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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 33/820
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‘
No
,
’
replied
Em
’
ly
,
shaking
her
head
,
‘
I
’
m
afraid
of
the
sea
.
’
‘
Afraid
!
’
I
said
,
with
a
becoming
air
of
boldness
,
and
looking
very
big
at
the
mighty
ocean
.
‘
I
an
’
t
!
’
‘
Ah
!
but
it
’
s
cruel
,
’
said
Em
’
ly
.
‘
I
have
seen
it
very
cruel
to
some
of
our
men
.
I
have
seen
it
tear
a
boat
as
big
as
our
house
,
all
to
pieces
.
’
‘
I
hope
it
wasn
’
t
the
boat
that
—
—
’
‘
That
father
was
drownded
in
?
’
said
Em
’
ly
.
‘
No
.
Not
that
one
,
I
never
see
that
boat
.
’
‘
Nor
him
?
’
I
asked
her
.
Little
Em
’
ly
shook
her
head
.
‘
Not
to
remember
!
’
Here
was
a
coincidence
!
I
immediately
went
into
an
explanation
how
I
had
never
seen
my
own
father
;
and
how
my
mother
and
I
had
always
lived
by
ourselves
in
the
happiest
state
imaginable
,
and
lived
so
then
,
and
always
meant
to
live
so
;
and
how
my
father
’
s
grave
was
in
the
churchyard
near
our
house
,
and
shaded
by
a
tree
,
beneath
the
boughs
of
which
I
had
walked
and
heard
the
birds
sing
many
a
pleasant
morning
.
But
there
were
some
differences
between
Em
’
ly
’
s
orphanhood
and
mine
,
it
appeared
.
She
had
lost
her
mother
before
her
father
;
and
where
her
father
’
s
grave
was
no
one
knew
,
except
that
it
was
somewhere
in
the
depths
of
the
sea
.
‘
Besides
,
’
said
Em
’
ly
,
as
she
looked
about
for
shells
and
pebbles
,
‘
your
father
was
a
gentleman
and
your
mother
is
a
lady
;
and
my
father
was
a
fisherman
and
my
mother
was
a
fisherman
’
s
daughter
,
and
my
uncle
Dan
is
a
fisherman
.
’
