Дэвид Копперфильд

Some Old Scenes, and Some New People

           Itwon’tdotobelikelongNedBeadwood,whentheytookhimtochurch“tomarryhimtosomebody”,ashesays,andleftthebridebehind.Ha!ha!ha!Awickedrascal,Ned,butdroll!Now,IknowI’mgoingtobreakyourhearts,butIamforcedtoleaveyou.Youmustcallupallyourfortitude,andtrytobearit.Good-bye,Mr.Copperfield!Takecareofyourself,jockeyofNorfolk!HowIhavebeenrattlingon!It’sallthefaultofyoutwowretches.Iforgiveyou!“Bobswore!”astheEnglishmansaidfor“Goodnight”,whenhefirstlearntFrench,andthoughtitsolikeEnglish.“Bobswore,”myducks!’

           Withthebagslungoverherarm,andrattlingasshewaddledaway,shewaddledtothedoor,whereshestoppedtoinquireifsheshouldleaveusalockofherhair.‘Ain’tIvolatile?’sheadded,asacommentaryonthisoffer,and,withherfingeronhernose,departed.

           Steerforthlaughedtothatdegree,thatitwasimpossibleformetohelplaughingtoo;thoughIamnotsureIshouldhavedoneso,butforthisinducement.Whenwehadhadourlaughquiteout,whichwasaftersometime,hetoldmethatMissMowcherhadquiteanextensiveconnexion,andmadeherselfusefultoavarietyofpeopleinavarietyofways.Somepeopletrifledwithherasamereoddity,hesaid;butshewasasshrewdlyandsharplyobservantasanyoneheknew,andaslong-headedasshewasshort-armed.

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