Дэвид Копперфильд

Good and Bad Angels

           Isatlookingatherasshecasthereyesdownonherwork;Isatseemingstilltolistentoher;andSteerforth,inspiteofallmyattachmenttohim,darkenedinthattone.

           ‘Itisveryboldinme,’saidAgnes,lookingupagain,‘whohavelivedinsuchseclusion,andcanknowsolittleoftheworld,togiveyoumyadvicesoconfidently,oreventohavethisstrongopinion.ButIknowinwhatitisengendered,Trotwood,inhowtruearemembranceofourhavinggrownuptogether,andinhowtrueaninterestinallrelatingtoyou.Itisthatwhichmakesmebold.IamcertainthatwhatIsayisright.Iamquitesureitis.Ifeelasifitweresomeoneelsespeakingtoyou,andnotI,whenIcautionyouthatyouhavemadeadangerousfriend.’

           AgainIlookedather,againIlistenedtoheraftershewassilent,andagainhisimage,thoughitwasstillfixedinmyheart,darkened.

           ‘Iamnotsounreasonableastoexpect,’saidAgnes,resumingherusualtone,afteralittlewhile,‘thatyouwill,orthatyoucan,atonce,changeanysentimentthathasbecomeaconvictiontoyou;leastofallasentimentthatisrootedinyourtrustingdisposition.Yououghtnothastilytodothat.Ionlyaskyou,Trotwood,ifyoueverthinkofmeImean,’withaquietsmile,forIwasgoingtointerrupther,andsheknewwhy,‘asoftenasyouthinkofmetothinkofwhatIhavesaid.

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