Девід Копперфільд

Our Housekeeping

           

           ‘Ilookbackonmylife,child,’saidmyaunt,‘andIthinkofsomewhoareintheirgraves,withwhomImighthavebeenonkinderterms.IfIjudgedharshlyofotherpeople’smistakesinmarriage,itmayhavebeenbecauseIhadbitterreasontojudgeharshlyofmyown.Letthatpass.Ihavebeenagrumpy,frumpy,waywardsortofawoman,agoodmanyyears.Iamstill,andIalwaysshallbe.ButyouandIhavedoneoneanothersomegood,Trot,atallevents,youhavedonemegood,mydear;anddivisionmustnotcomebetweenus,atthistimeofday.’

           ‘Divisionbetweenus!’criedI.

           ‘Child,child!’saidmyaunt,smoothingherdress,‘howsoonitmightcomebetweenus,orhowunhappyImightmakeourLittleBlossom,ifImeddledinanything,aprophetcouldn’tsay.Iwantourpettolikeme,andbeasgayasabutterfly.Rememberyourownhome,inthatsecondmarriage;andneverdobothmeandhertheinjuryyouhavehintedat!’

           Icomprehended,atonce,thatmyauntwasright;andIcomprehendedthefullextentofhergenerousfeelingtowardsmydearwife.

           ‘Theseareearlydays,Trot,’shepursued,‘andRomewasnotbuiltinaday,norinayear.Youhavechosenfreelyforyourself’;acloudpassedoverherfaceforamoment,Ithought;‘andyouhavechosenaveryprettyandaveryaffectionatecreature.

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Roboto Lora
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