Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Longer Journey

           

           ‘Theer’sonethingfurder,Mas’rDavy,’saidhe,puttinghishandinhisbreast-pocket,andgravelytakingoutthelittlepaperbundleIhadseenbefore,whichheunrolledonthetable.‘Theer’stheseherebanknotesfiftypound,andten.TothemIwishtoaddthemoneyasshecomeawaywith.I’veaskedheraboutthat(butnotsayingwhy),andhaveaddedofitup.Ian’tascholar.Wouldyoubesokindasseehow’tis?’

           Hehandedme,apologeticallyforhisscholarship,apieceofpaper,andobservedmewhileIlookeditover.Itwasquiteright.

           ‘Thankee,sir,’hesaid,takingitback.‘Thismoney,ifyoudoen’tseeobjections,Mas’rDavy,IshallputupjestaforeIgo,inacoverdirectedtohim;andputthatupinanother,directedtohismother.Ishalltellher,innomorewuredsthanIspeaktoyou,whatit’sthepriceon;andthatI’mgone,andpastreceivingofitback.’

           ItoldhimthatIthoughtitwouldberighttodosothatIwasthoroughlyconvinceditwouldbe,sincehefeltittoberight.

           ‘Isaidthattheerwason’yonethingfurder,’heproceededwithagravesmile,whenhehadmadeuphislittlebundleagain,andputitinhispocket;‘buttheerwastwo.Iwarn’tsureinmymind,wenIcomeoutthismorning,asIcouldgoandbreaktoHam,ofmyownself,whathadsothankfullyhappened.

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