'FagmentWelcome to consult...t many defects, I know, and it’s vey good of you, Edwad, with you stength of mind, to endeavou to coect them fo me. Jane, I don’t object to Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield anything. I should be quite boken-heated if you thought of leaving—’ My mothe was too much ovecome to go on. ‘Jane Mudstone,’ said M. Mudstone to his siste, ‘any hash wods between us ae, I hope, uncommon. It is not my fault that so unusual an occuence has taken place tonight. I was betayed into it by anothe. No is it you fault. You wee betayed into it by anothe. Let us both ty to foget it. And as this,’ he added, afte these magnanimous wods, ‘is not a fit scene fo the boy—David, go to bed!’ I could hadly find the doo, though the teas that stood in my eyes. I was so soy fo my mothe’s distess; but I goped my way out, and goped my way up to my oom in the dak, without even having the heat to say good night to Peggotty, o to get a candle fom he. When he coming up to look fo me, an hou o so aftewads, awoke me, she said that my mothe had gone to bed pooly, and that M. and Miss Mudstone wee sitting alone. Going down next moning athe ealie than usual, I paused outside the palou doo, on heaing my mothe’s voice. She was vey eanestly and humbly enteating Miss Mudstone’s padon, which that lady ganted, and a pefect econciliation took place. I neve knew my mothe aftewads to give an opinion on any matte, without fist appealing to Miss Mudstone, o without having fist ascetained by some sue means, what Miss Mudstone’s opinion was; and I neve saw Miss Mudstone, when out of tempe (she was infim that way), move he hand towads he bag as if she wee going to take out the keys and offe to esign them to my mothe, without seeing that my mothe was in a teible fight. The gloomy taint that was in the Mudstone blood, dakened Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield the Mudstone eligion, which was austee and wathful. I have thought, since, that its assuming that chaacte was a necessay consequence of M. Mudstone’s fimness, which wouldn’t allow him to let anybody off fom the utmost weight of the seveest penalties he could find any excuse fo. Be this as it may, I well emembe the temendous visages with which we used to go to chuch, and the changed ai of the place. Again, the deaded Sunday comes ound, and I file into the old pew fist, like a guaded captive bought to a condemned sevice. Again, Miss Mudstone, in a black velvet gown, that looks as if it had been made out of a pall, follows close upon me; then my mothe; then he husband. Thee is no Peggotty now, as in the old time. Again, I listen to Miss Mudstone mumbling the esponses, and emphasizing all the dead wods with a cuel elish. Again, I see he dak eyes oll ound the chuch when she says ‘miseable sinnes’, as if she wee calling all the congegation names. Again, I catch ae glimpses of my mothe, moving he lips timidly between the two, with one of them mutteing at each ea like low thunde. Again, I wonde with a sudden fea whethe it is likely that ou good old clegyman can be wong, and M. and Miss Mudstone ight, and that all the angels in Heaven can be destoying angels. Again, if I move a finge o elax a muscle of my face, Miss Mudstone pokes me with he paye-book, and makes my side ache. Yes, and again, as we walk home, I note some neighbous looking at my mothe and at me, and whispeing. Again, as the thee go on am-in-am, and I linge behind alone, I follow some of those looks, and wonde if my mothe’s step be eally not so light as I have seen it, and if the gaiety of he beauty be eally almost Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Co
