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Updated: June 10, 2025
The identity of the child, and of the boy, David Copperfield is now forever merged in the personality of Trotwood Copperfield, Esquire, householder and Man. Christopher, or Kit Nubbles, as he was commonly called, was not handsome in the estimation of anyone except his mother, and mothers are apt to be partial.
He became as suddenly grave again, and leaning forward as before, said first respectfully taking out his pocket-handkerchief, as if it really did represent my aunt: 'Most wonderful woman in the world, Trotwood. Why has she done nothing to set things right? 'Too delicate and difficult a subject for such interference, I replied. 'Fine scholar, said Mr. Dick, touching me with his finger.
But it was stationary; and as the gentleman advanced into the light, I saw that he was some years older than when he had had his picture painted. 'Miss Betsey Trotwood, said the gentleman, 'pray walk in. I was engaged for a moment, but you'll excuse my being busy. You know my motive. I have but one in life.
'Your late wife, sir, was a most unworldly, most unhappy, most unfortunate baby, returned my aunt, shaking her head at him. 'That's what she was. And now, what have you got to say next? 'Merely this, Miss Trotwood, he returned. 'I am here to take David back to take him back unconditionally, to dispose of him as I think proper, and to deal with him as I think right.
I only ask you, Trotwood, if you ever think of me I mean, with a quiet smile, for I was going to interrupt her, and she knew why, 'as often as you think of me to think of what I have said. Do you forgive me for all this? 'I will forgive you, Agnes, I replied, 'when you come to do Steerforth justice, and to like him as well as I do. 'Not until then? said Agnes.
It has been, for years, the utmost height of my hopes. To take our future on myself, will be the next great happiness the next to his release from all trust and responsibility that I can know. 'Have you thought how, Agnes? 'Often! I am not afraid, dear Trotwood. I am certain of success. So many people know me here, and think kindly of me, that I am certain. Don't mistrust me.
Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going away myself. But he checked me and said: 'Should you like to stay with us, Trotwood, or to go elsewhere? 'To stay, I answered, quickly. 'You are sure? 'If you please. If I may! 'Why, it's but a dull life that we lead here, boy, I am afraid, he said. 'Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir. Not dull at all!
Miss MacRimsy and her "set" quizzed her unmercifully behind her back, after being worsted in several passages of arms; and more than one successful mamma condoled with Aunt Pen upon the terribly defective education of her charge, till that stout matron could have found it in her heart to tweak off their caps and walk on them, like the irascible Betsey Trotwood.
'Trotwood, says Agnes, one day after dinner. 'Who do you think is going to be married tomorrow? Someone you admire. 'Not you, I suppose, Agnes? 'Not me! raising her cheerful face from the music she is copying. 'Do you hear him, Papa? The eldest Miss Larkins. 'To to Captain Bailey? I have just enough power to ask. 'No; to no Captain. To Mr. Chestle, a hop-grower.
'Bless and save the man, exclaimed my aunt, sharply, 'how he talks! Don't I know she wouldn't? She would have lived with her god-mother, and we should have been devoted to one another. Where, in the name of wonder, should his sister, Betsey Trotwood, have run from, or to? 'Nowhere, said Mr. Dick.
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