Дэвид Копперфильд

I Become Neglected, and Am Provided for

           WildandfullofchildishwhimsasEm’lywas,shewasmoreofalittlewomanthanIhadsupposed.Sheseemedtohavegotagreatdistanceawayfromme,inlittlemorethanayear.Shelikedme,butshelaughedatme,andtormentedme;andwhenIwenttomeether,stolehomeanotherway,andwaslaughingatthedoorwhenIcameback,disappointed.Thebesttimeswerewhenshesatquietlyatworkinthedoorway,andIsatonthewoodenstepatherfeet,readingtoher.Itseemstome,atthishour,thatIhaveneverseensuchsunlightasonthosebrightAprilafternoons;thatIhaveneverseensuchasunnylittlefigureasIusedtosee,sittinginthedoorwayoftheoldboat;thatIhaveneverbeheldsuchsky,suchwater,suchglorifiedshipssailingawayintogoldenair.

           Ontheveryfirsteveningafterourarrival,Mr.Barkisappearedinanexceedinglyvacantandawkwardcondition,andwithabundleoforangestiedupinahandkerchief.Ashemadenoallusionofanykindtothisproperty,hewassupposedtohaveleftitbehindhimbyaccidentwhenhewentaway;untilHam,runningafterhimtorestoreit,camebackwiththeinformationthatitwasintendedforPeggotty.Afterthatoccasionheappearedeveryeveningatexactlythesamehour,andalwayswithalittlebundle,towhichheneveralluded,andwhichheregularlyputbehindthedoorandleftthere.Theseofferingsofaffectionwereofamostvariousandeccentricdescription.

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