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Главная
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- Книги
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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 681/820
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‘
But
,
Ham
,
’
said
I
,
gently
,
‘
if
there
is
anything
that
I
could
write
to
her
,
for
you
,
in
case
I
could
not
tell
it
;
if
there
is
anything
you
would
wish
to
make
known
to
her
through
me
;
I
should
consider
it
a
sacred
trust
.
’
‘
I
am
sure
on
’
t
.
I
thankee
,
sir
,
most
kind
!
I
think
theer
is
something
I
could
wish
said
or
wrote
.
’
‘
What
is
it
?
’
We
walked
a
little
farther
in
silence
,
and
then
he
spoke
.
‘
‘
Tan
’
t
that
I
forgive
her
.
‘
Tan
’
t
that
so
much
.
’
Tis
more
as
I
beg
of
her
to
forgive
me
,
for
having
pressed
my
affections
upon
her
.
Odd
times
,
I
think
that
if
I
hadn
’
t
had
her
promise
fur
to
marry
me
,
sir
,
she
was
that
trustful
of
me
,
in
a
friendly
way
,
that
she
’
d
have
told
me
what
was
struggling
in
her
mind
,
and
would
have
counselled
with
me
,
and
I
might
have
saved
her
.
’
I
pressed
his
hand
.
‘
Is
that
all
?
’
‘
Theer
’
s
yet
a
something
else
,
’
he
returned
,
‘
if
I
can
say
it
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
.
’
We
walked
on
,
farther
than
we
had
walked
yet
,
before
he
spoke
again
.
He
was
not
crying
when
he
made
the
pauses
I
shall
express
by
lines
.
He
was
merely
collecting
himself
to
speak
very
plainly
.
‘
I
loved
her
—
and
I
love
the
mem
’
ry
of
her
—
too
deep
—
to
be
able
to
lead
her
to
believe
of
my
own
self
as
I
’
m
a
happy
man
.
I
could
only
be
happy
—
by
forgetting
of
her
—
and
I
’
m
afeerd
I
couldn
’
t
hardly
bear
as
she
should
be
told
I
done
that
.
But
if
you
,
being
so
full
of
learning
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
,
could
think
of
anything
to
say
as
might
bring
her
to
believe
I
wasn
’
t
greatly
hurt
:
still
loving
of
her
,
and
mourning
for
her
:
anything
as
might
bring
her
to
believe
as
I
was
not
tired
of
my
life
,
and
yet
was
hoping
fur
to
see
her
without
blame
,
wheer
the
wicked
cease
from
troubling
and
the
weary
are
at
rest
—
anything
as
would
ease
her
sorrowful
mind
,
and
yet
not
make
her
think
as
I
could
ever
marry
,
or
as
‘
twas
possible
that
anyone
could
ever
be
to
me
what
she
was
—
I
should
ask
of
you
to
say
that
—
with
my
prayers
for
her
—
that
was
so
dear
.
’
