CHAPTER 1. I AM BORN

itmusthavebeenaBaboo—oraBegum.Anyhow,fromIndiatidingsofhisdeathreachedhome,withintenyears.Howtheyaffectedmyaunt,nobodyknewforimmediatelyupontheseparation,shetookhermaidennameagain,boughtacottageinahamletonthesea-coastalongwayoff,establishedherselfthereasasinglewomanwithoneservant,andwasunderstoodtolivesecluded,everafterwards,inaninflexibleretirement. Myfatherhadoncebeenafavouriteofhers,Ibelievebutshewasmortallyaffrontedbyhismarriage,onthegroundthatmymotherwas‘awaxdoll’.Shehadneverseenmymother,butsheknewhertobenotyettwenty.MyfatherandMissBetseynevermetagain.Hewasdoublemymother’sagewhenhemarried,andofbutadelicateconstitution.Hediedayearafterwards,and,asIhavesaid,sixmonthsbeforeIcameintotheworld. Thiswasthestateofmatters,ontheafternoonof,whatImaybeexcusedforcalling,thateventfulandimportantFriday.Icanmakenoclaimthereforetohaveknown,atthattime,howmattersstoodortohaveanyremembrance,foundedontheevidenceofmyownsenses,ofwhatfollows. Mymotherwassittingbythefire,butpoorlyinhealth,andverylowinspirits,lookingatitthroughhertears,anddespondingheavilyaboutherselfandthefatherlesslittlestranger,whowasalreadywelcomedbysomegrossesofpropheticpins,inadrawerupstairs,toaworldnotatallexcitedonthesubjectofhisarrivalmymother,Isay,wassittingbythefire,thatbright,windyMarchafternoon,verytimidandsad,andverydoubtfulofevercomingaliveoutofthetrialthatwasbeforeher,when,liftinghereyesasshedriedthem,tothewindowopposite,shesawastrangeladycomingupthegarden. Mymotherhadasureforebodingatthesecondglance,thatitwasMissBetsey.Thesettingsunwasglowingonthestrangelady,overthegarden-fence,andshecamewalkinguptothedoorwithafellrigidityoffigureandcomposureofcountenancethatcouldhavebelongedtonobodyelse. Whenshereachedthehouse,shegaveanotherproofofheridentity.MyfatherhadoftenhintedthatsheseldomconductedherselflikeanyordinaryChristianandnow,insteadofringingthebell,shecameandlookedinatthatidenticalwindow,pressingtheendofhernoseagainsttheglasstothatextent,thatmypoordearmotherusedtosayitbecameperfectlyflatandwhiteinamoment. Shegavemymothersuchaturn,thatIhavealwaysbeenconvincedIamindebtedtoMissBetseyforhavingbeenbornonaFriday. Mymotherhadleftherchairinheragitation,andgonebehinditinthecorner.MissBetsey,lookingroundtheroom,slowlyandinquiringly,beganontheotherside,andcarriedhereyeson,likeaSaracen’sHeadinaDutchclock,untiltheyreachedmymother.Thenshemadeafrownandagesturetomymother,likeonewhowasaccustomedtobeobeyed,tocomeandopenthedoor.Mymotherwent. ‘Mrs.DavidCopperfield,Ithink,’saidMissBetseytheemphasisreferring,perhaps,tomymother’smourningweeds,andhercondition. ‘Yes,’saidmymother,faintly. ‘MissTrotwood,’saidthevisitor.‘Youhaveheardofher,Idaresay?’ Mymotheransweredshehadhadthatpleasure.Andshehadadisagreeableconsciousnessofnotappearingtoimplythatithadbeenanoverpoweringpleasure. ‘Nowyouseeher,’saidMissBetsey.Mymotherbentherhead,andbeggedhertowalkin. Theywentintotheparlourmymotherhadcomefrom,thefireinthebestroomontheothersideofthepassagenotbeinglighted—nothavingbeenlighted,indeed,sincemyfather’sfuneralandwhentheywerebothseated,andMissBetseysaidnothing,mymother,aftervainlytryingtorestrainherself,begantocry.‘Ohtut,tut,tut!’saidMissBetsey,inahurry.‘Don’tdothat!Come,come!’ Mymothercouldn’thelpitnotwithstanding,soshecrieduntilshehadhadhercryout. ‘Takeoffyourcap,child,’saidMissBetsey,‘andletmeseeyou.’ Mymotherwastoomuchafraidofhertorefusecompliancewiththisoddrequest,ifshehadanydispositiontodoso.Thereforeshedidasshewastold,anddiditwithsuchnervoushandsthatherhair(whichwasluxuriantandbeautiful)fellallaboutherface. ‘Why,blessmyheart!’exclaimedMissBetsey.‘YouareaveryBaby!’ Mymotherwas,nodoubt,unusuallyyouthfulinappearanceevenforheryearsshehungherhead,asifitwereherfault,poorthing,andsaid,sobbing,thatindeedshewasafraidshewasbutachildishwidow,andwouldbebutachildishmotherifshelived.Inashortpausewhichensued,shehadafancythatshefeltMissBetseytouchherhair,andthatwithnoungentlehandbut,lookingather,inhertimidhope,shefoundthatladysittingwiththeskirtofherdresstuckedup,herhandsfoldedononeknee,andherfeetuponthefender,frowningatthefire. ‘InthenameofHeaven,’saidMissBetsey,suddenly,‘whyRookery?’ ‘Doyoumeanthehouse,ma’am?’askedmymother. ‘Why