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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com-David Copperfield by Charles Dickens


sitting on a seat at one end of a kind of terrace, overlooking the
great city. It was a sombre evening, with a lurid light in the
sky; and as I saw the prospect scowling in the distance, with here
and there some larger object starting up into the sullen glare, I
fancied it was no inapt companion to the memory of this fierce
woman.

She saw me as I advanced, and rose for a moment to receive me. I
thought her, then, still more colourless and thin than when I had
seen her last; the flashing eyes still brighter, and the scar still
plainer.

Our meeting was not cordial. We had parted angrily on the last
occasion; and there was an air of disdain about her, which she took
no pains to conceal.

'I am told you wish to speak to me, Miss Dartle,' said I, standing
near her, with my hand upon the back of the seat, and declining her
gesture of invitation to sit down.

'If you please,' said she. 'Pray has this girl been found?'

'No.'

'And yet she has run away!'

I saw her thin lips working while she looked at me, as if they were
eager to load her with reproaches.

'Run away?' I repeated.

'Yes! From him,' she said, with a laugh. 'If she is not found,
perhaps she never will be found. She may be dead!'

The vaunting cruelty with which she met my glance, I never saw
expressed in any other face that ever I have seen.

'To wish her dead,' said I, 'may be the kindest wish that one of
her own sex could bestow upon her. I am glad that time has
softened you so much, Miss Dartle.'

She condescended to make no reply, but, turning on me with another
scornful laugh, said:

'The friends of this excellent and much-injured young lady are
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