Дэвид Копперфильд

Tempest

           Ihadnotsatfiveminutesbythecoffee-roomfire,whenthewaiter,comingtostirit,asanexcusefortalking,toldmethattwocolliershadgonedown,withallhands,afewmilesaway;andthatsomeothershipshadbeenseenlabouringhardintheRoads,andtrying,ingreatdistress,tokeepoffshore.Mercyonthem,andonallpoorsailors,saidhe,ifwehadanothernightlikethelast!

           Iwasverymuchdepressedinspirits;verysolitary;andfeltanuneasinessinHam’snotbeingthere,disproportionatetotheoccasion.Iwasseriouslyaffected,withoutknowinghowmuch,bylateevents;andmylongexposuretothefiercewindhadconfusedme.Therewasthatjumbleinmythoughtsandrecollections,thatIhadlostthecleararrangementoftimeanddistance.Thus,ifIhadgoneoutintothetown,Ishouldnothavebeensurprised,Ithink,toencountersomeonewhoIknewmustbetheninLondon.Sotospeak,therewasintheserespectsacuriousinattentioninmymind.Yetitwasbusy,too,withalltheremembrancestheplacenaturallyawakened;andtheywereparticularlydistinctandvivid.

           Inthisstate,thewaiter’sdismalintelligenceabouttheshipsimmediatelyconnecteditself,withoutanyeffortofmyvolition,withmyuneasinessaboutHam.IwaspersuadedthatIhadanapprehensionofhisreturningfromLowestoftbysea,andbeinglost.

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