Дэвид Копперфильд

Blissful

           Hewas,atfirst,somewhatdisconcertedtomeetustwotogether;butquicklydecidedwhattodo,andcameuptome.

           ‘Ihope,’hesaid,‘thatyouaredoingwell?’

           ‘Itcanhardlybeinterestingtoyou,’saidI.‘Yes,ifyouwishtoknow.’

           Welookedateachother,andheaddressedhimselftoPeggotty.

           ‘Andyou,’saidhe.‘Iamsorrytoobservethatyouhavelostyourhusband.’

           ‘It’snotthefirstlossIhavehadinmylife,Mr.Murdstone,’repliedPeggotty,tremblingfromheadtofoot.‘Iamgladtohopethatthereisnobodytoblameforthisone,nobodytoanswerforit.’

           ‘Ha!’saidhe;‘that’sacomfortablereflection.Youhavedoneyourduty?’

           ‘Ihavenotwornanybody’slifeaway,’saidPeggotty,‘Iamthankfultothink!No,Mr.Murdstone,Ihavenotworritedandfrightenedanysweetcreeturtoanearlygrave!’

           HeeyedhergloomilyremorsefullyIthoughtforaninstant;andsaid,turninghisheadtowardsme,butlookingatmyfeetinsteadofmyface:

           ‘Wearenotlikelytoencountersoonagain;asourceofsatisfactiontousboth,nodoubt,forsuchmeetingsasthiscanneverbeagreeable.Idonotexpectthatyou,whoalwaysrebelledagainstmyjustauthority,exertedforyourbenefitandreformation,shouldowemeanygood-willnow.

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