Девід Копперфільд

I Am Born

           

           ‘InthenameofHeaven,’saidMissBetsey,suddenly,‘whyRookery?’

           ‘Doyoumeanthehouse,ma’am?’askedmymother.

           ‘WhyRookery?’saidMissBetsey.‘Cookerywouldhavebeenmoretothepurpose,ifyouhadhadanypracticalideasoflife,eitherofyou.’

           ‘ThenamewasMr.Copperfield’schoice,’returnedmymother.‘Whenheboughtthehouse,helikedtothinkthattherewererooksaboutit.’

           Theeveningwindmadesuchadisturbancejustnow,amongsometalloldelm-treesatthebottomofthegarden,thatneithermymothernorMissBetseycouldforbearglancingthatway.Astheelmsbenttooneanother,likegiantswhowerewhisperingsecrets,andafterafewsecondsofsuchrepose,fellintoaviolentflurry,tossingtheirwildarmsabout,asiftheirlateconfidenceswerereallytoowickedfortheirpeaceofmind,someweatherbeatenraggedoldrooks’-nests,burdeningtheirhigherbranches,swunglikewrecksuponastormysea.

           ‘Wherearethebirds?’askedMissBetsey.

           ‘The?Mymotherhadbeenthinkingofsomethingelse.

           ‘Therookswhathasbecomeofthem?’askedMissBetsey.

           ‘Therehavenotbeenanysincewehavelivedhere,’saidmymother.‘WethoughtMr.Copperfieldthoughtitwasquitealargerookery;butthenestswereveryoldones,andthebirdshavedesertedthemalongwhile.

Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
Фразові дієслова
Показати / Приховати меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 8 з 1418