I wish I had died. I wish I had died then, with that feeling in my heart! I should have been more fit for heaven than I ever have been since.
"He is your brother," said my mother, fondling me. "Davy, my pretty boy: my poor child!" Then she kissed me more and more, and clasped me round the neck. This she was doing when Peggotty came running in, and bounced down on the ground beside us and went mad about us both for a quarter of an hour.
We had a very happy afternoon the day I came. Mr. and Miss Murdstone were out, and I sat with my mother and Peggotty, and told them all about my school and Steerforth, and took the little baby in my arms and nursed it lovingly. But when the Murdstones came back I was more unhappy than ever.
I felt uncomfortable about going down to breakfast in The morning, as I had never set eyes on Mr. Murdstone since the day when I committed my memorable offense. However, as it must be done, I went down, after two or three false starts halfway, and as many runs back on tiptoe to my own room, and presented myself in the parlor.
He was standing before the fire with his back to it, while Miss Murdstone made the tea. He looked at me steadily as I entered, but made no sign of recognition whatever.
I went up to him, after a moment of confusion, and said, "I beg your pardon, sir. I am very sorry for what I did, and I hope you will forgive me."
"I am glad to hear you are sorry, David," he replied.
"How do you do, ma'am?" I said to Miss Murdstone.
"Ah, dear me!" sighed Miss Murdstone, giving me the tea-caddy scoop instead of her finger. "How long are the holidays?"
"A month, ma'am."