Дэвид Копперфильд

A Greater Loss

           

           ‘Ham!Poorgoodfellow!ForHeaven’ssake,tellmewhat’sthematter!’

           ‘Mylove,Mas’rDavytheprideandhopeofmyartherthatI’dhavediedfor,andwoulddiefornowshe’sgone!’

           ‘Gone!’

           ‘Em’ly’srunaway!Oh,Mas’rDavy,thinkHOWshe’srunaway,whenIpraymygoodandgraciousGodtokillher(herthatissodearaboveallthings)soonerthanlethercometoruinanddisgrace!’

           Thefaceheturneduptothetroubledsky,thequiveringofhisclaspedhands,theagonyofhisfigure,remainassociatedwiththelonelywaste,inmyremembrance,tothishour.Itisalwaysnightthere,andheistheonlyobjectinthescene.

           ‘You’reascholar,’hesaid,hurriedly,‘andknowwhat’srightandbest.WhatamItosay,indoors?HowamIevertobreakittohim,Mas’rDavy?’

           Isawthedoormove,andinstinctivelytriedtoholdthelatchontheoutside,togainamoment’stime.Itwastoolate.Mr.Peggottythrustforthhisface;andnevercouldIforgetthechangethatcameuponitwhenhesawus,ifIweretolivefivehundredyears.

           Irememberagreatwailandcry,andthewomenhangingabouthim,andweallstandingintheroom;Iwithapaperinmyhand,whichHamhadgivenme;Mr.Peggotty,withhisvesttornopen,hishairwild,hisfaceandlipsquitewhite,andbloodtricklingdownhisbosom(ithadsprungfromhismouth,Ithink),lookingfixedlyatme.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 726 из 1418