Дэвид Копперфильд

The Sequel of My Resolution

           Butthen,strangetosay,whenIstoodwithmyraggedshoes,andmydusty,sunburnt,half-clothedfigure,intheplacesolongdesired,itseemedtovanishlikeadream,andtoleavemehelplessanddispirited.

           Iinquiredaboutmyauntamongtheboatmenfirst,andreceivedvariousanswers.OnesaidshelivedintheSouthForelandLight,andhadsingedherwhiskersbydoingso;another,thatshewasmadefasttothegreatbuoyoutsidetheharbour,andcouldonlybevisitedathalf-tide;athird,thatshewaslockedupinMaidstonejailforchild-stealing;afourth,thatshewasseentomountabroominthelasthighwind,andmakedirectforCalais.Thefly-drivers,amongwhomIinquirednext,wereequallyjocoseandequallydisrespectful;andtheshopkeepers,notlikingmyappearance,generallyreplied,withouthearingwhatIhadtosay,thattheyhadgotnothingforme.IfeltmoremiserableanddestitutethanIhaddoneatanyperiodofmyrunningaway.Mymoneywasallgone,Ihadnothinglefttodisposeof;Iwashungry,thirsty,andwornout;andseemedasdistantfrommyendasifIhadremainedinLondon.

           Themorninghadwornawayintheseinquiries,andIwassittingonthestepofanemptyshopatastreetcorner,nearthemarket-place,deliberatinguponwanderingtowardsthoseotherplaceswhichhadbeenmentioned,whenafly-driver,comingbywithhiscarriage,droppedahorsecloth.

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