Дэвид Копперфильд

Depression

           IfIthoughtDoracouldeverloveanybodyelse,orceasetoloveme;orthatIcouldeverloveanybodyelse,orceasetoloveher;Idon’tknowwhatIshoulddo-gooutofmymind,Ithink!’

           ‘Ah,Trot!’saidmyaunt,shakingherhead,andsmilinggravely;‘blind,blind,blind!’

           ‘SomeonethatIknow,Trot,’myauntpursued,afterapause,‘thoughofaverypliantdisposition,hasanearnestnessofaffectioninhimthatremindsmeofpoorBaby.EarnestnessiswhatthatSomebodymustlookfor,tosustainhimandimprovehim,Trot.Deep,downright,faithfulearnestness.’

           ‘IfyouonlyknewtheearnestnessofDora,aunt!’Icried.

           ‘Oh,Trot!’shesaidagain;‘blind,blind!’andwithoutknowingwhy,Ifeltavagueunhappylossorwantofsomethingovershadowmelikeacloud.

           ‘However,’saidmyaunt,‘Idon’twanttoputtwoyoungcreaturesoutofconceitwiththemselves,ortomakethemunhappy;so,thoughitisagirlandboyattachment,andgirlandboyattachmentsveryoftenmind!Idon’tsayalways!cometonothing,stillwe’llbeseriousaboutit,andhopeforaprosperousissueoneofthesedays.There’stimeenoughforittocometoanything!’

           Thiswasnotuponthewholeverycomfortingtoarapturouslover;butIwasgladtohavemyauntinmyconfidence,andIwasmindfulofherbeingfatigued.

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Roboto Lora
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