Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Disgrace

           Ineverknewmymotherafterwardstogiveanopiniononanymatter,withoutfirstappealingtoMissMurdstone,orwithouthavingfirstascertainedbysomesuremeans,whatMissMurdstone’sopinionwas;andIneversawMissMurdstone,whenoutoftemper(shewasinfirmthatway),moveherhandtowardsherbagasifsheweregoingtotakeoutthekeysandoffertoresignthemtomymother,withoutseeingthatmymotherwasinaterriblefright.

           ThegloomytaintthatwasintheMurdstoneblood,darkenedtheMurdstonereligion,whichwasaustereandwrathful.Ihavethought,since,thatitsassumingthatcharacterwasanecessaryconsequenceofMr.Murdstone’sfirmness,whichwouldn’tallowhimtoletanybodyofffromtheutmostweightoftheseverestpenaltieshecouldfindanyexcusefor.Bethisasitmay,Iwellrememberthetremendousvisageswithwhichweusedtogotochurch,andthechangedairoftheplace.Again,thedreadedSundaycomesround,andIfileintotheoldpewfirst,likeaguardedcaptivebroughttoacondemnedservice.Again,MissMurdstone,inablackvelvetgown,thatlooksasifithadbeenmadeoutofapall,followscloseuponme;thenmymother;thenherhusband.ThereisnoPeggottynow,asintheoldtime.Again,IlistentoMissMurdstonemumblingtheresponses,andemphasizingallthedreadwordswithacruelrelish.Again,Iseeherdarkeyesrollroundthechurchwhenshesays‘miserablesinners’,asifshewerecallingallthecongregationnames.

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