Дэвид Копперфильд

Little Em’ly

           Peggottydealthiminhisunboundedjoy,asamarkofconfidenceandfriendship;butfeelingcalledupontosaysomethingtous,hesaid,withmuchfalteringandgreatdifficulty:

           ‘Shewarn’tnohigherthanyouwas,Mas’rDavywhenyoufirstcomewhenIthoughtwhatshe’dgrowuptobe.Iseehergrownup-gent’lmenlikeaflower.I’dlaydownmylifeforherMas’rDavyOh!mostcontentandcheerful!She’smoretomegent’lmen-thanshe’salltomethateverIcanwant,andmorethaneverIthaneverIcouldsay.IIlovehertrue.Thereain’tagent’lmaninallthelandnoryetsailinguponalltheseathatcanlovehisladymorethanIloveher,thoughthere’smanyacommonmanwouldsaybetterwhathemeant.’

           IthoughtitaffectingtoseesuchasturdyfellowasHamwasnow,tremblinginthestrengthofwhathefeltfortheprettylittlecreaturewhohadwonhisheart.IthoughtthesimpleconfidencereposedinusbyMr.Peggottyandbyhimself,was,initself,affecting.Iwasaffectedbythestoryaltogether.Howfarmyemotionswereinfluencedbytherecollectionsofmychildhood,Idon’tknow.WhetherIhadcometherewithanylingeringfancythatIwasstilltolovelittleEm’ly,Idon’tknow.IknowthatIwasfilledwithpleasurebyallthis;but,atfirst,withanindescribablysensitivepleasure,thataverylittlewouldhavechangedtopain.

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