Дэвид Копперфильд

I Visit Steerforth at His Home, Again

           Youarealwaysequallyloved,andcherishedinmyheart.’

           Somuchcompunctionforhavingeverwrongedhim,evenbyashapelessthought,didIfeelwithinme,thattheconfessionofhavingdonesowasrisingtomylips.ButforthereluctanceIhadtobetraytheconfidenceofAgnes,butformyuncertaintyhowtoapproachthesubjectwithnoriskofdoingso,itwouldhavereachedthembeforehesaid,‘Godblessyou,Daisy,andgoodnight!’Inmydoubt,itdidNOTreachthem;andweshookhands,andweparted.

           Iwasupwiththedulldawn,and,havingdressedasquietlyasIcould,lookedintohisroom.Hewasfastasleep;lying,easily,withhisheaduponhisarm,asIhadoftenseenhimlieatschool.

           Thetimecameinitsseason,andthatwasverysoon,whenIalmostwonderedthatnothingtroubledhisrepose,asIlookedathim.ButhesleptletmethinkofhimsoagainasIhadoftenseenhimsleepatschool;andthus,inthissilenthour,Ilefthim.

           -Nevermore,ohGodforgiveyou,Steerforth!totouchthatpassivehandinloveandfriendship.Never,nevermore!

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