Дэвид Копперфильд

Wickfield and Heep

           WhatneedhaveItosaymore!’

           ‘Youhaven’tneedtosaysomuch,norhalfsomuch,noranythingatall,’observedUriah,halfdefiant,andhalffawning.‘Youwouldn’thavetookitupso,ifithadn’tbeenforthewine.You’llthinkbetterofittomorrow,sir.IfIhavesaidtoomuch,ormorethanImeant,whatofit?Ihaven’tstoodbyit!’

           Thedooropened,andAgnes,glidingin,withoutavestigeofcolourinherface,putherarmroundhisneck,andsteadilysaid,‘Papa,youarenotwell.Comewithme!’

           Helaidhisheaduponhershoulder,asifhewereoppressedwithheavyshame,andwentoutwithher.Hereyesmetmineforbutaninstant,yetIsawhowmuchsheknewofwhathadpassed.

           ‘Ididn’texpecthe’dcutupsorough,MasterCopperfield,’saidUriah.‘Butit’snothing.I’llbefriendswithhimtomorrow.It’sforhisgood.I’mumblyanxiousforhisgood.’

           Igavehimnoanswer,andwentupstairsintothequietroomwhereAgneshadsooftensatbesidemeatmybooks.Nobodycamenearmeuntillateatnight.Itookupabook,andtriedtoread.Iheardtheclocksstriketwelve,andwasstillreading,withoutknowingwhatIread,whenAgnestouchedme.

           ‘Youwillbegoingearlyinthemorning,Trotwood!Letussaygood-bye,now!’

           Shehadbeenweeping,butherfacethenwassocalmandbeautiful!

           ‘Heavenblessyou!’shesaid,givingmeherhand.

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