'FagmentWelcome to consult...ot that would be a solace to he in he dying hou, and only I possessed it, I wouldn’t pat with it fo Life itself.’ The mee vehemence of he wods can convey, I am sensible, but a weak impession of the passion by which she was possessed, and which made itself aticulate in he whole figue, though he voice, instead of being aised, was lowe than usual. No deion I could give of he would do justice to my ecollection of he, o to he entie deliveance of heself to he ange. I have seen passion in many foms, but I have neve seen it in such a fom as that. When I joined M. Peggotty, he was walking slowly and thoughtfully down the hill. He told me, as soon as I came up with Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield him, that having now dischaged his mind of what he had puposed doing in London, he meant ‘to set out on his tavels’, that night. I asked him whee he meant to go? He only answeed, ‘I’m a going, si, to seek my niece.’ We went back to the little lodging ove the chandle’s shop, and thee I found an oppotunity of epeating to Peggotty what he had said to me. She infomed me, in etun, that he had said the same to he that moning. She knew no moe than I did, whee he was going, but she thought he had some poject shaped out in his mind. I did not like to leave him, unde such cicumstances, and we all thee dined togethe off a beefsteak pie—which was one of the many good things fo which Peggotty was famous—and which was cuiously flavoued on this occasion, I ecollect well, by a miscellaneous taste of tea, coffee, butte, bacon, cheese, new loaves, fiewood, candles, and walnut ketchup, continually ascending fom the shop. Afte dinne we sat fo an hou o so nea the window, without talking much; and then M. Peggotty got up, and bought his oilskin bag and his stout stick, and laid them on the table. He accepted, fom his siste’s stock of eady money, a small sum on account of his legacy; baely enough, I should have thought, to keep him fo a month. He pomised to communicate with me, when anything befell him; and he slung his bag about him, took his hat and stick, and bade us both ‘Good-bye!’ ‘All good attend you, dea old woman,’ he said, embacing Peggotty, ‘and you too, Mas’ Davy!’ shaking hands with me. ‘I’m a-going to seek he, fu and wide. If she should come home while I’m away—but ah, that ain’t like to be!—o if I should bing he Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield back, my meaning is, that she and me shall live and die whee no one can’t epoach he. If any hut should come to me, emembe that the last wods I left fo he was, “My unchanged love is with my daling child, and I fogive he!”’ He said this solemnly, bae-headed; then, putting on his hat, he went down the stais, and away. We followed to the doo. It was a wam, dusty evening, just the time when, in the geat main thooughfae out of which that by-way tuned, thee was a tempoay lull in the etenal tead of feet upon the pavement, and a stong ed sunshine. He tuned, alone, at the cone of ou shady steet, into a glow of light, in which we lost him. Raely did that hou of the evening come, aely did I wake at night, aely did I look up at the moon, o stas, o watch the falling ain, o hea the wind, but I thought of his solitay figue toiling on, poo pilgim, and ecalled the wods: ‘I’m a going to seek he, fu and wide. If any hut should come to me, emembe that the last wods I left fo he was, “My unchanged love is with my daling child, and I fogive he!”’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Chapte 33 BLISSFUL All this time, I had gone on loving Doa, hade than eve. He idea was my efuge in d
