Дэвид Копперфильд

Enthusiasm

           Hewaslikeoneunderthepropitiousinfluenceofacharm,fromthemomentofhisbeingusefullyemployed;andiftherewereahappymanintheworld,thatSaturdaynight,itwasthegratefulcreaturewhothoughtmyauntthemostwonderfulwomaninexistence,andmethemostwonderfulyoungman.

           ‘Nostarvingnow,Trotwood,’saidMr.Dick,shakinghandswithmeinacorner.‘I’llprovideforher,Sir!’andheflourishedhistenfingersintheair,asiftheyweretenbanks.

           Ihardlyknowwhichwasthebetterpleased,TraddlesorI.‘Itreally,’saidTraddles,suddenly,takingaletteroutofhispocket,andgivingittome,‘putMr.Micawberquiteoutofmyhead!’

           Theletter(Mr.Micawbernevermissedanypossibleopportunityofwritingaletter)wasaddressedtome,‘BythekindnessofT.Traddles,Esquire,oftheInnerTemple.’Itranthus:

           ‘MyDEARCOPPERFIELD,

           ‘Youmaypossiblynotbeunpreparedtoreceivetheintimationthatsomethinghasturnedup.ImayhavementionedtoyouonaformeroccasionthatIwasinexpectationofsuchanevent.

           ‘Iamabouttoestablishmyselfinoneoftheprovincialtownsofourfavouredisland(wherethesocietymaybedescribedasahappyadmixtureoftheagriculturalandtheclerical),inimmediateconnexionwithoneofthelearnedprofessions.Mrs.Micawberandouroffspringwillaccompanyme.

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