david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第164部分

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spiritless　unhappy　way；　only　went　whither　she　was　led；　and　
seemed　to　have　no　care　for　anything。　

I　did　not　know　what　to　think。　Neither　did　my　aunt；　who　must　
have　walked；　at　various　times；　a　hundred　miles　in　her　uncertainty。　
What　was　strangest　of　all　was；　that　the　only　real　relief　which　
seemed　to　make　its　way　into　the　secret　region　of　this　domestic　
unhappiness；　made　its　way　there　in　the　person　of　Mr。　Dick。　

What　his　thoughts　were　on　the　subject；　or　what　his　observation　
was；　I　am　as　unable　to　explain；　as　I　dare　say　he　would　have　been　to　
assist　me　in　the　task。　But；　as　I　have　recorded　in　the　narrative　of　my　
school　days；　his　veneration　for　the　Doctor　was　unbounded；　and　
there　is　a　subtlety　of　perception　in　real　attachment；　even　when　it　is　
borne　towards　man　by　one　of　the　lower　animals；　which　leaves　the　
highest　intellect　behind。　To　this　mind　of　the　heart；　if　I　may　call　it　
so；　in　Mr。　Dick；　some　bright　ray　of　the　truth　shot　straight。　

He　had　proudly　resumed　his　privilege；　in　many　of　his　spare　
hours；　of　walking　up　and　down　the　garden　with　the　Doctor；　as　he　
had　been　accustomed　to　pace　up　and　down　The　Doctor’s　Walk　at　
Canterbury。　But　matters　were　no　sooner　in　this　state；　than　he　
devoted　all　his　spare　time　（and　got　up　earlier　to　make　it　more）　to　
these　perambulations。　If　he　had　never　been　so　happy　as　when　the　
Doctor　read　that　marvellous　performance；　the　Dictionary；　to　him；　
he　was　now　quite　miserable　unless　the　Doctor　pulled　it　out　of　his　
pocket；　and　began。　When　the　Doctor　and　I　were　engaged；　he　now　
fell　into　the　custom　of　walking　up　and　down　with　Mrs。　Strong；　and　
helping　her　to　trim　her　favourite　flowers；　or　weed　the　beds。　I　dare　
say　he　rarely　spoke　a　dozen　words　in　an　hour：　but　his　quiet　

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David　Copperfield　

interest；　and　his　wistful　face；　found　immediate　response　in　both　
their　breasts；　each　knew　that　the　other　liked　him；　and　that　he　
loved　both；　and　he　became　what　no　one　else　could　be—a　link　
between　them。　

When　I　think　of　him；　with　his　impenetrably　wise　face；　walking　
up　and　down　with　the　Doctor；　delighted　to　be　battered　by　the　hard　
words　in　the　Dictionary；　when　I　think　of　him　carrying　huge　
watering…pots　after　Annie；　kneeling　down；　in　very　paws　of　gloves；　
at　patient　microscopic　work　among　the　little　leaves；　expressing　as　
no　philosopher　could　have　expressed；　in　everything　he　did；　a　
delicate　desire　to　be　her　friend；　showering　sympathy；　trustfulness；　
and　affection；　out　of　every　hole　in　the　watering…pot；　when　I　think　
of　him　never　wandering　in　that　better　mind　of　his　to　which　
unhappiness　addressed　itself；　never　bringing　the　unfortunate　King　
Charles　into　the　garden；　never　wavering　in　his　grateful　service；　
never　diverted　from　his　knowledge　that　there　was　something　
wrong；　or　from　his　wish　to　set　it　right—I　really　feel　almost　
ashamed　of　having　known　that　he　was　not　quite　in　his　wits；　taking　
account　of　the　utmost　I　have　done　with　mine。　

‘Nobody　but　myself；　Trot；　knows　what　that　man　is！’　my　aunt　
would　proudly　remark；　when　we　conversed　about　it。　‘Dick　will　
distinguish　himself　yet！’　

I　must　refer　to　one　other　topic　before　I　close　this　chapter。　While　
the　visit　at　the　Doctor’s　was　still　in　progress；　I　observed　that　the　
postman　brought　two　or　three　letters　every　morning　for　Uriah　
Heep；　who　remained　at　Highgate　until　the　rest　went　back；　it　being　
a　leisure　time；　and　that　these　were　always　directed　in　a　businesslike　manner　by　Mr。　Micawber；　who　now　assumed　a　round　legal　
hand。　I　was　glad　to　infer；　from　these　slight　premises；　that　Mr。　

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Micawber　was　doing　well；　and　consequently　was　much　surprised　
to　receive；　about　this　time；　the　following　letter　from　his　amiable　
wife。

　‘CANTERBURY；　Monday　Evening。　
‘You　will　doubtless　be　surprised；　my　dear　Mr。　Copperfield；　to　
receive　this　communication。　Still　more　so；　by　its　contents。　Still　
more　so；　by　the　stipulation　of　implicit　confidence　which　I　beg　to　
impose。　But　my　feelings　as　a　wife　and　mother　require　relief；　and　as　
I　do　not　wish　to　consult　my　family　（already　obnoxious　to　the　
feelings　of　Mr。　Micawber）；　I　know　no　one　of　whom　I　can　better　ask　
advice　than　my　friend　and　former　lodger。　

‘You　may　be　aware；　my　dear　Mr。　Copperfield；　that　between　
myself　and　Mr。　Micawber　（whom　I　will　never　desert）；　there　has　
always　been　preserved　a　spirit　of　mutual　confidence。　Mr。　
Micawber　may　have　occasionally　given　a　bill　without　consulting　
me；　or　he　may　have　misled　me　as　to　the　period　when　that　
obligation　would　become　due。　This　has　actually　happened。　But；　in　
general；　Mr。　Micawber　has　had　no　secrets　from　the　bosom　of　
affection—I　allude　to　his　wife—and　has　invariably；　on　our　
retirement　to　rest；　recalled　the　events　of　the　day。　

‘You　will　picture　to　yourself；　my　dear　Mr。　Copperfield；　what　the　
poignancy　of　my　feelings　must　be；　when　I　inform　you　that　Mr。　
Micawber　is　entirely　changed。　He　is　reserved。　He　is　secret。　His　life　
is　a　mystery　to　the　partner　of　his　joys　and　sorrows—I　again　allude　
to　his　wife—and　if　I　should　assure　you　that　beyond　knowing　that　it　
is　passed　from　morning　to　night　at　the　office；　I　now　know　less　of　it　
than　I　do　of　the　man　in　the　south；　connected　with　whose　mouth　
the　thoughtless　children　repeat　an　idle　tale　respecting　cold　plum　

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porridge；　I　should　adopt　a　popular　fallacy　to　express　an　actual　fact。　

‘But　this　is　not　all。　Mr。　Micawber　is　morose。　He　is　severe。　He　is　
estranged　from　our　eldest　son　and　daughter；　he　has　no　pride　in　his　
twins；　he　looks　with　an　eye　of　coldness　even　on　the　unoffending　
stranger　who　last　became　a　member　of　our　circle。　The　pecuniary　
means　of　meeting　our　expenses；　kept　down　to　the　utmost　farthing；　
are　obtained　from　him　with　great　difficulty；　and　even　under　fearful　
threats　that　he　will　Settle　himself　（the　exact　expression）；　and　he　
inexorably　refuses　to　give　any　explanation　whatever　of　this　
distracting　policy。　

‘This　is　hard　to　bear。　This　is　heart…breaking。　If　you　will　advise　
me；　knowing　my　feeble　powers　such　as　they　are；　how　you　think　it　
will　be　best　to　exert　them　in　a　dilemma　so　unwonted；　you　will　add　
another　friendly　obligation　to　the　many　you　have　already　rendered　
me。　With　loves　from　the　children；　and　a　smile　from　the　happily…
unconscious　stranger；　I　remain；　dear　Mr。　Copperfield；　

Your　afflicted；　

‘EMMA　MICAWBER。’　

I　did　not　feel　justified　in　giving　a　wife　of　Mrs。　Micawber’s　
experience　any　other　recommendation；　than　that　she　should　try　to　
reclaim　Mr。　Micawber　by　patience　and　kindness　（as　I　knew　she　
would　in　any　case）；　but　the　letter　set　me　thinking　about　him　very　
much。　

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David　Copperfield　

Chapter　43　

ANOTHER　RETROSPECT　

Once　again；　let　me　pause　upon　a　memorable　period　of　my　
life。　Let　me　stand　aside；　to　see　the　phantoms　of　those　days　
go　by　me；　accompanying　the　shadow　of　myself；　in　dim　
procession。　

Weeks；　months；　seasons；　pass　along。　They　seem　little　more　than　
a　summer　day　and　a　winter　evening。　Now；　the　Common　where　I　
walk　with　Dora　is　all　in　bloom；　a　field　of　bright　gold；　and　now　the　
unseen　heather　lies　in　mounds　and　bunches　underneath　a　
covering　of　snow。　In　a　breath；　the　river　that　flows　through　our　
Sunday　walks　is　sparkling　in　the　summer　sun；　is　ruffled　by　the　
winter　wind；　or　thickened　with　drifting　heaps　of　ice。　Faster　than　
ever　river　ran　towards　the　sea；　it　flashes；　darkens；　and　rolls　away。　

Not　a　thread　changes；　in　the　house　of　the　two　little　bird…like　
ladies。　The　clock　ticks　over　the　fireplace；　the　weather…glass　hangs　
in　the　hall。　Neither　clock　nor　weather…glass　is　ever　right；　but　we　
believe　in　both；　devoutly。　

I　have　come　legally　to　man’s　estate。　I　have　attained　the　dignity　
of　twenty…one。　But　this　is　a　sort　of　dignity　that　may　be　thrust　upon　
one。　Let　me　think　what　I　have　achieved。　

I　have　tamed　that　savage　stenographic　mystery。　I　make　a　
respectable　income　by　it。　I　am　in　high　repute　for　my　
accomplishment　in　all　pertaining　to　the　art；　and　am　joined　with　
eleven　others　in　reporting　the　debates　in　Parliament　for　a　Morning　
Newspaper。　Night　after　night；　I　record　predictions　that　never　

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come　to　pass；　professions　that　are　never　fulfilled；　explanations　that　
are　only　meant　to　mystify。　I　wallow　in　words。　Britannia；　that　
unfortunate　female；　is　always　before　me；　like　a　trussed　fowl：　
skewered　through　and　through　with　office…pens；　and　bound　hand　
and　foot　with　red　tape。　I　am　sufficiently　behind　the　scenes　to　know　
the　worth　of　political　life。　I　am　quite　an　Infidel　about　it；　and　shall　
never　be　converted。　

My　dear　old　Traddles　has　tried　his　hand　at　the　same　pursuit；　
but　it　is　not　in　Traddles’s　way。　He　is　perfectly　good…humoured　
respecting　his　failure；　and　reminds　me　that　he　always　did　consider　
himself　slow。　He　has　occasional　employment　on　the　same　
newspaper；　in　getting　up　the　facts　of　dry　subjects；　to　be　written　
about　and　embellished　by　more　fertile　minds。　He　is　called　to　the　
bar；　and　with　admirable　industry　and　self…denial　has　scraped