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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 414/820
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‘
Ham
!
Poor
good
fellow
!
For
Heaven
’
s
sake
,
tell
me
what
’
s
the
matter
!
’
‘
My
love
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
—
the
pride
and
hope
of
my
art
—
her
that
I
’
d
have
died
for
,
and
would
die
for
now
—
she
’
s
gone
!
’
‘
Gone
!
’
‘
Em
’
ly
’
s
run
away
!
Oh
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
,
think
HOW
she
’
s
run
away
,
when
I
pray
my
good
and
gracious
God
to
kill
her
(
her
that
is
so
dear
above
all
things
)
sooner
than
let
her
come
to
ruin
and
disgrace
!
’
The
face
he
turned
up
to
the
troubled
sky
,
the
quivering
of
his
clasped
hands
,
the
agony
of
his
figure
,
remain
associated
with
the
lonely
waste
,
in
my
remembrance
,
to
this
hour
.
It
is
always
night
there
,
and
he
is
the
only
object
in
the
scene
.
‘
You
’
re
a
scholar
,
’
he
said
,
hurriedly
,
‘
and
know
what
’
s
right
and
best
.
What
am
I
to
say
,
indoors
?
How
am
I
ever
to
break
it
to
him
,
Mas
’
r
Davy
?
’
I
saw
the
door
move
,
and
instinctively
tried
to
hold
the
latch
on
the
outside
,
to
gain
a
moment
’
s
time
.
It
was
too
late
.
Mr
.
Peggotty
thrust
forth
his
face
;
and
never
could
I
forget
the
change
that
came
upon
it
when
he
saw
us
,
if
I
were
to
live
five
hundred
years
.
I
remember
a
great
wail
and
cry
,
and
the
women
hanging
about
him
,
and
we
all
standing
in
the
room
;
I
with
a
paper
in
my
hand
,
which
Ham
had
given
me
;
Mr
.
Peggotty
,
with
his
vest
torn
open
,
his
hair
wild
,
his
face
and
lips
quite
white
,
and
blood
trickling
down
his
bosom
(
it
had
sprung
from
his
mouth
,
I
think
)
,
looking
fixedly
at
me
.
‘
Read
it
,
sir
,
’
he
said
,
in
a
low
shivering
voice
.
‘
Slow
,
please
.
I
doen
’
t
know
as
I
can
understand
.
’
In
the
midst
of
the
silence
of
death
,
I
read
thus
,
from
a
blotted
letter
:
