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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 595/820
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I
did
feel
,
sometimes
,
for
a
little
while
,
that
I
could
have
wished
my
wife
had
been
my
counsellor
;
had
had
more
character
and
purpose
,
to
sustain
me
and
improve
me
by
;
had
been
endowed
with
power
to
fill
up
the
void
which
somewhere
seemed
to
be
about
me
;
but
I
felt
as
if
this
were
an
unearthly
consummation
of
my
happiness
,
that
never
had
been
meant
to
be
,
and
never
could
have
been
.
I
was
a
boyish
husband
as
to
years
.
I
had
known
the
softening
influence
of
no
other
sorrows
or
experiences
than
those
recorded
in
these
leaves
.
If
I
did
any
wrong
,
as
I
may
have
done
much
,
I
did
it
in
mistaken
love
,
and
in
my
want
of
wisdom
.
I
write
the
exact
truth
.
It
would
avail
me
nothing
to
extenuate
it
now
.
Thus
it
was
that
I
took
upon
myself
the
toils
and
cares
of
our
life
,
and
had
no
partner
in
them
.
We
lived
much
as
before
,
in
reference
to
our
scrambling
household
arrangements
;
but
I
had
got
used
to
those
,
and
Dora
I
was
pleased
to
see
was
seldom
vexed
now
.
She
was
bright
and
cheerful
in
the
old
childish
way
,
loved
me
dearly
,
and
was
happy
with
her
old
trifles
.
When
the
debates
were
heavy
—
I
mean
as
to
length
,
not
quality
,
for
in
the
last
respect
they
were
not
often
otherwise
—
and
I
went
home
late
,
Dora
would
never
rest
when
she
heard
my
footsteps
,
but
would
always
come
downstairs
to
meet
me
.
When
my
evenings
were
unoccupied
by
the
pursuit
for
which
I
had
qualified
myself
with
so
much
pains
,
and
I
was
engaged
in
writing
at
home
,
she
would
sit
quietly
near
me
,
however
late
the
hour
,
and
be
so
mute
,
that
I
would
often
think
she
had
dropped
asleep
.
But
generally
,
when
I
raised
my
head
,
I
saw
her
blue
eyes
looking
at
me
with
the
quiet
attention
of
which
I
have
already
spoken
.
‘
Oh
,
what
a
weary
boy
!
’
said
Dora
one
night
,
when
I
met
her
eyes
as
I
was
shutting
up
my
desk
.
‘
What
a
weary
girl
!
’
said
I
.
‘
That
’
s
more
to
the
purpose
.
You
must
go
to
bed
another
time
,
my
love
.
It
’
s
far
too
late
for
you
.
’
‘
No
,
don
’
t
send
me
to
bed
!
’
pleaded
Dora
,
coming
to
my
side
.
‘
Pray
,
don
’
t
do
that
!
’
‘
Dora
!
’
To
my
amazement
she
was
sobbing
on
my
neck
.
‘
Not
well
,
my
dear
!
not
happy
!
’
‘
Yes
!
quite
well
,
and
very
happy
!
’
said
Dora
.
‘
But
say
you
’
ll
let
me
stop
,
and
see
you
write
.
’
