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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 779/820
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‘
No
,
no
!
I
am
so
rejoiced
to
see
you
,
Trotwood
!
’
‘
Dear
Agnes
,
the
happiness
it
is
to
me
,
to
see
you
once
again
!
’
I
folded
her
to
my
heart
,
and
,
for
a
little
while
,
we
were
both
silent
.
Presently
we
sat
down
,
side
by
side
;
and
her
angel
-
face
was
turned
upon
me
with
the
welcome
I
had
dreamed
of
,
waking
and
sleeping
,
for
whole
years
.
She
was
so
true
,
she
was
so
beautiful
,
she
was
so
good
,
—
I
owed
her
so
much
gratitude
,
she
was
so
dear
to
me
,
that
I
could
find
no
utterance
for
what
I
felt
.
I
tried
to
bless
her
,
tried
to
thank
her
,
tried
to
tell
her
(
as
I
had
often
done
in
letters
)
what
an
influence
she
had
upon
me
;
but
all
my
efforts
were
in
vain
.
My
love
and
joy
were
dumb
.
With
her
own
sweet
tranquillity
,
she
calmed
my
agitation
;
led
me
back
to
the
time
of
our
parting
;
spoke
to
me
of
Emily
,
whom
she
had
visited
,
in
secret
,
many
times
;
spoke
to
me
tenderly
of
Dora
’
s
grave
.
With
the
unerring
instinct
of
her
noble
heart
,
she
touched
the
chords
of
my
memory
so
softly
and
harmoniously
,
that
not
one
jarred
within
me
;
I
could
listen
to
the
sorrowful
,
distant
music
,
and
desire
to
shrink
from
nothing
it
awoke
.
How
could
I
,
when
,
blended
with
it
all
,
was
her
dear
self
,
the
better
angel
of
my
life
?
‘
And
you
,
Agnes
,
’
I
said
,
by
and
by
.
‘
Tell
me
of
yourself
.
You
have
hardly
ever
told
me
of
your
own
life
,
in
all
this
lapse
of
time
!
’
‘
What
should
I
tell
?
’
she
answered
,
with
her
radiant
smile
.
‘
Papa
is
well
.
You
see
us
here
,
quiet
in
our
own
home
;
our
anxieties
set
at
rest
,
our
home
restored
to
us
;
and
knowing
that
,
dear
Trotwood
,
you
know
all
.
’
‘
All
,
Agnes
?
’
said
I
.
She
looked
at
me
,
with
some
fluttering
wonder
in
her
face
.
