was added to the heap of failures, Miss Murdstone being firmly
watchful of us all the time. And when we came at last to the five
thousand cheeses (canes he made it that day, I remember), my
mother burst out crying.
‘Clara!’ said Miss Murdstone, in her warning voice.
‘I am not quite well, my dear Jane, I think,’ said my mother.
I saw him wink, solemnly, at his sister, as he rose and said,
taking up the cane:
‘Why, Jane, we can hardly expect Clara to bear, with perfect
firmness, the worry and torment that David has occasioned her
today. That would be stoical. Clara is greatly strengthened and
improved, but we can hardly expect so much from her. David, you
and I will go upstairs, boy.’
As he took me out at the door, my mother ran towards us. Miss
Murdstone said, ‘Clara! are you a perfect fool?’ and interfered. I
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David Copperfield
saw my mother stop her ears then, and I heard her crying.
He walked me up to my room slowly and gravely—I am certain
he had a delight in that formal parade of executing justice—and
when we got there, suddenly twisted my head under his arm.
‘Mr. Murdstone! Sir!’ I cried to him. ‘Don’t! Pray don’t beat me!
I have tried to learn, sir, but I can’t learn while you and Miss
Murdstone are by. I can’t indeed!’
‘Can’t you, indeed, David?’ he said. ‘We’ll try that.’
He had my head as in a vice, but I twined round him somehow,
and stopped him for a moment, entreating him not to beat me. It
was only a moment that I stopped him, for he cut me heavily an
instant afterwards, and in the same instant I caught the hand with
which he held me in my mouth, between my teeth, and bit it
through. It sets my teeth on edge to think of it.
He beat me then, as if he would have beaten me to death. Above
all the noise we made, I heard them running up the stairs, and
crying out—I heard my mother crying out—and Peggotty. Then he
was gone; and the door was locked outside; and I was lying,
fevered and hot, and torn, and sore, and raging in my puny way,
upon the floor.
How well I recollect, when I became quiet, what an unnatural
stillness seemed to reign through the whole house! How well I
remember, when my smart and passion began to cool, how wicked
I began to feel!
I sat listening for a long while, but there was not a sound. I
crawled up from the floor, and saw my face in the glass, so
swollen, red, and ugly that it almost frightened me. My stripes
were sore and stiff, and made me cry afresh, when I moved; but
they were nothing to the guilt I felt. It lay heavier on my breast
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David Copperfield
than if I had been a most atrocious criminal, I dare say.
It had begun to grow dark, and I had shut the window (I had
been lying, for the most part, with my head upon the sill, by turns
crying, dozing, and looking listlessly out), when the key was
turned, and Miss Murdstone came in with some bread and meat,
and milk. These she put down upon the table without a word,
glaring at me the while with exemplary firmness, and then retired,
locking the door after her.
Long after it was dark I sat there, wondering whether anybody
else would come. When this appeared improbable for that night, I
undressed, and went to bed; and, there, I began to wonder
fearfully what would be done to me. Whether it was a criminal act
that I had committed? Whether I should be taken into custody,
and sent to prison? Whether I was at all in danger of being
hanged?
I never shall forget the waking, next morning; the being
cheerful and fresh for the first moment, and then the being
weighed down by the stale and dismal oppression of
remembr"};
