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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 173/820
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I
never
shall
forget
seeing
her
fall
backward
on
the
hard
road
,
and
lie
there
with
her
bonnet
tumbled
off
,
and
her
hair
all
whitened
in
the
dust
;
nor
,
when
I
looked
back
from
a
distance
,
seeing
her
sitting
on
the
pathway
,
which
was
a
bank
by
the
roadside
,
wiping
the
blood
from
her
face
with
a
corner
of
her
shawl
,
while
he
went
on
ahead
.
This
adventure
frightened
me
so
,
that
,
afterwards
,
when
I
saw
any
of
these
people
coming
,
I
turned
back
until
I
could
find
a
hiding
-
place
,
where
I
remained
until
they
had
gone
out
of
sight
;
which
happened
so
often
,
that
I
was
very
seriously
delayed
.
But
under
this
difficulty
,
as
under
all
the
other
difficulties
of
my
journey
,
I
seemed
to
be
sustained
and
led
on
by
my
fanciful
picture
of
my
mother
in
her
youth
,
before
I
came
into
the
world
.
It
always
kept
me
company
.
It
was
there
,
among
the
hops
,
when
I
lay
down
to
sleep
;
it
was
with
me
on
my
waking
in
the
morning
;
it
went
before
me
all
day
.
I
have
associated
it
,
ever
since
,
with
the
sunny
street
of
Canterbury
,
dozing
as
it
were
in
the
hot
light
;
and
with
the
sight
of
its
old
houses
and
gateways
,
and
the
stately
,
grey
Cathedral
,
with
the
rooks
sailing
round
the
towers
.
When
I
came
,
at
last
,
upon
the
bare
,
wide
downs
near
Dover
,
it
relieved
the
solitary
aspect
of
the
scene
with
hope
;
and
not
until
I
reached
that
first
great
aim
of
my
journey
,
and
actually
set
foot
in
the
town
itself
,
on
the
sixth
day
of
my
flight
,
did
it
desert
me
.
But
then
,
strange
to
say
,
when
I
stood
with
my
ragged
shoes
,
and
my
dusty
,
sunburnt
,
half
-
clothed
figure
,
in
the
place
so
long
desired
,
it
seemed
to
vanish
like
a
dream
,
and
to
leave
me
helpless
and
dispirited
.
I
inquired
about
my
aunt
among
the
boatmen
first
,
and
received
various
answers
.
One
said
she
lived
in
the
South
Foreland
Light
,
and
had
singed
her
whiskers
by
doing
so
;
another
,
that
she
was
made
fast
to
the
great
buoy
outside
the
harbour
,
and
could
only
be
visited
at
half
-
tide
;
a
third
,
that
she
was
locked
up
in
Maidstone
jail
for
child
-
stealing
;
a
fourth
,
that
she
was
seen
to
mount
a
broom
in
the
last
high
wind
,
and
make
direct
for
Calais
.
The
fly
-
drivers
,
among
whom
I
inquired
next
,
were
equally
jocose
and
equally
disrespectful
;
and
the
shopkeepers
,
not
liking
my
appearance
,
generally
replied
,
without
hearing
what
I
had
to
say
,
that
they
had
got
nothing
for
me
.
I
felt
more
miserable
and
destitute
than
I
had
done
at
any
period
of
my
running
away
.
My
money
was
all
gone
,
I
had
nothing
left
to
dispose
of
;
I
was
hungry
,
thirsty
,
and
worn
out
;
and
seemed
as
distant
from
my
end
as
if
I
had
remained
in
London
.
The
morning
had
worn
away
in
these
inquiries
,
and
I
was
sitting
on
the
step
of
an
empty
shop
at
a
street
corner
,
near
the
market
-
place
,
deliberating
upon
wandering
towards
those
other
places
which
had
been
mentioned
,
when
a
fly
-
driver
,
coming
by
with
his
carriage
,
dropped
a
horsecloth
.
Something
good
-
natured
in
the
man
’
s
face
,
as
I
handed
it
up
,
encouraged
me
to
ask
him
if
he
could
tell
me
where
Miss
Trotwood
lived
;
though
I
had
asked
the
question
so
often
,
that
it
almost
died
upon
my
lips
.
‘
Trotwood
,
’
said
he
.
‘
Let
me
see
.
I
know
the
name
,
too
.
Old
lady
?
’
‘
Yes
,
’
I
said
,
‘
rather
.
’
‘
Pretty
stiff
in
the
back
?
’
said
he
,
making
himself
upright
.
‘
Yes
,
’
I
said
.
‘
I
should
think
it
very
likely
.
’
