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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 198/820
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‘
And
when
you
had
made
sure
of
the
poor
little
fool
,
’
said
my
aunt
-
‘
God
forgive
me
that
I
should
call
her
so
,
and
she
gone
where
YOU
won
’
t
go
in
a
hurry
—
because
you
had
not
done
wrong
enough
to
her
and
hers
,
you
must
begin
to
train
her
,
must
you
?
begin
to
break
her
,
like
a
poor
caged
bird
,
and
wear
her
deluded
life
away
,
in
teaching
her
to
sing
YOUR
notes
?
’
‘
This
is
either
insanity
or
intoxication
,
’
said
Miss
Murdstone
,
in
a
perfect
agony
at
not
being
able
to
turn
the
current
of
my
aunt
’
s
address
towards
herself
;
‘
and
my
suspicion
is
that
it
’
s
intoxication
.
’
Miss
Betsey
,
without
taking
the
least
notice
of
the
interruption
,
continued
to
address
herself
to
Mr
.
Murdstone
as
if
there
had
been
no
such
thing
.
‘
Mr
.
Murdstone
,
’
she
said
,
shaking
her
finger
at
him
,
‘
you
were
a
tyrant
to
the
simple
baby
,
and
you
broke
her
heart
.
She
was
a
loving
baby
—
I
know
that
;
I
knew
it
,
years
before
you
ever
saw
her
-
and
through
the
best
part
of
her
weakness
you
gave
her
the
wounds
she
died
of
.
There
is
the
truth
for
your
comfort
,
however
you
like
it
.
And
you
and
your
instruments
may
make
the
most
of
it
.
’
‘
Allow
me
to
inquire
,
Miss
Trotwood
,
’
interposed
Miss
Murdstone
,
‘
whom
you
are
pleased
to
call
,
in
a
choice
of
words
in
which
I
am
not
experienced
,
my
brother
’
s
instruments
?
’
‘
It
was
clear
enough
,
as
I
have
told
you
,
years
before
YOU
ever
saw
her
—
and
why
,
in
the
mysterious
dispensations
of
Providence
,
you
ever
did
see
her
,
is
more
than
humanity
can
comprehend
—
it
was
clear
enough
that
the
poor
soft
little
thing
would
marry
somebody
,
at
some
time
or
other
;
but
I
did
hope
it
wouldn
’
t
have
been
as
bad
as
it
has
turned
out
.
That
was
the
time
,
Mr
.
Murdstone
,
when
she
gave
birth
to
her
boy
here
,
’
said
my
aunt
;
‘
to
the
poor
child
you
sometimes
tormented
her
through
afterwards
,
which
is
a
disagreeable
remembrance
and
makes
the
sight
of
him
odious
now
.
Aye
,
aye
!
you
needn
’
t
wince
!
’
said
my
aunt
.
‘
I
know
it
’
s
true
without
that
.
’
He
had
stood
by
the
door
,
all
this
while
,
observant
of
her
with
a
smile
upon
his
face
,
though
his
black
eyebrows
were
heavily
contracted
.
I
remarked
now
,
that
,
though
the
smile
was
on
his
face
still
,
his
colour
had
gone
in
a
moment
,
and
he
seemed
to
breathe
as
if
he
had
been
running
.
‘
Good
day
,
sir
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
‘
and
good
-
bye
!
Good
day
to
you
,
too
,
ma
’
am
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
turning
suddenly
upon
his
sister
.
‘
Let
me
see
you
ride
a
donkey
over
my
green
again
,
and
as
sure
as
you
have
a
head
upon
your
shoulders
,
I
’
ll
knock
your
bonnet
off
,
and
tread
upon
it
!
’
