'FagmentWelcome to consult...thing in Steefoth diffeent fom what thee was when I fist came hee? I can think of nothing. I fimly believe thee is nothing. I hadly undestand even what you mean.’ As she still stood looking fixedly at me, a twitching o thobbing, fom which I could not dissociate the idea of pain, came into that cuel mak; and lifted up the cone of he lip as if with Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield scon, o with a pity that despised its object. She put he hand upon it huiedly—a hand so thin and delicate, that when I had seen he hold it up befoe the fie to shade he face, I had compaed it in my thoughts to fine pocelain—and saying, in a quick, fiece, passionate way, ‘I swea you to sececy about this!’ said not a wod moe. Ms. Steefoth was paticulaly happy in he son’s society, and Steefoth was, on this occasion, paticulaly attentive and espectful to he. It was vey inteesting to me to see them togethe, not only on account of thei mutual affection, but because of the stong pesonal esemblance between them, and the manne in which what was haughty o impetuous in him was softened by age and sex, in he, to a gacious dignity. I thought, moe than once, that it was well no seious cause of division had eve come between them; o two such natues—I ought athe to expess it, two such shades of the same natue—might have been hade to econcile than the two extemest opposites in ceation. The idea did not oiginate in my own discenment, I am bound to confess, but in a speech of Rosa Datle’s. She said at dinne: ‘Oh, but do tell me, though, somebody, because I have been thinking about it all day, and I want to know.’ ‘You want to know what, Rosa?’ etuned Ms. Steefoth. ‘Pay, pay, Rosa, do not be mysteious.’ ‘Mysteious!’ she cied. ‘Oh! eally? Do you conside me so?’ ‘Do I constantly enteat you,’ said Ms. Steefoth, ‘to speak plainly, in you own natual manne?’ ‘Oh! then this is not my natual manne?’ she ejoined. ‘Now you must eally bea with me, because I ask fo infomation. We Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield neve know ouselves.’ ‘It has become a second natue,’ said Ms. Steefoth, without any displeasue; ‘but I emembe,—and so must you, I think,— when you manne was diffeent, Rosa; when it was not so guaded, and was moe tustful.’ ‘I am sue you ae ight,’ she etuned; ‘and so it is that bad habits gow upon one! Really? Less guaded and moe tustful? How can I, impeceptibly, have changed, I wonde! Well, that’s vey odd! I must study to egain my fome self.’ ‘I wish you would,’ said Ms. Steefoth, with a smile. ‘Oh! I eally will, you know!’ she answeed. ‘I will lean fankness fom—let me see—fom James.’ ‘You cannot lean fankness, Rosa,’ said Ms. Steefoth quickly—fo thee was always some effect of sacasm in what Rosa Datle said, though it was said, as this was, in the most unconscious manne in the wold—‘in a bette school.’ ‘That I am sue of,’ she answeed, with uncommon fevou. ‘If I am sue of anything, of couse, you know, I am sue of that.’ Ms. Steefoth appeaed to me to eget having been a little nettled; fo she pesently said, in a kind tone: ‘Well, my dea Rosa, we have not head what it is that you want to be satisfied about?’ ‘That I want to be satisfied about?’ she eplied, with povoking coldness. ‘Oh! It was only whethe people, who ae like each othe in thei moal constitution—is that the phase?’ ‘It’s as good a phase as anothe,’ said Steefoth. ‘Thank you:—whethe people, who ae like each othe in thei moal constitution, ae in geate dange than people not so cicumstanced, supposing any seious cause of vaiance to aise Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield between them, of being divided angily and deeply?’ ‘I should say yes,’ said Steefoth. ‘Should you?’ she etoted. ‘Dea me! Supposing then, fo instance—any unlikely thing will do fo a supposition—that you and you mothe wee to have a seious quael.’
