Дэвид Копперфильд

Good and Bad Angels

           ’

           Stilllookingatme,AgnesshookherheadwhileIwasspeaking,withafaintsmileatmywarmth:andthenreplied:

           ‘Yourememberourlastconversationaboutpapa?Itwasnotlongafterthat—notmorethantwoorthreedays—whenhegavemethefirstintimationofwhatItellyou.Itwassadtoseehimstrugglingbetweenhisdesiretorepresentittomeasamatterofchoiceonhispart,andhisinabilitytoconcealthatitwasforceduponhim.Ifeltverysorry.’

           ‘Forceduponhim,Agnes!Whoforcesituponhim?’

           ‘Uriah,’shereplied,afteramoment’shesitation,‘hasmadehimselfindispensabletopapa.Heissubtleandwatchful.Hehasmasteredpapa’sweaknesses,fosteredthem,andtakenadvantageofthem,until—tosayallthatImeaninaword,Trotwood,—untilpapaisafraidofhim.’

           Therewasmorethatshemighthavesaid;morethatsheknew,orthatshesuspected;Iclearlysaw.Icouldnotgiveherpainbyaskingwhatitwas,forIknewthatshewithhelditfromme,tospareherfather.Ithadlongbeengoingontothis,Iwassensible:yes,Icouldnotbutfeel,ontheleastreflection,thatithadbeengoingontothisforalongtime.Iremainedsilent.

           ‘Hisascendancyoverpapa,’saidAgnes,‘isverygreat.Heprofesseshumilityandgratitude—withtruth,perhaps:Ihopeso-buthispositionisreallyoneofpower,andIfearhemakesaharduseofhispower.

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