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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Not
so
much
by
her
hurried
gesture
of
entreaty
,
not
so
much
by
her
quick
advance
and
outstretched
hands
,
not
so
much
by
the
great
change
in
her
manner
and
the
absence
of
her
haughty
self
-
restraint
,
as
by
a
something
in
her
face
that
I
had
pined
for
and
dreamed
of
when
I
was
a
little
child
,
something
I
had
never
seen
in
any
face
,
something
I
had
never
seen
in
hers
before
.
A
dread
and
faintness
fell
upon
me
,
and
I
called
to
Charley
.
Lady
Dedlock
stopped
upon
the
instant
and
changed
back
almost
to
what
I
had
known
her
.
"
Miss
Summerson
,
I
am
afraid
I
have
startled
you
,
"
she
said
,
now
advancing
slowly
.
"
You
can
scarcely
be
strong
yet
.
You
have
been
very
ill
,
I
know
.
I
have
been
much
concerned
to
hear
it
.
"
I
could
no
more
have
removed
my
eyes
from
her
pale
face
than
I
could
have
stirred
from
the
bench
on
which
I
sat
.
She
gave
me
her
hand
,
and
its
deadly
coldness
,
so
at
variance
with
the
enforced
composure
of
her
features
,
deepened
the
fascination
that
overpowered
me
.
I
cannot
say
what
was
in
my
whirling
thoughts
.
"
You
are
recovering
again
?
"
she
asked
kindly
.
"
I
was
quite
well
but
a
moment
ago
,
Lady
Dedlock
.
"
"
Is
this
your
young
attendant
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Will
you
send
her
on
before
and
walk
towards
your
house
with
me
?
"
"
Charley
,
"
said
I
,
"
take
your
flowers
home
,
and
I
will
follow
you
directly
.
"
Charley
,
with
her
best
curtsy
,
blushingly
tied
on
her
bonnet
and
went
her
way
.
When
she
was
gone
,
Lady
Dedlock
sat
down
on
the
seat
beside
me
.
I
cannot
tell
in
any
words
what
the
state
of
my
mind
was
when
I
saw
in
her
hand
my
handkerchief
with
which
I
had
covered
the
dead
baby
.
I
looked
at
her
,
but
I
could
not
see
her
,
I
could
not
hear
her
,
I
could
not
draw
my
breath
.
The
beating
of
my
heart
was
so
violent
and
wild
that
I
felt
as
if
my
life
were
breaking
from
me
.
But
when
she
caught
me
to
her
breast
,
kissed
me
,
wept
over
me
,
compassionated
me
,
and
called
me
back
to
myself
;
when
she
fell
down
on
her
knees
and
cried
to
me
,
"
Oh
,
my
child
,
my
child
,
I
am
your
wicked
and
unhappy
mother
!
Oh
,
try
to
forgive
me
!
"
—
when
I
saw
her
at
my
feet
on
the
bare
earth
in
her
great
agony
of
mind
,
I
felt
,
through
all
my
tumult
of
emotion
,
a
burst
of
gratitude
to
the
providence
of
God
that
I
was
so
changed
as
that
I
never
could
disgrace
her
by
any
trace
of
likeness
,
as
that
nobody
could
ever
now
look
at
me
and
look
at
her
and
remotely
think
of
any
near
tie
between
us
.
I
raised
my
mother
up
,
praying
and
beseeching
her
not
to
stoop
before
me
in
such
affliction
and
humiliation
.
I
did
so
in
broken
,
incoherent
words
,
for
besides
the
trouble
I
was
in
,
it
frightened
me
to
see
her
at
MY
feet
.
I
told
her
—
or
I
tried
to
tell
her
—
that
if
it
were
for
me
,
her
child
,
under
any
circumstances
to
take
upon
me
to
forgive
her
,
I
did
it
,
and
had
done
it
,
many
,
many
years
.
I
told
her
that
my
heart
overflowed
with
love
for
her
,
that
it
was
natural
love
which
nothing
in
the
past
had
changed
or
could
change
.
That
it
was
not
for
me
,
then
resting
for
the
first
time
on
my
mother
’
s
bosom
,
to
take
her
to
account
for
having
given
me
life
,
but
that
my
duty
was
to
bless
her
and
receive
her
,
though
the
whole
world
turned
from
her
,
and
that
I
only
asked
her
leave
to
do
it
.
I
held
my
mother
in
my
embrace
,
and
she
held
me
in
hers
,
and
among
the
still
woods
in
the
silence
of
the
summer
day
there
seemed
to
be
nothing
but
our
two
troubled
minds
that
was
not
at
peace
.
"
To
bless
and
receive
me
,
"
groaned
my
mother
,
"
it
is
far
too
late
.
I
must
travel
my
dark
road
alone
,
and
it
will
lead
me
where
it
will
.
From
day
to
day
,
sometimes
from
hour
to
hour
,
I
do
not
see
the
way
before
my
guilty
feet
.
This
is
the
earthly
punishment
I
have
brought
upon
myself
.
I
bear
it
,
and
I
hide
it
.
"
Even
in
the
thinking
of
her
endurance
,
she
drew
her
habitual
air
of
proud
indifference
about
her
like
a
veil
,
though
she
soon
cast
it
off
again
.
"
I
must
keep
this
secret
,
if
by
any
means
it
can
be
kept
,
not
wholly
for
myself
.
I
have
a
husband
,
wretched
and
dishonouring
creature
that
I
am
!
"
These
words
she
uttered
with
a
suppressed
cry
of
despair
,
more
terrible
in
its
sound
than
any
shriek
.
Covering
her
face
with
her
hands
,
she
shrank
down
in
my
embrace
as
if
she
were
unwilling
that
I
should
touch
her
;
nor
could
I
,
by
my
utmost
persuasions
or
by
any
endearments
I
could
use
,
prevail
upon
her
to
rise
.
She
said
,
no
,
no
,
no
,
she
could
only
speak
to
me
so
;
she
must
be
proud
and
disdainful
everywhere
else
;
she
would
be
humbled
and
ashamed
there
,
in
the
only
natural
moments
of
her
life
.
My
unhappy
mother
told
me
that
in
my
illness
she
had
been
nearly
frantic
.
She
had
but
then
known
that
her
child
was
living
.
She
could
not
have
suspected
me
to
be
that
child
before
.
She
had
followed
me
down
here
to
speak
to
me
but
once
in
all
her
life
.
We
never
could
associate
,
never
could
communicate
,
never
probably
from
that
time
forth
could
interchange
another
word
on
earth
.
She
put
into
my
hands
a
letter
she
had
written
for
my
reading
only
and
said
when
I
had
read
it
and
destroyed
it
—
but
not
so
much
for
her
sake
,
since
she
asked
nothing
,
as
for
her
husband
’
s
and
my
own
—
I
must
evermore
consider
her
as
dead
.
If
I
could
believe
that
she
loved
me
,
in
this
agony
in
which
I
saw
her
,
with
a
mother
’
s
love
,
she
asked
me
to
do
that
,
for
then
I
might
think
of
her
with
a
greater
pity
,
imagining
what
she
suffered
.
She
had
put
herself
beyond
all
hope
and
beyond
all
help
.
Whether
she
preserved
her
secret
until
death
or
it
came
to
be
discovered
and
she
brought
dishonour
and
disgrace
upon
the
name
she
had
taken
,
it
was
her
solitary
struggle
always
;
and
no
affection
could
come
near
her
,
and
no
human
creature
could
render
her
any
aid
.
"
But
is
the
secret
safe
so
far
?
"
I
asked
.
"
Is
it
safe
now
,
dearest
mother
?
"
"
No
,
"
replied
my
mother
.
"
It
has
been
very
near
discovery
.
It
was
saved
by
an
accident
.
It
may
be
lost
by
another
accident
—
to
-
morrow
,
any
day
.
"
"
Do
you
dread
a
particular
person
?
"
"
Hush
!
Do
not
tremble
and
cry
so
much
for
me
.
I
am
not
worthy
of
these
tears
,
"
said
my
mother
,
kissing
my
hands
.
"
I
dread
one
person
very
much
.
"
"
An
enemy
?
"
"
Not
a
friend
.
One
who
is
too
passionless
to
be
either
.
He
is
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
’
s
lawyer
,
mechanically
faithful
without
attachment
,
and
very
jealous
of
the
profit
,
privilege
,
and
reputation
of
being
master
of
the
mysteries
of
great
houses
.
"
"
Has
he
any
suspicions
?
"
"
Many
.
"
"
Not
of
you
?
"
I
said
alarmed
.
"
Yes
!
He
is
always
vigilant
and
always
near
me
.
I
may
keep
him
at
a
standstill
,
but
I
can
never
shake
him
off
.
"
"
Has
he
so
little
pity
or
compunction
?
"
"
He
has
none
,
and
no
anger
.
He
is
indifferent
to
everything
but
his
calling
.
His
calling
is
the
acquisition
of
secrets
and
the
holding
possession
of
such
power
as
they
give
him
,
with
no
sharer
or
opponent
in
it
.
"
"
Could
you
trust
in
him
?
"
"
I
shall
never
try
.
The
dark
road
I
have
trodden
for
so
many
years
will
end
where
it
will
.
I
follow
it
alone
to
the
end
,
whatever
the
end
be
.
It
may
be
near
,
it
may
be
distant
;
while
the
road
lasts
,
nothing
turns
me
.
"
"
Dear
mother
,
are
you
so
resolved
?
"
"
I
AM
resolved
.
I
have
long
outbidden
folly
with
folly
,
pride
with
pride
,
scorn
with
scorn
,
insolence
with
insolence
,
and
have
outlived
many
vanities
with
many
more
.
I
will
outlive
this
danger
,
and
outdie
it
,
if
I
can
.
It
has
closed
around
me
almost
as
awfully
as
if
these
woods
of
Chesney
Wold
had
closed
around
the
house
,
but
my
course
through
it
is
the
same
.
I
have
but
one
;
I
can
have
but
one
.
"
"
Mr
.
Jarndyce
—
"
I
was
beginning
when
my
mother
hurriedly
inquired
,
"
Does
HE
suspect
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
I
.
"
No
,
indeed
!
Be
assured
that
he
does
not
!
"
And
I
told
her
what
he
had
related
to
me
as
his
knowledge
of
my
story
.
"
But
he
is
so
good
and
sensible
,
"
said
I
,
"
that
perhaps
if
he
knew
—
"
My
mother
,
who
until
this
time
had
made
no
change
in
her
position
,
raised
her
hand
up
to
my
lips
and
stopped
me
.
"
Confide
fully
in
him
,
"
she
said
after
a
little
while
.
"
You
have
my
free
consent
—
a
small
gift
from
such
a
mother
to
her
injured
child
!
—
but
do
not
tell
me
of
it
.
Some
pride
is
left
in
me
even
yet
.
"
I
explained
,
as
nearly
as
I
could
then
,
or
can
recall
now
—
for
my
agitation
and
distress
throughout
were
so
great
that
I
scarcely
understood
myself
,
though
every
word
that
was
uttered
in
the
mother
’
s
voice
,
so
unfamiliar
and
so
melancholy
to
me
,
which
in
my
childhood
I
had
never
learned
to
love
and
recognize
,
had
never
been
sung
to
sleep
with
,
had
never
heard
a
blessing
from
,
had
never
had
a
hope
inspired
by
,
made
an
enduring
impression
on
my
memory
—
I
say
I
explained
,
or
tried
to
do
it
,
how
I
had
only
hoped
that
Mr
.
Jarndyce
,
who
had
been
the
best
of
fathers
to
me
,
might
be
able
to
afford
some
counsel
and
support
to
her
.
But
my
mother
answered
no
,
it
was
impossible
;
no
one
could
help
her
.
Through
the
desert
that
lay
before
her
,
she
must
go
alone
.
"
My
child
,
my
child
!
"
she
said
.
"
For
the
last
time
!
These
kisses
for
the
last
time
!
These
arms
upon
my
neck
for
the
last
time
!
We
shall
meet
no
more
.
To
hope
to
do
what
I
seek
to
do
,
I
must
be
what
I
have
been
so
long
.
Such
is
my
reward
and
doom
.
If
you
hear
of
Lady
Dedlock
,
brilliant
,
prosperous
,
and
flattered
,
think
of
your
wretched
mother
,
conscience
-
stricken
,
underneath
that
mask
!
Think
that
the
reality
is
in
her
suffering
,
in
her
useless
remorse
,
in
her
murdering
within
her
breast
the
only
love
and
truth
of
which
it
is
capable
!
And
then
forgive
her
if
you
can
,
and
cry
to
heaven
to
forgive
her
,
which
it
never
can
!
"
We
held
one
another
for
a
little
space
yet
,
but
she
was
so
firm
that
she
took
my
hands
away
,
and
put
them
back
against
my
breast
,
and
with
a
last
kiss
as
she
held
them
there
,
released
them
,
and
went
from
me
into
the
wood
.
I
was
alone
,
and
calm
and
quiet
below
me
in
the
sun
and
shade
lay
the
old
house
,
with
its
terraces
and
turrets
,
on
which
there
had
seemed
to
me
to
be
such
complete
repose
when
I
first
saw
it
,
but
which
now
looked
like
the
obdurate
and
unpitying
watcher
of
my
mother
’
s
misery
.
Stunned
as
I
was
,
as
weak
and
helpless
at
first
as
I
had
ever
been
in
my
sick
chamber
,
the
necessity
of
guarding
against
the
danger
of
discovery
,
or
even
of
the
remotest
suspicion
,
did
me
service
.
I
took
such
precautions
as
I
could
to
hide
from
Charley
that
I
had
been
crying
,
and
I
constrained
myself
to
think
of
every
sacred
obligation
that
there
was
upon
me
to
be
careful
and
collected
.
It
was
not
a
little
while
before
I
could
succeed
or
could
even
restrain
bursts
of
grief
,
but
after
an
hour
or
so
I
was
better
and
felt
that
I
might
return
.
I
went
home
very
slowly
and
told
Charley
,
whom
I
found
at
the
gate
looking
for
me
,
that
I
had
been
tempted
to
extend
my
walk
after
Lady
Dedlock
had
left
me
and
that
I
was
over
-
tired
and
would
lie
down
.
Safe
in
my
own
room
,
I
read
the
letter
.
I
clearly
derived
from
it
—
and
that
was
much
then
—
that
I
had
not
been
abandoned
by
my
mother
.
Her
elder
and
only
sister
,
the
godmother
of
my
childhood
,
discovering
signs
of
life
in
me
when
I
had
been
laid
aside
as
dead
,
had
in
her
stern
sense
of
duty
,
with
no
desire
or
willingness
that
I
should
live
,
reared
me
in
rigid
secrecy
and
had
never
again
beheld
my
mother
’
s
face
from
within
a
few
hours
of
my
birth
.
So
strangely
did
I
hold
my
place
in
this
world
that
until
within
a
short
time
back
I
had
never
,
to
my
own
mother
’
s
knowledge
,
breathed
—
had
been
buried
—
had
never
been
endowed
with
life
—
had
never
borne
a
name
.
When
she
had
first
seen
me
in
the
church
she
had
been
startled
and
had
thought
of
what
would
have
been
like
me
if
it
had
ever
lived
,
and
had
lived
on
,
but
that
was
all
then
.
What
more
the
letter
told
me
needs
not
to
be
repeated
here
.
It
has
its
own
times
and
places
in
my
story
.
My
first
care
was
to
burn
what
my
mother
had
written
and
to
consume
even
its
ashes
.
I
hope
it
may
not
appear
very
unnatural
or
bad
in
me
that
I
then
became
heavily
sorrowful
to
think
I
had
ever
been
reared
.
That
I
felt
as
if
I
knew
it
would
have
been
better
and
happier
for
many
people
if
indeed
I
had
never
breathed
.
That
I
had
a
terror
of
myself
as
the
danger
and
the
possible
disgrace
of
my
own
mother
and
of
a
proud
family
name
.
That
I
was
so
confused
and
shaken
as
to
be
possessed
by
a
belief
that
it
was
right
and
had
been
intended
that
I
should
die
in
my
birth
,
and
that
it
was
wrong
and
not
intended
that
I
should
be
then
alive
.
These
are
the
real
feelings
that
I
had
.
I
fell
asleep
worn
out
,
and
when
I
awoke
I
cried
afresh
to
think
that
I
was
back
in
the
world
with
my
load
of
trouble
for
others
.
I
was
more
than
ever
frightened
of
myself
,
thinking
anew
of
her
against
whom
I
was
a
witness
,
of
the
owner
of
Chesney
Wold
,
of
the
new
and
terrible
meaning
of
the
old
words
now
moaning
in
my
ear
like
a
surge
upon
the
shore
,
"
Your
mother
,
Esther
,
was
your
disgrace
,
and
you
are
hers
.
The
time
will
come
—
and
soon
enough
—
when
you
will
understand
this
better
,
and
will
feel
it
too
,
as
no
one
save
a
woman
can
.
"
With
them
,
those
other
words
returned
,
"
Pray
daily
that
the
sins
of
others
be
not
visited
upon
your
head
.
"
I
could
not
disentangle
all
that
was
about
me
,
and
I
felt
as
if
the
blame
and
the
shame
were
all
in
me
,
and
the
visitation
had
come
down
.
The
day
waned
into
a
gloomy
evening
,
overcast
and
sad
,
and
I
still
contended
with
the
same
distress
.
I
went
out
alone
,
and
after
walking
a
little
in
the
park
,
watching
the
dark
shades
falling
on
the
trees
and
the
fitful
flight
of
the
bats
,
which
sometimes
almost
touched
me
,
was
attracted
to
the
house
for
the
first
time
.
Perhaps
I
might
not
have
gone
near
it
if
I
had
been
in
a
stronger
frame
of
mind
.
As
it
was
,
I
took
the
path
that
led
close
by
it
.
I
did
not
dare
to
linger
or
to
look
up
,
but
I
passed
before
the
terrace
garden
with
its
fragrant
odours
,
and
its
broad
walks
,
and
its
well
-
kept
beds
and
smooth
turf
;
and
I
saw
how
beautiful
and
grave
it
was
,
and
how
the
old
stone
balustrades
and
parapets
,
and
wide
flights
of
shallow
steps
,
were
seamed
by
time
and
weather
;
and
how
the
trained
moss
and
ivy
grew
about
them
,
and
around
the
old
stone
pedestal
of
the
sun
-
dial
;
and
I
heard
the
fountain
falling
.
Then
the
way
went
by
long
lines
of
dark
windows
diversified
by
turreted
towers
and
porches
of
eccentric
shapes
,
where
old
stone
lions
and
grotesque
monsters
bristled
outside
dens
of
shadow
and
snarled
at
the
evening
gloom
over
the
escutcheons
they
held
in
their
grip
.
Thence
the
path
wound
underneath
a
gateway
,
and
through
a
court
-
yard
where
the
principal
entrance
was
(
I
hurried
quickly
on
)
,
and
by
the
stables
where
none
but
deep
voices
seemed
to
be
,
whether
in
the
murmuring
of
the
wind
through
the
strong
mass
of
ivy
holding
to
a
high
red
wall
,
or
in
the
low
complaining
of
the
weathercock
,
or
in
the
barking
of
the
dogs
,
or
in
the
slow
striking
of
a
clock
.
So
,
encountering
presently
a
sweet
smell
of
limes
,
whose
rustling
I
could
hear
,
I
turned
with
the
turning
of
the
path
to
the
south
front
,
and
there
above
me
were
the
balustrades
of
the
Ghost
’
s
Walk
and
one
lighted
window
that
might
be
my
mother
’
s
.
The
way
was
paved
here
,
like
the
terrace
overhead
,
and
my
footsteps
from
being
noiseless
made
an
echoing
sound
upon
the
flags
.
Stopping
to
look
at
nothing
,
but
seeing
all
I
did
see
as
I
went
,
I
was
passing
quickly
on
,
and
in
a
few
moments
should
have
passed
the
lighted
window
,
when
my
echoing
footsteps
brought
it
suddenly
into
my
mind
that
there
was
a
dreadful
truth
in
the
legend
of
the
Ghost
’
s
Walk
,
that
it
was
I
who
was
to
bring
calamity
upon
the
stately
house
and
that
my
warning
feet
were
haunting
it
even
then
.
Seized
with
an
augmented
terror
of
myself
which
turned
me
cold
,
I
ran
from
myself
and
everything
,
retraced
the
way
by
which
I
had
come
,
and
never
paused
until
I
had
gained
the
lodge
-
gate
,
and
the
park
lay
sullen
and
black
behind
me
.
Not
before
I
was
alone
in
my
own
room
for
the
night
and
had
again
been
dejected
and
unhappy
there
did
I
begin
to
know
how
wrong
and
thankless
this
state
was
.
