Дэвид Копперфильд

Some Old Scenes, and Some New People

           ‘TwoorthreeyearolderthanEm’ly,butwasattheschoolwithher.’

           ‘Ineverheardhername,’saidI.‘Ididn’tmeantointerruptyou.’

           ‘Forthemattero’that,Mas’rDavy,’repliedHam,‘all’stolda’mostinthemwords,“Em’ly,Em’ly,forChrist’ssake,haveawoman’shearttowardsme.Iwasoncelikeyou!”ShewantedtospeaktoEm’ly.Em’lycouldn’tspeaktohertheer,forherlovingunclewascomehome,andhewouldn’tno,Mas’rDavy,’saidHam,withgreatearnestness,‘hecouldn’t,kind-natur’d,tender-heartedasheis,seethemtwotogether,sidebyside,forallthetreasuresthat’swreckedinthesea.’

           Ifelthowtruethiswas.Iknewit,ontheinstant,quiteaswellasHam.

           ‘SoEm’lywritesinpencilonabitofpaper,’hepursued,‘andgivesittoherouto’windertobringhere.“Showthat,”shesays,“tomyaunt,Mrs.Barkis,andshe’llsetyoudownbyherfire,fortheloveofme,tilluncleisgoneout,andIcancome.”ByandbyshetellsmewhatItellyou,Mas’rDavy,andasksmetobringher.WhatcanIdo?Shedoen’toughttoknowanysuch,butIcan’tdenyher,whenthetearsisonherface.’

           Heputhishandintothebreastofhisshaggyjacket,andtookoutwithgreatcareaprettylittlepurse.

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