Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Longer Journey

           Likewisethefirewasaforehereyes,andtheroaringsinherears;andtheerwasnotoday,noryesterday,noryettomorrow;buteverythinginherlifeaseverhadbeen,orasevercouldbe,andeverythingasneverhadbeen,andasnevercouldbe,wasacrowdingonherallatonce,andnothingclearnorwelcome,andyetshesangandlaughedaboutit!Howlongthislasted,Idoen’tknow;butthentheercomeasleep;andinthatsleep,frombeingamanytimesstrongerthanherownself,shefellintotheweaknessofthelittlestchild.’

           Herehestopped,asifforrelieffromtheterrorsofhisowndescription.Afterbeingsilentforafewmoments,hepursuedhisstory.

           ‘Itwasapleasantarternoonwhensheawoke;andsoquiet,thattherewarn’tasoundbuttheripplingofthatblueseawithoutatide,upontheshore.Itwasherbelief,atfirst,thatshewasathomeuponaSundaymorning;butthevineleavesassheseeatthewinder,andthehillsbeyond,warn’thome,andcontradictedofher.Then,comeinherfriendtowatchalongsideofherbed;andthensheknow’dastheoldboatwarn’troundthatnextpintinthebaynomore,butwasfuroff;andknow’dwhereshewas,andwhy;andbrokeouta-cryingonthatgoodyoungwoman’sbosom,wheerIhopeherbabyisa-lyingnow,a-cheeringofherwithitsprettyeyes!’

           HecouldnotspeakofthisgoodfriendofEmily’swithoutaflowoftears.Itwasinvaintotry.

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