Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Long Journey

           Peggottytome,whenwehadallthreewalkedalittlewhileinsilence,‘ofwhatweoughtanddoen’toughttodo.Butweseeourcoursenow.’

           IhappenedtoglanceatHam,thenlookingouttoseauponthedistantlight,andafrightfulthoughtcameintomymind—notthathisfacewasangry,foritwasnot;IrecallnothingbutanexpressionofsterndeterminationinitthatifeverheencounteredSteerforth,hewouldkillhim.

           ‘Mydootyhere,sir,’saidMr.Peggotty,‘isdone.I’magoingtoseekmy——’hestopped,andwentoninafirmervoice:‘I’magoingtoseekher.That’smydootyevermore.’

           HeshookhisheadwhenIaskedhimwherehewouldseekher,andinquiredifIweregoingtoLondontomorrow?ItoldhimIhadnotgonetoday,fearingtolosethechanceofbeingofanyservicetohim;butthatIwasreadytogowhenhewould.

           ‘I’llgoalongwithyou,sir,’herejoined,‘ifyou’reagreeable,tomorrow.’

           Wewalkedagain,forawhile,insilence.

           ‘Ham,‘hepresentlyresumed,‘he’llholdtohispresentwork,andgoandlivealongwithmysister.Theoldboatyonder——’

           ‘Willyoudeserttheoldboat,Mr.Peggotty?’Igentlyinterposed.

           ‘Mystation,Mas’rDavy,’hereturned,‘ain’ttherenolonger;andifeveraboatfoundered,sincetherewasdarknessonthefaceofthedeep,thatone’sgonedown.

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