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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 145/820
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For
the
same
reason
,
added
no
doubt
to
the
old
dislike
of
her
,
I
was
seldom
allowed
to
visit
Peggotty
.
Faithful
to
her
promise
,
she
either
came
to
see
me
,
or
met
me
somewhere
near
,
once
every
week
,
and
never
empty
-
handed
;
but
many
and
bitter
were
the
disappointments
I
had
,
in
being
refused
permission
to
pay
a
visit
to
her
at
her
house
.
Some
few
times
,
however
,
at
long
intervals
,
I
was
allowed
to
go
there
;
and
then
I
found
out
that
Mr
.
Barkis
was
something
of
a
miser
,
or
as
Peggotty
dutifully
expressed
it
,
was
‘
a
little
near
’
,
and
kept
a
heap
of
money
in
a
box
under
his
bed
,
which
he
pretended
was
only
full
of
coats
and
trousers
.
In
this
coffer
,
his
riches
hid
themselves
with
such
a
tenacious
modesty
,
that
the
smallest
instalments
could
only
be
tempted
out
by
artifice
;
so
that
Peggotty
had
to
prepare
a
long
and
elaborate
scheme
,
a
very
Gunpowder
Plot
,
for
every
Saturday
’
s
expenses
.
All
this
time
I
was
so
conscious
of
the
waste
of
any
promise
I
had
given
,
and
of
my
being
utterly
neglected
,
that
I
should
have
been
perfectly
miserable
,
I
have
no
doubt
,
but
for
the
old
books
.
They
were
my
only
comfort
;
and
I
was
as
true
to
them
as
they
were
to
me
,
and
read
them
over
and
over
I
don
’
t
know
how
many
times
more
.
I
now
approach
a
period
of
my
life
,
which
I
can
never
lose
the
remembrance
of
,
while
I
remember
anything
:
and
the
recollection
of
which
has
often
,
without
my
invocation
,
come
before
me
like
a
ghost
,
and
haunted
happier
times
.
I
had
been
out
,
one
day
,
loitering
somewhere
,
in
the
listless
,
meditative
manner
that
my
way
of
life
engendered
,
when
,
turning
the
corner
of
a
lane
near
our
house
,
I
came
upon
Mr
.
Murdstone
walking
with
a
gentleman
.
I
was
confused
,
and
was
going
by
them
,
when
the
gentleman
cried
:
‘
What
!
Brooks
!
’
‘
No
,
sir
,
David
Copperfield
,
’
I
said
.
‘
Don
’
t
tell
me
.
You
are
Brooks
,
’
said
the
gentleman
.
‘
You
are
Brooks
of
Sheffield
.
That
’
s
your
name
.
’
At
these
words
,
I
observed
the
gentleman
more
attentively
.
His
laugh
coming
to
my
remembrance
too
,
I
knew
him
to
be
Mr
.
Quinion
,
whom
I
had
gone
over
to
Lowestoft
with
Mr
.
Murdstone
to
see
,
before
-
it
is
no
matter
—
I
need
not
recall
when
.
‘
And
how
do
you
get
on
,
and
where
are
you
being
educated
,
Brooks
?
’
said
Mr
.
Quinion
.
He
had
put
his
hand
upon
my
shoulder
,
and
turned
me
about
,
to
walk
with
them
.
