Chapter 54 Chapter 50 Mr Peggotty's Dreams Come True

It's been a few months since we talked with Martha on the embankment.I haven't seen her since then.However, she and Mr. Peggotty wrote several times.Her co-operation was earnest, but in vain; nor can I conclude from what he told me what we can at this moment infer about Emily's fate.I confess that I have given up hope of her return, and think more and more that she is dead. Mr. Peggotty still held fast to that conviction.For all I knew—and I believe I saw his honest heart clearly—he was convinced he could find her.He never wavered.He never lost his patience.There was something so religious about his faith, though I was disturbed at the thought of the pain a loss of his stoic faith would cause.There was something so expressive about it, that one felt his confidence rooted in the purest depths of his good nature, which made me respect him more and more.

He is not an honest guy who likes to do nothing.All his life he was a down-to-earth man of action.He also knows that when he needs someone else to help him do something, he still has to work on it himself to help himself.Fearing that there would be no light in the portholes of the old boathouse, he walked to Yarmouth at night.In order to read some news about her from the newspaper, he once walked 7 or 80 miles with a stick.On hearing what Miss Dartle told me, he sailed for Naples, and back again.His travels were hard; for he was trying to save money for Emily when he found it.In all this searching, I never heard him complain, never complained that he was tired or that he was discouraged.

When we were married, Dora took a liking to him, too.He was standing beside her sofa, his denim cap in his hand.My baby wife raised her face timidly and looked at him with surprised blue eyes.The scene seemed to be right in front of my eyes.Sometimes, at dusk after sunset, he would come to talk to me, and I would take him into the garden, where he would walk slowly with me while smoking; The home where the wind howls and the fire is bright inside was always so pleasant to me as a child. At this hour of the night he told me that he had seen Martha waiting for him near his place when he was out the night before.Martha begged him not to leave London under any circumstances until he saw her again.

"Did she ever tell you why?" I asked. "No, Master Wei," he replied thoughtfully, touching his face. "I asked her the same thing, but she said she couldn't say it." I said nothing about the news except that I believed he would see her soon, for it had been so long since I had had to cheer him up with dim hopes.Nor can I tell what surmises this news aroused in my mind, and those surmises were also very uncertain. One evening, about two weeks later, I was walking in the garden by myself.I remember well that night, and it was the second day of Mr. Micawber's bewilderment.It had been raining all day, and the air was still damp.The leaves on the trees were thick and drooping with water; the rain had stopped and the sky was still gray; the hopeful birds sang cheerfully.As I wandered in the garden, the twilight gradually gathered around me, and the birdsong gradually became quieter.The silence that can only be found at night in the countryside spreads with the night, and except for the occasional drops of water dripping from the branches, the lightest tree does not move.

There was a little green background of grape trellises and ivy beside our cottage; through that little scenery I could see the road in front of the house from the garden where I walked.When I was having many thoughts in my mind, I inadvertently turned my eyes to this side.Then I saw a figure in a shabby coat.The figure hurriedly leaned over to me and beckoned. "Martha!" I said, walking towards the figure. "Can you come with me?" she asked in a low, eager voice. "I went to his place, but he wasn't there. I wrote down where I wanted him to go, and I put it on his desk with my own hands. They said he wouldn't stay out long. I have news for you.

can you come right away " My answer was to walk out the door right away.She made an urgent gesture, as if asking me to be patient and to keep quiet, and turned in the direction of London. From the mud marks on her clothes she had come from London on foot. I asked her if we were going to London.She gestured eagerly, as before, in the affirmative.I stopped a passing Airbus and we boarded.When I asked where she should tell the coachman to drive, she replied: "As long as it is close to the Golden Square! Hurry up!" After that, she curled up in a corner of the carriage and covered her face with a trembling hand, as if suffering Can't live without any sound stimulation like.

At that time, I was also greatly stimulated, and the two conflicting emotions of hope and fear intertwined made me dizzy.I stared at her wide-eyed, trying to get some clues from her.But I found that she wanted to keep silent so strongly, and felt that I also wanted to be quiet in that situation, so I didn't break the silence.We go all the way.She was motionless, except sometimes to look out of the window, as if too slow; Actually we go very fast. We got off at one of the square entrances she said.I asked the coachman to park the car there in case it was needed.She put her hand on my arm and urged me into one of those dark streets.There are several streets like this in that area, and the houses there were once good single-family dwellings, but now they have been reduced to rent-out poor dwellings.At the open door of such a house.She let go of my arm, beckoned me, and let me follow her up the common stairs that looked like a gutter to the street.

The house was full of people.As we went up, the doors were all open, and people kept poking their heads out; on the stairs, we passed people going up and down.Before we walked in, we looked up from the outside and saw some women and children lying on the flower pots in the window; most of the people who poked their heads out from the door were them, maybe we made them curious.The stairs were paneled and wide, with thick ebony railings; cornices carved in the shape of figs over the doors; and wide balustrades at the windows.But all these old pomp and circumstance were drearily broken and dirty; rot, damp, and age had softened the floors, and in places they were weak and even unsafe.Everywhere, I see, attempts have been made to inject fresh blood into the old machine, and cheap pine wood has been used to mend the expensive old carpentry parts; Marriage, the disparity between the two parties both looked at each other and then deterred.Several rear windows on the stairs were blacked out, or completely plugged up.There is almost no glass where there are still windows; the bad air seems to seep in through the collapsed wooden frames, and never leave; From the window, I saw the other houses as well, and the blindingly dirty yard below—that house's communal rubbish dump.

Let's go to the top floor.Two or three times on the way, I thought I could see in the dim light the skirt of a woman's figure going up ahead of us.As we turned to the last flight of stairs to the top floor, we saw the figure pause before a door, then the figure turned the handle and entered. "What's the matter!" whispered Martha, "she's come into my room, and I don't know her!" But I know her.I recognized her with amazement as Miss Dartle. In a few words I explained to my guide that this was a lady I had known before.I hadn't finished my sentence when I heard movement from her room, but from where we stood we couldn't make out what the people inside were saying.Martha made the same gesture as before with a look of surprise, and led me upstairs lightly.Then she pushed open a small back door that seemed to be unlocked, and entered an empty pitched attic, not much better than a cupboard.There was a small half-open door between this attic and the room she called hers.We stopped here, breathless, and she put her hand lightly on my mouth.All I could see was that the front room was quite large, with a bed in it, and some pictures of ordinary ships on the walls.I could not see Miss Dartle, nor the person to whom we heard her speak.Of course, neither can my companion, because I'm too good to be standing.

There was a moment of silence.Martha put one hand over my mouth and put the other to my ear as if listening. "Her absence is none of my business," said Miss Rosa Dartle haughtily. "I don't know her. I came to see you." "Me?" a soft voice continued. I shuddered at the sound--it was Emily's voice! "Yes," replied Miss Dartle, "I came to see you. What? Aren't you ashamed of all the scandals you've done?" The resolute and ruthless hatred in her tone, the cruel and stern edge, and the suppressed anger made her appear alive in front of me.I seem to see her standing in the light.I seemed to see her piercing black eyes, her body distorted by passion, and I could see the scar that quivered and turned gray across her lips as she spoke.

"I came to see," said she, "James Steerforth's sweetheart; Look at the girl who elopes with him and becomes the gossiping material of the meanest man in her country, the bold, presumptuous, sophisticated companion of a man like Steerforth.I want to see what this is! " There was a rustling, as if the poor girl, who had suffered so much insult, was running towards the door.The speaker immediately stopped her at the door.There was another moment of silence. Miss Dartle spoke again, her voice forced through clenched teeth, and stamped her foot on the ground. "Hold still!" she said, "or I'll expose your scandal to all who live in this house and in the street! If you try to avoid me, I'll stop you. I can grab your hair, I can also hit you with stones!" The only response I heard was a startled murmur, followed by silence.I do not know what to do.On the one hand I was eager to prevent that conversation, and on the other hand I felt that I was not qualified to intervene, and that only Mr. Peggotty had the right to see her and help her.He won't come again?I thought impatiently. "Good!" laughed Rosa Dartle, contemptuously. "I see her at last! Hey, poor wretch, charmed by this false chastity and pretense of coyness!" "Oh, for God's sake, forgive me!" cried Emily in despair, "whoever you are, you know my misfortune, and for God's sake, if you are to be forgiven yourself , then forgive me!" "If I also want to be forgiven!" The other party continued viciously; "What do you think we have in common?" "Nothing but sex," Emily cried. "Well," said Rosa Duttle, "that's such a strong reason, and uttered by such a shameless man! If I had any other feelings than contempt and hatred for you, I would have done it for you." You are frozen for this reason. Our sex! You are a glory of our sex!" "I deserve to be scolded like this," said Emily, "but it is dreadful! My dear, dear lady, think how I have suffered, and how I have fallen! Oh! Martha, come back Oh, my home, my home!" Miss Dartle was sitting in a chair near the door, looking down as if Emily was lying on the floor in front of her.Now, she was between me and the light, and I could see her pursed mouth, and her dark eyes with greedy triumph and cruel focus. "Listen to me!" she said; "save your skill of deception for those who would believe you. You hope to move me with tears? It does not do me any better than your smile, you bought slave!" "Oh, have mercy on me!" cried Emily, "have mercy on me, or I'll go mad and die!" "Compared with your crime," said Rosa Duttle, "the punishment is not at all heavy. Do you know what you have done? Have you thought of the home you have destroyed?" "Oh, why don't I think of it every day and night!" cried Emily, when I saw her.She knelt on the ground with her head up, her pale face looking up, her hands frantically stretched forward, her hair loose. "Whether I sleep or wake, there is never a moment when it is not before me, as it was when I left for ever and ever! Oh, home, home! Oh, dearest uncle, if you knew you The pain your love caused me when I fell, then you love me so much, you will never give me love as before; you have angered me at least once, and that will make me feel better I can't get any comfort in this world, just because they all love me so much!" She fell in front of the man sitting on the chair, begging to grab the hem of the man's skirt. Rosa Duttle sat as impassive as a bronze statue.She kept her mouth shut, as if she knew she had to try to control herself at this point—I wrote what I believed in—or she'd kick the pretty one.I saw her clearly, her face, her character, seemed to be trying to do that with all her might. —does he never come again? "Poor vanity of these wretches!" she said when at last her anger was controlled enough to speak. "Your home! Do you think I'm thinking of your home, do you think you're doing damage to that vile place that no amount of money can fully compensate for? Your home! You're part of your family business! You are being bought and sold like your family's goods!" "Oh, don't say that!" cried Emily. "I will say what I want, but don't take more insults than I can bear on people as worthy as you! If you don't pity me, you won't." Please respect them a little! Because you are a classy woman!" "I'm talking about," said Dartle, ignoring the above entreaties, and pulling the hem of his skirt away from Emily; "I'm talking about his home—where I live now. Here, She sneered and pointed at the girl lying on the ground, "This is the precious reason why the noble mother and the young master's son are so at odds, and this is the reason for the tragedy of the family for which she is not even qualified to be a maid." , that's the reason for the anger, resentment, blame. This bitch was picked up from the sea, valued for an hour and then thrown back!" "No! No!" said Emily, shaking hands. "When he and I met by chance—if only I had never lived, if I hadn't met him!—I was with you too. Or any good girl in the world who could marry a good man. If you lived in his house and knew him, you probably knew what power he was over a weak and vain woman. I don't defend myself, But I know it, and he knows it. Or when he's dying and he's upset because of it, he knows it. He used all his strength to deceive me, so I believed him, trusted him, and fell in love with him! " Rosa Duttle jumped up from her seat; leaned back, and delivered a blow to her.Her face was so fierce that anger made it terrible in color and shape.I almost threw myself among them.The wildly dancing fist fell to the air.She stood there, panting, looking at Emily with all the fury she could muster, and trembling from head to toe with contempt and rage.This, I believe, was something I had never seen before there, nor have I seen it since. "·Do you love him?·You?" She clenched her trembling fists, as if she could kill the one she hated as long as she had a weapon. Emily had withdrawn to a corner out of my sight, and made no answer. "With your shameless mouth," she went on, "say that to me? Why don't they whip such a thing! If I can give such an order, I want them to beat the girl to death!" I'm pretty sure she'll do that.As long as she is still so manic and violent, if she has a torture tool in her hand, I don't believe she won't use it. Slowly, slowly, she laughed, and pointed at Emily, as if the latter were a disgraceful creature rejected by both men and gods. "She loves!" she said. "What a rotten piece of meat! And she's going to tell me that he ever liked her? Ha, ha! These businessmen are a lot of deceitful fellows!" Her derision outweighed her unabashed anger.In contrast, I would rather be the object of the latter emotion.However, her venting was only for a moment.She suppressed it immediately, suppressed it, even though it would tear her apart inside. "I have come here specially, you oasis of love," she said, "to see--as I told you at the beginning--what you are. I wanted to see, and now I am content .I'll tell you too, you'd better go to that home of yours right away and hide your head among the good people who are waiting for you and can comfort themselves with your money. Wait till it's all over and you Believe and trust and love again, you know! I used to think you were an outdated broken toy! A rusty brass trinket that got thrown away. But once you found out you were a piece of pure gold, A real lady, a wronged innocent, with a loving, loyal young heart - looks like it, and fits your story! But I have something to say. Listen, because What do I say? Do it. Do you hear me, you fairy elf? Do what I say!" She had another fit, but when it passed like a spasm, she laughed again. "Hide," she went on, "if it's at home, hide somewhere else where people can't find it; Find a death that is noiseless. I guess you can't make it quiet if your amorous heart doesn't swell! I've heard of these methods before, and I'm sure they won't be hard to find." A low cry from Emily cut her off.She stopped and listened to the cry as if she were listening to music. "Perhaps I am eccentric," continued Rosa Dartle; "but I cannot breathe comfortably in the air you breathe. I find the air unclean. So I will purify it, I will Clear you out. If you still live here tomorrow, I'm going to put your story and your identity on the public stairs. I heard that there are serious women in this house, beautiful like you It would be a pity for the characters to be with them and not show off. If, you get out of here and hide anywhere in the city under any false identity (I don't interfere with you, as long as you want to keep your real name and identity), as long as I I will do the same, having found out your hiding place. I am sure of it, thanks to the help of the man who proposed to you not long ago." Will he never come again?How long am I going to endure this situation? How long can I endure this situation? "Dear, dear!" cried poor Emily in despair, in a voice I'm sure would have moved even the hardest of hearts, but there was nothing in Rosa Dartle's smile. No sign of mercy. "What should I do? What should I do?" "What is to be done?" said Trall, "live happily in your own remembrances! Spend the rest of your life in remembrances of your love for James Steerforth—he wants you to be his servant." a man's wife, isn't he?--or in gratitude to that honorable man who wants to accept you as a gift. If, those proud memories, your sense of your own character; or they make you You can't support the glorious status you have achieved in the eyes of humanoid things, just marry a good man and satisfy his condescension. If that doesn't work, then die! To that death, to that despair , there are many roads, there are many garbage dumps - find a way, and escape to the sky!" There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs.I am sure I can recognize the footsteps.It was his footsteps, thank God! When she said these words, she slowly walked away from the door and out of my sight. "But remember!" she said slowly, sternly, as she opened the other door and went out, "I make up my mind, for all my reasons and for the hatred in my heart, unless you won't let I know your tracks, or unless you take off all your pretty masks, I'll drive you away. That's what I tell you; I do what I say!" The footsteps on the stairs came closer—closer—passing her as she descended—rushing into the room. "uncle!" Following the two words came a terrible cry.I paused for a moment, then looked into the room, and saw him pick her up when she was unconscious.For a few seconds he gazed at her face; then he bent down and kissed it--oh, what a kiss! —then he drew a small handkerchief and covered the face. "Master Wei," he said in a low and trembling voice after covering her face, "I thank Heavenly Father, my dream has come true! I thank him sincerely, because he used his will to lead me Come to my baby!" As he spoke, he held her in his arms, looked at the masked face, and carried her unconscious and motionless downstairs.