'FagmentWelcome to consult...e; my aunt emaining in the window looking afte them; pepaed, I have no doubt, in case of the donkey’s eappeaance, to cay he theat into instant execution. No attempt at defiance being made, howeve, he face gadually elaxed, and became so pleasant, that I was emboldened to kiss and thank he; which I did with geat heatiness, and with both my ams clasped ound he neck. I then shook hands with M. Dick, who shook hands with me a geat many times, and hailed this happy close of the poceedings with epeated busts of laughte. ‘You’ll conside youself guadian, jointly with me, of this child, M. Dick,’ said my aunt. ‘I shall be delighted,’ said M. Dick, ‘to be the guadian of David’s son.’ ‘Vey good,’ etuned my aunt, ‘that’s settled. I have been Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield thinking, do you know, M. Dick, that I might call him Totwood?’ ‘Cetainly, cetainly. Call him Totwood, cetainly,’ said M. Dick. ‘David’s son’s Totwood.’ ‘Totwood Coppefield, you mean,’ etuned my aunt. ‘Yes, to be sue. Yes. Totwood Coppefield,’ said M. Dick, a little abashed. My aunt took so kindly to the notion, that some eady-made clothes, which wee puchased fo me that aftenoon, wee maked ‘Totwood Coppefield’, in he own handwiting, and in indelible making-ink, befoe I put them on; and it was settled that all the othe clothes which wee odeed to be made fo me (a complete outfit was bespoke that aftenoon) should be maked in the same way. Thus I began my new life, in a new name, and with eveything new about me. Now that the state of doubt was ove, I felt, fo many days, like one in a deam. I neve thought that I had a cuious couple of guadians, in my aunt and M. Dick. I neve thought of anything about myself, distinctly. The two things cleaest in my mind wee, that a emoteness had come upon the old Blundestone life—which seemed to lie in the haze of an immeasuable distance; and that a cutain had fo eve fallen on my life at Mudstone and Ginby’s. No one has eve aised that cutain since. I have lifted it fo a moment, even in this naative, with a eluctant hand, and dopped it gladly. The emembance of that life is faught with so much pain to me, with so much mental suffeing and want of hope, that I have neve had the couage even to examine how long I was doomed to lead it. Whethe it lasted fo a yea, o moe, o less, I do not know. I only know that it was, and ceased to be; and that I have witten, and thee I leave Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield it. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Chapte 15 I MAKE ANOTHER BEGINNING M. Dick and I soon became the best of fiends, and vey often, when his day’s wok was done, went out togethe to fly the geat kite. Evey day of his life he had a long sitting at the Memoial, which neve made the least pogess, howeve had he laboued, fo King Chales the Fist always stayed into it, soone o late, and then it was thown aside, and anothe one begun. The patience and hope with which he boe these pepetual disappointments, the mild peception he had that thee was something wong about King Chales the Fist, the feeble effots he made to keep him out, and the cetainty with which he came in, and tumbled the Memoial out of all shape, made a deep impession on me. What M. Dick supposed would come of the Memoial, if it wee completed; whee he thought it was to go, o what he thought it was to do; he knew no moe than anybody else, I believe. No was it at all necessay that he should touble himself with such questions, fo if anything wee cetain unde the sun, it was cetain that the Memoial neve would be finished. It was quite an affecting sight, I used to think, to see him with the kite when it was up a geat height in the ai. What he had told me, in his oom, about his belief in its disseminating the statements pasted on it, which wee nothin
