Дэвид Копперфильд

Agnes

           ButIwouldnotcancelit,ifitwereinmypower.’

           Icouldreadilybelievethat,lookingatthefacebesidehim.

           ‘Ishouldcancelwithit,’hepursued,‘suchpatienceanddevotion,suchfidelity,suchachild’slove,asImustnotforget,no!eventoforgetmyself.’

           ‘Iunderstandyou,sir,’Isoftlysaid.‘IholditIhavealwayshelditinveneration.’

           ‘Butnooneknows,notevenyou,’hereturned,‘howmuchshehasdone,howmuchshehasundergone,howhardshehasstriven.DearAgnes!’

           Shehadputherhandentreatinglyonhisarm,tostophim;andwasvery,verypale.

           ‘Well,well!’hesaidwithasigh,dismissing,asIthensaw,sometrialshehadborne,orwasyettobear,inconnexionwithwhatmyaunthadtoldme.‘Well!Ihavenevertoldyou,Trotwood,ofhermother.Hasanyone?’

           ‘Never,sir.’

           ‘It’snotmuchthoughitwasmuchtosuffer.Shemarriedmeinoppositiontoherfather’swish,andherenouncedher.Sheprayedhimtoforgiveher,beforemyAgnescameintothisworld.Hewasaveryhardman,andhermotherhadlongbeendead.Herepulsedher.Hebrokeherheart.’

           Agnesleaneduponhisshoulder,andstoleherarmabouthisneck.

           ‘Shehadanaffectionateandgentleheart,’hesaid;‘anditwasbroken.Iknewitstendernatureverywell.Noonecould,ifIdidnot.Shelovedmedearly,butwasneverhappy.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 1360 из 1418