I ceased to draw back, and we went straight to the best parlour.  On one side of the fire, sat my mother; on the other, Mr. Murdstone.  My mother dropped her work, and arose hurriedly, but timidly, I thought.

“Now, Clara, my dear,” said Mr. Murdstone.  “Recollect! control yourself!  Davy boy, how do you do?”

I gave him my hand.  Then I went over to my mother.  She kissed me, patted me gently on the shoulder, and sat down again to her work, while Mr. Murdstone watched us both.  I turned to look out of the window, and as soon as I could, I crept up-stairs.  My old dear bedroom was changed, and I was to sleep a long way off, and there on my bed, thinking miserable thoughts, I cried myself to sleep.  I was awakened by somebody saying, “Here he is!” and there beside me were my mother and Peggotty, asking what was the matter.

I answered, “Nothing,” and turned over, to hide my trembling lip.

“Davy,” said my mother.  “Davy, my child!”

Then when she would have caressed me in the old fashion, Mr. Murdstone came up and sent the others away.

“David,” he said, making his lips thin, by pressing them together, “if I have an obstinate horse or dog to deal with, what do you think I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I beat him.  I make him wince and smart.  I say to myself, ’I’ll conquer that fellow;’ and if it were to cost him all the blood he had, I should do it.  What is that upon your face?”

“Dirt,” I said.

He knew it was the mark of tears as well as I. But if he had asked the question twenty times, with twenty blows, I believe my baby heart would have burst before I would have told him so.

“You have a good deal of intelligence for a little fellow,” he said, “and you understood me very well, I see.  Wash that face, sir, and come down with me.”

He pointed to the washstand, and motioned me to obey him directly, and I have little doubt that he would have knocked me down, had I hesitated.

As he walked me into the parlour, he said to my mother, “Clara, my dear, you will not be made uncomfortable any more, I hope.  We shall soon improve our youthful humours.”

I might have been made another creature for life, by a kind word just then.  A word of welcome home, of reassurance that it was home, might have made me dutiful to my new father, and made me respect instead of hate him; but the word was not spoken, and the time for it was gone.

After that my life was a lonely one.  Mr. Murdstone seemed to be very fond of my mother, and she of him, but also she seemed to stand in great awe of him, and dared not do what he might not approve.  Soon Miss Murdstone came to live with us.  She was a gloomy-looking lady, dark like her brother, and much like him in character.  She assumed the care of the house, and mother had nothing more to do with it.  Meanwhile, I learnt lessons at home.