-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
-
- Стр. 805/820
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Closer
in
my
arms
,
nearer
to
my
heart
,
her
trembling
hand
upon
my
shoulder
,
her
sweet
eyes
shining
through
her
tears
,
on
mine
!
‘
I
went
away
,
dear
Agnes
,
loving
you
.
I
stayed
away
,
loving
you
.
I
returned
home
,
loving
you
!
’
And
now
,
I
tried
to
tell
her
of
the
struggle
I
had
had
,
and
the
conclusion
I
had
come
to
.
I
tried
to
lay
my
mind
before
her
,
truly
,
and
entirely
.
I
tried
to
show
her
how
I
had
hoped
I
had
come
into
the
better
knowledge
of
myself
and
of
her
;
how
I
had
resigned
myself
to
what
that
better
knowledge
brought
;
and
how
I
had
come
there
,
even
that
day
,
in
my
fidelity
to
this
.
If
she
did
so
love
me
(
I
said
)
that
she
could
take
me
for
her
husband
,
she
could
do
so
,
on
no
deserving
of
mine
,
except
upon
the
truth
of
my
love
for
her
,
and
the
trouble
in
which
it
had
ripened
to
be
what
it
was
;
and
hence
it
was
that
I
revealed
it
.
And
O
,
Agnes
,
even
out
of
thy
true
eyes
,
in
that
same
time
,
the
spirit
of
my
child
-
wife
looked
upon
me
,
saying
it
was
well
;
and
winning
me
,
through
thee
,
to
tenderest
recollections
of
the
Blossom
that
had
withered
in
its
bloom
!
‘
I
am
so
blest
,
Trotwood
—
my
heart
is
so
overcharged
—
but
there
is
one
thing
I
must
say
.
’
‘
Dearest
,
what
?
’
She
laid
her
gentle
hands
upon
my
shoulders
,
and
looked
calmly
in
my
face
.
‘
Do
you
know
,
yet
,
what
it
is
?
’
‘
I
am
afraid
to
speculate
on
what
it
is
.
Tell
me
,
my
dear
.
’
‘
I
have
loved
you
all
my
life
!
’
