Дэвид Копперфильд

Little Em’ly

           

           ‘Buttobringyousofar,’Ireturned,‘andtoseparate,seemsbadcompanionship,Steerforth.’

           ‘Why,inthenameofHeaven,wheredoyounaturallybelong?’hesaid.‘Whatis“seems”,comparedtothat?’Itwassettledatonce.

           Hemaintainedallhisdelightfulqualitiestothelast,untilwestartedforth,ateighto’clock,forMr.Peggotty’sboat.Indeed,theyweremoreandmorebrightlyexhibitedasthehourswenton;forIthoughteventhen,andIhavenodoubtnow,thattheconsciousnessofsuccessinhisdeterminationtoplease,inspiredhimwithanewdelicacyofperception,andmadeit,subtleasitwas,moreeasytohim.Ifanyonehadtoldme,then,thatallthiswasabrilliantgame,playedfortheexcitementofthemoment,fortheemploymentofhighspirits,inthethoughtlessloveofsuperiority,inamerewastefulcarelesscourseofwinningwhatwasworthlesstohim,andnextminutethrownawayIsay,ifanyonehadtoldmesuchaliethatnight,Iwonderinwhatmannerofreceivingitmyindignationwouldhavefoundavent!Probablyonlyinanincrease,hadthatbeenpossible,oftheromanticfeelingsoffidelityandfriendshipwithwhichIwalkedbesidehim,overthedarkwintrysandstowardstheoldboat;thewindsighingaroundusevenmoremournfully,thanithadsighedandmoaneduponthenightwhenIfirstdarkenedMr.Peggotty’sdoor.

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