david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第3部分

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herself　like　any　ordinary　Christian；　and　now；　instead　of　ringing　the　
bell；　she　came　and　looked　in　at　that　identical　window；　pressing　the　
end　of　her　nose　against　the　glass　to　that　extent；　that　my　poor　dear　
mother　used　to　say　it　became　perfectly　flat　and　white　in　a　moment。　

She　gave　my　mother　such　a　turn；　that　I　have　always　been　
convinced　I　am　indebted　to　Miss　Betsey　for　having　been　born　on　a　
Friday。　

My　mother　had　left　her　chair　in　her　agitation；　and　gone　behind　
it　in　the　corner。　Miss　Betsey；　looking　round　the　room；　slowly　and　
inquiringly；　began　on　the　other　side；　and　carried　her　eyes　on；　like　
a　Saracen’s　Head　in　a　Dutch　clock；　until　they　reached　my　mother。　
Then　she　made　a　frown　and　a　gesture　to　my　mother；　like　one　who　
was　accustomed　to　be　obeyed；　to　come　and　open　the　door。　My　
mother　went。　

‘Mrs。　David　Copperfield；　I　think；’　said　Miss　Betsey；　the　
emphasis　referring；　perhaps；　to　my　mother’s　mourning　weeds；　and　
her　condition。　

‘Yes；’　said　my　mother；　faintly。　

‘Miss　Trotwood；’　said　the　visitor。　‘You　have　heard　of　her；　I　dare　
say？’　

My　mother　answered　she　had　had　that　pleasure。　And　she　had　a　
disagreeable　consciousness　of　not　appearing　to　imply　that　it　had　

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David　Copperfield　

been　an　overpowering　pleasure。　

‘Now　you　see　her；’　said　Miss　Betsey。　My　mother　bent　her　head；　
and　begged　her　to　walk　in。　

They　went　into　the　parlour　my　mother　had　come　from；　the　fire　
in　the　best　room　on　the　other　side　of　the　passage　not　being　
lighted—not　having　been　lighted；　indeed；　since　my　father’s　
funeral；　and　when　they　were　both　seated；　and　Miss　Betsey　said　
nothing；　my　mother；　after　vainly　trying　to　restrain　herself；　began　
to　cry。　‘Oh　tut；　tut；　tut！’　said　Miss　Betsey；　in　a　hurry。　‘Don’t　do　that！　
Come；　come！’　

My　mother　couldn’t　help　it　notwithstanding；　so　she　cried　until　
she　had　had　her　cry　out。　

‘Take　off　your　cap；　child；’　said　Miss　Betsey；　‘and　let　me　see　you。’　

My　mother　was　too　much　afraid　of　her　to　refuse　compliance　
with　this　odd　request；　if　she　had　any　disposition　to　do　so。　
Therefore　she　did　as　she　was　told；　and　did　it　with　such　nervous　
hands　that　her　hair　（which　was　luxuriant　and　beautiful）　fell　all　
about　her　face。　

‘Why；　bless　my　heart！’　exclaimed　Miss　Betsey。　‘You　are　a　very　
Baby！’　

My　mother　was；　no　doubt；　unusually　youthful　in　appearance　
even　for　her　years；　she　hung　her　head；　as　if　it　were　her　fault；　poor　
thing；　and　said；　sobbing；　that　indeed　she　was　afraid　she　was　but　a　
childish　widow；　and　would　be　but　a　childish　mother　if　she　lived。　In　
a　short　pause　which　ensued；　she　had　a　fancy　that　she　felt　Miss　
Betsey　touch　her　hair；　and　that　with　no　ungentle　hand；　but；　
looking　at　her；　in　her　timid　hope；　she　found　that　lady　sitting　with　
the　skirt　of　her　dress　tucked　up；　her　hands　folded　on　one　knee；　
and　her　feet　upon　the　fender；　frowning　at　the　fire。　

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David　Copperfield　

‘In　the　name　of　Heaven；’　said　Miss　Betsey；　suddenly；　‘why　
Rookery？’　

‘Do　you　mean　the　house；　ma’am？’　asked　my　mother。　

‘Why　Rookery？’　said　Miss　Betsey。　‘Cookery　would　have　been　
more　to　the　purpose；　if　you　had　had　any　practical　ideas　of　life；　
either　of　you。’　

‘The　name　was　Mr。　Copperfield’s　choice；’　returned　my　mother。　
‘When　he　bought　the　house；　he　liked　to　think　that　there　were　
rooks　about　it。’　

The　evening　wind　made　such　a　disturbance　just　now；　among　
some　tall　old　elm…trees　at　the　bottom　of　the　garden；　that　neither　
my　mother　nor　Miss　Betsey　could　forbear　glancing　that　way。　As　
the　elms　bent　to　one　another；　like　giants　who　were　whispering　
secrets；　and　after　a　few　seconds　of　such　repose；　fell　into　a　violent　
flurry；　tossing　their　wild　arms　about；　as　if　their　late　confidences　
were　really　too　wicked　for　their　peace　of　mind；　some　
weatherbeaten　ragged　old　rooks’…nests；　burdening　their　higher　
branches；　swung　like　wrecks　upon　a　stormy　sea。　

‘Where　are　the　birds？’　asked　Miss　Betsey。　

‘The—？’　My　mother　had　been　thinking　of　something　else。　

‘The　rooks—what　has　become　of　them？’　asked　Miss　Betsey。　

‘There　have　not　been　any　since　we　have　lived　here；’　said　my　
mother。　‘We　thought—Mr。　Copperfield　thought—it　was　quite　a　
large　rookery；　but　the　nests　were　very　old　ones；　and　the　birds　have　
deserted　them　a　long　while。’　

‘David　Copperfield　all　over！’　cried　Miss　Betsey。　‘David　
Copperfield　from　head　to　foot！　Calls　a　house　a　rookery　when　
there’s　not　a　rook　near　it；　and　takes　the　birds　on　trust；　because　he　
sees　the　nests！’　

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David　Copperfield　

‘Mr。　Copperfield；’　returned　my　mother；　‘is　dead；　and　if　you　dare　
to　speak　unkindly　of　him　to　me—’　

My　poor　dear　mother；　I　suppose；　had　some　momentary　
intention　of　committing　an　assault　and　battery　upon　my　aunt；　who　
could　easily　have　settled　her　with　one　hand；　even　if　my　mother　had　
been　in　far　better　training　for　such　an　encounter　than　she　was　that　
evening。　But　it　passed　with　the　action　of　rising　from　her　chair；　and　
she　sat　down　again　very　meekly；　and　fainted。　

When　she　came　to　herself；　or　when　Miss　Betsey　had　restored　
her；　whichever　it　was；　she　found　the　latter　standing　at　the　window。　
The　twilight　was　by　this　time　shading　down　into　darkness；　and　
dimly　as　they　saw　each　other；　they　could　not　have　done　that　
without　the　aid　of　the　fire。　

‘Well？’　said　Miss　Betsey；　coming　back　to　her　chair；　as　if　she　had　
only　been　taking　a　casual　look　at　the　prospect；　‘and　when　do　you　
expect—’　

‘I　am　all　in　a　tremble；’　faltered　my　mother。　‘I　don’t　know　what’s　
the　matter。　I　shall　die；　I　am　sure！’　

‘No；　no；　no；’　said　Miss　Betsey。　‘Have　some　tea。’　

‘Oh　dear　me；　dear　me；　do　you　think　it　will　do　me　any　good？’　
cried　my　mother　in　a　helpless　manner。　

‘Of　course　it　will；’　said　Miss　Betsey。　‘It’s　nothing　but　fancy。　
What　do　you　call　your　girl？’　

‘I　don’t　know　that　it　will　be　a　girl；　yet；　ma’am；’　said　my　mother　
innocently。　

‘Bless　the　Baby！’　exclaimed　Miss　Betsey；　unconsciously　quoting　
the　second　sentiment　of　the　pincushion　in　the　drawer　upstairs；　but　
applying　it　to　my　mother　instead　of　me；　‘I　don’t　mean　that。　I　mean　
your　servant…girl。’　

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David　Copperfield　

‘Peggotty；’　said　my　mother。　

‘Peggotty！’　repeated　Miss　Betsey；　with　some　indignation。　‘Do　
you　mean　to　say；　child；　that　any　human　being　has　gone　into　a　
Christian　church；　and　got　herself　named　Peggotty？’　

‘It’s　her　surname；’　said　my　mother；　faintly。　‘Mr。　Copperfield　
called　her　by　it；　because　her　Christian　name　was　the　same　as　
mine。’　

‘Here！　Peggotty！’　cried　Miss　Betsey；　opening　the　parlour　door。　
‘Tea。　Your　mistress　is　a　little　unwell。　Don’t　dawdle。’　

Having　issued　this　mandate　with　as　much　potentiality　as　if　she　
had　been　a　recognized　authority　in　the　house　ever　since　it　had　
been　a　house；　and　having　looked　out　to　confront　the　amazed　
Peggotty　coming　along　the　passage　with　a　candle　at　the　sound　of　a　
strange　voice；　Miss　Betsey　shut　the　door　again；　and　sat　down　as　
before：　with　her　feet　on　the　fender；　the　skirt　of　her　dress　tucked　
up；　and　her　hands　folded　on　one　knee。　

‘You　were　speaking　about　its　being　a　girl；’　said　Miss　Betsey。　‘I　
have　no　doubt　it　will　be　a　girl。　I　have　a　presentiment　that　it　must　
be　a　girl。　Now　child；　from　the　moment　of　the　birth　of　this　girl—’　

‘Perhaps　boy；’　my　mother　took　the　liberty　of　putting　in。　

‘I　tell　you　I　have　a　presentiment　that　it　must　be　a　girl；’　returned　
Miss　Betsey。　‘Don’t　contradict。　From　the　moment　of　this　girl’s　
birth；　child；　I　intend　to　be　her　friend。　I　intend　to　be　her　godmother；　
and　I　beg　you’ll　call　her　Betsey　Trotwood　Copperfield。　There　must　
be　no　mistakes　in　life　with　this　Betsey　Trotwood。　There　must　be　no　
trifling　with　her　affections；　poor　dear。　She　must　be　well　brought　
up；　and　well　guarded　from　reposing　any　foolish　confidences　where　
they　are　not　deserved。　I　must　make　that　my　care。’　

There　was　a　twitch　of　Miss　Betsey’s　head；　after　each　of　these　

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David　Copperfield　

sentences；　as　if　her　own　old　wrongs　were　working　within　her；　and　
she　repressed　any　plainer　reference　to　them　by　strong　constraint。　
So　my　mother　suspected；　at　least；　as　she　observed　her　by　the　low　
glimmer　of　the　fire：　too　much　scared　by　Miss　Betsey；　too　uneasy　in　
herself；　and　too　subdued　and　bewildered　altogether；　to　observe　
anything　very　clearly；　or　to　know　what　to　say。　

‘And　was　David　good　to　you；　child？’　asked　Miss　Betsey；　when　
she　had　been　silent　for　a　little　while；　and　these　motions　of　her　head　
had　gradually　ceased。　‘Were　you　comfortable　together？’　

‘We　were　very　happy；’　said　my　mother。　‘Mr。　Copperfield　was　
only　too　good　to　me。’　

‘What；　he　spoilt　you；　I　suppose？’　returned　Miss　Betsey。　

‘For　being　quite　alone　and　dependent　on　myself　in　this　rough　
world　again；　yes；　I　fear　he　did　indeed；’　sobbed　my　mother。　

‘Well！　Don’t　cry！’　said　Miss　Betsey。　‘You　were　not　equally　
matched；　child—if　any　two　people　can　be　equally　matched—and　so　
I　asked　the　question。　You　were　an　orpha