Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Longer Journey

           Peggotty’s,andwalkedwithhimtoaleafylittlesummer-housetherewasatthebottomofthegarden,whereshesatdownonabench,andIbesideher.TherewasaseatforMr.Peggottytoo,buthepreferredtostand,leaninghishandonthesmallrustictable.Ashestood,lookingathiscapforalittlewhilebeforebeginningtospeak,Icouldnothelpobservingwhatpowerandforceofcharacterhissinewyhandexpressed,andwhatagoodandtrustycompanionitwastohishonestbrowandiron-greyhair.

           ‘Itookmydearchildawaylastnight,’Mr.Peggottybegan,asheraisedhiseyestoours,‘tomylodging,wheerIhavealongtimebeenexpectingofherandpreparingfurher.Itwashoursaforesheknowedmeright;andwhenshedid,shekneeleddownatmyfeet,andkiendersaidtome,asifitwasherprayers,howitallcometobe.Youmaybelieveme,whenIheerdhervoice,asIhadheerdathomesoplayfulandseeherhumbled,asitmightbeinthedustourSaviourwroteinwithhisblessedhandIfeltawowndgotomy‘art,inthemidstofallitsthankfulness.’

           Hedrewhissleeveacrosshisface,withoutanypretenceofconcealingwhy;andthenclearedhisvoice.

           ‘Itwarn’tforlongasIfeltthat;forshewasfound.Ihadon’ytothinkasshewasfound,anditwasgone.Idoen’tknowwhyIdosomuchasmentionofitnow,I’msure.Ididn’thaveitinmymindaminuteago,tosayawordaboutmyself;butitcomeupsonat’ral,thatIyieldedtoitaforeIwasaweer.

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