Дэвид Копперфильд

Depression

           

           Heappearedtobeonlytooconsciousofithimself.Whenhecamein,hestoodstill;andwithhisheadbowed,asifhefeltit.Thiswasonlyforamoment;forAgnessoftlysaidtohim,‘Papa!HereisMissTrotwoodandTrotwood,whomyouhavenotseenforalongwhile!’andthenheapproached,andconstrainedlygavemyaunthishand,andshookhandsmorecordiallywithme.Inthemoment’spauseIspeakof,IsawUriah’scountenanceformitselfintoamostill-favouredsmile.Agnessawittoo,Ithink,forsheshrankfromhim.

           Whatmyauntsaw,ordidnotsee,Idefythescienceofphysiognomytohavemadeout,withoutherownconsent.Ibelievethereneverwasanybodywithsuchanimperturbablecountenancewhenshechose.Herfacemighthavebeenadead-wallontheoccasioninquestion,foranylightitthrewuponherthoughts;untilshebrokesilencewithherusualabruptness.

           ‘Well,Wickfield!’saidmyaunt;andhelookedupatherforthefirsttime.‘IhavebeentellingyourdaughterhowwellIhavebeendisposingofmymoneyformyself,becauseIcouldn’ttrustittoyou,asyouweregrowingrustyinbusinessmatters.Wehavebeentakingcounseltogether,andgettingonverywell,allthingsconsidered.Agnesisworththewholefirm,inmyopinion.’

           ‘IfImayumblymaketheremark,’saidUriahHeep,withawrithe,‘IfullyagreewithMissBetseyTrotwood,andshouldbeonlytooappyifMissAgneswasapartner.

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