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'Ay, Mas'r Davy. I doen't rightly know how 'tis, but from over yon there seemed to me to come - the end of it like,' looking at me as if he were waking, but with the same determined face. ¡¡¡¡'What end?' I asked, possessed by my former fear. ¡¡¡¡'I doen't know,'he said, thoughtfully; 'I was calling to mind that the beginning of it all did take place here - and then the end come. But it's gone! Mas'r
oil painting Davy,' he added; answering, as I think, my look; 'you han't no call to be afeerd of me: but I'm kiender muddled; I don't fare to feel no matters,' - which was as much as to say that he was not himself, and quite confounded. ¡¡¡¡Mr. Peggotty stopping for us to join him: we did so, and said no more. The remembrance of this, in connexion with my former thought, however, haunted me at intervals, even until the inexorable end came at its appointed time.
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