David Copperfield
us, that they were well matched even in that particular.
She withdrew her hand timidly from his arm as we
stopped to speak to them, and blushed as she gave it to
Steerforth and to me. When they passed on, after we had
exchanged a few words, she did not like to replace that
hand, but, still appearing timid and constrained, walked
by herself. I thought all this very pretty and engaging, and
Steerforth seemed to think so too, as we looked after them
fading away in the light of a young moon.
Suddenly there passed us - evidently following them - a
young woman whose approach we had not observed, but
whose face I saw as she went by, and thought I had a faint
remembrance of. She was lightly dressed; looked bold, and
haggard, and flaunting, and poor; but seemed, for the time,
to have given all that to the wind which was blowing, and to
have nothing in her mind but going after them. As the dark
distant level, absorbing their figures into itself, left but itself
visible between us and the sea and clouds, her figure disap-
peared in like manner, still no nearer to them than before.
‘That is a black shadow to be following the girl,’ said
Steerforth, standing still; ‘what does it mean?’
He spoke in a low voice that sounded almost strange to
Me.
‘She must have it in her mind to beg of them, I think,’
said I.
‘A beggar would be no novelty,’ said Steerforth; ‘but it is
a strange thing that the beggar should take that shape to-
night.’
‘Why?’ I asked.