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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 778/820
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‘
If
it
should
be
so
,
’
I
began
,
‘
and
I
hope
it
is
-
’
‘
I
don
’
t
know
that
it
is
,
’
said
my
aunt
curtly
.
‘
You
must
not
be
ruled
by
my
suspicions
.
You
must
keep
them
secret
.
They
are
very
slight
,
perhaps
.
I
have
no
right
to
speak
.
’
‘
If
it
should
be
so
,
’
I
repeated
,
‘
Agnes
will
tell
me
at
her
own
good
time
.
A
sister
to
whom
I
have
confided
so
much
,
aunt
,
will
not
be
reluctant
to
confide
in
me
.
’
My
aunt
withdrew
her
eyes
from
mine
,
as
slowly
as
she
had
turned
them
upon
me
;
and
covered
them
thoughtfully
with
her
hand
.
By
and
by
she
put
her
other
hand
on
my
shoulder
;
and
so
we
both
sat
,
looking
into
the
past
,
without
saying
another
word
,
until
we
parted
for
the
night
.
I
rode
away
,
early
in
the
morning
,
for
the
scene
of
my
old
school
-
days
.
I
cannot
say
that
I
was
yet
quite
happy
,
in
the
hope
that
I
was
gaining
a
victory
over
myself
;
even
in
the
prospect
of
so
soon
looking
on
her
face
again
.
The
well
-
remembered
ground
was
soon
traversed
,
and
I
came
into
the
quiet
streets
,
where
every
stone
was
a
boy
’
s
book
to
me
.
I
went
on
foot
to
the
old
house
,
and
went
away
with
a
heart
too
full
to
enter
.
I
returned
;
and
looking
,
as
I
passed
,
through
the
low
window
of
the
turret
-
room
where
first
Uriah
Heep
,
and
afterwards
Mr
.
Micawber
,
had
been
wont
to
sit
,
saw
that
it
was
a
little
parlour
now
,
and
that
there
was
no
office
.
Otherwise
the
staid
old
house
was
,
as
to
its
cleanliness
and
order
,
still
just
as
it
had
been
when
I
first
saw
it
.
I
requested
the
new
maid
who
admitted
me
,
to
tell
Miss
Wickfield
that
a
gentleman
who
waited
on
her
from
a
friend
abroad
,
was
there
;
and
I
was
shown
up
the
grave
old
staircase
(
cautioned
of
the
steps
I
knew
so
well
)
,
into
the
unchanged
drawing
-
room
.
The
books
that
Agnes
and
I
had
read
together
,
were
on
their
shelves
;
and
the
desk
where
I
had
laboured
at
my
lessons
,
many
a
night
,
stood
yet
at
the
same
old
corner
of
the
table
.
All
the
little
changes
that
had
crept
in
when
the
Heeps
were
there
,
were
changed
again
.
Everything
was
as
it
used
to
be
,
in
the
happy
time
.
I
stood
in
a
window
,
and
looked
across
the
ancient
street
at
the
opposite
houses
,
recalling
how
I
had
watched
them
on
wet
afternoons
,
when
I
first
came
there
;
and
how
I
had
used
to
speculate
about
the
people
who
appeared
at
any
of
the
windows
,
and
had
followed
them
with
my
eyes
up
and
down
stairs
,
while
women
went
clicking
along
the
pavement
in
pattens
,
and
the
dull
rain
fell
in
slanting
lines
,
and
poured
out
of
the
water
-
spout
yonder
,
and
flowed
into
the
road
.
The
feeling
with
which
I
used
to
watch
the
tramps
,
as
they
came
into
the
town
on
those
wet
evenings
,
at
dusk
,
and
limped
past
,
with
their
bundles
drooping
over
their
shoulders
at
the
ends
of
sticks
,
came
freshly
back
to
me
;
fraught
,
as
then
,
with
the
smell
of
damp
earth
,
and
wet
leaves
and
briar
,
and
the
sensation
of
the
very
airs
that
blew
upon
me
in
my
own
toilsome
journey
.
The
opening
of
the
little
door
in
the
panelled
wall
made
me
start
and
turn
.
Her
beautiful
serene
eyes
met
mine
as
she
came
towards
me
.
She
stopped
and
laid
her
hand
upon
her
bosom
,
and
I
caught
her
in
my
arms
.
‘
Agnes
!
my
dear
girl
!
I
have
come
too
suddenly
upon
you
.
’
