Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Disgrace

           Ithoughtmymotherwassorrytoseemestandingintheroomsoscaredandstrange,andthat,presently,whenIstoletoachair,shefollowedmewithhereyesmoresorrowfullystillmissing,perhaps,somefreedominmychildishtreadbutthewordwasnotspoken,andthetimeforitwasgone.

           Wedinedalone,wethreetogether.HeseemedtobeveryfondofmymotherIamafraidIlikedhimnonethebetterforthatandshewasveryfondofhim.Igatheredfromwhattheysaid,thataneldersisterofhiswascomingtostaywiththem,andthatshewasexpectedthatevening.IamnotcertainwhetherIfoundoutthen,orafterwards,that,withoutbeingactivelyconcernedinanybusiness,hehadsomesharein,orsomeannualchargeupontheprofitsof,awine-merchant’shouseinLondon,withwhichhisfamilyhadbeenconnectedfromhisgreat-grandfather’stime,andinwhichhissisterhadasimilarinterest;butImaymentionitinthisplace,whetherorno.

           Afterdinner,whenweweresittingbythefire,andIwasmeditatinganescapetoPeggottywithouthavingthehardihoodtoslipaway,lestitshouldoffendthemasterofthehouse,acoachdroveuptothegarden-gateandhewentouttoreceivethevisitor.Mymotherfollowedhim.Iwastimidlyfollowingher,whensheturnedroundattheparlourdoor,inthedusk,andtakingmeinherembraceasshehadbeenusedtodo,whisperedmetolovemynewfatherandbeobedienttohim.

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Roboto Lora
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