whales, and I doen’t know what all!—when she warn’t no higher than my knee. I’ve got into the way on it, you know. Why, this here candle, now!” said Mr. Peggotty, gleefully holding out his hand towards it, “I know wery well that arter she’s married and gone, I shall put that candle theer, just the same as now. I know wery well that when I’m here o’ nights (and where else should I live, bless your arts, whatever fortun’ I come into!) and she ain’t here or I ain’t theer, I shall put the candle in the winder, and sit afore the fire, pretending I’m expecting of her, like I’m a doing now. There’s a babby for you,” said Mr. Peggotty, with another roar, “in the form of a Sea Porkypine! Why, at the present minute, when I see the candle sparkle up, I says to myself, ‘She’s a looking at it! Em’ly’s a coming!’ There’s a babby for you, in the form of a Sea Porkypine! Right for all that,” said Mr. Peggotty, stopping in his roar, and smiting his hands together; “fur here she is!”
It was only Ham. The night should have turned more wet since I came in, for he had a large sou’wester hat on, slouched over his face.
“Wheer’s Em’ly?” said Mr. Peggotty.
Ham made a motion with his head, as if she were outside. Mr. Peggotty took the light from the window, trimmed it, put it on the table, and was busily stirring the fire, when Ham, who had not moved, said:
“Mas’r Davy, will you come out a minute, and see what Em’ly and me has got to show you?”
We went out. As I passed him at the door, I saw, to my astonishment and fright, that he was deadly pale. He pushed me hastily into the open air, and closed the door upon us. Only upon us two.
“Ham! what’s the matter?”
“Mas’r Davy!—” Oh, for his broken heart, how dreadfully he wept!