transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] Hello, and welcome to Storytime for Grownups. I'm Faith Moore, and this season, we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode, I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built-in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair, and settle in. It's Storytime! Hello, welcome back. Yes, I know, we did not find out what the thing with Steerforth was in the last chapter. I'm sorry, I didn't write this book. I understand that that was really disappointing and that we're still here wanting to know. And all I can say is, well, we have to keep reading because eventually we've gotta find out, right? I mean, he can't just not tell us ever, so we're gonna get to it. I promise, it's gonna happen, we're gonna find out, we're gonna keep reading today, and we'll talk about the chapter we just read, and I promise that there is a point to that chapter, and it does actually relate, and that we're not just completely changing the topic here. So we are still in this kind of narrative arc, this narrative flow, and he hasn't forgotten about us, I promise. So we're gonna talk about it, and then we'll read on, and hopefully we will get the information that we want. But welcome! I'm so glad that you're here, that you haven't stormed off in a huff because he didn't tell us about Steerforth last time. Thank you for being here. Thank you for all your wonderful letters. I love getting them even when the letters are like, what the heck? Why don't we know yet what's going on? I love hearing from you, and I love how invested you are in this book, because that's a beautiful thing. Even getting mad at the book is a beautiful thing, because feeling something for these characters and living in this world and caring about it, that's amazing. The human experience is made up of a range of emotions, not just good ones. Joy doesn't mean feeling happy all the time. It means being fully here, fully present, experiencing all that there is to experience. And when we read a book like this that allows us to do that and to care so deeply, that's a gift. We're being given a gift by Charles Dickens that is sent to us from hundreds of years ago. And that's amazing. That's just amazing. It's magical. It's a wonderful, magical thing. So even being annoyed is beautiful. It's a beautiful thing because it means we're invested. So thank you so much for coming with me on this journey and allowing yourselves to feel invested in this world and in these characters. And I promise Dickens is not going to leave us hanging forever. He's not going to disappoint us. So we're going to get back into it and hopefully, we're going to enjoy walking around some more in this world. I certainly am and I love having you guys as my companions on this journey because often I'm just reading all by myself and that's wonderful too. But I love getting to invite you along. So thank you so much for accepting my invitation and being here. Okay. The only actual reminder that I have is that tea time is coming up one week from today. It's Thursday, April 30th at 8 p.m. Eastern. That's over in our online community, which is called The Drawing Room, not because we draw there, but because we withdraw there. In our lovely Victorian house, we withdraw after the show to keep talking about these books and other books and life in general. And once a month, we talk out loud instead of just typing into the various channels that are there. So we have a voice chat, kind of like a group phone call. We will talk about this book. You can tell me all of the things that are annoying you about it or whatever it is, all the things you love about it too. And I will talk to you. You can ask me anything. So you can put your questions either in the chat and I'll answer them, or you can ask them right then and there. You also can just listen. You don't have to talk. You can just listen to the conversation. And I hope that you will join us. If you're not yet a member of the drawing room community at all, or if you are not yet a member of the Landed Gentry membership tier, there's a link in the show notes to the page that will allow you to sign up for all of those things. So please do scroll into the show notes and click on that link to learn more about the drawing room. And I really hope that you will join us on Thursday, April 30th at 8 p.m. Eastern for tea time. And I'm really looking forward to chatting with many of my old friends, and I would love to meet some new friends. So I hope that you will join us. Okay, other than that, all the usual things, please subscribe, please tap the five stars, tell a friend, tell everyone, leave a positive review, scroll into the show notes, check the merch store, buy some Storytime for Grownups merch, leave a financial donation if you can, check out all the other links that are there, and come along into this episode with me. So let's talk first about this kind of frustrating chapter that we read last time. Let's begin by reminding ourselves what happened. Here is the recap. All right, so where we left off, David arrives in Yarmouth and takes a room at the inn because he thinks that they'll be using the room that he usually stays in at Peggy's house for Mr. Barkus' body. He passes by Mr. Omer's shop, the Undertaker, and he sits and chats with him for a while, and he learns that Mr. Barkus is still alive and that Emily and Mr. Peggy are there with Peggy. Mr. Omer says that Emily seems not to be in good spirits and she's clinging more than ever to Mr. Peggy. She and Ham would have been married by now, but the situation with Barkus has put that on hold, but Ham has bought them a house and furnished it and it's all ready for them. But that doesn't seem to have helped Emily to feel better about leaving Mr. Peggy. David then goes to Peggy's house and finds Ham, Mr. Peggy and Emily there. Emily is very upset and crying and doesn't want to leave Mr. Peggy's side even to go with Ham, so Ham leaves for the night and Mr. Peggy and Emily stay. Peggy comes down and she's very happy to see David and she takes him into the room where Mr. Barkus is dying. He's lying unconscious on top of the box where he keeps his money, but eventually he wakes up a bit, says that Peggy is the best of women, and then he dies. Okay, I'm going to read three comments today. The first one comes from Jorge Perez. He says, the end of Chapter 30 ended me. I was struck with such sadness that I literally cried tears. They continue as I write this comment. I know Mr. Barkus is a fictional person created so many years ago, but he became real to me. And to end with such a loving tone from the tides going in and tides going out, it just became a more somber moment. His final words were so perfect that I dare not repeat them, as I know I would not be able to hold back the tears. Thank you so very much for your love you put in to every story. Well, thank you for sharing that, because it's beautiful. I love that you had that reaction. And you know what? It's not me. It's Dickens. He did it. He did that for you. And I'm so, so glad that he did, that you're able to experience the book this way. So the next one is from Olivia Kuyper. She says, I just love that David never really has realized where he belongs in the social cast system of the time and continues to go to support and love those who have shown him true friendship and love in his life. Thank you for choosing this novel. I've always wanted to read it. I think this will be my favorite Dickens novel now. Very happy to hear that. Thank you for sharing. Okay, and this last one comes from Elizabeth. She says, wait, what? Steerforth wasn't even in this chapter. I thought we were going to find out what happened that made David stop being friends with Steerforth, but suddenly we're onto something else. Will we ever find out what is going on? Okay, so, right. Like I was saying before, this is not exactly the chapter that we had been expecting. I mean, after the truly ominous Chapter 29, which was absolutely riddled with foreshadowing about Steerforth doing something terrible that would wreck his friendship with Davey and potentially his relationship with his mother as well. After that, we don't find out what it is. And I got several letters, and people were talking about it a bit in the drawing room as well, but I got several letters from people saying, why couldn't you have kept reading? Why didn't Dickens tell us what's going on? This is unbearable. So I chose Elizabeth's letter to represent that, but she is not alone. So I think my answer to that is, first of all, that I get it, right? I said this before, but I feel your pain. We're dying to know what it is that Steerforth does that's so terrible. It's starting to feel like it had better live up to the hype, right? I mean, after all this, it's got to be pretty bad. So I understand. I get it. Really, I do. It's like enough already. Tell us what it is. But also, if you take a look at Chapter 30, the chapter that we read last time, if you take a look at it, you'll see that it is potentially the other side of the coin that was Chapter 29. I mean, Chapter 29 was all about foreshadowing that Steerforth is going to do something terrible or has already done something terrible or whatever it may be. But Chapter 30, in addition to being about Mr. Barkas' death, which I'll get to in a minute, but Chapter 30 gives us a pretty clear picture that something is not right at all with little Emily. Now, we don't know if the thing that Steerforth does will actually have to do with Emily, but it is the thing that we suspect, or at least that you guys suspect, based on the letters that I'm getting and your conversations in the drawing room. That's what it seems. The most common guess that I have gotten by far about what Steerforth is up to is that it will have to do with little Emily in some way. And I've gotten lots of specific predictions from you guys, great predictions, but I'm not gonna reveal those here because my point here is not to spoil anything that's actually gonna happen or to put ideas into your head. But I think that Dickens is intentionally drawing out this revelation, whatever it's gonna be, and at least making us think that it's going to have something to do with Steerforth and with little Emily. And if you take a look at Chapter 30, you will see that most of the chapter, even though if you ask someone like, what is this chapter about? They would probably say, oh, it's a chapter about Mr. Barkus dying. And that's true. But actually, most of the chapter is about Emily, and specifically about how something seems sort of off about her. We get this first from Mr. Omer, the Undertaker. And I don't know about you, but I love Mr. Omer. And if this were like a college class, or if I were taking a college class on David Copperfield right now, I would write an essay about what Mr. Omer represents, because he seems to show up at these moments of death and of change and of new beginnings, which is very apt since he is the Undertaker. But also, he himself is slowly dying, right? He has this horrible asthma, which we assume will one day kill him, but he's so happy with his life and so contented, even though this is happening to him. This is a digression, I know, but if I needed to write an academic essay for some reason, I think this is what I would write about. But anyway, Mr. Omer, who is Emily's boss, remember? She works at his shop. Mr. Omer feels that Emily hasn't really been herself lately. She's always held herself kind of apart from the other girls, and she's always had aspirations of kind of like being a lady or somehow making enough money to have nice clothes and to help her uncle and all of this. But now there's an added layer to all of this, according to Mr. Omer. He says, but somehow she wants heart, if you understand. And this is said, Mr. Omer, after rubbing his chin again and smoking a little, what I mean in a general way by the expression, a long pull and a strong pull and a pull all together, my heart is hurrah, I should say to you that that was, in a general way, what I miss in Emily. Okay, so she's down in the dumps, essentially. She's depressed, that's what he's saying. But it turns out that it's even more than that, because as Emily's wedding to Ham gets closer and closer, Mr. Omer says that Emily has been clinging more and more to her uncle, to Mr. Peggody, which implies, of course, that instead of being excited for her wedding and looking forward to her new life, she's dreading it. I mean, based on what Mr. Omer is telling David, it's hard to draw any other conclusion, I think. He says, to see the clinging of that pretty little thing to her uncle, said Mr. Omer, to see the way she holds on to him tighter and tighter and closer and closer every day is to see a sight. Now, you know there's a struggle going on when that's the case. Why should it be made a longer one than is needful? Okay, so Mr. Omer feels that the solution is for Emily to marry Ham as soon as possible, to kind of like rip the bandaid off, essentially, and then she'll settle into her new life with him and be happier than when she's in this sort of in between place. And that may be true. Ham is a good man. He loves her about as much as any man could love any woman. And Emily isn't ever going to be a lady. She's not gonna come into a bunch of money or anything like that. So this really is the best thing for her. But according to Mr. Omer, she's miserable about it. And then David witnesses this for himself. He goes to Peggy's house and Emily is there with Mr. Peggy and Ham. And David can see right away that something is really wrong with Emily. Here's what he says. There was a trembling upon her that I can see now. The coldness of her hand when I touched it, I can feel yet. Its only sign of animation was to shrink from mine. And then she glided from the chair and, creeping to the other side of her uncle, bowed herself silently and trembling still upon his breast. And I mean, yes, her uncle by marriage is dying. Mr. Barkus is dying. So the whole situation is very sad. But this seems to be more than that. And David is certainly very struck by it as seeming different than he's ever seen her and seeming like more than just grief for Mr. Barkus. And in fact, David makes a point of telling us that Emily seems to be sort of repulsed by him or if not repulsed by him, then just sort of shrinking away from him like she doesn't want to be near him. David says, even when he kissed her and I never saw him approach her, but I felt that nature had given him the soul of a gentleman, she seemed to cling closer to her uncle even to the avoidance of her chosen husband. So, I mean, that's weird. You're not supposed to be cringing away from your fiance when you chose to marry him. Like, sure, if this was some kind of arranged marriage with someone she didn't know, then that might make sense. But Ham asked her to marry him and she said yes. I mean, first she said no and Ham honored that. But then she said yes of her own free will and no one forced her. So this is very strange behavior, I would say. And Mr. Peggy and everyone else seems to feel that what's going on here is that Emily is just really sad that she'll have to leave Mr. Peggy's house and go and live with Ham when she's married. In other words, that it's not marrying Ham specifically that she's upset by. It's not getting to see Mr. Peggy all the time and live with him and be like his child. She's gonna have to shift her allegiance essentially from father figure to husband, which certainly is a thing that women might feel on the eve of their marriage, particularly in this time period when a woman didn't live on her own for a while. First she went straight from her family home to her husband's home, and some home sickness would be very natural. But this really seems like more than that, especially since Ham lives in the same tiny town as Mr. Peggitty. It's not like they're moving far away and Emily won't see Mr. Peggitty ever again. She's probably gonna see him every day still. So it seems like there's probably something else going on, some other problem that Emily is having. But Mr. Peggitty is just chalking it all up to her love for him and her sadness at leaving him. Here's what he says, you'll go along with me? Well, come along with me, come. If her uncle was turned out of house and home and forced to lay down in a dike, Master Davey, said Mr. Peggitty with no less pride than before, it's my belief she'd go along with him now. But there'll be someone else soon, someone else soon, Emily, meaning Ham. So if Chapter 29 was all about how Steerforth is about to do something terrible or has already done something terrible, but David's about to find out or whatever, if that's what Chapter 29 was about, Chapter 30 in a lot of ways is about the fact that Emily is miserable for some unspecified reason, which again builds the tension even higher. So yes, Dickens didn't immediately reveal the thing he set us up to be dying to know. Instead, he is winding the spring even tighter, which honestly is kind of amazing, like diabolical, yes, but also kind of amazing because we're still here, aren't we? We're still hanging off the end of the cliff, he set up for us, desperate to know what will happen. And we know because we trust Dickens, at least I do, but we know that eventually he'll let the spring go. He'll let it explode outwards with all the coiled up force that he's put behind it, and the revelation, whatever it is, will come out. And when it does, we can talk about whether or not it was worth the wait. But I do want to talk just for a moment about Mr. Barcus, because I am with Jorge. This scene is incredibly moving, and I think it's such a testament to Dickens' writing that we can feel so deeply in this moment for a man who hardly says anything in the course of the book, who is really truly kind of strange, or at least eccentric, with his box of old clothes that everyone knows is really money and all of this, who courted Peggy by bringing her like super weird presents and squishing her into the side of the cart as they went along and stealing her bit of candle so he could be the one to hand it to her when she needed it, and who was ill and in bed for a lot of the rest of the time that we saw him. And yet, not only do we feel deeply at the seat of his death, but also we like him. We like him, and we know that he's a good man, that he was a good husband to Peggy, that he took care of her and truly loved her. We know this, even though he's only had a few scenes in the book, and in many of those scenes, he was acting weird or not saying much. And that's a testament to Dickens' writing, because again and again, he gives us these characters who are quirky and strange and have all kinds of flaws, but are good people, and we know it. And Barkus is one of those. And one of the ways that we know that is because Barkus loved Peggy. And Peggy is worth loving. Anyone who loves Peggy is a good person. We know that because we know that Peggy is the best and truest sort of person that there is. And if Barkus knew that, then he was smarter than anyone else in the world who looked past Peggy or actively disliked her or whatever. And part of what's so moving about Barkus' death is that the thing he talks about at the very end, after lying there unconscious for all this time and then finally waking up, the thing he wants to talk about is Peggy. Peggy tells him, this is a quote, here's my dear boy, my dear boy, Master Davy, who brought us together, Barkus, that you sent messages by, you know, won't you speak to Master Davy? And then it says, for all Barkus' penny pinching, he really did love Peggy and they were happy together. CP. Barkus, he cried faintly, no better woman anywhere. And we feel that too, in a way, there's no better woman anywhere than Peggy. I mean, there are other women who are up there with her, like Miss Betsy and Agnes, but there's no one better. Peggy is one of David's mothers. He has had three, right? His own mother, Peggy, and Miss Betsy, but Peggy is one of them. And the one who has stuck by him his entire life and has always been there for him and always kept a room ready for him, she's the constant in David's life, the only one really who's been there since he was born. No one else he knows has loved him that long. And to see that Mr. Barkus, strange, eccentric, taciturn Mr. Barkus, to see that he saw Peggy's worth as well, that I think is what makes the scene so moving. And this notion of Mr. Peggy's, that people go out with the tide, that's really beautiful, I think. And it suddenly turns this very earthy, very odd sort of man, Mr. Barkus, it turns him into something more, something eternal and part of something larger. And it lends a kind of gravitas and mystery and majesty to this scene, which is simply, essentially the scene of a sick man dying. But it's more than that because of the way that he recognized Peggy for the woman of worth that she is. And because of the sort of mysterious current he enters into by dying with the tide, the way that Mr. Peggy said that he would. And I think his last words, Barcus is willing, are so wonderful. Because of course, that is what Barcus told Davy when he wanted Davy to pass on the message to Peggy that he wanted to marry her. And because of that, they're essentially his declaration of love for Peggy. And he's telling her now at the moment of his death that he would do it all over again, that he was right to want to marry her and that his life with her was a happy one. But I think it's fair to also say that Barkas is willing to die, that he's ready, that he's content with the life he lived and the love he loved, and he can go now. And that's moving, too. So it really is a wonderful scene. And I agree with Olivia that one added piece that makes the scene so moving is the way in which David, and by association then we, David doesn't see class distinctions. We've talked about this before. David has a sense that it's who you are on the inside, that counts, not what your social status is. I mean, he's aware of class, and he wants desperately to be middle class, not lower class, and he wouldn't marry someone, probably, who was lower class. But none of that stops him from truly entering into friendship and love without any holds barred with the people who are good and kind and loving to him. And so Peggy can be like a mother to him, and he can be friends with Mr. Peggy and Ham without any of the sort of barrier that would come between these people, and for example, someone like Steerforth. And there's something really touching about that as well, that people are just people and you love them for yourselves if they are worthy of love. And the fact that Peggy feels that David is a comfort to her in her grief is a testament to the fact both that she has always loved him like a mother, but also that he has always given his love to her in return without reservation. David says, Peggy took me in her arms and blessed and thanked me over and over again for being such a comfort to her. That was what she said in her distress. And David feels very gratified by this, because she has been a comfort to him countless times. So it's a very moving scene. It speaks well of Barkas and Peggy and of David himself, but also lurking around the edges of it is this idea that something is not quite right here, that something is up with Emily. And the question is, will we finally find out what it is and what's up with Steerforth as well? Is Dickens gonna now tell us, please? There is only one way to find out. That, of course, is to keep reading. And so that is what we will do. But of course, don't forget to write to me. It's faithkmoore.com. And then you click on Contact, or you can just scroll into the show notes. That same link is there. Please do get in touch with me. Please do let me know all of your thoughts and reactions and questions that you have about this chapter. All right, let's get started with Chapter 31 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's Storytime. Chapter 31, A Greater Loss. It was not difficult for me on Pegadee's solicitation to resolve to stay where I was until after the remains of the poor carrier should have made their last journey to Blunderstone. She had long ago bought out of her own savings, a little piece of ground in our old churchyard near the grave of her sweet girl, as she always called my mother, and there they were to rest. In keeping Pegadee company and doing all I could for her, little enough at the utmost, I was as grateful, I rejoiced to think, as even now I could wish myself to have been. But I am afraid I had a supreme satisfaction of a personal and professional nature in taking charge of Mr. Barkus' will and expounding its contents. Okay, so because he's training to be a lawyer, he feels very proud to be taking care of the will and explaining to Pegadee what's in it. I may claim the merit of having originated the suggestion that the will should be looked for in the box. After some search, it was found in the box at the bottom of a horse's nosebag, wherein, besides hay, there was discovered an old gold watch with chain and seals, which Mr. Barkus had worn on his wedding day and which had never been seen before or since, a silver tobacco stopper in the form of a leg, an imitation lemon full of minute cups and saucers, which I have some idea Mr. Barkus must have purchased to present to me when I was a child and afterwards found himself unable to part with 87 guineas and a half in guineas and half guineas, 210 pounds in perfectly clean banknotes, certain receipts for Bank of England stock, an old horseshoe, a bad shilling, a piece of camphor, and an oyster shell. From the circumstance of the latter article having been much polished and displaying prismatic colors on the inside, I concluded that Mr. Barkus had some general ideas about pearls, which never resolved themselves into anything definite. For years and years, Mr. Barkus had carried this box on all his journeys every day, that it might the better escape notice he had invented a fiction that it belonged to Mr. Black Boy and was to be left with Barkus till called for, a fable he had elaborately written on the lid in characters now scarcely legible. He had hoarded all these years, I found, to good purpose. His property and money amounted to nearly three thousand pounds. Of this, he bequeathed the interest of one thousand to Mr. Peggy for his life, on his decease the principle to be equally divided between Peggy, little Emily, and me, or the survivor or survivors of us, share and share alike. All the rest he died possessed of he bequeathed to Peggy, whom he left residuary legatee and sole executrix of that his last will and testament. I felt myself quite a proctor when I read this document aloud with all possible ceremony and set forth its provisions any number of times to those whom they concerned. I began to think there was more in the Commons than I had supposed. I examined the will with the deepest attention, pronounced it perfectly formal in all respects, made a pencil mark or so in the margin, and thought it rather extraordinary that I knew so much. In this abstruse pursuit, in making an account or a peggoty of all the property into which she had come, in arranging all the affairs in an orderly manner, and in being her referee and advisor on every point to our joint delight, I passed the week before the funeral. I did not see little Emily in the interval, but they told me she was to be quietly married in a fortnight. I did not attend the funeral in character, if I may venture to say so. I mean, I was not dressed up in a black coat and a streamer to frighten the birds, but I walked over to Blunderstone early in the morning and was in the churchyard when it came, attended only by Peggy and her brother. The mad gentleman looked on out of my little window. Remember, a mad gentleman has moved into his old house. Mr. Chilip's baby wagged its heavy head and rolled its goggle eyes at the clergyman over its nurse's shoulder. Mr. Omer breathed short in the background. No one else was there and it was very quiet. We walked about the churchyard for an hour after all was over and pulled some young leaves from the tree above my mother's grave. A dread falls on me here. A cloud is lowering on the distant town towards which I retrace my solitary steps. I fear to approach it. I cannot bear to think of what did come upon that memorable night, of what must come again if I go on. It is no worse because I write of it. It would be no better if I stopped my most unwilling hand. It is done. Nothing can undo it. Nothing can make it otherwise than as it was. My old nurse was to go to London with me next day on the business of the will. Little Emily was passing that day at Mr. Omer's. We were all to meet in the old boathouse that night. Ham would bring Emily at the usual hour. I would walk back at my leisure. The brother and sister would return as they had come and be expecting us when the day closed in at the fireside. I parted from them at the Wicket Gate, where visionary Strap had arrested with Roderick Random's knapsack in the days of yore, meaning the place where he'd imagined all his adventures when he lived there and he was so lonely. Instead of going straight back, walked a little distance on the road to Lowestoft. Then I turned and walked back towards Yarmouth. I stayed to dine at a decent ale house some mile or two from the ferry I have mentioned before, and thus the day wore away and it was evening when I reached it. Rain was falling heavily by that time and it was a wild night, but there was a moon behind the clouds and it was not dark. I was soon within sight of Mr. Peggady's house and of the light within it shining through the window. A little floundering across the sand, which was heavy, brought me to the door and I went in. It looked very comfortable indeed. Mr. Peggady had smoked his evening pipe and there were preparations for some supper by and by. The fire was bright. The ashes were thrown up. The locker was ready for little Emily in her old place. In her own old place sat Peggady once more, looking but for her dress as if she had never left it. She had fallen back already on the society of the work box with St. Paul's upon the lid, the yard-measure in the cottage and the bit of wax candle, and there they all were just as if they had never been disturbed. Mrs. Gummidge appeared to be fretting a little in her old corner and consequently looked quite natural, too. You're a first to the lot, Master Davy, said Mr. Peggady with a happy face. Don't keep in that coat, sir, if it's wet. Thank you, Mr. Peggady, said I, giving him my outer coat to hang up. It's quite dry. So it is, said Mr. Peggady, feeling my shoulders. As a chip. Sit you down, sir. It ain't to know you was saying welcome to you, but you're welcome, kind and hearty. Thank you, Mr. Peggady. I am sure of that. Well, Peggady, said I, giving her a kiss. And how are you, old woman? Ha-ha, laughed Mr. Peggady, sitting down beside us and rubbing his hands in his sense of relief from recent trouble and in the genuine heartiness of his nature. There's not a woman in the world, sir, as I tell her, that need to feel more easy in her mind than her. She done her duty by the departed, and the departed knowed it, and the departed done what was right by her, as she done what was right by the departed, and, and, and it's all right. Mrs. Gummidge groaned. Cheer up, my pretty mother, said Mr. Peggady. But he shook his head aside at us, evidently sensible of the tendency of the late occurrences to recall the memory of the old one. Don't be down. Cheer up for your own self, only a bit, and see if a good deal more don't come natural. Not to me, Danel, returned Mrs. Gummidge. Nothing natural to me but to be lone and lorn. No, no, said Mr. Peggady, soothing her sorrows. Yes, yes, Danel, said Mrs. Gummidge. I ain't a person to live with them as has had money left. Things go to country with me. I had better be a rinse. She's saying that since Peggady now has money, she should go away because she's unlucky. Why, how should I ever spend it without you? said Mr. Peggady, with an air of serious remonstrance. What are you talking on? Don't I want you more now than ever I did? I knowed I was never wanted before, cried Mrs. Gummidge with a pitiable whimper. And now I'm told so. How could I expect to be wanted, being so alone and lorn and so contrary? Mr. Peggitty seemed very much shocked at himself for having made a speech capable of this unfeeling construction, but was prevented from replying by Peggitty's pulling his sleeve and shaking her head. After looking at Mrs. Gummidge for some moments, in sore distress of mind, he glanced at the Dutch clock, rose, snuffed the candle, and put it in the window. There, said Mr. Peggitty cheerily. There we are, Mrs. Gummidge. Mrs. Gummidge slightly groaned. Light it up according to custom. You're a-wondering what that's for, sir. Well, it's for our little Emily. You see, the path ain't over light or cheerful after dark. And when I'm here at the hour as she's a-coming home, I put the light in the window. That you see, said Mr. Peggitty, bending over me with great glee, meets two objects. She says, says Emily. There's home, she says. And likewise, says Emily, my uncle's there. For if I ain't there, I never have no light showed. You're a baby, said Peggitty, very fond of him for it if she thought so. Well, returned Mr. Peggitty, standing with his legs pretty wide apart and rubbing his hands up and down them in his comfortable satisfaction as he looked alternately at us and at the fire, I don't know what I am. Not you see to look at. Not exactly, observed Peggitty. No, laughed Mr. Peggitty, not to look at, but to consider on, you know. I don't care. Bless you. Now I tell you, when I go looking and looking about that there pretty house of our Emily's, I'm, I'm gormed, said Mr. Peggitty with sudden emphasis. There, I can't say more, if I don't feel as if the littlest things was her almost. I takes them up and I put them down and I touches of them as delicate as if they was our Emily. So it is with her little bonnets and that. I couldn't see one of them roughed and used a purpose, not for the whole world. There is a babby for you in the form of a great sea porcupine, said Mr. Peggitty, relieving his earnestness with a roar of laughter. Peggitty and I both laughed, but not so loud. It's my opinion, you see, said Mr. Peggitty, with a delighted face after some further rubbing of his legs. As this is a long of my haven't played with her so much and made believe as we was Turks and French and sharks and every variety of foreigners, blessed you, yes, and lions and whales and I don't know what all, when she weren't no higher than my knee. I've got into the way on it, you know. Why, this your candle now, said Mr. Peggitty, gleefully holding out his hand towards it. I know very well that art or she's married and gone, I shall put that candle there just the same as now. I know very well that when I'm here nights, and where else should I live, bless your arts, whatever fortune I come into, and she ain't here or I ain't there, I shall put the candle in the window and sit before the fire, pretending I'm expecting of her like I'm doing now. There's a babby for you, said Mr. Peggady, with another roar, in the form of a sea porcupine. Why at the present minute, when I see the candle sparkle up, I says to myself, she's a-lookin at it, Emily's a-comin. There's a babby for you, in the form of a sea porcupine, right for all that, said Mr. Peggady, stopping in his roar and smiting his hands together, for here she is. It was only ham. The night should have turned more wet since I came in, for he had a large sow-ester hat on, slouched over his face. Where's Emily? said Mr. Peggady. Ham made a motion with his head, as if she were outside. Mr. Peggady took the light from the window, trimmed it, put it on the table, and was busy stirring the fire, when Ham, who had not moved, said, Master Davey, will you come out a minute and see what Emily and me has got to show you? We went out. As I passed him at the door, I saw, to my astonishment and fright, that he was deadly pale. He pushed me hastily into the open air and closed the door upon us. Only upon us two. Ham, what's the matter? Master Davey! Oh, for his broken heart, how dreadfully he wept! I was paralyzed by the sight of such grief. I don't know what I thought or what I dreaded. I could only look at him. Ham, poor good fellow, for heaven's sake, tell me what's the matter? My love, Master Davey, the pride and hope of my heart, her that I'd have died for and would die for now, she's gone. Gone? Emily's run away. Oh, Master Davey, think how she's run away when I pray my good and gracious God to kill her, her that is so dear above all things, sooner than let her come to ruin and disgrace. Okay, so he's saying that Emily has run off in some way that will cause her to be ruined, and he wishes she was dead rather than ruined. The face he turned up to the troubled sky, the quivering of his clasped hands, the agony of his figure remain associated with the lonely waste in my remembrance to this hour. It is always night there, and he is the only object in the scene. You're a scholar, he said hurriedly, and know what's right and best. What am I to say indoors? How am I ever to break it to him, Master Davey? I saw the door move and instinctively tried to hold the latch on the outside to gain a moment's time. It was too late. Mr. Peggady thrust forth his face, and never could I forget the change that came upon it when he saw us, if I were to live five hundred years. I remember a great wail and cry, and the women hanging about him, and we all standing in the room, I with a paper in my hand, which Ham had given me. Mr. Peggady with his vest torn open, his hair wild, his face and lips quite white, and blood trickling down his bosom, it has sprung from his mouth, I think, looking fixedly at me. Read it, sir, he said in a low, shivering voice. Slow, please. I don't know as I can understand. In the midst of the silence of death, I read thus from a blotted letter. When you who love me so much better than I ever have deserved, even when my mind was innocent, see this, I shall be far away. I shall be far away, he repeated slowly. Stop. Ugly? Fur away? Well, when I leave my dear home, my dear home, oh, my dear home, in the morning, the letter bore date on the previous night, it will be never to come back unless he brings me back a lady. This will be found at night, many hours after, instead of me. Oh, if you knew how my heart is torn, if even you that I have wronged so much, that never can forgive me, could only know what I suffer. Okay, so she's talking to Ham here. I am too wicked to write about myself. Oh, take comfort in thinking that I am so bad. Oh, for mercy's sake, tell uncle that I never loved him half so dear as now. Oh, don't remember how affectionate and kind you have all been to me. Don't remember we were ever to be married. But try to think as if I died when I was little and was buried somewhere. Pray heaven that I am going away from, have compassion on my uncle. Tell him that I never loved him half so dear. Be his comfort. Love some good girl that will be what I was once to uncle, and be true to you and worthy of you and know no shame but me. God bless all. I pray for all often on my knees. If he don't bring me back a lady and I don't pray for my own self, I'll pray for all, my parting love to uncle, my last tears and my last thanks for uncle. That was all. He stood long after I had ceased to read, still looking at me. At length, I ventured to take his hand and to entreat him as well as I could, to endeavor to get some command of himself. He replied, I thank you, sir. I thank you. Without moving, Ham spoke to him. Mr. Peggy was so far sensible of his affliction that he rung his hand, but otherwise he remained in the same state and no one dared to disturb him. Slowly, at last, he moved his eyes from my face as if he were waking from a vision and cast them round the room. Then, he said in a low voice, Who's the man? I want to know his name, meaning who has Emily run off with. Ham glanced at me and suddenly I felt a shock that struck me back. There's a man suspected, said Mr. Peggy. Who is it? Master Davey, implored Ham. Go out a bit and let me tell him what I must. You don't ought to hear it, sir. I felt the shock again. I sank down in a chair and tried to utter some reply, but my tongue was fettered and my sight was weak. I want to know his name, I heard said once more. For some time past, Ham faltered, there's been a servant about here at odd times. There's been a gentleman too. Both of them belong to one another. Mr. Peggy stood fixed as before, but now looking at him. The servant, pursued Ham, was seen along with our poor girl last night. He's been in hiding about here this week or over. He was thought to have gone, but he was hiding. Don't stay, Master Davy, don't. I felt Peggy's arm round my neck, but I could not have moved if the house had been about to fall upon me. A strange shey and horses, meaning a strange carriage and horses, was outside town this morning on the Norwich Road, almost before the day broke. Ham went on. The servant went to it and come from it, and went to it again. When he went to it again, Emily was nigh him. The tether was inside. He is the man. For the Lord's love, said Mr. Peggy, falling back and putting out his hand, as if to keep off what he dreaded. Don't tell me his name's Steerforth! Master Davey, exclaimed Ham in a broken voice. It ain't no fault to yearn, and I am far from laying of it to you. But his name's Steerforth, and he's a damn villain! Okay, so little Emily has run off with Steerforth. Mr. Peggy uttered no cry, and shed no tear, and moved no more, until he seemed to wake again all at once, and pulled down his rough coat from its peg in a corner. Bare a hand with this. I'm struck of a heap and can't do it, he said impatiently. Bare a hand and help me. Well, when somebody had done so, Now give me that there hat. Ham asked him whither he was going. I'm a-goin to seek my niece. I'm a-goin to seek my emli. I'm a-goin first to stave in that there boot, and sink it when I would have drowned in him, as I am a living soul if I had had one thought of what was in him. As he sat afore me, he said wildly, holding out his clenched right hand, as he sat afore me, face to face, strike me down dead, but I'd have drowned in him and thought it right. I'm a-goin to seek my niece. Okay, so he's saying that he sat with Steerforth and helped him with his boat, and now he wishes he'd killed him and sunk his boat, so he's gonna start by actually sinking the boat. Where? Cried Ham, interposing himself before the door. Anywhere. I'm a-goin to seek my niece through the world. I'm a-goin to find my poor niece in her shame and bring her back. No one stop me. I tell you, I'm a-goin to seek my niece. No, no, cried Mrs. Gummidge, coming between them in a fit of crying. No, no, Danel, not as you are now. Seek her in a little while, my lone-lorn Danel, and that'll be but right. But not as you are now. Sit you down and give me your forgiveness for having never been a word to you, Danel. It'll soften your poor heart, Danel. Laying her head upon his shoulder, and you'll bear your sorrow better, for you know the promise, Danel. As you have done it unto one of the least of these, you have done it unto me. And that could never fail under this roof. That's been our shelter for so many, many years. He was quite passive now. And when I heard him crying, the impulse that had been upon me to go down upon my knees and ask their pardon for the desolation I had caused and curse steer forth, yielded to a better feeling. My overcharged heart found the same relief, and I cried too. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com, click on Contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the show notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the show notes. You can learn more about me, check out our merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grownups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded, and marketed by me. So I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars, and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the show notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. All right, everyone, Storytime is over, to be continued.