David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (good novels to read in english .TXT) 📕

when I think of the sins of my former companions, sir; but I trust they may find forgiveness.”

“You are quite happy yourself?” said the questioner, nodding encouragement.

“I am much obliged to you, sir,” returned Mr. Littimer. “Perfectly so.”

“Is there anything at all on your mind now?” said the questioner. “If so, mention it, Twenty Eight.”

“Sir,” said Mr. Littimer, without looking up, “if my eyes have not deceived me, there is a gentleman present who was acquainted with me in my former life. It may be profitable to that gentleman to know, sir, that I attribute my past follies, entirely to having lived a thoughtless life in the service of young men; and to having allowed myself to be led by them into weaknesses, which I had not the strength to resist. I hope that gentleman will take warning, sir, and will not be offended at my freedom. It is for his good. I am conscious of my own past follies. I hope he may repent of all the wickedness and sin to which he has been a party.”

I observed that several gentlemen were shading their eyes, each with one hand, as if they had just come into church.

“This does you credit, Twenty Eight,” returned the questioner. “I should have expected it of you. Is there anything else?”

“Sir,” returned Mr. Littimer, slightly lifting up his eyebrows, but not his eyes, “there was a young woman who fell into dissolute courses, that I endeavoured to save, sir, but could not rescue. I beg that gentleman, if he has it in his power, to inform that young woman from me that I forgive her her bad conduct towards myself, and that I call her to repentance⁠—if he will be so good.”

“I have no doubt, Twenty Eight,” returned the questioner, “that the gentleman you refer to feels very strongly⁠—as we all must⁠—what you have so properly said. We will not detain you.”

“I thank you, sir,” said Mr. Littimer. “Gentlemen, I wish you a good day, and hoping you and your families will also see your wickedness, and amend!”

With this, Number Twenty Eight retired, after a glance between him and Uriah; as if they were not altogether unknown to each other, through some medium of communication; and a murmur went round the group, as his door shut upon him, that he was a most respectable man, and a beautiful case.

“Now, Twenty Seven,” said Mr. Creakle, entering on a clear stage with his man, “is there anything that anyone can do for you? If so, mention it.”

“I would ’umbly ask, sir,” returned Uriah, with a jerk of his malevolent head, “for leave to write again to mother.”

“It shall certainly be granted,” said Mr. Creakle.

“Thank you, sir! I am anxious about mother. I am afraid she ain’t safe.”

Somebody incautiously asked, what from? But there was a scandalized whisper of “Hush!”

“Immortally safe, sir,” returned Uriah, writhing in the direction of the voice. “I should wish mother to be got into my state. I never should have been got into my present state if I hadn’t come here. I wish mother had come here. It would be better for everybody, if they got took up, and was brought here.”

This sentiment gave unbounded satisfaction⁠—greater satisfaction, I think, than anything that had passed yet.

“Before I come here,” said Uriah, stealing a look at us, as if he would have blighted the outer world to which we belonged, if he could, “I was given to follies; but now I am sensible of my follies. There’s a deal of sin outside. There’s a deal of sin in mother. There’s nothing but sin everywhere⁠—except here.”

“You are quite changed?” said Mr. Creakle.

“Oh dear, yes, sir!” cried this hopeful penitent.

“You wouldn’t relapse, if you were going out?” asked somebody else.

“Oh de-ar no, sir!”

“Well!” said Mr. Creakle, “this is very gratifying. You have addressed Mr. Copperfield, Twenty Seven. Do you wish to say anything further to him?”

“You knew me, a long time before I came here and was changed, Mr. Copperfield,” said Uriah, looking at me; and a more villainous look I never saw, even on his visage. “You knew me when, in spite of my follies, I was ’umble among them that was proud, and meek among them that was violent⁠—you was violent to me yourself, Mr. Copperfield. Once, you struck me a blow in the face, you know.”

General commiseration. Several indignant glances directed at me.

“But I forgive you, Mr. Copperfield,” said Uriah, making his forgiving nature the subject of a most impious and awful parallel, which I shall not record. “I forgive everybody. It would ill become me to bear malice. I freely forgive you, and I hope you’ll curb your passions in future. I hope Mr. W. will repent, and Miss W., and all of that sinful lot. You’ve been visited with affliction, and I hope it may do you good; but you’d better have come here. Mr. W. had better have come here, and Miss W. too. The best wish I could give you, Mr. Copperfield, and give all of you gentlemen, is, that you could be took up and brought here. When I think of my past follies, and my present state, I am sure it would be best for you. I pity all who ain’t brought here!”

He sneaked back into his cell, amidst a little chorus of approbation; and both Traddles and I experienced a great relief when he was locked in.

It was a characteristic feature in this repentance, that I was fain to ask what these two men had done, to be there at all. That appeared to be the last thing about which they had anything to say. I addressed myself to one of the two warders, who, I suspected from certain latent indications in their faces, knew pretty well what all this stir was worth.

“Do you know,” said I, as we walked along the passage, “what felony was Number Twenty Seven’s last ‘folly’?”

The answer was that it was a Bank case.

“A fraud on the Bank of England?” I asked. “Yes, sir. Fraud, forgery, and conspiracy. He and some others.