Дэвид Копперфильд

Some Old Scenes, and Some New People

           Oh,Iamverymiserabletonight,aunt!Oh,IamnotasgoodagirlasIoughttobe.Iamnot,Iknow!’

           Peggottyhadhastenedtothechairbeforethefire.Em’ly,withherarmsaroundherneck,kneeledbyher,lookingupmostearnestlyintoherface.

           ‘Oh,pray,aunt,trytohelpme!Ham,dear,trytohelpme!Mr.David,forthesakeofoldtimes,do,please,trytohelpme!IwanttobeabettergirlthanIam.IwanttofeelahundredtimesmorethankfulthanIdo.Iwanttofeelmore,whatablessedthingitistobethewifeofagoodman,andtoleadapeacefullife.Ohme,ohme!Ohmyheart,myheart!’

           Shedroppedherfaceonmyoldnurse’sbreast,and,ceasingthissupplication,whichinitsagonyandgriefwashalfawoman’s,halfachild’s,asallhermannerwas(being,inthat,morenatural,andbettersuitedtoherbeauty,asIthought,thananyothermannercouldhavebeen),weptsilently,whilemyoldnursehushedherlikeaninfant.

           Shegotcalmerbydegrees,andthenwesoothedher;nowtalkingencouragingly,andnowjestingalittlewithher,untilshebegantoraiseherheadandspeaktous.Sowegoton,untilshewasabletosmile,andthentolaugh,andthentositup,halfashamed;whilePeggottyrecalledherstrayringlets,driedhereyes,andmadeherneatagain,lestheruncleshouldwonder,whenshegothome,whyhisdarlinghadbeencrying.

           Isawherdo,thatnight,whatIhadneverseenherdobefore

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