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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 291/820
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For
my
own
part
,
my
occupation
in
my
solitary
pilgrimages
was
to
recall
every
yard
of
the
old
road
as
I
went
along
it
,
and
to
haunt
the
old
spots
,
of
which
I
never
tired
.
I
haunted
them
,
as
my
memory
had
often
done
,
and
lingered
among
them
as
my
younger
thoughts
had
lingered
when
I
was
far
away
.
The
grave
beneath
the
tree
,
where
both
my
parents
lay
—
on
which
I
had
looked
out
,
when
it
was
my
father
’
s
only
,
with
such
curious
feelings
of
compassion
,
and
by
which
I
had
stood
,
so
desolate
,
when
it
was
opened
to
receive
my
pretty
mother
and
her
baby
—
the
grave
which
Peggotty
’
s
own
faithful
care
had
ever
since
kept
neat
,
and
made
a
garden
of
,
I
walked
near
,
by
the
hour
.
It
lay
a
little
off
the
churchyard
path
,
in
a
quiet
corner
,
not
so
far
removed
but
I
could
read
the
names
upon
the
stone
as
I
walked
to
and
fro
,
startled
by
the
sound
of
the
church
-
bell
when
it
struck
the
hour
,
for
it
was
like
a
departed
voice
to
me
.
My
reflections
at
these
times
were
always
associated
with
the
figure
I
was
to
make
in
life
,
and
the
distinguished
things
I
was
to
do
.
My
echoing
footsteps
went
to
no
other
tune
,
but
were
as
constant
to
that
as
if
I
had
come
home
to
build
my
castles
in
the
air
at
a
living
mother
’
s
side
.
There
were
great
changes
in
my
old
home
.
The
ragged
nests
,
so
long
deserted
by
the
rooks
,
were
gone
;
and
the
trees
were
lopped
and
topped
out
of
their
remembered
shapes
.
The
garden
had
run
wild
,
and
half
the
windows
of
the
house
were
shut
up
.
It
was
occupied
,
but
only
by
a
poor
lunatic
gentleman
,
and
the
people
who
took
care
of
him
.
He
was
always
sitting
at
my
little
window
,
looking
out
into
the
churchyard
;
and
I
wondered
whether
his
rambling
thoughts
ever
went
upon
any
of
the
fancies
that
used
to
occupy
mine
,
on
the
rosy
mornings
when
I
peeped
out
of
that
same
little
window
in
my
night
-
clothes
,
and
saw
the
sheep
quietly
feeding
in
the
light
of
the
rising
sun
.
Our
old
neighbours
,
Mr
.
and
Mrs
.
Grayper
,
were
gone
to
South
America
,
and
the
rain
had
made
its
way
through
the
roof
of
their
empty
house
,
and
stained
the
outer
walls
.
Mr
.
Chillip
was
married
again
to
a
tall
,
raw
-
boned
,
high
-
nosed
wife
;
and
they
had
a
weazen
little
baby
,
with
a
heavy
head
that
it
couldn
’
t
hold
up
,
and
two
weak
staring
eyes
,
with
which
it
seemed
to
be
always
wondering
why
it
had
ever
been
born
.
It
was
with
a
singular
jumble
of
sadness
and
pleasure
that
I
used
to
linger
about
my
native
place
,
until
the
reddening
winter
sun
admonished
me
that
it
was
time
to
start
on
my
returning
walk
.
But
,
when
the
place
was
left
behind
,
and
especially
when
Steerforth
and
I
were
happily
seated
over
our
dinner
by
a
blazing
fire
,
it
was
delicious
to
think
of
having
been
there
.
So
it
was
,
though
in
a
softened
degree
,
when
I
went
to
my
neat
room
at
night
;
and
,
turning
over
the
leaves
of
the
crocodile
-
book
(
which
was
always
there
,
upon
a
little
table
)
,
remembered
with
a
grateful
heart
how
blest
I
was
in
having
such
a
friend
as
Steerforth
,
such
a
friend
as
Peggotty
,
and
such
a
substitute
for
what
I
had
lost
as
my
excellent
and
generous
aunt
.
My
nearest
way
to
Yarmouth
,
in
coming
back
from
these
long
walks
,
was
by
a
ferry
.
It
landed
me
on
the
flat
between
the
town
and
the
sea
,
which
I
could
make
straight
across
,
and
so
save
myself
a
considerable
circuit
by
the
high
road
.
Mr
.
Peggotty
’
s
house
being
on
that
waste
-
place
,
and
not
a
hundred
yards
out
of
my
track
,
I
always
looked
in
as
I
went
by
.
Steerforth
was
pretty
sure
to
be
there
expecting
me
,
and
we
went
on
together
through
the
frosty
air
and
gathering
fog
towards
the
twinkling
lights
of
the
town
.
One
dark
evening
,
when
I
was
later
than
usual
—
for
I
had
,
that
day
,
been
making
my
parting
visit
to
Blunderstone
,
as
we
were
now
about
to
return
home
—
I
found
him
alone
in
Mr
.
Peggotty
’
s
house
,
sitting
thoughtfully
before
the
fire
.
He
was
so
intent
upon
his
own
reflections
that
he
was
quite
unconscious
of
my
approach
.
This
,
indeed
,
he
might
easily
have
been
if
he
had
been
less
absorbed
,
for
footsteps
fell
noiselessly
on
the
sandy
ground
outside
;
but
even
my
entrance
failed
to
rouse
him
.
I
was
standing
close
to
him
,
looking
at
him
;
and
still
,
with
a
heavy
brow
,
he
was
lost
in
his
meditations
.
He
gave
such
a
start
when
I
put
my
hand
upon
his
shoulder
,
that
he
made
me
start
too
.
‘
You
come
upon
me
,
’
he
said
,
almost
angrily
,
‘
like
a
reproachful
ghost
!
’
