Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Longer Journey

           I’ma’mostgladonit,thoughtheywassopoor!Whattheydone,islaidupwheerneithermothorrustdothcorrupt,andwheerthievesdonotbreakthroughnorsteal.Mas’rDavy,it’lloutlastallthetreasureinthewureld.

           ‘Em’lygottoFrance,andtookservicetowaitontravellingladiesatainnintheport.Theer,theercome,oneday,thatsnake.Lethimnevercomenighme.Idoen’tknowwhathurtImightdohim!Soonassheseehim,withouthimseeingher,allherfearandwildnessreturneduponher,andshefledaforetheverybreathhedraw’d.ShecometoEngland,andwassetashoreatDover.

           ‘Idoen’tknow,”saidMr.Peggotty,‘forsure,whenher‘artbeguntofailher;butallthewaytoEnglandshehadthowttocometoherdearhome.SoonasshegottoEnglandsheturnedherfacetow’rdsit.But,fearofnotbeingforgiv,fearofbeingpintedat,fearofsomeofusbeingdeadalongofher,fearofmanythings,turnedherfromit,kienderbyforce,upontheroad:“Uncle,uncle,”shesaystome,“thefearofnotbeingworthytodowhatmytornandbleedingbreastsolongedtodo,wasthemostfright’ningfearofall!Iturnedback,whenmy‘artwasfullofprayersthatImightcrawltotheolddoor-step,inthenight,kissit,laymywickedfaceuponit,andtheerbefounddeadinthemorning.”

           ‘Shecome,’saidMr.Peggotty,droppinghisvoicetoanawe-strickenwhisper,‘toLondon.

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