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- Чарльз Диккенс
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And
now
to
see
him
after
all
,
and
in
a
prison
too
!
And
the
broad
stomacher
heaves
,
and
the
quaint
upright
old
-
fashioned
figure
bends
under
its
load
of
affectionate
distress
.
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
with
the
instinctive
skill
of
a
good
warm
heart
,
leaves
the
old
housekeeper
to
her
emotions
for
a
little
while
—
not
without
passing
the
back
of
her
hand
across
her
own
motherly
eyes
—
and
presently
chirps
up
in
her
cheery
manner
,
"
So
I
says
to
George
when
I
goes
to
call
him
in
to
tea
(
he
pretended
to
be
smoking
his
pipe
outside
)
,
’
What
ails
you
this
afternoon
,
George
,
for
gracious
sake
?
I
have
seen
all
sorts
,
and
I
have
seen
you
pretty
often
in
season
and
out
of
season
,
abroad
and
at
home
,
and
I
never
see
you
so
melancholy
penitent
.
’
’
Why
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
’
says
George
,
’
it
’
s
because
I
AM
melancholy
and
penitent
both
,
this
afternoon
,
that
you
see
me
so
.
’
’
What
have
you
done
,
old
fellow
?
’
I
says
.
’
Why
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
’
says
George
,
shaking
his
head
,
’
what
I
have
done
has
been
done
this
many
a
long
year
,
and
is
best
not
tried
to
be
undone
now
.
If
I
ever
get
to
heaven
it
won
’
t
be
for
being
a
good
son
to
a
widowed
mother
;
I
say
no
more
.
’
Now
,
ma
’
am
,
when
George
says
to
me
that
it
’
s
best
not
tried
to
be
undone
now
,
I
have
my
thoughts
as
I
have
often
had
before
,
and
I
draw
it
out
of
George
how
he
comes
to
have
such
things
on
him
that
afternoon
.
Then
George
tells
me
that
he
has
seen
by
chance
,
at
the
lawyer
’
s
office
,
a
fine
old
lady
that
has
brought
his
mother
plain
before
him
,
and
he
runs
on
about
that
old
lady
till
he
quite
forgets
himself
and
paints
her
picture
to
me
as
she
used
to
be
,
years
upon
years
back
.
So
I
says
to
George
when
he
has
done
,
who
is
this
old
lady
he
has
seen
?
And
George
tells
me
it
’
s
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
housekeeper
for
more
than
half
a
century
to
the
Dedlock
family
down
at
Chesney
Wold
in
Lincolnshire
.
George
has
frequently
told
me
before
that
he
’
s
a
Lincolnshire
man
,
and
I
says
to
my
old
Lignum
that
night
,
’
Lignum
,
that
’
s
his
mother
for
five
and
for
-
ty
pound
!
’
"
All
this
Mrs
.
Bagnet
now
relates
for
the
twentieth
time
at
least
within
the
last
four
hours
.
Trilling
it
out
like
a
kind
of
bird
,
with
a
pretty
high
note
,
that
it
may
be
audible
to
the
old
lady
above
the
hum
of
the
wheels
.
"
Bless
you
,
and
thank
you
,
"
says
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
.
"
Bless
you
,
and
thank
you
,
my
worthy
soul
!
"
"
Dear
heart
!
"
cries
Mrs
.
Bagnet
in
the
most
natural
manner
.
"
No
thanks
to
me
,
I
am
sure
.
Thanks
to
yourself
,
ma
’
am
,
for
being
so
ready
to
pay
’
em
!
And
mind
once
more
,
ma
’
am
,
what
you
had
best
do
on
finding
George
to
be
your
own
son
is
to
make
him
—
for
your
sake
—
have
every
sort
of
help
to
put
himself
in
the
right
and
clear
himself
of
a
charge
of
which
he
is
as
innocent
as
you
or
me
.
It
won
’
t
do
to
have
truth
and
justice
on
his
side
;
he
must
have
law
and
lawyers
,
"
exclaims
the
old
girl
,
apparently
persuaded
that
the
latter
form
a
separate
establishment
and
have
dissolved
partnership
with
truth
and
justice
for
ever
and
a
day
.
"
He
shall
have
,
"
says
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
"
all
the
help
that
can
be
got
for
him
in
the
world
,
my
dear
.
I
will
spend
all
I
have
,
and
thankfully
,
to
procure
it
.
Sir
Leicester
will
do
his
best
,
the
whole
family
will
do
their
best
.
I
—
I
know
something
,
my
dear
;
and
will
make
my
own
appeal
,
as
his
mother
parted
from
him
all
these
years
,
and
finding
him
in
a
jail
at
last
.
"
The
extreme
disquietude
of
the
old
housekeeper
’
s
manner
in
saying
this
,
her
broken
words
,
and
her
wringing
of
her
hands
make
a
powerful
impression
on
Mrs
.
Bagnet
and
would
astonish
her
but
that
she
refers
them
all
to
her
sorrow
for
her
son
’
s
condition
.
And
yet
Mrs
.
Bagnet
wonders
too
why
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
should
murmur
so
distractedly
,
"
My
Lady
,
my
Lady
,
my
Lady
!
"
over
and
over
again
.
The
frosty
night
wears
away
,
and
the
dawn
breaks
,
and
the
post
-
chaise
comes
rolling
on
through
the
early
mist
like
the
ghost
of
a
chaise
departed
.
It
has
plenty
of
spectral
company
in
ghosts
of
trees
and
hedges
,
slowly
vanishing
and
giving
place
to
the
realities
of
day
.
London
reached
,
the
travellers
alight
,
the
old
housekeeper
in
great
tribulation
and
confusion
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
quite
fresh
and
collected
—
as
she
would
be
if
her
next
point
,
with
no
new
equipage
and
outfit
,
were
the
Cape
of
Good
Hope
,
the
Island
of
Ascension
,
Hong
Kong
,
or
any
other
military
station
.
But
when
they
set
out
for
the
prison
where
the
trooper
is
confined
,
the
old
lady
has
managed
to
draw
about
her
,
with
her
lavender
-
coloured
dress
,
much
of
the
staid
calmness
which
is
its
usual
accompaniment
.
A
wonderfully
grave
,
precise
,
and
handsome
piece
of
old
china
she
looks
,
though
her
heart
beats
fast
and
her
stomacher
is
ruffled
more
than
even
the
remembrance
of
this
wayward
son
has
ruffled
it
these
many
years
.
Approaching
the
cell
,
they
find
the
door
opening
and
a
warder
in
the
act
of
coming
out
.
The
old
girl
promptly
makes
a
sign
of
entreaty
to
him
to
say
nothing
;
assenting
with
a
nod
,
he
suffers
them
to
enter
as
he
shuts
the
door
.
So
George
,
who
is
writing
at
his
table
,
supposing
himself
to
be
alone
,
does
not
raise
his
eyes
,
but
remains
absorbed
.
The
old
housekeeper
looks
at
him
,
and
those
wandering
hands
of
hers
are
quite
enough
for
Mrs
.
Bagnet
’
s
confirmation
,
even
if
she
could
see
the
mother
and
the
son
together
,
knowing
what
she
knows
,
and
doubt
their
relationship
.
Not
a
rustle
of
the
housekeeper
’
s
dress
,
not
a
gesture
,
not
a
word
betrays
her
.
She
stands
looking
at
him
as
he
writes
on
,
all
unconscious
,
and
only
her
fluttering
hands
give
utterance
to
her
emotions
.
But
they
are
very
eloquent
,
very
,
very
eloquent
.
Mrs
.
Bagnet
understands
them
.
They
speak
of
gratitude
,
of
joy
,
of
grief
,
of
hope
;
of
inextinguishable
affection
,
cherished
with
no
return
since
this
stalwart
man
was
a
stripling
;
of
a
better
son
loved
less
,
and
this
son
loved
so
fondly
and
so
proudly
;
and
they
speak
in
such
touching
language
that
Mrs
.
Bagnet
’
s
eyes
brim
up
with
tears
and
they
run
glistening
down
her
sun
-
brown
face
.
"
George
Rouncewell
!
Oh
,
my
dear
child
,
turn
and
look
at
me
!
"
The
trooper
starts
up
,
clasps
his
mother
round
the
neck
,
and
falls
down
on
his
knees
before
her
.
Whether
in
a
late
repentance
,
whether
in
the
first
association
that
comes
back
upon
him
,
he
puts
his
hands
together
as
a
child
does
when
it
says
its
prayers
,
and
raising
them
towards
her
breast
,
bows
down
his
head
,
and
cries
.
"
My
George
,
my
dearest
son
!
Always
my
favourite
,
and
my
favourite
still
,
where
have
you
been
these
cruel
years
and
years
?
Grown
such
a
man
too
,
grown
such
a
fine
strong
man
.
Grown
so
like
what
I
knew
he
must
be
,
if
it
pleased
God
he
was
alive
!
"
She
can
ask
,
and
he
can
answer
,
nothing
connected
for
a
time
.
All
that
time
the
old
girl
,
turned
away
,
leans
one
arm
against
the
whitened
wall
,
leans
her
honest
forehead
upon
it
,
wipes
her
eyes
with
her
serviceable
grey
cloak
,
and
quite
enjoys
herself
like
the
best
of
old
girls
as
she
is
.
"
Mother
,
"
says
the
trooper
when
they
are
more
composed
,
"
forgive
me
first
of
all
,
for
I
know
my
need
of
it
.
"
Forgive
him
!
She
does
it
with
all
her
heart
and
soul
.
She
always
has
done
it
.
She
tells
him
how
she
has
had
it
written
in
her
will
,
these
many
years
,
that
he
was
her
beloved
son
George
.
She
has
never
believed
any
ill
of
him
,
never
.
If
she
had
died
without
this
happiness
—
and
she
is
an
old
woman
now
and
can
’
t
look
to
live
very
long
—
she
would
have
blessed
him
with
her
last
breath
,
if
she
had
had
her
senses
,
as
her
beloved
son
George
.
"
Mother
,
I
have
been
an
undutiful
trouble
to
you
,
and
I
have
my
reward
;
but
of
late
years
I
have
had
a
kind
of
glimmering
of
a
purpose
in
me
too
.
When
I
left
home
I
didn
’
t
care
much
,
mother
—
I
am
afraid
not
a
great
deal
—
for
leaving
;
and
went
away
and
’
listed
,
harum
-
scarum
,
making
believe
to
think
that
I
cared
for
nobody
,
no
not
I
,
and
that
nobody
cared
for
me
.
"
The
trooper
has
dried
his
eyes
and
put
away
his
handkerchief
,
but
there
is
an
extraordinary
contrast
between
his
habitual
manner
of
expressing
himself
and
carrying
himself
and
the
softened
tone
in
which
he
speaks
,
interrupted
occasionally
by
a
half
-
stifled
sob
.
"
So
I
wrote
a
line
home
,
mother
,
as
you
too
well
know
,
to
say
I
had
’
listed
under
another
name
,
and
I
went
abroad
.
Abroad
,
at
one
time
I
thought
I
would
write
home
next
year
,
when
I
might
be
better
off
;
and
when
that
year
was
out
,
I
thought
I
would
write
home
next
year
,
when
I
might
be
better
off
;
and
when
that
year
was
out
again
,
perhaps
I
didn
’
t
think
much
about
it
.
So
on
,
from
year
to
year
,
through
a
service
of
ten
years
,
till
I
began
to
get
older
,
and
to
ask
myself
why
should
I
ever
write
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
find
any
fault
,
child
—
but
not
to
ease
my
mind
,
George
?
Not
a
word
to
your
loving
mother
,
who
was
growing
older
too
?
"
This
almost
overturns
the
trooper
afresh
,
but
he
sets
himself
up
with
a
great
,
rough
,
sounding
clearance
of
his
throat
.
"
Heaven
forgive
me
,
mother
,
but
I
thought
there
would
be
small
consolation
then
in
hearing
anything
about
me
.
There
were
you
,
respected
and
esteemed
.
There
was
my
brother
,
as
I
read
in
chance
North
Country
papers
now
and
then
,
rising
to
be
prosperous
and
famous
.
There
was
I
a
dragoon
,
roving
,
unsettled
,
not
self
-
made
like
him
,
but
self
-
unmade
—
all
my
earlier
advantages
thrown
away
,
all
my
little
learning
unlearnt
,
nothing
picked
up
but
what
unfitted
me
for
most
things
that
I
could
think
of
.
What
business
had
I
to
make
myself
known
?
After
letting
all
that
time
go
by
me
,
what
good
could
come
of
it
?
The
worst
was
past
with
you
,
mother
.
I
knew
by
that
time
(
being
a
man
)
how
you
had
mourned
for
me
,
and
wept
for
me
,
and
prayed
for
me
;
and
the
pain
was
over
,
or
was
softened
down
,
and
I
was
better
in
your
mind
as
it
was
.
"
The
old
lady
sorrowfully
shakes
her
head
,
and
taking
one
of
his
powerful
hands
,
lays
it
lovingly
upon
her
shoulder
.
"
No
,
I
don
’
t
say
that
it
was
so
,
mother
,
but
that
I
made
it
out
to
be
so
.
I
said
just
now
,
what
good
could
come
of
it
?
Well
,
my
dear
mother
,
some
good
might
have
come
of
it
to
myself
—
and
there
was
the
meanness
of
it
.
You
would
have
sought
me
out
;
you
would
have
purchased
my
discharge
;
you
would
have
taken
me
down
to
Chesney
Wold
;
you
would
have
brought
me
and
my
brother
and
my
brother
’
s
family
together
;
you
would
all
have
considered
anxiously
how
to
do
something
for
me
and
set
me
up
as
a
respectable
civilian
.
But
how
could
any
of
you
feel
sure
of
me
when
I
couldn
’
t
so
much
as
feel
sure
of
myself
?
How
could
you
help
regarding
as
an
incumbrance
and
a
discredit
to
you
an
idle
dragooning
chap
who
was
an
incumbrance
and
a
discredit
to
himself
,
excepting
under
discipline
?
How
could
I
look
my
brother
’
s
children
in
the
face
and
pretend
to
set
them
an
example
—
I
,
the
vagabond
boy
who
had
run
away
from
home
and
been
the
grief
and
unhappiness
of
my
mother
’
s
life
?
’
No
,
George
.
’
Such
were
my
words
,
mother
,
when
I
passed
this
in
review
before
me
:
’
You
have
made
your
bed
.
Now
,
lie
upon
it
.
’
"
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
drawing
up
her
stately
form
,
shakes
her
head
at
the
old
girl
with
a
swelling
pride
upon
her
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
"
I
told
you
so
!
"
The
old
girl
relieves
her
feelings
and
testifies
her
interest
in
the
conversation
by
giving
the
trooper
a
great
poke
between
the
shoulders
with
her
umbrella
;
this
action
she
afterwards
repeats
,
at
intervals
,
in
a
species
of
affectionate
lunacy
,
never
failing
,
after
the
administration
of
each
of
these
remonstrances
,
to
resort
to
the
whitened
wall
and
the
grey
cloak
again
.
"
This
was
the
way
I
brought
myself
to
think
,
mother
,
that
my
best
amends
was
to
lie
upon
that
bed
I
had
made
,
and
die
upon
it
.
And
I
should
have
done
it
(
though
I
have
been
to
see
you
more
than
once
down
at
Chesney
Wold
,
when
you
little
thought
of
me
)
but
for
my
old
comrade
’
s
wife
here
,
who
I
find
has
been
too
many
for
me
.
But
I
thank
her
for
it
.
I
thank
you
for
it
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
with
all
my
heart
and
might
.
"
To
which
Mrs
.
Bagnet
responds
with
two
pokes
.
And
now
the
old
lady
impresses
upon
her
son
George
,
her
own
dear
recovered
boy
,
her
joy
and
pride
,
the
light
of
her
eyes
,
the
happy
close
of
her
life
,
and
every
fond
name
she
can
think
of
,
that
he
must
be
governed
by
the
best
advice
obtainable
by
money
and
influence
,
that
he
must
yield
up
his
case
to
the
greatest
lawyers
that
can
be
got
,
that
he
must
act
in
this
serious
plight
as
he
shall
be
advised
to
act
and
must
not
be
self
-
willed
,
however
right
,
but
must
promise
to
think
only
of
his
poor
old
mother
’
s
anxiety
and
suffering
until
he
is
released
,
or
he
will
break
her
heart
.
"
Mother
,
’
tis
little
enough
to
consent
to
,
"
returns
the
trooper
,
stopping
her
with
a
kiss
;
"
tell
me
what
I
shall
do
,
and
I
’
ll
make
a
late
beginning
and
do
it
.
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
you
’
ll
take
care
of
my
mother
,
I
know
?
"
A
very
hard
poke
from
the
old
girl
’
s
umbrella
.
"
If
you
’
ll
bring
her
acquainted
with
Mr
.
Jarndyce
and
Miss
Summerson
,
she
will
find
them
of
her
way
of
thinking
,
and
they
will
give
her
the
best
advice
and
assistance
.
"
"
And
,
George
,
"
says
the
old
lady
,
"
we
must
send
with
all
haste
for
your
brother
.
He
is
a
sensible
sound
man
as
they
tell
me
—
out
in
the
world
beyond
Chesney
Wold
,
my
dear
,
though
I
don
’
t
know
much
of
it
myself
—
and
will
be
of
great
service
.
"
"
Mother
,
"
returns
the
trooper
,
"
is
it
too
soon
to
ask
a
favour
?
"
"
Surely
not
,
my
dear
.
"
"
Then
grant
me
this
one
great
favour
.
Don
’
t
let
my
brother
know
.
"
"
Not
know
what
,
my
dear
?
"
"
Not
know
of
me
.
In
fact
,
mother
,
I
can
’
t
bear
it
;
I
can
’
t
make
up
my
mind
to
it
.
He
has
proved
himself
so
different
from
me
and
has
done
so
much
to
raise
himself
while
I
’
ve
been
soldiering
that
I
haven
’
t
brass
enough
in
my
composition
to
see
him
in
this
place
and
under
this
charge
.
How
could
a
man
like
him
be
expected
to
have
any
pleasure
in
such
a
discovery
?
It
’
s
impossible
.
No
,
keep
my
secret
from
him
,
mother
;
do
me
a
greater
kindness
than
I
deserve
and
keep
my
secret
from
my
brother
,
of
all
men
.
"
"
But
not
always
,
dear
George
?
"
"
Why
,
mother
,
perhaps
not
for
good
and
all
—
though
I
may
come
to
ask
that
too
—
but
keep
it
now
,
I
do
entreat
you
.
If
it
’
s
ever
broke
to
him
that
his
rip
of
a
brother
has
turned
up
,
I
could
wish
,
"
says
the
trooper
,
shaking
his
head
very
doubtfully
,
"
to
break
it
myself
and
be
governed
as
to
advancing
or
retreating
by
the
way
in
which
he
seems
to
take
it
.
"
As
he
evidently
has
a
rooted
feeling
on
this
point
,
and
as
the
depth
of
it
is
recognized
in
Mrs
.
Bagnet
’
s
face
,
his
mother
yields
her
implicit
assent
to
what
he
asks
.
For
this
he
thanks
her
kindly
.
"
In
all
other
respects
,
my
dear
mother
,
I
’
ll
be
as
tractable
and
obedient
as
you
can
wish
;
on
this
one
alone
,
I
stand
out
.
So
now
I
am
ready
even
for
the
lawyers
.
I
have
been
drawing
up
,
"
he
glances
at
his
writing
on
the
table
,
"
an
exact
account
of
what
I
knew
of
the
deceased
and
how
I
came
to
be
involved
in
this
unfortunate
affair
.
It
’
s
entered
,
plain
and
regular
,
like
an
orderly
-
book
;
not
a
word
in
it
but
what
’
s
wanted
for
the
facts
.
I
did
intend
to
read
it
,
straight
on
end
,
whensoever
I
was
called
upon
to
say
anything
in
my
defence
.
I
hope
I
may
be
let
to
do
it
still
;
but
I
have
no
longer
a
will
of
my
own
in
this
case
,
and
whatever
is
said
or
done
,
I
give
my
promise
not
to
have
any
.
"
Matters
being
brought
to
this
so
far
satisfactory
pass
,
and
time
being
on
the
wane
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
proposes
a
departure
.
Again
and
again
the
old
lady
hangs
upon
her
son
’
s
neck
,
and
again
and
again
the
trooper
holds
her
to
his
broad
chest
.
"
Where
are
you
going
to
take
my
mother
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
?
"
"
I
am
going
to
the
town
house
,
my
dear
,
the
family
house
.
I
have
some
business
there
that
must
be
looked
to
directly
,
"
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
answers
.
"
Will
you
see
my
mother
safe
there
in
a
coach
,
Mrs
.
