steerforth that I was visiting my old nurse, and Mr. Peggotty's, and I reminded him of the boatman I had seen at school. "Oh! that breezy fellow!" said Steerforth. "He's got a son, hasn't he?" "No, that's his nephew, but he takes him for his son," I answered, "and he has a pretty niece, which he takes for his daughter. Anyway, in his house (not as Said boat, for he lived in a boat on dry land) full of people who were the recipients of his favor and kindness. You will be glad to meet that great family." "Would I?" replied Steerforth. "Well, I think I will. I ought to think what to do. Don't tell me what a pleasure it was to travel with you, Daisy--that's the kind of person that, It's worth the trip to be one of them." My heart skipped a beat with the joy of new hope.But he said "that kind of person" in that tone, and Miss Dartle, who had been watching us sharply, broke in again. "Oh, but, really? Do tell me. Are they?" she said. "What are they? Who is what?" asked Steerforth. "Those people! Are they really animals or fools? Are they really something else? I really want to know. " "Well, there's a great distance between them and us," said Steerforth coldly. "They don't have our sentimentality. Their feelings are not easily frightened or hurt. They Very serious, I dare say--and if anyone disagrees with it, I don't dispute it. But they have rough lines of character, but maybe that's their blessing, it's like their rough skin, it's not easy Injuried." "Really?" said Miss Dartle. "Well, I don't know now when I've ever heard something that made me happier than that. What a relief! Knowing they're suffering and not feeling it." Well, what a joy! I did have times when I was insecure about people like that, and I don't have to worry about them anymore. Live and learn. I had my doubts, I admit, but now it's all gone Yes. I didn’t know it before, but now I know it. This shows the benefits of asking for advice—— Yes or no? " I believed then that what Steerforth had said was in jest, or merely to amuse Miss Dartle; and when she left, and we were alone before the fire, I expected him to say so.But he just asked me what I thought of her. "She's smart, isn't she?" I asked. "Clever! She takes everything to the whetstone," said Steerforth, "and sharpens it as well as she has sharpened her own face and figure these years. She kept sharpening and sharpening, eroding herself away, leaving only the blade. " "What a conspicuous scar she has on her lip!" I said. Steerforth's face fell, and he paused. "Hey, actually," he went on, "that's what I did." "Because of an unfortunate accident?" "No. When I was a little boy, she pissed me off and I threw a hammer at her. I must have been a bright little angel!" It made me regret having spoken of such a painful subject, but there was no use regretting it now. "There's been this scar you see ever since," said Steerforth, "and she'll take it to her grave, if she can rest in her grave; but I can't believe she'll be there Rest somewhere. She was the child of one of my father's cousins, and had no mother. When her father died, her widowed mother took her as a companion. She had two Thousands of pounds, plus annual interest. That's the history of Miss Rosa Dartle you want to know." "No doubt she loves you as a brother." "Hmph!" replied Steerforth, looking into the fire. "There are brothers who don't want to be loved too much, and there are those who love—well, let's drink, Copperfield! We want to bless you The daisies in the fields bless me—to my shame—the lilies of the valley who are not busy!” He said these words with excitement, with the same smile that had once appeared on his face. The sad smile was gone, and he was as candid and charming as ever. As we went in for tea, I could not help looking at the scar with emotion and suffering from it.Soon, I discovered that the scar was the most sensitive part of her face.As her face turned pale, the scar became at first a dark, leaden mark, fully revealed, like a hidden ink mark baked by fire.In her argument with Steerforth about double continents—I think she got very angry for a moment, and that's when I saw the scar like ancient writing on the wall. -------- ① It means a bad omen.The allusion comes from the sixth chapter of the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament. I am not at all surprised that Mrs. Steerforth adored her son so much.She didn't seem to say or think of anything else.She showed me his baby portrait in a gold box with some of his fetal hair; she showed me his portrait when I first knew him; hung on her chest.She kept all his letters to her in a cabinet near the fire; she would have read some of them to me, which I would have liked to hear, but he stopped her, and babbled her past. "You were, my son told me, acquainted at Mr. Creakle's school," said Mrs. Steerforth, as we talked at one table and they tossed doubles at the other. Lu, "Indeed, I remember, he said at that time that there was a student younger than him that he liked very much, but you can understand, I forgot your name." "He was very generous and kind to me there, ma'am," said I. "I need such a friend. Without him, I'm lost." "He was always generous and loyal," said Mrs Steerforth proudly. God knows, I agree with that with all my heart.Mrs Steerforth knew it too.She also lost a lot of prestige towards me, and only when she praised her son, she showed that incomparable arrogance. "Generally speaking, that school is not suitable for my child," she said, "nowhere near; Seeing his superiority, we are willing to respect and worship him; there, we can find such a person." I know this because I know who that person is.But instead of hating him any more for it, I felt that it was a virtue which redeemed him--if it was a virtue not to be able to refuse a man as irresistible as Steerforth. "There, through the voluntary improvement of self and self-esteem, my son's talents developed," continued the loving lady. And then, desperately determined to do everything right for who he is. That’s who he is.” I replied convincingly that he was that kind of person. "Therefore, obeying his own will, without any compulsion, my son will go his own way, and if he pleases, he can always surpass any opponent," she continued. "Mr. Copperfield, my son said, you admire him very much, When you met yesterday, you wept with joy. I would not be an honest woman, if I marveled at the child's touch; but I cannot be indifferent to anyone who appreciates his virtues, So I am very glad to see you here. And I can assure you that he has an extraordinary friendship for you, and you can have complete confidence in his protection." Miss Dartle was as absorbed in throwing double continents as she was in anything else.If I saw her at the side of the Shuanglu game board for the first time, I would definitely think that the reason why she is so thin and her eyes get bigger is because of the hard work in this game and not because of other reasons.However, when I was so delighted to hear Mrs Steerforth say those things, and thought it was the most mature manner I had ever had since leaving Canterbury, because of her esteem, I would have thought that I was in the least bit offended by what I said or how I looked. Miss Dartle was negligent, and I should be dead wrong. At some time that evening a tray of glasses and decanters was brought into the house, and Steerforth, warming himself by the fire, promised to seriously consider going into the country with me.He said there was nothing to worry about, a week would be fine here; his mother said so enthusiastically.More than once during our conversation he referred to me as Daisy, a nickname which elicited something from Miss Dartle. "But, alas, Mr. Copperfield," she asked, "is that a nickname? Why did he call you that? Was it— eh? Because he thought you young and ignorant? I am here It’s pretty ignorant about things like that.” I blushed and replied that I thought so. "Oh!" said Miss Dartle, "now I know that, and I'm glad! I asked, and I know, and I'm glad. He thinks you young and ignorant; and you're his friend. Why, So much fun!" She went to bed a short time later, and Mrs Steerforth retired.Steerforth and I sat around the fire for another half hour.Talking of Traddles and the rest of the Old Salem School, they went upstairs together.Steerforth's room was next to mine, and I went in to have a look.This is simply an easy picture, full of easy chairs, cushions, footstools, all decorated and arranged by his mother himself, everything that should be there.Finally, in a painting on the wall, her pretty face looks down on her beloved son, as if her son deserves her attention even when he is asleep. I found that the stove in my room was burning brightly at this time, and the curtains in front of the windows and the curtains around the bed had been pulled down, so that the room looked tidy.I sat in a chair near the fire and savored my pleasures.After savoring in this way for some time, I found upon the mantelpiece a portrait of Miss Dartle looking eagerly at me. It's an astonishing portrait, and it certainly looks astonishing.The artist didn't draw the scar, but I put it on, and now the scar is just there, sometimes limited to the upper lip like I saw it when I was eating, and sometimes like I saw it when she was angry. Shows the entire hammer print as seen. Why didn't they put her somewhere else, I thought sullenly, in this room?In order to avoid her, I hurriedly undressed, turned off the lights, and went to bed.But when I fell asleep, I still couldn't forget that she was still staring there, "But, is it true? I really want to know;" When I woke up in the middle of the night, I found that I was disturbed in my dream to all kinds of things. The kind of people who ask if that's true - have no idea what I'm referring to.