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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 410/820
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I
did
not
attend
the
funeral
in
character
,
if
I
may
venture
to
say
so
.
I
mean
I
was
not
dressed
up
in
a
black
coat
and
a
streamer
,
to
frighten
the
birds
;
but
I
walked
over
to
Blunderstone
early
in
the
morning
,
and
was
in
the
churchyard
when
it
came
,
attended
only
by
Peggotty
and
her
brother
.
The
mad
gentleman
looked
on
,
out
of
my
little
window
;
Mr
.
Chillip
’
s
baby
wagged
its
heavy
head
,
and
rolled
its
goggle
eyes
,
at
the
clergyman
,
over
its
nurse
’
s
shoulder
;
Mr
.
Omer
breathed
short
in
the
background
;
no
one
else
was
there
;
and
it
was
very
quiet
.
We
walked
about
the
churchyard
for
an
hour
,
after
all
was
over
;
and
pulled
some
young
leaves
from
the
tree
above
my
mother
’
s
grave
.
A
dread
falls
on
me
here
.
A
cloud
is
lowering
on
the
distant
town
,
towards
which
I
retraced
my
solitary
steps
.
I
fear
to
approach
it
.
I
cannot
bear
to
think
of
what
did
come
,
upon
that
memorable
night
;
of
what
must
come
again
,
if
I
go
on
.
It
is
no
worse
,
because
I
write
of
it
.
It
would
be
no
better
,
if
I
stopped
my
most
unwilling
hand
.
It
is
done
.
Nothing
can
undo
it
;
nothing
can
make
it
otherwise
than
as
it
was
.
My
old
nurse
was
to
go
to
London
with
me
next
day
,
on
the
business
of
the
will
.
Little
Emily
was
passing
that
day
at
Mr
.
Omer
’
s
.
We
were
all
to
meet
in
the
old
boathouse
that
night
.
Ham
would
bring
Emily
at
the
usual
hour
.
I
would
walk
back
at
my
leisure
.
The
brother
and
sister
would
return
as
they
had
come
,
and
be
expecting
us
,
when
the
day
closed
in
,
at
the
fireside
.
I
parted
from
them
at
the
wicket
-
gate
,
where
visionary
Strap
had
rested
with
Roderick
Random
’
s
knapsack
in
the
days
of
yore
;
and
,
instead
of
going
straight
back
,
walked
a
little
distance
on
the
road
to
Lowestoft
.
Then
I
turned
,
and
walked
back
towards
Yarmouth
.
I
stayed
to
dine
at
a
decent
alehouse
,
some
mile
or
two
from
the
Ferry
I
have
mentioned
before
;
and
thus
the
day
wore
away
,
and
it
was
evening
when
I
reached
it
.
Rain
was
falling
heavily
by
that
time
,
and
it
was
a
wild
night
;
but
there
was
a
moon
behind
the
clouds
,
and
it
was
not
dark
.
I
was
soon
within
sight
of
Mr
.
Peggotty
’
s
house
,
and
of
the
light
within
it
shining
through
the
window
.
A
little
floundering
across
the
sand
,
which
was
heavy
,
brought
me
to
the
door
,
and
I
went
in
.
It
looked
very
comfortable
indeed
.
Mr
.
Peggotty
had
smoked
his
evening
pipe
and
there
were
preparations
for
some
supper
by
and
by
.
The
fire
was
bright
,
the
ashes
were
thrown
up
,
the
locker
was
ready
for
little
Emily
in
her
old
place
.
In
her
own
old
place
sat
Peggotty
,
once
more
,
looking
(
but
for
her
dress
)
as
if
she
had
never
left
it
.
She
had
fallen
back
,
already
,
on
the
society
of
the
work
-
box
with
St
.
Paul
’
s
upon
the
lid
,
the
yard
-
measure
in
the
cottage
,
and
the
bit
of
wax
-
candle
;
and
there
they
all
were
,
just
as
if
they
had
never
been
disturbed
.
Mrs
.
Gummidge
appeared
to
be
fretting
a
little
,
in
her
old
corner
;
and
consequently
looked
quite
natural
,
too
.
‘
You
’
re
first
of
the
lot
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
!
’
said
Mr
.
Peggotty
with
a
happy
face
.
‘
Doen
’
t
keep
in
that
coat
,
sir
,
if
it
’
s
wet
.
’
‘
Thank
you
,
Mr
.
Peggotty
,
’
said
I
,
giving
him
my
outer
coat
to
hang
up
.
‘
It
’
s
quite
dry
.
’
