many ghosts to return to London
He dived in under a great wave, and swam strongly towards the ship. In another moment he would have reached it, when a high green hill of water appeared,and the ship went down with a great crash.The people on the beach pulled on Ham's rope, and he arrived at my feet—dead. They carried him to the nearest house, and I called a doctor, but nothing could be done for him.He had been beaten to death by that great wave, and his generous heart had stopped for ever.
As I sat hopelessly by his bed, a fisherman who had known me when Emily and I were children, came to tell me he recognized the curly-haired sailor, whose body had been thrown out of the water by the waves. I went to see. And there on the beach where she and I had played, I saw Steerforth lying,with his handsome face on his arm. He would never smile at me or Emily again.
I was surrounded by too many ghosts to return to London and my old life. I was selfishly sad that I had lost my child-wife and my childhood friend,and sometimes I felt I wanted to die.So I left England, and travelled for many months in Europe. I lived in a dark, miserable dream, with no hope or interest in my future.
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