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- Чарльз Диккенс
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"
Thank
you
,
George
.
You
are
another
self
to
me
.
You
have
often
carried
my
spare
gun
at
Chesney
Wold
,
George
.
You
are
familiar
to
me
in
these
strange
circumstances
,
very
familiar
.
"
He
has
put
Sir
Leicester
’
s
sounder
arm
over
his
shoulder
in
lifting
him
up
,
and
Sir
Leicester
is
slow
in
drawing
it
away
again
as
he
says
these
words
.
"
I
was
about
to
add
,
"
he
presently
goes
on
,
"
I
was
about
to
add
,
respecting
this
attack
,
that
it
was
unfortunately
simultaneous
with
a
slight
misunderstanding
between
my
Lady
and
myself
.
I
do
not
mean
that
there
was
any
difference
between
us
(
for
there
has
been
none
)
,
but
that
there
was
a
misunderstanding
of
certain
circumstances
important
only
to
ourselves
,
which
deprives
me
,
for
a
little
while
,
of
my
Lady
’
s
society
.
She
has
found
it
necessary
to
make
a
journey
—
I
trust
will
shortly
return
.
Volumnia
,
do
I
make
myself
intelligible
?
The
words
are
not
quite
under
my
command
in
the
manner
of
pronouncing
them
.
"
Volumnia
understands
him
perfectly
,
and
in
truth
he
delivers
himself
with
far
greater
plainness
than
could
have
been
supposed
possible
a
minute
ago
.
The
effort
by
which
he
does
so
is
written
in
the
anxious
and
labouring
expression
of
his
face
.
Nothing
but
the
strength
of
his
purpose
enables
him
to
make
it
.
"
Therefore
,
Volumnia
,
I
desire
to
say
in
your
presence
—
and
in
the
presence
of
my
old
retainer
and
friend
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
whose
truth
and
fidelity
no
one
can
question
,
and
in
the
presence
of
her
son
George
,
who
comes
back
like
a
familiar
recollection
of
my
youth
in
the
home
of
my
ancestors
at
Chesney
Wold
—
in
case
I
should
relapse
,
in
case
I
should
not
recover
,
in
case
I
should
lose
both
my
speech
and
the
power
of
writing
,
though
I
hope
for
better
things
—
"
The
old
housekeeper
weeping
silently
;
Volumnia
in
the
greatest
agitation
,
with
the
freshest
bloom
on
her
cheeks
;
the
trooper
with
his
arms
folded
and
his
head
a
little
bent
,
respectfully
attentive
.
"
Therefore
I
desire
to
say
,
and
to
call
you
all
to
witness
—
beginning
,
Volumnia
,
with
yourself
,
most
solemnly
—
that
I
am
on
unaltered
terms
with
Lady
Dedlock
.
That
I
assert
no
cause
whatever
of
complaint
against
her
.
That
I
have
ever
had
the
strongest
affection
for
her
,
and
that
I
retain
it
undiminished
.
Say
this
to
herself
,
and
to
every
one
.
If
you
ever
say
less
than
this
,
you
will
be
guilty
of
deliberate
falsehood
to
me
.
"
Volumnia
tremblingly
protests
that
she
will
observe
his
injunctions
to
the
letter
.
"
My
Lady
is
too
high
in
position
,
too
handsome
,
too
accomplished
,
too
superior
in
most
respects
to
the
best
of
those
by
whom
she
is
surrounded
,
not
to
have
her
enemies
and
traducers
,
I
dare
say
.
Let
it
be
known
to
them
,
as
I
make
it
known
to
you
,
that
being
of
sound
mind
,
memory
,
and
understanding
,
I
revoke
no
disposition
I
have
made
in
her
favour
.
I
abridge
nothing
I
have
ever
bestowed
upon
her
.
I
am
on
unaltered
terms
with
her
,
and
I
recall
—
having
the
full
power
to
do
it
if
I
were
so
disposed
,
as
you
see
—
no
act
I
have
done
for
her
advantage
and
happiness
.
"
His
formal
array
of
words
might
have
at
any
other
time
,
as
it
has
often
had
,
something
ludicrous
in
it
,
but
at
this
time
it
is
serious
and
affecting
.
His
noble
earnestness
,
his
fidelity
,
his
gallant
shielding
of
her
,
his
generous
conquest
of
his
own
wrong
and
his
own
pride
for
her
sake
,
are
simply
honourable
,
manly
,
and
true
.
Nothing
less
worthy
can
be
seen
through
the
lustre
of
such
qualities
in
the
commonest
mechanic
,
nothing
less
worthy
can
be
seen
in
the
best
-
born
gentleman
.
In
such
a
light
both
aspire
alike
,
both
rise
alike
,
both
children
of
the
dust
shine
equally
.
Overpowered
by
his
exertions
,
he
lays
his
head
back
on
his
pillows
and
closes
his
eyes
for
not
more
than
a
minute
,
when
he
again
resumes
his
watching
of
the
weather
and
his
attention
to
the
muffled
sounds
.
In
the
rendering
of
those
little
services
,
and
in
the
manner
of
their
acceptance
,
the
trooper
has
become
installed
as
necessary
to
him
.
Nothing
has
been
said
,
but
it
is
quite
understood
.
He
falls
a
step
or
two
backward
to
be
out
of
sight
and
mounts
guard
a
little
behind
his
mother
’
s
chair
.
The
day
is
now
beginning
to
decline
.
The
mist
and
the
sleet
into
which
the
snow
has
all
resolved
itself
are
darker
,
and
the
blaze
begins
to
tell
more
vividly
upon
the
room
walls
and
furniture
.
The
gloom
augments
;
the
bright
gas
springs
up
in
the
streets
;
and
the
pertinacious
oil
lamps
which
yet
hold
their
ground
there
,
with
their
source
of
life
half
frozen
and
half
thawed
,
twinkle
gaspingly
like
fiery
fish
out
of
water
—
as
they
are
.
The
world
,
which
has
been
rumbling
over
the
straw
and
pulling
at
the
bell
,
"
to
inquire
,
"
begins
to
go
home
,
begins
to
dress
,
to
dine
,
to
discuss
its
dear
friend
with
all
the
last
new
modes
,
as
already
mentioned
.
Now
does
Sir
Leicester
become
worse
,
restless
,
uneasy
,
and
in
great
pain
.
Volumnia
,
lighting
a
candle
(
with
a
predestined
aptitude
for
doing
something
objectionable
)
,
is
bidden
to
put
it
out
again
,
for
it
is
not
yet
dark
enough
.
Yet
it
is
very
dark
too
,
as
dark
as
it
will
be
all
night
.
By
and
by
she
tries
again
.
No
!
Put
it
out
.
It
is
not
dark
enough
yet
.
His
old
housekeeper
is
the
first
to
understand
that
he
is
striving
to
uphold
the
fiction
with
himself
that
it
is
not
growing
late
.
"
Dear
Sir
Leicester
,
my
honoured
master
,
"
she
softly
whispers
,
"
I
must
,
for
your
own
good
,
and
my
duty
,
take
the
freedom
of
begging
and
praying
that
you
will
not
lie
here
in
the
lone
darkness
watching
and
waiting
and
dragging
through
the
time
.
Let
me
draw
the
curtains
,
and
light
the
candles
,
and
make
things
more
comfortable
about
you
.
The
church
-
clocks
will
strike
the
hours
just
the
same
,
Sir
Leicester
,
and
the
night
will
pass
away
just
the
same
.
My
Lady
will
come
back
,
just
the
same
.
"
"
I
know
it
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
but
I
am
weak
—
and
she
has
been
so
long
gone
.
"
"
Not
so
very
long
,
Sir
Leicester
.
Not
twenty
-
four
hours
yet
.
"
"
But
that
is
a
long
time
.
Oh
,
it
is
a
long
time
!
"
He
says
it
with
a
groan
that
wrings
her
heart
.
She
knows
that
this
is
not
a
period
for
bringing
the
rough
light
upon
him
;
she
thinks
his
tears
too
sacred
to
be
seen
,
even
by
her
.
Therefore
she
sits
in
the
darkness
for
a
while
without
a
word
,
then
gently
begins
to
move
about
,
now
stirring
the
fire
,
now
standing
at
the
dark
window
looking
out
.
Finally
he
tells
her
,
with
recovered
self
-
command
,
"
As
you
say
,
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
it
is
no
worse
for
being
confessed
.
It
is
getting
late
,
and
they
are
not
come
.
Light
the
room
!
"
When
it
is
lighted
and
the
weather
shut
out
,
it
is
only
left
to
him
to
listen
.
But
they
find
that
however
dejected
and
ill
he
is
,
he
brightens
when
a
quiet
pretence
is
made
of
looking
at
the
fires
in
her
rooms
and
being
sure
that
everything
is
ready
to
receive
her
.
Poor
pretence
as
it
is
,
these
allusions
to
her
being
expected
keep
up
hope
within
him
.
Midnight
comes
,
and
with
it
the
same
blank
.
The
carriages
in
the
streets
are
few
,
and
other
late
sounds
in
that
neighbourhood
there
are
none
,
unless
a
man
so
very
nomadically
drunk
as
to
stray
into
the
frigid
zone
goes
brawling
and
bellowing
along
the
pavement
.
Upon
this
wintry
night
it
is
so
still
that
listening
to
the
intense
silence
is
like
looking
at
intense
darkness
.
If
any
distant
sound
be
audible
in
this
case
,
it
departs
through
the
gloom
like
a
feeble
light
in
that
,
and
all
is
heavier
than
before
.
The
corporation
of
servants
are
dismissed
to
bed
(
not
unwilling
to
go
,
for
they
were
up
all
last
night
)
,
and
only
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
and
George
keep
watch
in
Sir
Leicester
’
s
room
.
As
the
night
lags
tardily
on
—
or
rather
when
it
seems
to
stop
altogether
,
at
between
two
and
three
o
’
clock
—
they
find
a
restless
craving
on
him
to
know
more
about
the
weather
,
now
he
cannot
see
it
.
Hence
George
,
patrolling
regularly
every
half
-
hour
to
the
rooms
so
carefully
looked
after
,
extends
his
march
to
the
hall
-
door
,
looks
about
him
,
and
brings
back
the
best
report
he
can
make
of
the
worst
of
nights
,
the
sleet
still
falling
and
even
the
stone
footways
lying
ankle
-
deep
in
icy
sludge
.
Volumnia
,
in
her
room
up
a
retired
landing
on
the
staircase
—
the
second
turning
past
the
end
of
the
carving
and
gilding
,
a
cousinly
room
containing
a
fearful
abortion
of
a
portrait
of
Sir
Leicester
banished
for
its
crimes
,
and
commanding
in
the
day
a
solemn
yard
planted
with
dried
-
up
shrubs
like
antediluvian
specimens
of
black
tea
—
is
a
prey
to
horrors
of
many
kinds
.
Not
last
nor
least
among
them
,
possibly
,
is
a
horror
of
what
may
befall
her
little
income
in
the
event
,
as
she
expresses
it
,
"
of
anything
happening
"
to
Sir
Leicester
.
Anything
,
in
this
sense
,
meaning
one
thing
only
;
and
that
the
last
thing
that
can
happen
to
the
consciousness
of
any
baronet
in
the
known
world
.
An
effect
of
these
horrors
is
that
Volumnia
finds
she
cannot
go
to
bed
in
her
own
room
or
sit
by
the
fire
in
her
own
room
,
but
must
come
forth
with
her
fair
head
tied
up
in
a
profusion
of
shawl
,
and
her
fair
form
enrobed
in
drapery
,
and
parade
the
mansion
like
a
ghost
,
particularly
haunting
the
rooms
,
warm
and
luxurious
,
prepared
for
one
who
still
does
not
return
.
Solitude
under
such
circumstances
being
not
to
be
thought
of
,
Volumnia
is
attended
by
her
maid
,
who
,
impressed
from
her
own
bed
for
that
purpose
,
extremely
cold
,
very
sleepy
,
and
generally
an
injured
maid
as
condemned
by
circumstances
to
take
office
with
a
cousin
,
when
she
had
resolved
to
be
maid
to
nothing
less
than
ten
thousand
a
year
,
has
not
a
sweet
expression
of
countenance
.
The
periodical
visits
of
the
trooper
to
these
rooms
,
however
,
in
the
course
of
his
patrolling
is
an
assurance
of
protection
and
company
both
to
mistress
and
maid
,
which
renders
them
very
acceptable
in
the
small
hours
of
the
night
.
Whenever
he
is
heard
advancing
,
they
both
make
some
little
decorative
preparation
to
receive
him
;
at
other
times
they
divide
their
watches
into
short
scraps
of
oblivion
and
dialogues
not
wholly
free
from
acerbity
,
as
to
whether
Miss
Dedlock
,
sitting
with
her
feet
upon
the
fender
,
was
or
was
not
falling
into
the
fire
when
rescued
(
to
her
great
displeasure
)
by
her
guardian
genius
the
maid
.
"
How
is
Sir
Leicester
now
,
Mr
.
George
?
"
inquires
Volumnia
,
adjusting
her
cowl
over
her
head
.
"
Why
,
Sir
Leicester
is
much
the
same
,
miss
.
He
is
very
low
and
ill
,
and
he
even
wanders
a
little
sometimes
.
"
"
Has
he
asked
for
me
?
"
inquires
Volumnia
tenderly
.
"
Why
,
no
,
I
can
’
t
say
he
has
,
miss
.
Not
within
my
hearing
,
that
is
to
say
.
"
"
This
is
a
truly
sad
time
,
Mr
.
George
.
"
"
It
is
indeed
,
miss
.
Hadn
’
t
you
better
go
to
bed
?
"
"
You
had
a
deal
better
go
to
bed
,
Miss
Dedlock
,
"
quoth
the
maid
sharply
.
But
Volumnia
answers
No
!
No
!
She
may
be
asked
for
,
she
may
be
wanted
at
a
moment
’
s
notice
.
She
never
should
forgive
herself
"
if
anything
was
to
happen
"
and
she
was
not
on
the
spot
.
She
declines
to
enter
on
the
question
,
mooted
by
the
maid
,
how
the
spot
comes
to
be
there
,
and
not
in
her
room
(
which
is
nearer
to
Sir
Leicester
’
s
)
,
but
staunchly
declares
that
on
the
spot
she
will
remain
.
Volumnia
further
makes
a
merit
of
not
having
"
closed
an
eye
"
—
as
if
she
had
twenty
or
thirty
—
though
it
is
hard
to
reconcile
this
statement
with
her
having
most
indisputably
opened
two
within
five
minutes
.
But
when
it
comes
to
four
o
’
clock
,
and
still
the
same
blank
,
Volumnia
’
s
constancy
begins
to
fail
her
,
or
rather
it
begins
to
strengthen
,
for
she
now
considers
that
it
is
her
duty
to
be
ready
for
the
morrow
,
when
much
may
be
expected
of
her
,
that
,
in
fact
,
howsoever
anxious
to
remain
upon
the
spot
,
it
may
be
required
of
her
,
as
an
act
of
self
-
devotion
,
to
desert
the
spot
.
So
when
the
trooper
reappears
with
his
,
"
Hadn
’
t
you
better
go
to
bed
,
miss
?
"
and
when
the
maid
protests
,
more
sharply
than
before
,
"
You
had
a
deal
better
go
to
bed
,
Miss
Dedlock
!
"
she
meekly
rises
and
says
,
"
Do
with
me
what
you
think
best
!
"
Mr
.
George
undoubtedly
thinks
it
best
to
escort
her
on
his
arm
to
the
door
of
her
cousinly
chamber
,
and
the
maid
as
undoubtedly
thinks
it
best
to
hustle
her
into
bed
with
mighty
little
ceremony
.
Accordingly
,
these
steps
are
taken
;
and
now
the
trooper
,
in
his
rounds
,
has
the
house
to
himself
.
There
is
no
improvement
in
the
weather
.
From
the
portico
,
from
the
eaves
,
from
the
parapet
,
from
every
ledge
and
post
and
pillar
,
drips
the
thawed
snow
.
It
has
crept
,
as
if
for
shelter
,
into
the
lintels
of
the
great
door
—
under
it
,
into
the
corners
of
the
windows
,
into
every
chink
and
crevice
of
retreat
,
and
there
wastes
and
dies
.
It
is
falling
still
;
upon
the
roof
,
upon
the
skylight
,
even
through
the
skylight
,
and
drip
,
drip
,
drip
,
with
the
regularity
of
the
Ghost
’
s
Walk
,
on
the
stone
floor
below
.
The
trooper
,
his
old
recollections
awakened
by
the
solitary
grandeur
of
a
great
house
—
no
novelty
to
him
once
at
Chesney
Wold
—
goes
up
the
stairs
and
through
the
chief
rooms
,
holding
up
his
light
at
arm
’
s
length
.
Thinking
of
his
varied
fortunes
within
the
last
few
weeks
,
and
of
his
rustic
boyhood
,
and
of
the
two
periods
of
his
life
so
strangely
brought
together
across
the
wide
intermediate
space
;
thinking
of
the
murdered
man
whose
image
is
fresh
in
his
mind
;
thinking
of
the
lady
who
has
disappeared
from
these
very
rooms
and
the
tokens
of
whose
recent
presence
are
all
here
;
thinking
of
the
master
of
the
house
upstairs
and
of
the
foreboding
,
"
Who
will
tell
him
!
"
he
looks
here
and
looks
there
,
and
reflects
how
he
MIGHT
see
something
now
,
which
it
would
tax
his
boldness
to
walk
up
to
,
lay
his
hand
upon
,
and
prove
to
be
a
fancy
.
But
it
is
all
blank
,
blank
as
the
darkness
above
and
below
,
while
he
goes
up
the
great
staircase
again
,
blank
as
the
oppressive
silence
.
"
All
is
still
in
readiness
,
George
Rouncewell
?
"
"
Quite
orderly
and
right
,
Sir
Leicester
.
"
"
No
word
of
any
kind
?
"
The
trooper
shakes
his
head
.
"
No
letter
that
can
possibly
have
been
overlooked
?
"
But
he
knows
there
is
no
such
hope
as
that
and
lays
his
head
down
without
looking
for
an
answer
Very
familiar
to
him
,
as
he
said
himself
some
hours
ago
,
George
Rouncewell
lifts
him
into
easier
positions
through
the
long
remainder
of
the
blank
wintry
night
,
and
equally
familiar
with
his
unexpressed
wish
,
extinguishes
the
light
and
undraws
the
curtains
at
the
first
late
break
of
day
.
The
day
comes
like
a
phantom
.
Cold
,
colourless
,
and
vague
,
it
sends
a
warning
streak
before
it
of
a
deathlike
hue
,
as
if
it
cried
out
,
"
Look
what
I
am
bringing
you
who
watch
there
!
Who
will
tell
him
!
"
