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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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‘
Come
!
I
know
what
you
mean
,
’
cried
Mr
.
Wickfield
.
‘
You
shall
not
be
oppressed
by
the
receipt
of
favours
,
Miss
Trotwood
.
You
may
pay
for
him
,
if
you
like
.
We
won
’
t
be
hard
about
terms
,
but
you
shall
pay
if
you
will
.
’
‘
On
that
understanding
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
‘
though
it
doesn
’
t
lessen
the
real
obligation
,
I
shall
be
very
glad
to
leave
him
.
’
‘
Then
come
and
see
my
little
housekeeper
,
’
said
Mr
.
Wickfield
.
We
accordingly
went
up
a
wonderful
old
staircase
;
with
a
balustrade
so
broad
that
we
might
have
gone
up
that
,
almost
as
easily
;
and
into
a
shady
old
drawing
-
room
,
lighted
by
some
three
or
four
of
the
quaint
windows
I
had
looked
up
at
from
the
street
:
which
had
old
oak
seats
in
them
,
that
seemed
to
have
come
of
the
same
trees
as
the
shining
oak
floor
,
and
the
great
beams
in
the
ceiling
.
It
was
a
prettily
furnished
room
,
with
a
piano
and
some
lively
furniture
in
red
and
green
,
and
some
flowers
.
It
seemed
to
be
all
old
nooks
and
corners
;
and
in
every
nook
and
corner
there
was
some
queer
little
table
,
or
cupboard
,
or
bookcase
,
or
seat
,
or
something
or
other
,
that
made
me
think
there
was
not
such
another
good
corner
in
the
room
;
until
I
looked
at
the
next
one
,
and
found
it
equal
to
it
,
if
not
better
.
On
everything
there
was
the
same
air
of
retirement
and
cleanliness
that
marked
the
house
outside
.
Mr
.
Wickfield
tapped
at
a
door
in
a
corner
of
the
panelled
wall
,
and
a
girl
of
about
my
own
age
came
quickly
out
and
kissed
him
.
On
her
face
,
I
saw
immediately
the
placid
and
sweet
expression
of
the
lady
whose
picture
had
looked
at
me
downstairs
.
It
seemed
to
my
imagination
as
if
the
portrait
had
grown
womanly
,
and
the
original
remained
a
child
.
Although
her
face
was
quite
bright
and
happy
,
there
was
a
tranquillity
about
it
,
and
about
her
—
a
quiet
,
good
,
calm
spirit
—
that
I
never
have
forgotten
;
that
I
shall
never
forget
.
This
was
his
little
housekeeper
,
his
daughter
Agnes
,
Mr
.
Wickfield
said
.
When
I
heard
how
he
said
it
,
and
saw
how
he
held
her
hand
,
I
guessed
what
the
one
motive
of
his
life
was
.
She
had
a
little
basket
-
trifle
hanging
at
her
side
,
with
keys
in
it
;
and
she
looked
as
staid
and
as
discreet
a
housekeeper
as
the
old
house
could
have
.
She
listened
to
her
father
as
he
told
her
about
me
,
with
a
pleasant
face
;
and
when
he
had
concluded
,
proposed
to
my
aunt
that
we
should
go
upstairs
and
see
my
room
.
We
all
went
together
,
she
before
us
:
and
a
glorious
old
room
it
was
,
with
more
oak
beams
,
and
diamond
panes
;
and
the
broad
balustrade
going
all
the
way
up
to
it
.
I
cannot
call
to
mind
where
or
when
,
in
my
childhood
,
I
had
seen
a
stained
glass
window
in
a
church
.
Nor
do
I
recollect
its
subject
.
But
I
know
that
when
I
saw
her
turn
round
,
in
the
grave
light
of
the
old
staircase
,
and
wait
for
us
,
above
,
I
thought
of
that
window
;
and
I
associated
something
of
its
tranquil
brightness
with
Agnes
Wickfield
ever
afterwards
.
My
aunt
was
as
happy
as
I
was
,
in
the
arrangement
made
for
me
;
and
we
went
down
to
the
drawing
-
room
again
,
well
pleased
and
gratified
.
As
she
would
not
hear
of
staying
to
dinner
,
lest
she
should
by
any
chance
fail
to
arrive
at
home
with
the
grey
pony
before
dark
;
and
as
I
apprehend
Mr
.
Wickfield
knew
her
too
well
to
argue
any
point
with
her
;
some
lunch
was
provided
for
her
there
,
and
Agnes
went
back
to
her
governess
,
and
Mr
.
Wickfield
to
his
office
.
So
we
were
left
to
take
leave
of
one
another
without
any
restraint
.
She
told
me
that
everything
would
be
arranged
for
me
by
Mr
.
Wickfield
,
and
that
I
should
want
for
nothing
,
and
gave
me
the
kindest
words
and
the
best
advice
.
