Дэвид Копперфильд

Dora’s Aunts

           Wecanfinditforourselves,Ihope.’

           AsthisappearedtobeaddressedtoTraddlesandme,bothTraddlesandImadesomesortofreply.Traddleswasinaudible.IthinkIobserved,myself,thatitwashighlycreditabletoallconcerned.Idon’tintheleastknowwhatImeant.

           ‘SisterLavinia,’saidMissClarissa,havingnowrelievedhermind,‘youcangoon,mydear.’

           MissLaviniaproceeded:

           ‘Mr.Copperfield,mysisterClarissaandIhavebeenverycarefulindeedinconsideringthisletter;andwehavenotconsidereditwithoutfinallyshowingittoourniece,anddiscussingitwithourniece.Wehavenodoubtthatyouthinkyoulikeherverymuch.’

           ‘Think,ma’am,’Irapturouslybegan,‘oh!

           ButMissClarissagivingmealook(justlikeasharpcanary),asrequestingthatIwouldnotinterrupttheoracle,Ibeggedpardon.

           ‘Affection,’saidMissLavinia,glancingathersisterforcorroboration,whichshegaveintheformofalittlenodtoeveryclause,‘matureaffection,homage,devotion,doesnoteasilyexpressitself.Itsvoiceislow.Itismodestandretiring,itliesinambush,waitsandwaits.Suchisthematurefruit.Sometimesalifeglidesaway,andfindsitstillripeningintheshade.

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