0 David Copperfield
‘My life with this lady has been very happy. Until tonight,
I have had uninterrupted occasion to bless the day on which
I did her great injustice.’
His voice, more and more faltering in the utterance of
these words, stopped for a few moments; then he went on:
‘Once awakened from my dream - I have been a poor
dreamer, in one way or other, all my life - I see how natu-
ral it is that she should have some regretful feeling towards
her old companion and her equal. That she does regard him
with some innocent regret, with some blameless thoughts
of what might have been, but for me, is, I fear, too true.
Much that I have seen, but not noted, has come back upon
me with new meaning, during this last trying hour. But, be-
yond this, gentlemen, the dear lady’s name never must be
coupled with a word, a breath, of doubt.’
For a little while, his eye kindled and his voice was firm;
for a little while he was again silent. Presently, he proceeded
as before:
‘It only remains for me, to bear the knowledge of the un-
happiness I have occasioned, as submissively as I can. It is
she who should reproach; not I. To save her from miscon-
struction, cruel misconstruction, that even my friends have
not been able to avoid, becomes my duty. The more retired
we live, the better I shall discharge it. And when the time
comes - may it come soon, if it be His merciful pleasure!
- when my death shall release her from constraint, I shall
close my eyes upon her honoured face, with unbounded
confidence and love; and leave her, with no sorrow then, to
happier and brighter days.’
