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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 432/820
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Its
leaves
and
shoots
were
green
then
,
and
the
day
being
sunny
,
a
pair
of
glass
doors
leading
to
the
garden
were
thrown
open
.
Rosa
Dartle
,
entering
this
way
with
a
noiseless
step
,
when
we
were
close
to
them
,
addressed
herself
to
me
:
‘
You
do
well
,
’
she
said
,
‘
indeed
,
to
bring
this
fellow
here
!
’
Such
a
concentration
of
rage
and
scorn
as
darkened
her
face
,
and
flashed
in
her
jet
-
black
eyes
,
I
could
not
have
thought
compressible
even
into
that
face
.
The
scar
made
by
the
hammer
was
,
as
usual
in
this
excited
state
of
her
features
,
strongly
marked
.
When
the
throbbing
I
had
seen
before
,
came
into
it
as
I
looked
at
her
,
she
absolutely
lifted
up
her
hand
,
and
struck
it
.
‘
This
is
a
fellow
,
’
she
said
,
‘
to
champion
and
bring
here
,
is
he
not
?
You
are
a
true
man
!
’
‘
Miss
Dartle
,
’
I
returned
,
‘
you
are
surely
not
so
unjust
as
to
condemn
ME
!
’
‘
Why
do
you
bring
division
between
these
two
mad
creatures
?
’
she
returned
.
‘
Don
’
t
you
know
that
they
are
both
mad
with
their
own
self
-
will
and
pride
?
’
‘
Is
it
my
doing
?
’
I
returned
.
‘
Is
it
your
doing
!
’
she
retorted
.
‘
Why
do
you
bring
this
man
here
?
’
‘
He
is
a
deeply
-
injured
man
,
Miss
Dartle
,
’
I
replied
.
‘
You
may
not
know
it
.
’
‘
I
know
that
James
Steerforth
,
’
she
said
,
with
her
hand
on
her
bosom
,
as
if
to
prevent
the
storm
that
was
raging
there
,
from
being
loud
,
‘
has
a
false
,
corrupt
heart
,
and
is
a
traitor
.
