Дэвид Копперфильд

My Aunt Astonishes Me

           

           ‘No,’saidTraddles.‘Sarah’sthesecond.Sarahhassomethingthematterwithherspine,poorgirl.Themaladywillwearoutbyandby,thedoctorssay,butinthemeantimeshehastoliedownforatwelvemonth.Sophynursesher.Sophy’sthefourth.’

           ‘Isthemotherliving?’Iinquired.

           ‘Ohyes,’saidTraddles,‘sheisalive.Sheisaverysuperiorwomanindeed,butthedampcountryisnotadaptedtoherconstitution,andinfact,shehaslosttheuseofherlimbs.’

           ‘Dearme!’saidI.

           ‘Verysad,isitnot?’returnedTraddles.‘Butinamerelydomesticviewitisnotsobadasitmightbe,becauseSophytakesherplace.Sheisquiteasmuchamothertohermother,assheistotheothernine.’

           Ifeltthegreatestadmirationforthevirtuesofthisyounglady;and,honestlywiththeviewofdoingmybesttopreventthegood-natureofTraddlesfrombeingimposedupon,tothedetrimentoftheirjointprospectsinlife,inquiredhowMr.Micawberwas?

           ‘Heisquitewell,Copperfield,thankyou,’saidTraddles.‘Iamnotlivingwithhimatpresent.’

           ‘No?’

           ‘No.Youseethetruthis,’saidTraddles,inawhisper,‘hehadchangedhisnametoMortimer,inconsequenceofhistemporaryembarrassments;andhedon’tcomeouttillafterdarkandtheninspectacles.Therewasanexecutionputintoourhouse,forrent.Mrs.

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