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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 809/820
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I
had
advanced
in
fame
and
fortune
,
my
domestic
joy
was
perfect
,
I
had
been
married
ten
happy
years
.
Agnes
and
I
were
sitting
by
the
fire
,
in
our
house
in
London
,
one
night
in
spring
,
and
three
of
our
children
were
playing
in
the
room
,
when
I
was
told
that
a
stranger
wished
to
see
me
.
He
had
been
asked
if
he
came
on
business
,
and
had
answered
No
;
he
had
come
for
the
pleasure
of
seeing
me
,
and
had
come
a
long
way
.
He
was
an
old
man
,
my
servant
said
,
and
looked
like
a
farmer
.
As
this
sounded
mysterious
to
the
children
,
and
moreover
was
like
the
beginning
of
a
favourite
story
Agnes
used
to
tell
them
,
introductory
to
the
arrival
of
a
wicked
old
Fairy
in
a
cloak
who
hated
everybody
,
it
produced
some
commotion
.
One
of
our
boys
laid
his
head
in
his
mother
’
s
lap
to
be
out
of
harm
’
s
way
,
and
little
Agnes
(
our
eldest
child
)
left
her
doll
in
a
chair
to
represent
her
,
and
thrust
out
her
little
heap
of
golden
curls
from
between
the
window
-
curtains
,
to
see
what
happened
next
.
‘
Let
him
come
in
here
!
’
said
I
.
There
soon
appeared
,
pausing
in
the
dark
doorway
as
he
entered
,
a
hale
,
grey
-
haired
old
man
.
Little
Agnes
,
attracted
by
his
looks
,
had
run
to
bring
him
in
,
and
I
had
not
yet
clearly
seen
his
face
,
when
my
wife
,
starting
up
,
cried
out
to
me
,
in
a
pleased
and
agitated
voice
,
that
it
was
Mr
.
Peggotty
!
It
WAS
Mr
.
Peggotty
.
An
old
man
now
,
but
in
a
ruddy
,
hearty
,
strong
old
age
.
When
our
first
emotion
was
over
,
and
he
sat
before
the
fire
with
the
children
on
his
knees
,
and
the
blaze
shining
on
his
face
,
he
looked
,
to
me
,
as
vigorous
and
robust
,
withal
as
handsome
,
an
old
man
,
as
ever
I
had
seen
.
‘
Mas
’
r
Davy
,
’
said
he
.
And
the
old
name
in
the
old
tone
fell
so
naturally
on
my
ear
!
‘
Mas
’
r
Davy
,
’
tis
a
joyful
hour
as
I
see
you
,
once
more
,
‘
long
with
your
own
trew
wife
!
’
‘
A
joyful
hour
indeed
,
old
friend
!
’
cried
I
.
‘
And
these
heer
pretty
ones
,
’
said
Mr
.
Peggotty
.
‘
To
look
at
these
heer
flowers
!
Why
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
,
you
was
but
the
heighth
of
the
littlest
of
these
,
when
I
first
see
you
!
When
Em
’
ly
warn
’
t
no
bigger
,
and
our
poor
lad
were
BUT
a
lad
!
’
