Дэвид Копперфильд

Mischief

           Andwhenthetimecomesmayitcomesoon,ifitbeHismercifulpleasure!—whenmydeathshallreleaseherfromconstraint,Ishallclosemyeyesuponherhonouredface,withunboundedconfidenceandlove;andleaveher,withnosorrowthen,tohappierandbrighterdays.’

           Icouldnotseehimforthetearswhichhisearnestnessandgoodness,soadornedby,andsoadorning,theperfectsimplicityofhismanner,broughtintomyeyes.Hehadmovedtothedoor,whenheadded:

           ‘Gentlemen,Ihaveshownyoumyheart.Iamsureyouwillrespectit.Whatwehavesaidtonightisnevertobesaidmore.Wickfield,givemeanoldfriend’sarmupstairs!’

           Mr.Wickfieldhastenedtohim.Withoutinterchangingawordtheywentslowlyoutoftheroomtogether,Uriahlookingafterthem.

           ‘Well,MasterCopperfield!’saidUriah,meeklyturningtome.‘Thethinghasn’ttookquitetheturnthatmighthavebeenexpected,fortheoldScholar—whatanexcellentman!—isasblindasabrickbat;butthisfamily’soutofthecart,Ithink!’

           IneededbutthesoundofhisvoicetobesomadlyenragedasIneverwasbefore,andneverhavebeensince.

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