David Copperfield Charles Dickens (100 best novels of all time .TXT) 📖

blush. “And because you have so much constancy and patience, Traddles.”

“Dear me!” said Traddles, considering about it, “do I strike you in that way, Copperfield? Really I didn’t know that I had. But she is such an extraordinarily dear girl herself, that it’s possible she may have imparted something of those virtues to me. Now you mention it, Copperfield, I shouldn’t wonder at all. I assure you she is always forgetting herself, and taking care of the other nine.”

“Is she the eldest?” I inquired.

“Oh dear, no,” said Traddles. “The eldest is a beauty.”

He saw, I suppose, that I could not help smiling at the simplicity of this reply; and added, with a smile upon his own ingenuous face:

“Not, of course, but that my Sophy⁠—pretty name, Copperfield, I always think?”

“Very pretty!” said I.

“Not, of course, but that Sophy is beautiful too in my eyes, and would be one of the dearest girls that ever was, in anybody’s eyes (I should think). But when I say the eldest is a Beauty, I mean she really is a⁠—” he seemed to be describing clouds about himself, with both hands: “Splendid, you know,” said Traddles, energetically. “Indeed!” said I.

“Oh, I assure you,” said Traddles, “something very uncommon, indeed! Then, you know, being formed for society and admiration, and not being able to enjoy much of it in consequence of their limited means, she naturally gets a little irritable and exacting, sometimes. Sophy puts her in good humour!”

“Is Sophy the youngest?” I hazarded.

“Oh dear, no!” said Traddles, stroking his chin. “The two youngest are only nine and ten. Sophy educates ’em.”

“The second daughter, perhaps?” I hazarded.

“No,” said Traddles. “Sarah’s the second. Sarah has something the matter with her spine, poor girl. The malady will wear out by and by, the doctors say, but in the meantime she has to lie down for a twelvemonth. Sophy nurses her. Sophy’s the fourth.”

“Is the mother living?” I inquired.

“Oh yes,” said Traddles, “she is alive. She is a very superior woman indeed, but the damp country is not adapted to her constitution, and⁠—in fact, she has lost the use of her limbs.”

“Dear me!” said I.

“Very sad, is it not?” returned Traddles. “But in a merely domestic view it is not so bad as it might be, because Sophy takes her place. She is quite as much a mother to her mother, as she is to the other nine.”

I felt the greatest admiration for the virtues of this young lady; and, honestly with the view of doing my best to prevent the good-nature of Traddles from being imposed upon, to the detriment of their joint prospects in life, inquired how Mr. Micawber was?

“He is quite well, Copperfield, thank you,” said Traddles. “I am not living with him at present.”

“No?”

“No. You see the truth is,” said Traddles, in a whisper, “he had changed his name to Mortimer, in consequence of his temporary embarrassments; and he don’t come out till after dark⁠—and then in spectacles. There was an execution put into our house, for rent. Mrs. Micawber was in such a dreadful state that I really couldn’t resist giving my name to that second bill we spoke of here. You may imagine how delightful it was to my feelings, Copperfield, to see the matter settled with it, and Mrs. Micawber recover her spirits.”

“Hum!” said I. “Not that her happiness was of long duration,” pursued Traddles, “for, unfortunately, within a week another execution came in. It broke up the establishment. I have been living in a furnished apartment since then, and the Mortimers have been very private indeed. I hope you won’t think it selfish, Copperfield, if I mention that the broker carried off my little round table with the marble top, and Sophy’s flowerpot and stand?”

“What a hard thing!” I exclaimed indignantly.

“It was a⁠—it was a pull,” said Traddles, with his usual wince at that expression. “I don’t mention it reproachfully, however, but with a motive. The fact is, Copperfield, I was unable to repurchase them at the time of their seizure; in the first place, because the broker, having an idea that I wanted them, ran the price up to an extravagant extent; and, in the second place, because I⁠—hadn’t any money. Now, I have kept my eye since, upon the broker’s shop,” said Traddles, with a great enjoyment of his mystery, “which is up at the top of Tottenham Court Road, and, at last, today I find them put out for sale. I have only noticed them from over the way, because if the broker saw me, bless you, he’d ask any price for them! What has occurred to me, having now the money, is, that perhaps you wouldn’t object to ask that good nurse of yours to come with me to the shop⁠—I can show it her from round the corner of the next street⁠—and make the best bargain for them, as if they were for herself, that she can!”

The delight with which Traddles propounded this plan to me, and the sense he had of its uncommon artfulness, are among the freshest things in my remembrance.

I told him that my old nurse would be delighted to assist him, and that we would all three take the field together, but on one condition. That condition was, that he should make a solemn resolution to grant no more loans of his name, or anything else, to Mr. Micawber.

“My dear Copperfield,” said Traddles, “I have already done so, because I begin to feel that I have not only been inconsiderate, but that I have been positively unjust to Sophy. My word being passed to myself, there is no longer any apprehension; but I pledge it to you, too, with the greatest readiness. That first unlucky obligation, I have paid. I have no doubt Mr. Micawber would have paid it if he could, but he could not. One thing I ought to mention, which I like very much in Mr. Micawber, Copperfield. It refers to the second obligation, which is not yet due. He don’t tell me that it