Дэвид Копперфильд

Martha

           Mydearniece,’herepeatedsteadily.‘Furshe’smoredeartomenow,Martha,thanshewasdearafore.’

           Sheputherhandsbeforeherface;butotherwiseremainedquiet.

           ‘Ihaveheerdhertell,’saidMr.Peggotty,‘asyouwasearlyleftfatherlessandmotherless,withnofriendfurtotake,inaroughseafaring-way,theirplace.Maybeyoucanguessthatifyou’dhadsuchafriend,you’dhavegotintoawayofbeingfondofhimincourseoftime,andthatmyniecewaskienderdaughter-liketome.’

           Asshewassilentlytrembling,heputhershawlcarefullyabouther,takingitupfromthegroundforthatpurpose.

           ‘Whereby,’saidhe,‘Iknow,bothasshewouldgotothewureld’sfurdestendwithme,ifshecouldonceseemeagain;andthatshewouldflytothewureld’sfurdestendtokeepoffseeingme.Forthoughsheain’tnocalltodoubtmylove,anddoen’tanddoen’t,’herepeated,withaquietassuranceofthetruthofwhathesaid,‘there’sshamestepsin,andkeepsbetwixtus.’

           Iread,ineverywordofhisplainimpressivewayofdeliveringhimself,newevidenceofhishavingthoughtofthisonetopic,ineveryfeatureitpresented.

           ‘Accordingtoourreckoning,’heproceeded,‘Mas’rDavy’shere,andmine,sheislike,oneday,tomakeherownpoorsolitarycoursetoLondon.WebelieveMas’rDavy,me,andallofusthatyouareasinnocentofeverythingthathasbefellher,astheunbornchild.

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