Дэвид Копперфильд

I Make Another Beginning

           

           ShetoldmethateverythingwouldbearrangedformebyMr.Wickfield,andthatIshouldwantfornothing,andgavemethekindestwordsandthebestadvice.

           ‘Trot,’saidmyauntinconclusion,‘beacredittoyourself,tome,andMr.Dick,andHeavenbewithyou!’

           Iwasgreatlyovercome,andcouldonlythankher,againandagain,andsendmylovetoMr.Dick.

           ‘Never,’saidmyaunt,‘bemeaninanything;neverbefalse;neverbecruel.Avoidthosethreevices,Trot,andIcanalwaysbehopefulofyou.’

           Ipromised,aswellasIcould,thatIwouldnotabuseherkindnessorforgetheradmonition.

           ‘Thepony’satthedoor,’saidmyaunt,‘andIamoff!Stayhere.’Withthesewordssheembracedmehastily,andwentoutoftheroom,shuttingthedoorafterher.AtfirstIwasstartledbysoabruptadeparture,andalmostfearedIhaddispleasedher;butwhenIlookedintothestreet,andsawhowdejectedlyshegotintothechaise,anddroveawaywithoutlookingup,Iunderstoodherbetteranddidnotdoherthatinjustice.

           Byfiveo’clock,whichwasMr.Wickfield’sdinner-hour,Ihadmusteredupmyspiritsagain,andwasreadyformyknifeandfork.Theclothwasonlylaidforustwo;butAgneswaswaitinginthedrawing-roombeforedinner,wentdownwithherfather,andsatoppositetohimattable.Idoubtedwhetherhecouldhavedinedwithouther.

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