Девід Копперфільд

Mr. Peggotty’s Dream Comes True

           Iwouldnothavetrustedherwiththerackitself,whilethatfuriouslooklasted.Sheslowly,veryslowly,brokeintoalaugh,andpointedatEmilywithherhand,asifshewereasightofshameforgodsandmen.

           ‘SHElove!’shesaid.‘THATcarrion!Andheevercaredforher,she’dtellme.Ha,ha!Theliarsthatthesetradersare!’

           Hermockerywasworsethanherundisguisedrage.Ofthetwo,Iwouldhavemuchpreferredtobetheobjectofthelatter.But,whenshesufferedittobreakloose,itwasonlyforamoment.Shehadchaineditupagain,andhoweveritmighttearherwithin,shesubduedittoherself.

           ‘Icamehere,youpurefountainoflove,’shesaid,‘toseeasIbeganbytellingyouwhatsuchathingasyouwaslike.Iwascurious.Iamsatisfied.Alsototellyou,thatyouhadbestseekthathomeofyours,withallspeed,andhideyourheadamongthoseexcellentpeoplewhoareexpectingyou,andwhomyourmoneywillconsole.Whenit’sallgone,youcanbelieve,andtrust,andloveagain,youknow!Ithoughtyouabrokentoythathadlasteditstime;aworthlessspanglethatwastarnished,andthrownaway.But,findingyoutruegold,averylady,andanill-usedinnocent,withafreshheartfullofloveandtrustfulnesswhichyoulooklike,andisquiteconsistentwithyourstory!Ihavesomethingmoretosay.Attendtoit;forwhatIsayI’lldo.

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