Chapter 51 Chapter 47 Martha

At this time, we arrived at Westminster Abbey.When we saw her coming to meet us, we turned and followed her; at Westminster she left the lights and noise of the main street.She walked so fast that she avoided the two streams of people coming and going on the bridge, and we were left behind by the time we reached the narrow riverside streets around Millbank.As if to avoid the approaching footsteps she heard behind her, she stepped across the street at that moment; then, without looking back, she walked even faster. Some vans parked overnight in a dark doorway, and a glance towards the river from that doorway made me stop.I silently touched my companion, and the two of us did not go to the other side of the street, but followed her on this side of the street.We followed her as quietly as possible in the shadow of the house.

At the head of that low street there was a dilapidated cabin, perhaps the old deserted ferry cabin.The house is still there as I write this book.It was just at the end of that street and at the beginning of the main road between the river and the house.When she got there, she saw the river, and she stopped, as if she had reached her destination.Then, she looked at the river and walked slowly along the river. All the way here I had surmised that she was going to a house; I had a vague hope that that house had something to do with the missing girl.But, glancing at the water through the doorway, I knew instinctively that she would not go any further.

It was a deserted part of the country then, and as dead and dismal at night as everything around London.On the deserted road near the great windowless prison, there were neither docks nor houses.A slow-moving canal deposited its silt against the walls of the prison.The nearby swamp was overgrown with weeds.Parts of the ground here are rotting stilts, remnants of work that was unfortunately started but never completed.In other places the ground was piled upon the ground with rusted cauldrons, wheels, cranks, pipes, furnaces, oars, anchors, diving bells, windmilled sails, and strange things which I shall not name, by some speculator Gathered to lie in the dirt—due to their own weight, they sink into the ground during wet seasons—appearing to be invisible but not the same.The noise and flames of the various factories on the river bank rose up in the night, disturbing all but the indifference of the constant smoke from their chimneys.Damp and notched banks zigzag among old log piles to the receding tide, following snow and mud.The woodpile was covered with disgusting green fur, and there were remnants of a poster that offered a reward for drowning people that had been put up at high tide last year.It is said that one of the graves where the dead were dug during the Great Plague was in this neighbourhood, and from there it seemed to spread a noxious influence; Melt into one.

The woman we're following is like part of the garbage thrown out to rot.In this night scene, she walked down to the river, staring at the river silently alone. Small boats and barges were laid on the mud, so that we came within a few yards without being seen.I signaled Mr. Peggotty to stop where I was, and I stepped out of the shadows to talk to her.As I approached that lonely figure, I couldn't help trembling a little.Because I saw her resolutely walk to the end of this gloomy road, standing in the shadow of the iron bridge with many bridge holes, watching the reflection of the lights in the high tide river, at this time, I felt scared.

I thought she was muttering to herself, and I believed it, taking off the shawl from her shoulders and wrapping her hands in it as she looked at the water earnestly.Her movements were hesitant and trance, not like a waking person, but like a sleepwalker.I saw, and could never fly, her irrational look before I grabbed her arm that I feared she would fall before my eyes. I said at the same time: "Martha!" She screamed and struggled so hard I wondered if I'd be able to catch her.But a hand stronger than mine took her.She raised her startled eyes, saw whose hand it was, struggled a little, and fell down between us.We moved her away from the water, to some dry rock, and put her on the ground, crying and moaning.After a while, she sat down among the stones with her troubled head in her arms.

"Oh, the river!" she exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, the river!" "Don't talk, don't talk!" I said, "Calm down!" But she kept saying that, repeating, "Oh, the river!" "I know, it's like my life!" she cried in despair, "I know, I'm its. I know, it's a natural companion for our kind! It comes from the country, where it's innocent ; crawl through melancholy streets, defiled and miserable, like my life, to the ever-turbulent sea—I think I ought to go with it!" I never knew what despair was, and it was only in the tone that I heard what it was!

"I cannot leave it. I cannot forget it. It is in my heart day and night. It alone is worthy or suitable for me in this world. O dreadful river!" My companion looked at her motionlessly.At this time, a thought came to my mind: even if I knew nothing about her niece's past, I could tell it from her face.I have never seen such a moving mixture of terror and compassion, either in painting or in real life.He trembled as if he were about to fall; his hand—because his appearance frightened me, I touched his hand— cold. "She's out of her mind," I whispered to him, "and she won't talk like that any more soon."

I don't know what he's going to say.His lips moved, as if he thought he had said it; but he only pointed at her. Then she wept again, and crouched before us, hiding her face among the stones, like a reclining statue of failure and shame.I knew that I could only talk to her when she was no longer like this, so when he wanted to help her up, I firmly stopped him.We stood nearby in silence until she calmed down. "Martha," I said, stooping down, and helping her—she probably wanted to get up and go, but she was so weak that she leaned against a boat. "Do you know who this is—who was the one with me?"

She replied weakly, "I know." "Do you know we've been following you for a long time tonight?" She shook her head.She looked neither at her nor at me, but stood there ashamed, clutching her hat and shawl as if unconscious with one hand, and resting her forehead in a fist with the other. "Are you calmer?" I said. "Can you talk about something you cared so much about that snowy night? I hope God remembers that!" She whimpered again and said something to thank me for not driving her from the door. "I don't want to defend myself," she said after a pause, "I'm bad, I'm hopeless. I'm hopeless. But tell him, sir," she had avoided him, "if you can I will be kind and tell him that I am by no means the cause of his misfortune."

"No one ever said you were the reason." I immediately said with sincerity. "If I'm not mistaken," she said brokenly, "she was so pitiful to me that night, so considerate, so kind to me; It's you! Is that you, sir?" "It's me," I said. "If I had ever felt sorry for her," she said, looking at the water with a terrified expression, "I would have jumped into the water long ago. If I had anything to do with it, I would have spent a night in that winter." I can't make it through either." "The reason for her escape is clear," I said, "and you have nothing to do with it.

We totally believe it, we know it. " "If I had been better at heart, I would have been of much help to her!" said the girl regretfully; "because she has been so good to me! She has always spoken to me so kindly and without prejudice. Since I Knowing what I am, do I want to make her like me? When I've lost everything that made life precious, the hardest thing I can bear is that I'll never see her again!" Mr. Peggotty stood with one hand on the side of the boat, looking down, and his face with the other. "Before that snowy night, I heard from someone in this town what had happened," cried Martha, "and the thought that troubled me the most was that people would remember that she had been nice to me, that people would Said I seduced her! God knows, I'd rather die if only she could be innocent again!" As she had long been unaccustomed to restraining herself, the intensity of that outburst of regret and sorrow was frightening. "Death is nothing—what can I say?—I want to live!" she cried, "I want to live forever in that desolate street—walking about in the dark, being hated , repulsive—seeing the sun appear over the dim roofs, remembering how that same sun once shone into my bedroom, and woke me—if it would save her, I would do so!” She fell on the stones, holding some stones in both hands, holding them tightly, as if she wanted to crush them.She twisted her body constantly, stretched her arms forward and turned around, as if to block the light in front of her eyes; she lowered her head, as if the memory there was too heavy for her to support. "What shall I do!" she struggled desperately, "I am a solitary scourge to myself, and a living disgrace to everyone I come close to. How can I live like this!" Suddenly , she turned to my companion.Step on me, kill me!When she was your pride, if I touched her in the street, you would think I had hurt her.You can't believe - and why should you believe - every word I say.Even now, if she had a word with me, it would be a great shame on you.I don't hold a grudge.I'm not saying she's like me - I know there's a lot of distance between us.I just put all my sins and misfortunes on my head and say my soul appreciates her and loves her.Oh, think not that all my loving power is gone!Dump me like the whole world does.Because I've fallen so low, because I've known her, kill me; but don't look at me like that! " When she begged him so frantically, he looked at her carefully; when she calmed down, he gently lifted her up. "Martha," said Mr. Peggotty, "I don't want to draw conclusions about you. I--especially I--would never do that, my child! How much I've changed in spirit lately is that you don't want to." Yes, though you think you do. Hey!" After a pause, he went on, "You don't know why this gentleman and I are talking to you, you don't know our present problem. Listen!" He had a great influence on her.She stood in front of him, cowering, as if she was afraid of being watched by him, but she no longer yelled to vent her excitement and sorrow. "On the snowy night," said Mr. Peggotty, "if you had heard Master Wade talking to me, you would have known that I had begun - everywhere - to look for my dear niece. My dear niece ,” he repeated firmly, “because I feel, Martha, that she is dearer now than ever.” She hid her face in her hands, but said no more. "I have heard her say," said Mr. Peggotty, "that you lost your parents early in life, and that you had no friends to replace them in the old navigator's way. If you had a friend like that, you grew to like him, You can probably guess that my niece is like my daughter." As she trembled soundlessly, he picked up her shawl from the ground and wrapped her carefully. "So," he said, "I know that if she sees me again, she will go to the ends of the earth with me; at the same time, she will go to the ends of the earth to avoid me. Although she has no need to doubt my love, and no-- —and no need,” he repeated with firm affirmation, “but shame has been inserted between us.” From what he said so plainly, I knew that he had considered the matter from all sides. "It is our estimation, Master Wei's and mine," he said, "that she will come to London one day all alone. We--Master Weiss, me, and all of us--believe that, in the event of what happened to her, In everything you are as innocent as a newborn baby. You said she was kind, kind, and gentle to you. God bless her, I know she is like that! I know she is always like that, with everyone. You thank her , love her, then help us find her as much as possible, may God reward you!" She stared at him immediately—for the first time, as if she didn't believe him. "Would you believe me?" she whispered in surprise. "Quite, absolutely!" said Mr. Peggotty. "If I find her, I'll talk to her; if I have a place to share with her, I'll live with her; and then, behind her back, I'll come to you and take you to her, right?" We both answered almost in unison: "Yes!" She raised her eyes, and made a solemn oath that she would do it with all her heart.She will never waver, never change her mind, never give up a glimmer of hope.If she had not been true to this duty, the very purpose for which she was now striving—to live a clean life—would have deserted her, making her more pitiful and worthless than he was that night by the river. Hope, may all the help of man and God be beyond her reach! She didn't raise her voice, and she didn't speak to us but to the night sky; then she stood there quietly, looking at the desolate river. We thought it was time to tell her all we knew; so I told her at length.She listened carefully and her facial expressions kept changing.But no matter how it changes, the firmness will always remain the same.Her eyes were filled with tears from time to time, but she tried her best to suppress it, as if her spirit had completely changed, as if she had become so quiet that she could no longer be quiet. After everything was said, she asked where to inform us if there was an opportunity.I wrote our addresses on a notepad by the dim streetlight, and then tore it off and gave it to her.She hid the paper in her tattered bodice.I asked where she lived.She paused for a while, saying that she would not live long, so it was better not to know. Mr. Peggotty whispered to me what I had thought of, and I produced my purse.However, I could not force her to accept any money, nor could I persuade her to promise to accept it another day.I explained to her that Mr. Peggotty was not embarrassing in his own case; and that the idea that she should seek it out on her own astonished us.She insists on saying so, and at this point his influence on her is as feeble as mine.She thanked us with all her heart, but would never accept money. "Maybe there's work to do," she said. "I'm going to try." "At least, before you try," I said quickly, "take a little help." "I can't do what I promise to do for money," she replied. "Even if I'm starving, I can't take money. Giving me money is tantamount to taking back your trust, taking back the purpose you have given me, and taking the only reliable thing to save me from the river." "For the sake of the great God—you and all of us will stand before him in his holy hour," said I, "—have no such dreadful thoughts! If we will do good, we will can do anything." She trembled, her lips quivered, and her face grew paler.She replied: "You seem to be trying to save a poor creature and make her right again. I am afraid to think that, because it seems too daring. If I could do something good, perhaps I could begin to hope; for what I have done It's all harmful. For the first time in my difficult life, I've been trusted to do something else because you guys taught me to try to do something else. I don't know anything else, and I can't say anything else." She stifled the tears she had shed, and then, touching Mr. Peggotty with her trembling hand, as if there were some healing power in him, she walked away along the deserted road.She had probably been ill for a long time, and having had the opportunity to observe her closely and carefully, I could see that she was weak and haggard, and that her deep-set eyes revealed suffering and patience. Since we were going in different directions, we followed her only a short distance before we were back in the brightly lit and crowded street.I have unlimited confidence in her confession.I then asked Mr. Peggotty if we followed her as if we had mistrusted her from the first place.He held the same opinion and trusted her, so we let her go her own way.We were on our way to Highgate.He walked a long way with me.When we parted after praying that our new endeavors would be successful, I could easily see a new and kindly sympathy in him. It was midnight when I got home.I have come to my own gate and stand listening to the deep bells of St. Paul's.To me, that sound sounded like countless clocks were ringing.At this time, I saw the door of my aunt's house opened wide, and a dim light from the door shone across the street.This surprised me quite a bit. I thought to myself that my aunt might have fallen into an old habit again, and maybe she was watching some kind of fire alarm she imagined in the distance, so I rushed over to talk to her.To my surprise, I saw a man standing in her garden. He was holding a bottle and a bottle in his hand, and was drinking something.I stopped under the thick leaves outside the courtyard.The moon had risen, but was obscured by clouds; and I recognized the man whom I had once thought Mr. Dick was imagining; the man whom my aunt and I had met in the streets of London. He ate and drank, looking very hungry.He also seemed surprised by the little house, as if seeing it for the first time.He stooped to put the bottle on the ground, then looked towards the window and looked around.However, he looked greedy and impatient, as if he wanted to leave immediately. The lights in the corridor dimmed, and my aunt came out.She looked very excited, and put some money into the man's hand.I hear the clink of money. "What's the use of that?" he asked. "I can't take it out any more," replied my aunt. "Then I won't go," he said. "Hey! You can take it back!" "You are so bad!" My aunt said angrily; "How can you treat me like this? But why should I ask? Because you know how weak I am! In order to avoid your harassment forever, there is nothing but to let you go What else can I do besides receiving the punishment you deserve?" "Why don't you let me have my punishment?" he said. "You asked me why!" My aunt replied, "What kind of mind are you on!" He stood there, shaking his money and his head in displeasure.Finally, he said: "So, you're only willing to give me so much?" "That's all I can give," said my aunt. "You know I've suffered a loss, and I'm poorer than before. I told you. Now that I've got the money, why do you want me to look at you more?" The pain, let me see you sink like this and feel sad?" "If you mean I've grown poor," he said, "I live the life of an owl!" "You've taken most of what I've ever had," said my aunt. "You've tired my heart for years and years with indifference to the whole world. You've treated me with false cruelty. Go and repent. Don't Add new wounds to the many that have been done to me!" "Ah!" he said, taking it, "nice to say!—that's all right! I see, I must do my best now!" Seeing my aunt's tears shed because of anger, he couldn't help showing shame, and left the garden dejectedly.I pretended that I had just arrived, and quickly walked two or three steps, and I bumped into him at the gate, and he walked in and out of me.We eyed each other disapprovingly as we passed each other. "Auntie," I said hastily, "this man is threatening you again! Let me speak to him. Who is he?" "Son," said my aunt, grabbing my arm, "come in, and don't talk to me for ten minutes." We went to sit in her little living room.My aunt retreated behind the old round tape fan screen—she screwed it to the back of a chair—and wiped her eyes from time to time.After about a quarter of an hour, she came out again and sat down beside me. "Tro," said my aunt quietly, "this is my husband." "Your husband, aunt? I thought he was dead!" "It seems to me that he is dead," replied the aunt, "but he is alive!" I was so shocked that I couldn't speak, I just sat there. "Bessie Trowood doesn't look like a tender person at all now," said my aunt calmly, "but she was when she trusted the man. She loved him then, Tello. Then she fully proved her love to him. But he cut her fortune in return, and nearly cut her heart too. So she put all affections of that kind in her grave, Fill it with soil and flatten it." "My dear good aunt!" "I'm very easy on him," said my aunt, placing her hand on the back of mine as usual. "I left him. I can say after so long, Trol, that I left him graciously; he had been so unkind to me, that I could have had sex with her for so little money for my own benefit. Divorced; but I did not. Soon he wasted what I gave him, and degraded to the worst, and married a woman (I think so), and became an adventurer, a gambler, a Liar. You see what he looks like now. But when I married him, he was a straight and handsome man," the aunt's voice still echoed the old pride and admiration; "At that time, I was An idiot! I believe he is the embodiment of honor!" She shook my hand and shook her head. "Now, I don't care about him, Troy--but I don't. But I don't want to see him punished for his crimes (as he certainly will if he stays in the country) ;whenever he appeared from time to time, I gave him more money than I could give, and sent him away. I was a fool when I married him; I'm a fool, because I believed him, and I won't even take seriously the shadow of my vain fancy. Because I was serious, Trol, if there was ever a serious woman in the world." My aunt ended the conversation with a long sigh, and then touched her clothes. "Hey, my dear!" said she, "here, you know the beginning, the middle, and the end, all of it. Don't talk about it any more between us; and of course you don't tell anyone else about it. It's my grotesque story, and we'll keep it a secret, Trollo!"