seemed.

It had begun to grow dark, and I had shut the window (I had been lying,
for the most part, with my head upon the sill, by turns crying, dozing,
and looking listlessly out), when the key was turned, and Miss Murdstone
came in with some bread and meat and milk. These she put down upon the
table without a word, glaring at me the while and then retired, locking
the door after her.

I never shall forget the waking next morning; the being cheerful and
fresh for the first moment, and then the being weighed down by the stale
and dismal oppression of remembrance. Miss Murdstone came again before
I was out of bed; told me, in so many words, that I was free to walk in
the garden for half an hour and no longer; retired, leaving the door
open, that I might avail myself of that permission.

I did so, and did so every morning of my imprisonment, which lasted five
days. If I could have seen my mother alone, I should have gone down on
my knees to her and besought her forgiveness; but I saw no one, Miss
Murdstone excepted, during the whole time.

The length of those five days I can convey no idea of to anyone. They
occupy the place of years in my remembrance.

On the last night of my restraint, I was awakened by hearing my own name
spoken in a whisper. I started up in bed, and, putting out my arms in
the dark, said:

"Is that you, Peggotty?"

There was no immediate answer, but presently I heard my name again, in a
tone so very mysterious and awful, that I think I should have gone into
a fit, if it had not occurred to me that it must have come through the
keyhole.

I groped my way to the door, and, putting my own lips to the keyhole,
whispered:

"Is that you, Peggotty, dear?"

"Yes, my own precious Davy," she replied. "Be as soft as a mouse, or the
cat'll hear us."

I understood this to mean Miss Murdstone, and knew that we must be
careful and quiet; her room being close by.

"How's mamma, dear Peggotty? Is she very angry with me?"

I could hear Peggotty crying softly on her side of the keyhole, as I was
doing on mine, before she answered. "No. Not very."

"What is going to be done with me, Peggotty, dear? Do you know?"

"School. Near London," was Peggotty's answer. I was obliged to get her
to repeat it, for she spoke it the first time quite down my throat in
consequence of my having forgotten to take my mouth away from the
keyhole and put my ear there; and, though her words tickled me a good
deal, I didn't h