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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 252/820
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‘
Tell
me
what
it
is
,
’
she
said
,
in
a
low
voice
.
‘
I
think
—
shall
I
be
quite
plain
,
Agnes
,
liking
him
so
much
?
’
‘
Yes
,
’
she
said
.
‘
I
think
he
does
himself
no
good
by
the
habit
that
has
increased
upon
him
since
I
first
came
here
.
He
is
often
very
nervous
—
or
I
fancy
so
.
’
‘
It
is
not
fancy
,
’
said
Agnes
,
shaking
her
head
.
‘
His
hand
trembles
,
his
speech
is
not
plain
,
and
his
eyes
look
wild
.
I
have
remarked
that
at
those
times
,
and
when
he
is
least
like
himself
,
he
is
most
certain
to
be
wanted
on
some
business
.
’
‘
By
Uriah
,
’
said
Agnes
.
‘
Yes
;
and
the
sense
of
being
unfit
for
it
,
or
of
not
having
understood
it
,
or
of
having
shown
his
condition
in
spite
of
himself
,
seems
to
make
him
so
uneasy
,
that
next
day
he
is
worse
,
and
next
day
worse
,
and
so
he
becomes
jaded
and
haggard
.
Do
not
be
alarmed
by
what
I
say
,
Agnes
,
but
in
this
state
I
saw
him
,
only
the
other
evening
,
lay
down
his
head
upon
his
desk
,
and
shed
tears
like
a
child
.
’
Her
hand
passed
softly
before
my
lips
while
I
was
yet
speaking
,
and
in
a
moment
she
had
met
her
father
at
the
door
of
the
room
,
and
was
hanging
on
his
shoulder
.
The
expression
of
her
face
,
as
they
both
looked
towards
me
,
I
felt
to
be
very
touching
.
There
was
such
deep
fondness
for
him
,
and
gratitude
to
him
for
all
his
love
and
care
,
in
her
beautiful
look
;
and
there
was
such
a
fervent
appeal
to
me
to
deal
tenderly
by
him
,
even
in
my
inmost
thoughts
,
and
to
let
no
harsh
construction
find
any
place
against
him
;
she
was
,
at
once
,
so
proud
of
him
and
devoted
to
him
,
yet
so
compassionate
and
sorry
,
and
so
reliant
upon
me
to
be
so
,
too
;
that
nothing
she
could
have
said
would
have
expressed
more
to
me
,
or
moved
me
more
.
