Дэвид Копперфильд

Mr. Micawber’s Transactions

           Inallthatsorrow,fromthemoment,nevertobeforgotten,whenshestoodbeforemewithherupraisedhand,shewaslikeasacredpresenceinmylonelyhouse.WhentheAngelofDeathalightedthere,mychild-wifefellasleeptheytoldmesowhenIcouldbeartohearitonherbosom,withasmile.Frommyswoon,Ifirstawoketoaconsciousnessofhercompassionatetears,herwordsofhopeandpeace,hergentlefacebendingdownasfromapurerregionnearerHeaven,overmyundisciplinedheart,andsofteningitspain.

           Letmegoon.

           Iwastogoabroad.Thatseemedtohavebeendeterminedamongusfromthefirst.Thegroundnowcoveringallthatcouldperishofmydepartedwife,IwaitedonlyforwhatMr.Micawbercalledthe‘finalpulverizationofHeep’;andforthedepartureoftheemigrants.

           AttherequestofTraddles,mostaffectionateanddevotedoffriendsinmytrouble,wereturnedtoCanterbury:Imeanmyaunt,Agnes,andI.WeproceededbyappointmentstraighttoMr.Micawber’shouse;where,andatMr.Wickfield’s,myfriendhadbeenlabouringeversinceourexplosivemeeting.WhenpoorMrs.Micawbersawmecomein,inmyblackclothes,shewassensiblyaffected.TherewasagreatdealofgoodinMrs.Micawber’sheart,whichhadnotbeendunnedoutofitinallthosemanyyears.

           ‘Well,Mr.andMrs.Micawber,’wasmyaunt’sfirstsalutationafterwewereseated.

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