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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 580/820
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The
topic
is
fraught
with
such
danger
to
the
bonnet
,
that
Miss
Lavinia
gives
another
little
scream
,
and
begs
me
to
understand
that
Dora
is
only
to
be
looked
at
,
and
on
no
account
to
be
touched
.
So
Dora
stands
in
a
delightful
state
of
confusion
for
a
minute
or
two
,
to
be
admired
;
and
then
takes
off
her
bonnet
—
looking
so
natural
without
it
!
—
and
runs
away
with
it
in
her
hand
;
and
comes
dancing
down
again
in
her
own
familiar
dress
,
and
asks
Jip
if
I
have
got
a
beautiful
little
wife
,
and
whether
he
’
ll
forgive
her
for
being
married
,
and
kneels
down
to
make
him
stand
upon
the
cookery
-
book
,
for
the
last
time
in
her
single
life
.
I
go
home
,
more
incredulous
than
ever
,
to
a
lodging
that
I
have
hard
by
;
and
get
up
very
early
in
the
morning
,
to
ride
to
the
Highgate
road
and
fetch
my
aunt
.
I
have
never
seen
my
aunt
in
such
state
.
She
is
dressed
in
lavender
-
coloured
silk
,
and
has
a
white
bonnet
on
,
and
is
amazing
.
Janet
has
dressed
her
,
and
is
there
to
look
at
me
.
Peggotty
is
ready
to
go
to
church
,
intending
to
behold
the
ceremony
from
the
gallery
.
Mr
.
Dick
,
who
is
to
give
my
darling
to
me
at
the
altar
,
has
had
his
hair
curled
.
Traddles
,
whom
I
have
taken
up
by
appointment
at
the
turnpike
,
presents
a
dazzling
combination
of
cream
colour
and
light
blue
;
and
both
he
and
Mr
.
Dick
have
a
general
effect
about
them
of
being
all
gloves
.
No
doubt
I
see
this
,
because
I
know
it
is
so
;
but
I
am
astray
,
and
seem
to
see
nothing
.
Nor
do
I
believe
anything
whatever
.
Still
,
as
we
drive
along
in
an
open
carriage
,
this
fairy
marriage
is
real
enough
to
fill
me
with
a
sort
of
wondering
pity
for
the
unfortunate
people
who
have
no
part
in
it
,
but
are
sweeping
out
the
shops
,
and
going
to
their
daily
occupations
.
My
aunt
sits
with
my
hand
in
hers
all
the
way
.
When
we
stop
a
little
way
short
of
the
church
,
to
put
down
Peggotty
,
whom
we
have
brought
on
the
box
,
she
gives
it
a
squeeze
,
and
me
a
kiss
.
‘
God
bless
you
,
Trot
!
My
own
boy
never
could
be
dearer
.
I
think
of
poor
dear
Baby
this
morning
.
’
‘
So
do
I
.
And
of
all
I
owe
to
you
,
dear
aunt
.
’
‘
Tut
,
child
!
’
says
my
aunt
;
and
gives
her
hand
in
overflowing
cordiality
to
Traddles
,
who
then
gives
his
to
Mr
.
Dick
,
who
then
gives
his
to
me
,
who
then
gives
mine
to
Traddles
,
and
then
we
come
to
the
church
door
.
The
church
is
calm
enough
,
I
am
sure
;
but
it
might
be
a
steam
-
power
loom
in
full
action
,
for
any
sedative
effect
it
has
on
me
.
I
am
too
far
gone
for
that
.
The
rest
is
all
a
more
or
less
incoherent
dream
.
