Chapter 60 Chapter Fifty-six New wounds and old wounds

Oh, Steerforth, when we last talked together, it never occurred to me that it was our farewell, that you shouldn't have said "Remember my best days!", that's what I've always done; And now seeing this scene again, will I change? They brought up a bier, put him on it, covered him with a shroud, and carried him to where there were people.All the men who carried him knew him, had sailed with him, and seen him in his lovely valor.In the furious roar, and in the silence amidst the extreme commotion, they carried him to the hut where death had come. But when they put the bier in the doorway, they looked at each other, and at me, and whispered.I know why.It seemed inappropriate, they thought, to put him and Ham in the same quiet room.

We went to town together, and carried the load into the inn.As soon as I could think things over, I sent for Yoram, and begged him to hire a car for me to take the body to London that night.I knew that the care of the body and the tactful informing of his mother's death were the sole responsibility of me, and I earnestly wanted to do my duty. In order to cause as little disturbance as possible in the town, I resolved to start at night.However, when I drove out of the compound (the things I was responsible for keeping followed behind me), there were still many people waiting there; although it was nearly midnight, people were still coming towards the town.After driving a short distance on the main road, I saw more and more people coming from time to time; but at last, only the desolate night and the lonely field surrounded me and the ashes of my childhood friendship. .

On a beautiful autumn day, just before noon, the leaves that have fallen and more leaves that have not yet fallen make the ground emit a good smell, and the sun shines through the gaps in the leaves that are dyed red, yellow, purple and other beautiful colors. Take a photo.It was at such a moment that I came to Highgate.I walked the last two miles, thinking about what I had to do; the car that had followed me all night was ordered to stop until told to go on. When I got to the house, I found it hadn't changed at all.Not a single shutter was drawn; the silent paved courtyard, the long corridor leading to the disused door, was lifeless.The wind died down completely, and nothing moved.

At first, I didn't have the courage to ring the bell at the door; when I finally rang the bell, I felt that my mission was expressed in the bell.The little maid came out with the key. She unlocked the door, looked at me sincerely, and said: "Excuse me, sir, are you ill?" "I've been so stimulated and I'm tired." "Is there anything urgent, sir?—Mr. James?—" "Stop it!" I said. "Yes, something has happened. I must tell Mrs Steerforth. Is she in?" The girl said uncomfortably that her master hardly went out now, not even in a car; the master always stayed in the bedroom and did not see any guests, but he would like to see me.Her master was up, she said, accompanied by Miss Dartle.How can she report when she goes upstairs?

I seriously told her not to make any noise, just send my business card in, saying that I will wait below.We had gone into the living room, and I sat down there, waiting for her to come back.Gone was the cheerfulness of the drawing-room when it had been occupied, the shutters were closed, the harp had long since been untouched, and there was his portrait as a child, and there was the box in which his mother kept his letters.I don't know if she still reads those letters now, or in the future! The house was so quiet that I heard the girl's soft steps upstairs.Her message on her return was that Mrs. Steerforth was too ill to come downstairs herself.She was happy to see me in the bedroom, though, if I could forgive her.Before long, I was standing in front of her.

She was in his bedroom, not her own.It occurred to me that she lived here, of course, in his memory; and of course, for the same reason, that mementos of his past sports and homework were still there, displayed around her, as they had been when he left.However, when she received me, she murmured that she had left her own bedroom because the surroundings were unsuitable for her sickness, and her dignified air showed no trace of suspicion. Beside her chair was still Miss Dartle.From the moment her dark eyes rested on me, I knew she saw that I was coming with bad news.The scar immediately protruded.She drew back a step in the chair, lest Mrs Steerforth should see her face; and at the same time she looked at me with that piercing eye which never evades, never doubts.

"I am sorry to see you in mourning, sir," said Mrs Steerforth. "I have the misfortune of being a widower," I said. "You are too young to bear such a major loss," she continued. "I am very saddened to hear that. I am very saddened to hear it. I hope time will be good for you." "I hope," said I, looking at her, "that time will do us all good. My dear Mrs. Steerforth, we must rely on this in our worst misfortunes." My sincerity, the water in my eyes, surprised her.Her whole thought process seemed to stop, to change. I tried hard to control my voice and said his name softly, but my voice trembled.She repeated his name two or three times in a low voice to herself.Then she managed to calm herself and said to me:

"My son is sick." "Extremely ill." "Have you seen him?" "I've seen it." "Are you reconciled?" I can't say yes, and I can't say no.She turned her head slightly away from where Rosa Dartle stood beside her.At this moment, I told Rosa with the movement of my lips: "Dead!" In order not to make Mrs Steerforth look back, and see that she was obviously not prepared to know this, I caught her eye immediately.But I have seen Rosa Duttle throw her hands in the air uncontrollably in despair and terror, and then cover her face.

That pretty lady--so like him, oh, so like him! ——Looked at me blankly, and put his hands on his forehead.I advised her to be calm, and to be ready to bear what I had to tell; but I should advise her to weep, for she sat there like a stone statue. "The last time I was here," I stammered, "Miss Dartle told me he was sailing all over the place. The sea the night before was terrible. If he was at sea that night, near a dangerous port , as I've heard, if that boat I saw was really him—" "Rosa!" said Mrs Steerforth, "come to me!" She came, but not with sympathy or intent to comfort.When she was face to face with his mother, her eyes blazed like fire, and there was a sudden burst of terrible laughter.

"Here," said she, "is your pride satisfied, you madwoman? Now he atones for you—with his life! Do you hear?— His life! " Mrs Steerforth slumped stiffly in her seat, watching her with wide eyes.She said nothing except for a groan. "Ah!" cried Rosa, beating her breast excitedly. "Look at me! Groan, sigh, look at me! Look here!" She patted the scar, "Look at the handwriting of your dead son!" The mother's groans pierced my heart from time to time.Always.Always vague, never fluid.Always accompanied by a weak movement of the head, but no change in the face.It was always squeezed out from the stiff lips and clenched teeth, as if the jaws were locked, and the face was numb with pain.

"Do you remember when he did it?" she went on. "You remember when he did it, by inheriting your nature, by pampering him that you were proud of him. Disfigured? Look at me, I bear the marks of his utter cruelty to my death; groan and sigh for how you have made him!" "Miss Dartle," I advised her, "for God's sake—" "I'm just saying!" she said, turning her twinkling eyes on me, "you keep quiet! Look at me, I'm Say, self-righteous mother of that self-righteous and false son! Moan that you raised him! Moan that you pampered him! Moan that I lost him! Moan that I lost him!" She clenched her fists, her thin body trembling, as if her passion was killing her inch by inch. "It is you who are annoyed by his waywardness!" she cried horribly. "It was you who was hurt by his arrogance! It was you who regretted giving birth to such a character when his hair turned white! It was you who pampered him when he was in the cradle and made him useless! Now, your years of painstaking efforts have finally been rewarded!" "Oh, Miss Dartle, shameful! Oh, cruel!" "I tell you," she said immediately, "I'm just going to tell her. When I stand here, there's no power in the world that can stop me! I haven't said a word for all these years, and I still don't speak now. I have always loved him more than you!" She turned to her angrily, "I can love him without asking for anything in return. If I become his woman, I can only say a word of love for him for two years , and be the servant of his capricious temperament. I can. Who knows this better than I? You are mean, proud, rigid, selfish. My love can be single--can take your worthless Sobbing and stomping to the ground!" She stomped her feet with glistening eyes, as if she was going to do it. "Look here!" She said, patting the scar vigorously again. "When he grows up to better understand what he does, he understands, and he regrets it! I can sing to him, talk to him, express concern for what he does, and strive to acquire knowledge that interests him; I Got his attention. He loved me in his purest, truest days. Yes, he loved! Many times he's put you off with little excuses, he's put his arms around me!" As she spoke, her frenzy—she was almost mad—contained both an ironic pride and a passionate recollection in which the embers of tenderness were briefly revived. ignite. "I've degenerated--and perhaps I would have come to my senses if he hadn't captivated me with his childish courtship--a doll, a pastime, to be picked up, put down, and teased as he pleases. Till he grows weary I also gradually got tired of it. When his love flames were extinguished, I didn’t insist on marrying him because he couldn’t marry me, and stopped spending energy to consolidate my power. We kept estranged quietly. Maybe you Already seen it, but you didn't regret it. From then on, I was just a broken thing among you, with no eyes, no ears, no feelings, no memory. Moaning? Moan like that; moan not for your love. I tell you, I once loved him more than you who loved him! " She stared at the blank face and those wide, blank eyes with flashing, angry eyes.When the moan came again, she didn't let it bother her at all, as if the face were just a painting. "Miss Dartle," said I, "if you are too cruel to pity the miserable mother—" "Who has pity for me?" she retorted sharply. "She has sown such a seed. Let her groan for what she has reaped today!" "If it's his fault—" I began. "Fault!" she cried, tearfully, "who dares to slander him? His soul is a million times nobler than that of any friend he condescends to make!" "No one loved him more than I did, no one missed him more than I did," I replied, "I mean, if you didn't pity his mother; if his fault--caused you--" "That's not true," she howled, tugging at her black hair, "I love him!" "If his fault," I went on, "you cannot forget it at this time; look at that man, and save her, even as a complete stranger!" During all this time Mrs Steerforth's appearance had not changed, and could not have changed.She was motionless, deathly rigid, staring, groaning in the same hoarse way from time to time, accompanied by a helpless shaking of the head, but otherwise showing no sign of life.Suddenly Miss Dartle knelt down in front of her and unfastened her dress. "It's your fault!" she said, looking back at me with grief and resentment. "Your coming is a misfortune! It's your fault! Get out!" Immediately after leaving the room, I went to ring the bell, in order to call the servants in time.At this time, she picked up the motionless body, knelt there, and bent over it, crying, shouting, kissing, shaking it back and forth like a child, trying to make it feel softer. Restoration Resuscitates from paralysis.I was no longer afraid of leaving her, so I turned around quietly.When I walked out there, I reminded everyone in the house to pay attention. When it gets dark, I return.We put him in his mother's bedroom.They told me that she was still in the same condition as before, that Miss Dartle had never left her; that doctors had been called in and tried various methods; there. I went everywhere in that dreadful dwelling, and covered all the windows.I was the last to close the window of the bedroom where he lay.I lifted that heavy hand to my chest, and the world seemed to be dead and silent, broken only by his mother's groans from time to time.