Дэвид Копперфильд

I Enlarge My Circle of Acquaintance

           

           HowwellIrecollectoursittingthere,talkinginwhispers;ortheirtalking,andmyrespectfullylistening,Ioughtrathertosay;themoonlightfallingalittlewayintotheroom,throughthewindow,paintingapalewindowonthefloor,andthegreaterpartofusinshadow,exceptwhenSteerforthdippedamatchintoaphosphorus-box,whenhewantedtolookforanythingontheboard,andshedablueglareoverusthatwasgonedirectly!Acertainmysteriousfeeling,consequentonthedarkness,thesecrecyoftherevel,andthewhisperinwhicheverythingwassaid,stealsovermeagain,andIlistentoalltheytellmewithavaguefeelingofsolemnityandawe,whichmakesmegladthattheyareallsonear,andfrightensme(thoughIfeigntolaugh)whenTraddlespretendstoseeaghostinthecorner.

           Iheardallkindsofthingsabouttheschoolandallbelongingtoit.IheardthatMr.CreaklehadnotpreferredhisclaimtobeingaTartarwithoutreason;thathewasthesternestandmostsevereofmasters;thathelaidabouthim,rightandleft,everydayofhislife,charginginamongtheboyslikeatrooper,andslashingaway,unmercifully.Thatheknewnothinghimself,buttheartofslashing,beingmoreignorant(J.Steerforthsaid)thanthelowestboyintheschool;thathehadbeen,agoodmanyyearsago,asmallhop-dealerintheBorough,andhadtakentotheschoolingbusinessafterbeingbankruptinhops,andmakingawaywithMrs.Creakle’smoney.Withagooddealmoreofthatsort,whichIwonderedhowtheyknew.

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