Дэвид Копперфильд

A Greater Loss

           

           ‘Forsometimepast,’Hamfaltered,‘there’sbeenaservantabouthere,atoddtimes.There’sbeenagen’lm’ntoo.Bothof‘embelongedtooneanother.’

           Mr.Peggottystoodfixedasbefore,butnowlookingathim.

           ‘Theservant,’pursuedHam,‘wasseenalongwith—ourpoorgirl—lastnight.He’sbeeninhidingabouthere,thisweekorover.Hewasthoughttohavegone,buthewashiding.Doen’tstay,Mas’rDavy,doen’t!’

           IfeltPeggotty’sarmroundmyneck,butIcouldnothavemovedifthehousehadbeenabouttofalluponme.

           ‘Astrangechayandhosseswasoutsidetown,thismorning,ontheNorwichroad,a’mostaforethedaybroke,’Hamwenton.‘Theservantwenttoit,andcomefromit,andwenttoitagain.Whenhewenttoitagain,Em’lywasnighhim.Thet’otherwasinside.He’stheman.’

           ‘FortheLord’slove,’saidMr.Peggotty,fallingback,andputtingouthishand,asiftokeepoffwhathedreaded.‘Doen’ttellmehisname’sSteerforth!’

           ‘Mas’rDavy,’exclaimedHam,inabrokenvoice,‘itain’tnofaultofyourn—andIamfarfromlayingofittoyoubuthisnameisSteerforth,andhe’sadamnedvillain!’

           Mr.Peggottyutterednocry,andshednotear,andmovednomore,untilheseemedtowakeagain,allatonce,andpulleddownhisroughcoatfromitspeginacorner.

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