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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 722/820
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‘
Don
’
t
congratulate
me
,
anybody
!
’
exclaimed
my
aunt
.
‘
How
so
,
sir
?
’
‘
You
believed
it
had
been
misappropriated
by
Mr
.
Wickfield
?
’
said
Traddles
.
‘
Of
course
I
did
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
‘
and
was
therefore
easily
silenced
.
Agnes
,
not
a
word
!
’
‘
And
indeed
,
’
said
Traddles
,
‘
it
was
sold
,
by
virtue
of
the
power
of
management
he
held
from
you
;
but
I
needn
’
t
say
by
whom
sold
,
or
on
whose
actual
signature
.
It
was
afterwards
pretended
to
Mr
.
Wickfield
,
by
that
rascal
,
—
and
proved
,
too
,
by
figures
,
—
that
he
had
possessed
himself
of
the
money
(
on
general
instructions
,
he
said
)
to
keep
other
deficiencies
and
difficulties
from
the
light
.
Mr
.
Wickfield
,
being
so
weak
and
helpless
in
his
hands
as
to
pay
you
,
afterwards
,
several
sums
of
interest
on
a
pretended
principal
which
he
knew
did
not
exist
,
made
himself
,
unhappily
,
a
party
to
the
fraud
.
’
‘
And
at
last
took
the
blame
upon
himself
,
’
added
my
aunt
;
‘
and
wrote
me
a
mad
letter
,
charging
himself
with
robbery
,
and
wrong
unheard
of
.
Upon
which
I
paid
him
a
visit
early
one
morning
,
called
for
a
candle
,
burnt
the
letter
,
and
told
him
if
he
ever
could
right
me
and
himself
,
to
do
it
;
and
if
he
couldn
’
t
,
to
keep
his
own
counsel
for
his
daughter
’
s
sake
.
—
If
anybody
speaks
to
me
,
I
’
ll
leave
the
house
!
’
We
all
remained
quiet
;
Agnes
covering
her
face
.
‘
Well
,
my
dear
friend
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
after
a
pause
,
‘
and
you
have
really
extorted
the
money
back
from
him
?
’
‘
Why
,
the
fact
is
,
’
returned
Traddles
,
‘
Mr
.
Micawber
had
so
completely
hemmed
him
in
,
and
was
always
ready
with
so
many
new
points
if
an
old
one
failed
,
that
he
could
not
escape
from
us
.
A
most
remarkable
circumstance
is
,
that
I
really
don
’
t
think
he
grasped
this
sum
even
so
much
for
the
gratification
of
his
avarice
,
which
was
inordinate
,
as
in
the
hatred
he
felt
for
Copperfield
.
He
said
so
to
me
,
plainly
.
He
said
he
would
even
have
spent
as
much
,
to
baulk
or
injure
Copperfield
.
’
‘
Ha
!
’
said
my
aunt
,
knitting
her
brows
thoughtfully
,
and
glancing
at
Agnes
.
‘
And
what
’
s
become
of
him
?
’
