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dear old Peggotty, there. You won’t be quite at the other end
of the world, will you?’
‘Contrary ways, please God!’ cried Peggotty, with great
animation. ‘As long as you are here, my pet, I shall come
over every week of my life to see you. One day, every week
of my life!’
I felt a great weight taken off my mind by this promise:
but even this was not all, for Peggotty went on to say:
‘I’m a-going, Davy, you see, to my brother’s, first, for an-
other fortnight’s visit - just till I have had time to look about
me, and get to be something like myself again. Now, I have
been thinking that perhaps, as they don’t want you here at
present, you might be let to go along with me.’
If anything, short of being in a different relation to ev-
ery one about me, Peggotty excepted, could have given me
a sense of pleasure at that time, it would have been this
project of all others. The idea of being again surrounded
by those honest faces, shining welcome on me; of renewing
the peacefulness of the sweet Sunday morning, when the
bells were ringing, the stones dropping in the water, and
the shadowy ships breaking through the mist; of roaming
up and down with little Em’ly, telling her my troubles, and
finding charms against them in the shells and pebbles on
the beach; made a calm in my heart. It was ruffled next mo-
ment, to be sure, by a doubt of Miss Murdstone’s giving her
consent; but even that was set at rest soon, for she came
out to take an evening grope in the store-closet while we
were yet in conversation, and Peggotty, with a boldness that
amazed me, broached the topic on the spot.