Дэвид Копперфильд

Some Old Scenes, and Some New People

           

           ‘AndifIcoulddenyherwhenthetearswasonherface,Mas’rDavy,’saidHam,tenderlyadjustingitontheroughpalmofhishand,‘howcouldIdenyherwhenshegivemethistocarryforher-knowingwhatshebroughtitfor?Suchatoyasitis!’saidHam,thoughtfullylookingonit.‘Withsuchalittlemoneyinit,Em’lymydear.’

           Ishookhimwarmlybythehandwhenhehadputitawayagainforthatwasmoresatisfactorytomethansayinganythingandwewalkedupanddown,foraminuteortwo,insilence.Thedooropenedthen,andPeggottyappeared,beckoningtoHamtocomein.Iwouldhavekeptaway,butshecameafterme,entreatingmetocomeintoo.Eventhen,Iwouldhaveavoidedtheroomwheretheyallwere,butforitsbeingtheneat-tiledkitchenIhavementionedmorethanonce.Thedooropeningimmediatelyintoit,IfoundmyselfamongthembeforeIconsideredwhitherIwasgoing.

           ThegirlthesameIhadseenuponthesandswasnearthefire.Shewassittingontheground,withherheadandonearmlyingonachair.Ifancied,fromthedispositionofherfigure,thatEm’lyhadbutnewlyrisenfromthechair,andthattheforlornheadmightperhapshavebeenlyingonherlap.Isawbutlittleofthegirl’sface,overwhichherhairfelllooseandscattered,asifshehadbeendisorderingitwithherownhands;butIsawthatshewasyoung,andofafaircomplexion.Peggottyhadbeencrying.SohadlittleEm’ly.

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