Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Long Journey

           WhatcouldIthinkwhatDIDIthinkbutthatyouwereayounglibertineineverythingbutexperience,andhadfallenintohandsthathadexperienceenough,andcouldmanageyou(havingthefancy)foryourowngood?Oh!oh!oh!Theywereafraidofmyfindingoutthetruth,’exclaimedMissMowcher,gettingoffthefender,andtrottingupanddownthekitchenwithhertwoshortarmsdistressfullyliftedup,‘becauseIamasharplittlethingIneedbe,togetthroughtheworldatall!andtheydeceivedmealtogether,andIgavethepoorunfortunategirlaletter,whichIfullybelievewasthebeginningofhereverspeakingtoLittimer,whowasleftbehindonpurpose!’

           Istoodamazedattherevelationofallthisperfidy,lookingatMissMowcherasshewalkedupanddownthekitchenuntilshewasoutofbreath:whenshesatuponthefenderagain,and,dryingherfacewithherhandkerchief,shookherheadforalongtime,withoutotherwisemoving,andwithoutbreakingsilence.

           ‘Mycountryrounds,’sheaddedatlength,‘broughtmetoNorwich,Mr.Copperfield,thenightbeforelast.WhatIhappenedtofindthere,abouttheirsecretwayofcomingandgoing,withoutyouwhichwasstrangeledtomysuspectingsomethingwrong.IgotintothecoachfromLondonlastnight,asitcamethroughNorwich,andwasherethismorning.

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