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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 522/820
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‘
Not
more
than
usual
,
’
I
replied
.
‘
Don
’
t
you
though
!
’
said
Mrs
.
Heep
.
‘
But
you
don
’
t
take
notice
of
him
with
a
mother
’
s
eye
!
’
His
mother
’
s
eye
was
an
evil
eye
to
the
rest
of
the
world
,
I
thought
as
it
met
mine
,
howsoever
affectionate
to
him
;
and
I
believe
she
and
her
son
were
devoted
to
one
another
.
It
passed
me
,
and
went
on
to
Agnes
.
‘
Don
’
t
YOU
see
a
wasting
and
a
wearing
in
him
,
Miss
Wickfield
?
’
inquired
Mrs
.
Heep
.
‘
No
,
’
said
Agnes
,
quietly
pursuing
the
work
on
which
she
was
engaged
.
‘
You
are
too
solicitous
about
him
.
He
is
very
well
.
’
Mrs
.
Heep
,
with
a
prodigious
sniff
,
resumed
her
knitting
.
She
never
left
off
,
or
left
us
for
a
moment
.
I
had
arrived
early
in
the
day
,
and
we
had
still
three
or
four
hours
before
dinner
;
but
she
sat
there
,
plying
her
knitting
-
needles
as
monotonously
as
an
hour
-
glass
might
have
poured
out
its
sands
.
She
sat
on
one
side
of
the
fire
;
I
sat
at
the
desk
in
front
of
it
;
a
little
beyond
me
,
on
the
other
side
,
sat
Agnes
.
Whensoever
,
slowly
pondering
over
my
letter
,
I
lifted
up
my
eyes
,
and
meeting
the
thoughtful
face
of
Agnes
,
saw
it
clear
,
and
beam
encouragement
upon
me
,
with
its
own
angelic
expression
,
I
was
conscious
presently
of
the
evil
eye
passing
me
,
and
going
on
to
her
,
and
coming
back
to
me
again
,
and
dropping
furtively
upon
the
knitting
.
What
the
knitting
was
,
I
don
’
t
know
,
not
being
learned
in
that
art
;
but
it
looked
like
a
net
;
and
as
she
worked
away
with
those
Chinese
chopsticks
of
knitting
-
needles
,
she
showed
in
the
firelight
like
an
ill
-
looking
enchantress
,
baulked
as
yet
by
the
radiant
goodness
opposite
,
but
getting
ready
for
a
cast
of
her
net
by
and
by
.
At
dinner
she
maintained
her
watch
,
with
the
same
unwinking
eyes
.
After
dinner
,
her
son
took
his
turn
;
and
when
Mr
.
Wickfield
,
himself
,
and
I
were
left
alone
together
,
leered
at
me
,
and
writhed
until
I
could
hardly
bear
it
.
In
the
drawing
-
room
,
there
was
the
mother
knitting
and
watching
again
.
All
the
time
that
Agnes
sang
and
played
,
the
mother
sat
at
the
piano
.
Once
she
asked
for
a
particular
ballad
,
which
she
said
her
Ury
(
who
was
yawning
in
a
great
chair
)
doted
on
;
and
at
intervals
she
looked
round
at
him
,
and
reported
to
Agnes
that
he
was
in
raptures
with
the
music
.
But
she
hardly
ever
spoke
—
I
question
if
she
ever
did
—
without
making
some
mention
of
him
.
It
was
evident
to
me
that
this
was
the
duty
assigned
to
her
.
