Девід Копперфільд

My Holidays. Especially One Happy Afternoon

           Butseeingme,shecalledmeherdearDavy,herownboy!andcominghalfacrosstheroomtomeetme,kneeleddownuponthegroundandkissedme,andlaidmyheaddownonherbosomnearthelittlecreaturethatwasnestlingthere,andputitshandtomylips.

           IwishIhaddied.IwishIhaddiedthen,withthatfeelinginmyheart!IshouldhavebeenmorefitforHeaventhanIeverhavebeensince.

           ‘Heisyourbrother,’saidmymother,fondlingme.‘Davy,myprettyboy!Mypoorchild!’Thenshekissedmemoreandmore,andclaspedmeroundtheneck.ThisshewasdoingwhenPeggottycamerunningin,andbounceddownonthegroundbesideus,andwentmadaboutusbothforaquarterofanhour.

           ItseemedthatIhadnotbeenexpectedsosoon,thecarrierbeingmuchbeforehisusualtime.Itseemed,too,thatMr.andMissMurdstonehadgoneoutuponavisitintheneighbourhood,andwouldnotreturnbeforenight.Ihadneverhopedforthis.Ihadneverthoughtitpossiblethatwethreecouldbetogetherundisturbed,oncemore;andIfelt,forthetime,asiftheolddayswerecomeback.

           Wedinedtogetherbythefireside.Peggottywasinattendancetowaituponus,butmymotherwouldn’tletherdoit,andmadeherdinewithus.Ihadmyownoldplate,withabrownviewofaman-of-warinfullsailuponit,whichPeggottyhadhoardedsomewhereallthetimeIhadbeenaway,andwouldnothavehadbroken,shesaid,forahundredpounds.

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Roboto Lora
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Сторінка 177 з 1418