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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 200/820
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Thus
I
began
my
new
life
,
in
a
new
name
,
and
with
everything
new
about
me
.
Now
that
the
state
of
doubt
was
over
,
I
felt
,
for
many
days
,
like
one
in
a
dream
.
I
never
thought
that
I
had
a
curious
couple
of
guardians
,
in
my
aunt
and
Mr
.
Dick
.
I
never
thought
of
anything
about
myself
,
distinctly
.
The
two
things
clearest
in
my
mind
were
,
that
a
remoteness
had
come
upon
the
old
Blunderstone
life
—
which
seemed
to
lie
in
the
haze
of
an
immeasurable
distance
;
and
that
a
curtain
had
for
ever
fallen
on
my
life
at
Murdstone
and
Grinby
’
s
.
No
one
has
ever
raised
that
curtain
since
.
I
have
lifted
it
for
a
moment
,
even
in
this
narrative
,
with
a
reluctant
hand
,
and
dropped
it
gladly
.
The
remembrance
of
that
life
is
fraught
with
so
much
pain
to
me
,
with
so
much
mental
suffering
and
want
of
hope
,
that
I
have
never
had
the
courage
even
to
examine
how
long
I
was
doomed
to
lead
it
.
Whether
it
lasted
for
a
year
,
or
more
,
or
less
,
I
do
not
know
I
only
know
that
it
was
,
and
ceased
to
be
;
and
that
I
have
written
,
and
there
I
leave
it
.
Mr
.
Dick
and
I
soon
became
the
best
of
friends
,
and
very
often
,
when
his
day
’
s
work
was
done
,
went
out
together
to
fly
the
great
kite
.
Every
day
of
his
life
he
had
a
long
sitting
at
the
Memorial
,
which
never
made
the
least
progress
,
however
hard
he
laboured
,
for
King
Charles
the
First
always
strayed
into
it
,
sooner
or
later
,
and
then
it
was
thrown
aside
,
and
another
one
begun
.
The
patience
and
hope
with
which
he
bore
these
perpetual
disappointments
,
the
mild
perception
he
had
that
there
was
something
wrong
about
King
Charles
the
First
,
the
feeble
efforts
he
made
to
keep
him
out
,
and
the
certainty
with
which
he
came
in
,
and
tumbled
the
Memorial
out
of
all
shape
,
made
a
deep
impression
on
me
.
What
Mr
.
Dick
supposed
would
come
of
the
Memorial
,
if
it
were
completed
;
where
he
thought
it
was
to
go
,
or
what
he
thought
it
was
to
do
;
he
knew
no
more
than
anybody
else
,
I
believe
.
Nor
was
it
at
all
necessary
that
he
should
trouble
himself
with
such
questions
,
for
if
anything
were
certain
under
the
sun
,
it
was
certain
that
the
Memorial
never
would
be
finished
.
It
was
quite
an
affecting
sight
,
I
used
to
think
,
to
see
him
with
the
kite
when
it
was
up
a
great
height
in
the
air
.
What
he
had
told
me
,
in
his
room
,
about
his
belief
in
its
disseminating
the
statements
pasted
on
it
,
which
were
nothing
but
old
leaves
of
abortive
Memorials
,
might
have
been
a
fancy
with
him
sometimes
;
but
not
when
he
was
out
,
looking
up
at
the
kite
in
the
sky
,
and
feeling
it
pull
and
tug
at
his
hand
.
He
never
looked
so
serene
as
he
did
then
.
I
used
to
fancy
,
as
I
sat
by
him
of
an
evening
,
on
a
green
slope
,
and
saw
him
watch
the
kite
high
in
the
quiet
air
,
that
it
lifted
his
mind
out
of
its
confusion
,
and
bore
it
(
such
was
my
boyish
thought
)
into
the
skies
.
As
he
wound
the
string
in
and
it
came
lower
and
lower
down
out
of
the
beautiful
light
,
until
it
fluttered
to
the
ground
,
and
lay
there
like
a
dead
thing
,
he
seemed
to
wake
gradually
out
of
a
dream
;
and
I
remember
to
have
seen
him
take
it
up
,
and
look
about
him
in
a
lost
way
,
as
if
they
had
both
come
down
together
,
so
that
I
pitied
him
with
all
my
heart
.
While
I
advanced
in
friendship
and
intimacy
with
Mr
.
Dick
,
I
did
not
go
backward
in
the
favour
of
his
staunch
friend
,
my
aunt
.
She
took
so
kindly
to
me
,
that
,
in
the
course
of
a
few
weeks
,
she
shortened
my
adopted
name
of
Trotwood
into
Trot
;
and
even
encouraged
me
to
hope
,
that
if
I
went
on
as
I
had
begun
,
I
might
take
equal
rank
in
her
affections
with
my
sister
Betsey
Trotwood
.
‘
Trot
,
’
said
my
aunt
one
evening
,
when
the
backgammon
-
board
was
placed
as
usual
for
herself
and
Mr
.
Dick
,
‘
we
must
not
forget
your
education
.
’
This
was
my
only
subject
of
anxiety
,
and
I
felt
quite
delighted
by
her
referring
to
it
.
‘
Should
you
like
to
go
to
school
at
Canterbury
?
’
said
my
aunt
.
I
replied
that
I
should
like
it
very
much
,
as
it
was
so
near
her
.
‘
Good
,
’
said
my
aunt
.
