Девід Копперфільд

The Wanderer

           Peggotty.

           ‘MissisGummidge,’hereturned,‘notbeingagoodscholar,sir,Hamkindlydraweditout,andshemadeacopyonit.TheytoldherIwasgonetoseekher,andwhatmypartingwordswas.’

           ‘Isthatanotherletterinyourhand?’saidI.

           ‘It’smoney,sir,’saidMr.Peggotty,unfoldingitalittleway.‘Tenpound,yousee.Andwroteinside,“Fromatruefriend,”likethefust.Butthefustwasputunderneaththedoor,andthiscomebythepost,dayaforeyesterday.I’ma-goingtoseekheratthepost-mark.’

           Heshowedittome.ItwasatownontheUpperRhine.Hehadfoundout,atYarmouth,someforeigndealerswhoknewthatcountry,andtheyhaddrawnhimarudemaponpaper,whichhecouldverywellunderstand.Helaiditbetweenusonthetable;and,withhischinrestingononehand,trackedhiscourseuponitwiththeother.

           IaskedhimhowHamwas?Heshookhishead.

           ‘Heworks,’hesaid,‘asboldasamancan.Hisname’sasgood,inallthatpart,asanyman’sis,anywheresinthewureld.Anyone’shandisreadytohelphim,youunderstand,andhisisreadytohelpthem.He’sneverbeenheerdfurtocomplain.Butmysister’sbeliefis(‘twixtourselves)asithascuthimdeep.’

           ‘Poorfellow,Icanbelieveit!’

           ‘Heain’tnocare,Mas’rDavy,’saidMr.Peggottyinasolemnwhisper‘kindernocareno-howforhislife.

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Roboto Lora
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