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Главная
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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 808/820
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‘
Let
me
hear
it
,
love
.
’
‘
It
grows
out
of
the
night
when
Dora
died
.
She
sent
you
for
me
.
’
‘
She
did
.
’
‘
She
told
me
that
she
left
me
something
.
Can
you
think
what
it
was
?
’
I
believed
I
could
.
I
drew
the
wife
who
had
so
long
loved
me
,
closer
to
my
side
.
‘
She
told
me
that
she
made
a
last
request
to
me
,
and
left
me
a
last
charge
.
’
‘
And
it
was
—
—
’
‘
That
only
I
would
occupy
this
vacant
place
.
’
And
Agnes
laid
her
head
upon
my
breast
,
and
wept
;
and
I
wept
with
her
,
though
we
were
so
happy
.
What
I
have
purposed
to
record
is
nearly
finished
;
but
there
is
yet
an
incident
conspicuous
in
my
memory
,
on
which
it
often
rests
with
delight
,
and
without
which
one
thread
in
the
web
I
have
spun
would
have
a
ravelled
end
.
