Дэвид Копперфильд

I Visit Steerforth at His Home, Again

           Ithought,morethanonce,thatitwaswellnoseriouscauseofdivisionhadevercomebetweenthem;ortwosuchnaturesIoughtrathertoexpressit,twosuchshadesofthesamenaturemighthavebeenhardertoreconcilethanthetwoextremestoppositesincreation.Theideadidnotoriginateinmyowndiscernment,Iamboundtoconfess,butinaspeechofRosaDartle’s.

           Shesaidatdinner:

           ‘Oh,butdotellme,though,somebody,becauseIhavebeenthinkingaboutitallday,andIwanttoknow.’

           ‘Youwanttoknowwhat,Rosa?’returnedMrs.Steerforth.‘Pray,pray,Rosa,donotbemysterious.’

           ‘Mysterious!’shecried.‘Oh!really?Doyouconsidermeso?’

           ‘DoIconstantlyentreatyou,’saidMrs.Steerforth,‘tospeakplainly,inyourownnaturalmanner?’

           ‘Oh!thenthisisnotmynaturalmanner?’sherejoined.‘Nowyoumustreallybearwithme,becauseIaskforinformation.Weneverknowourselves.’

           ‘Ithasbecomeasecondnature,’saidMrs.Steerforth,withoutanydispleasure;‘butIremember,andsomustyou,Ithink,whenyourmannerwasdifferent,Rosa;whenitwasnotsoguarded,andwasmoretrustful.’

           ‘Iamsureyouareright,’shereturned;‘andsoitisthatbadhabitsgrowuponone!Really?Lessguardedandmoretrustful?HowcanI,imperceptibly,havechanged,Iwonder!Well,that’sveryodd!Imuststudytoregainmyformerself.

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