Дэвид Копперфильд

The Sequel of My Resolution

           WhenIhadbathed,they(ImeanmyauntandJanet)enrobedmeinashirtandapairoftrousersbelongingtoMr.Dick,andtiedmeupintwoorthreegreatshawls.WhatsortofbundleIlookedlike,Idon’tknow,butIfeltaveryhotone.Feelingalsoveryfaintanddrowsy,Isoonlaydownonthesofaagainandfellasleep.

           Itmighthavebeenadream,originatinginthefancywhichhadoccupiedmymindsolong,butIawokewiththeimpressionthatmyaunthadcomeandbentoverme,andhadputmyhairawayfrommyface,andlaidmyheadmorecomfortably,andhadthenstoodlookingatme.Thewords,‘Prettyfellow,’or‘Poorfellow,’seemedtobeinmyears,too;butcertainlytherewasnothingelse,whenIawoke,toleadmetobelievethattheyhadbeenutteredbymyaunt,whosatinthebow-windowgazingattheseafrombehindthegreenfan,whichwasmountedonakindofswivel,andturnedanyway.

           WedinedsoonafterIawoke,offaroastfowlandapudding;Isittingattable,notunlikeatrussedbirdmyself,andmovingmyarmswithconsiderabledifficulty.Butasmyaunthadswathedmeup,Imadenocomplaintofbeinginconvenienced.AllthistimeIwasdeeplyanxioustoknowwhatshewasgoingtodowithme;butshetookherdinnerinprofoundsilence,exceptwhensheoccasionallyfixedhereyesonmesittingopposite,andsaid,‘Mercyuponus!’whichdidnotbyanymeansrelievemyanxiety.

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