Дэвид Копперфильд

Another Retrospect

           ‘Oh,Doady,aftermoreyears,younevercouldhavelovedyourchild-wifebetterthanyoudo;and,aftermoreyears,shewouldsohavetriedanddisappointedyou,thatyoumightnothavebeenabletoloveherhalfsowell!IknowIwastooyoungandfoolish.Itismuchbetterasitis!’

           Agnesisdownstairs,whenIgointotheparlour;andIgiveherthemessage.Shedisappears,leavingmealonewithJip.

           HisChinesehouseisbythefire;andhelieswithinit,onhisbedofflannel,querulouslytryingtosleep.Thebrightmoonishighandclear.AsIlookoutonthenight,mytearsfallfast,andmyundisciplinedheartischastenedheavilyheavily.

           Isitdownbythefire,thinkingwithablindremorseofallthosesecretfeelingsIhavenourishedsincemymarriage.IthinkofeverylittletriflebetweenmeandDora,andfeelthetruth,thattriflesmakethesumoflife.Everrisingfromtheseaofmyremembrance,istheimageofthedearchildasIknewherfirst,gracedbymyyounglove,andbyherown,witheveryfascinationwhereinsuchloveisrich.Wouldit,indeed,havebeenbetterifwehadlovedeachotherasaboyandagirl,andforgottenit?Undisciplinedheart,reply!

           Howthetimewears,Iknownot;untilIamrecalledbymychild-wife’soldcompanion.Morerestlessthanhewas,hecrawlsoutofhishouse,andlooksatme,andwanderstothedoor,andwhinestogoupstairs

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Roboto Lora
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