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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Jarndyce
,
and
even
I
—
how
we
should
all
thank
you
,
Mr
.
Woodcourt
!
"
"
Miss
Summerson
,
"
he
said
,
more
moved
than
he
had
been
from
the
first
,
"
before
heaven
,
I
will
be
a
true
friend
to
him
!
I
will
accept
him
as
a
trust
,
and
it
shall
be
a
sacred
one
!
"
"
God
bless
you
!
"
said
I
,
with
my
eyes
filling
fast
;
but
I
thought
they
might
,
when
it
was
not
for
myself
.
"
Ada
loves
him
—
we
all
love
him
,
but
Ada
loves
him
as
we
cannot
.
I
will
tell
her
what
you
say
.
Thank
you
,
and
God
bless
you
,
in
her
name
!
"
Richard
came
back
as
we
finished
exchanging
these
hurried
words
and
gave
me
his
arm
to
take
me
to
the
coach
.
"
Woodcourt
,
"
he
said
,
unconscious
with
what
application
,
"
pray
let
us
meet
in
London
!
"
"
Meet
?
"
returned
the
other
.
"
I
have
scarcely
a
friend
there
now
but
you
.
Where
shall
I
find
you
?
"
"
Why
,
I
must
get
a
lodging
of
some
sort
,
"
said
Richard
,
pondering
.
"
Say
at
Vholes
’
s
,
Symond
’
s
Inn
.
"
"
Good
!
Without
loss
of
time
.
"
They
shook
hands
heartily
.
When
I
was
seated
in
the
coach
and
Richard
was
yet
standing
in
the
street
,
Mr
.
Woodcourt
laid
his
friendly
hand
on
Richard
’
s
shoulder
and
looked
at
me
.
I
understood
him
and
waved
mine
in
thanks
.
And
in
his
last
look
as
we
drove
away
,
I
saw
that
he
was
very
sorry
for
me
.
I
was
glad
to
see
it
.
I
felt
for
my
old
self
as
the
dead
may
feel
if
they
ever
revisit
these
scenes
.
I
was
glad
to
be
tenderly
remembered
,
to
be
gently
pitied
,
not
to
be
quite
forgotten
.
Darkness
rests
upon
Tom
-
All
-
Alone
’
s
.
Dilating
and
dilating
since
the
sun
went
down
last
night
,
it
has
gradually
swelled
until
it
fills
every
void
in
the
place
.
For
a
time
there
were
some
dungeon
lights
burning
,
as
the
lamp
of
life
hums
in
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
,
heavily
,
heavily
,
in
the
nauseous
air
,
and
winking
—
as
that
lamp
,
too
,
winks
in
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
—
at
many
horrible
things
.
But
they
are
blotted
out
.
The
moon
has
eyed
Tom
with
a
dull
cold
stare
,
as
admitting
some
puny
emulation
of
herself
in
his
desert
region
unfit
for
life
and
blasted
by
volcanic
fires
;
but
she
has
passed
on
and
is
gone
.
The
blackest
nightmare
in
the
infernal
stables
grazes
on
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
,
and
Tom
is
fast
asleep
.
Much
mighty
speech
-
making
there
has
been
,
both
in
and
out
of
Parliament
,
concerning
Tom
,
and
much
wrathful
disputation
how
Tom
shall
be
got
right
.
Whether
he
shall
be
put
into
the
main
road
by
constables
,
or
by
beadles
,
or
by
bell
-
ringing
,
or
by
force
of
figures
,
or
by
correct
principles
of
taste
,
or
by
high
church
,
or
by
low
church
,
or
by
no
church
;
whether
he
shall
be
set
to
splitting
trusses
of
polemical
straws
with
the
crooked
knife
of
his
mind
or
whether
he
shall
be
put
to
stone
-
breaking
instead
.
In
the
midst
of
which
dust
and
noise
there
is
but
one
thing
perfectly
clear
,
to
wit
,
that
Tom
only
may
and
can
,
or
shall
and
will
,
be
reclaimed
according
to
somebody
’
s
theory
but
nobody
’
s
practice
.
And
in
the
hopeful
meantime
,
Tom
goes
to
perdition
head
foremost
in
his
old
determined
spirit
.
But
he
has
his
revenge
.
Even
the
winds
are
his
messengers
,
and
they
serve
him
in
these
hours
of
darkness
.
There
is
not
a
drop
of
Tom
’
s
corrupted
blood
but
propagates
infection
and
contagion
somewhere
.
It
shall
pollute
,
this
very
night
,
the
choice
stream
(
in
which
chemists
on
analysis
would
find
the
genuine
nobility
)
of
a
Norman
house
,
and
his
Grace
shall
not
be
able
to
say
nay
to
the
infamous
alliance
.
There
is
not
an
atom
of
Tom
’
s
slime
,
not
a
cubic
inch
of
any
pestilential
gas
in
which
he
lives
,
not
one
obscenity
or
degradation
about
him
,
not
an
ignorance
,
not
a
wickedness
,
not
a
brutality
of
his
committing
,
but
shall
work
its
retribution
through
every
order
of
society
up
to
the
proudest
of
the
proud
and
to
the
highest
of
the
high
.
Verily
,
what
with
tainting
,
plundering
,
and
spoiling
,
Tom
has
his
revenge
.
It
is
a
moot
point
whether
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
be
uglier
by
day
or
by
night
,
but
on
the
argument
that
the
more
that
is
seen
of
it
the
more
shocking
it
must
be
,
and
that
no
part
of
it
left
to
the
imagination
is
at
all
likely
to
be
made
so
bad
as
the
reality
,
day
carries
it
.
The
day
begins
to
break
now
;
and
in
truth
it
might
be
better
for
the
national
glory
even
that
the
sun
should
sometimes
set
upon
the
British
dominions
than
that
it
should
ever
rise
upon
so
vile
a
wonder
as
Tom
.
A
brown
sunburnt
gentleman
,
who
appears
in
some
inaptitude
for
sleep
to
be
wandering
abroad
rather
than
counting
the
hours
on
a
restless
pillow
,
strolls
hitherward
at
this
quiet
time
.
Attracted
by
curiosity
,
he
often
pauses
and
looks
about
him
,
up
and
down
the
miserable
by
-
ways
.
Nor
is
he
merely
curious
,
for
in
his
bright
dark
eye
there
is
compassionate
interest
;
and
as
he
looks
here
and
there
,
he
seems
to
understand
such
wretchedness
and
to
have
studied
it
before
.
On
the
banks
of
the
stagnant
channel
of
mud
which
is
the
main
street
of
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
,
nothing
is
to
be
seen
but
the
crazy
houses
,
shut
up
and
silent
.
No
waking
creature
save
himself
appears
except
in
one
direction
,
where
he
sees
the
solitary
figure
of
a
woman
sitting
on
a
door
-
step
.
He
walks
that
way
.
Approaching
,
he
observes
that
she
has
journeyed
a
long
distance
and
is
footsore
and
travel
-
stained
.
She
sits
on
the
door
-
step
in
the
manner
of
one
who
is
waiting
,
with
her
elbow
on
her
knee
and
her
head
upon
her
hand
.
Beside
her
is
a
canvas
bag
,
or
bundle
,
she
has
carried
.
She
is
dozing
probably
,
for
she
gives
no
heed
to
his
steps
as
he
comes
toward
her
.
The
broken
footway
is
so
narrow
that
when
Allan
Woodcourt
comes
to
where
the
woman
sits
,
he
has
to
turn
into
the
road
to
pass
her
.
Looking
down
at
her
face
,
his
eye
meets
hers
,
and
he
stops
.
"
What
is
the
matter
?
"
"
Nothing
,
sir
.
"
"
Can
’
t
you
make
them
hear
?
Do
you
want
to
be
let
in
?
"
"
I
’
m
waiting
till
they
get
up
at
another
house
—
a
lodging
-
house
—
not
here
,
"
the
woman
patiently
returns
.
"
I
’
m
waiting
here
because
there
will
be
sun
here
presently
to
warm
me
.
"
"
I
am
afraid
you
are
tired
.
I
am
sorry
to
see
you
sitting
in
the
street
.
"
"
Thank
you
,
sir
.
It
don
’
t
matter
.
"
A
habit
in
him
of
speaking
to
the
poor
and
of
avoiding
patronage
or
condescension
or
childishness
(
which
is
the
favourite
device
,
many
people
deeming
it
quite
a
subtlety
to
talk
to
them
like
little
spelling
books
)
has
put
him
on
good
terms
with
the
woman
easily
.
"
Let
me
look
at
your
forehead
,
"
he
says
,
bending
down
.
"
I
am
a
doctor
.
Don
’
t
be
afraid
.
I
wouldn
’
t
hurt
you
for
the
world
.
"
He
knows
that
by
touching
her
with
his
skilful
and
accustomed
hand
he
can
soothe
her
yet
more
readily
.
She
makes
a
slight
objection
,
saying
,
"
It
’
s
nothing
"
;
but
he
has
scarcely
laid
his
fingers
on
the
wounded
place
when
she
lifts
it
up
to
the
light
.
"
Aye
!
A
bad
bruise
,
and
the
skin
sadly
broken
.
This
must
be
very
sore
.
"
"
It
do
ache
a
little
,
sir
,
"
returns
the
woman
with
a
started
tear
upon
her
cheek
.
"
Let
me
try
to
make
it
more
comfortable
.
My
handkerchief
won
’
t
hurt
you
.
"
"
Oh
,
dear
no
,
sir
,
I
’
m
sure
of
that
!
"
He
cleanses
the
injured
place
and
dries
it
,
and
having
carefully
examined
it
and
gently
pressed
it
with
the
palm
of
his
hand
,
takes
a
small
case
from
his
pocket
,
dresses
it
,
and
binds
it
up
.
While
he
is
thus
employed
,
he
says
,
after
laughing
at
his
establishing
a
surgery
in
the
street
,
"
And
so
your
husband
is
a
brickmaker
?
"
"
How
do
you
know
that
,
sir
?
"
asks
the
woman
,
astonished
.
"
Why
,
I
suppose
so
from
the
colour
of
the
clay
upon
your
bag
and
on
your
dress
.
And
I
know
brickmakers
go
about
working
at
piecework
in
different
places
.
And
I
am
sorry
to
say
I
have
known
them
cruel
to
their
wives
too
.
"
The
woman
hastily
lifts
up
her
eyes
as
if
she
would
deny
that
her
injury
is
referable
to
such
a
cause
.
But
feeling
the
hand
upon
her
forehead
,
and
seeing
his
busy
and
composed
face
,
she
quietly
drops
them
again
.
"
Where
is
he
now
?
"
asks
the
surgeon
.
"
He
got
into
trouble
last
night
,
sir
;
but
he
’
ll
look
for
me
at
the
lodging
-
house
.
"
"
He
will
get
into
worse
trouble
if
he
often
misuses
his
large
and
heavy
hand
as
he
has
misused
it
here
.
But
you
forgive
him
,
brutal
as
he
is
,
and
I
say
no
more
of
him
,
except
that
I
wish
he
deserved
it
.
You
have
no
young
child
?
"
The
woman
shakes
her
head
.
"
One
as
I
calls
mine
,
sir
,
but
it
’
s
Liz
’
s
.
"
"
Your
own
is
dead
.
I
see
!
Poor
little
thing
!
"
By
this
time
he
has
finished
and
is
putting
up
his
case
.
"
I
suppose
you
have
some
settled
home
.
Is
it
far
from
here
?
"
he
asks
,
good
-
humouredly
making
light
of
what
he
has
done
as
she
gets
up
and
curtsys
.
"
It
’
s
a
good
two
or
three
and
twenty
mile
from
here
,
sir
.
At
Saint
Albans
.
You
know
Saint
Albans
,
sir
?
I
thought
you
gave
a
start
like
,
as
if
you
did
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
know
something
of
it
.
And
now
I
will
ask
you
a
question
in
return
.
Have
you
money
for
your
lodging
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
she
says
,
"
really
and
truly
.
"
And
she
shows
it
.
He
tells
her
,
in
acknowledgment
of
her
many
subdued
thanks
,
that
she
is
very
welcome
,
gives
her
good
day
,
and
walks
away
.
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
is
still
asleep
,
and
nothing
is
astir
.
Yes
,
something
is
!
As
he
retraces
his
way
to
the
point
from
which
he
descried
the
woman
at
a
distance
sitting
on
the
step
,
he
sees
a
ragged
figure
coming
very
cautiously
along
,
crouching
close
to
the
soiled
walls
—
which
the
wretchedest
figure
might
as
well
avoid
—
and
furtively
thrusting
a
hand
before
it
.
It
is
the
figure
of
a
youth
whose
face
is
hollow
and
whose
eyes
have
an
emaciated
glare
.
He
is
so
intent
on
getting
along
unseen
that
even
the
apparition
of
a
stranger
in
whole
garments
does
not
tempt
him
to
look
back
.
He
shades
his
face
with
his
ragged
elbow
as
he
passes
on
the
other
side
of
the
way
,
and
goes
shrinking
and
creeping
on
with
his
anxious
hand
before
him
and
his
shapeless
clothes
hanging
in
shreds
.
Clothes
made
for
what
purpose
,
or
of
what
material
,
it
would
be
impossible
to
say
.
They
look
,
in
colour
and
in
substance
,
like
a
bundle
of
rank
leaves
of
swampy
growth
that
rotted
long
ago
.
Allan
Woodcourt
pauses
to
look
after
him
and
note
all
this
,
with
a
shadowy
belief
that
he
has
seen
the
boy
before
.
He
cannot
recall
how
or
where
,
but
there
is
some
association
in
his
mind
with
such
a
form
.
He
imagines
that
he
must
have
seen
it
in
some
hospital
or
refuge
,
still
,
cannot
make
out
why
it
comes
with
any
special
force
on
his
remembrance
.
He
is
gradually
emerging
from
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
in
the
morning
light
,
thinking
about
it
,
when
he
hears
running
feet
behind
him
,
and
looking
round
,
sees
the
boy
scouring
towards
him
at
great
speed
,
followed
by
the
woman
.
"
Stop
him
,
stop
him
!
"
cries
the
woman
,
almost
breathless
.
"
Stop
him
,
sir
!
"
He
darts
across
the
road
into
the
boy
’
s
path
,
but
the
boy
is
quicker
than
he
,
makes
a
curve
,
ducks
,
dives
under
his
hands
,
comes
up
half
-
a
-
dozen
yards
beyond
him
,
and
scours
away
again
.
Still
the
woman
follows
,
crying
,
"
Stop
him
,
sir
,
pray
stop
him
!
"
Allan
,
not
knowing
but
that
he
has
just
robbed
her
of
her
money
,
follows
in
chase
and
runs
so
hard
that
he
runs
the
boy
down
a
dozen
times
,
but
each
time
he
repeats
the
curve
,
the
duck
,
the
dive
,
and
scours
away
again
.
To
strike
at
him
on
any
of
these
occasions
would
be
to
fell
and
disable
him
,
but
the
pursuer
cannot
resolve
to
do
that
,
and
so
the
grimly
ridiculous
pursuit
continues
.
At
last
the
fugitive
,
hard
-
pressed
,
takes
to
a
narrow
passage
and
a
court
which
has
no
thoroughfare
.
Here
,
against
a
hoarding
of
decaying
timber
,
he
is
brought
to
bay
and
tumbles
down
,
lying
gasping
at
his
pursuer
,
who
stands
and
gasps
at
him
until
the
woman
comes
up
.
"
Oh
,
you
,
Jo
!
"
cries
the
woman
.
"
What
?
I
have
found
you
at
last
!
"
"
Jo
,
"
repeats
Allan
,
looking
at
him
with
attention
,
"
Jo
!
Stay
.
To
be
sure
!
I
recollect
this
lad
some
time
ago
being
brought
before
the
coroner
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
see
you
once
afore
at
the
inkwhich
,
"
whimpers
Jo
.
"
What
of
that
?
Can
’
t
you
never
let
such
an
unfortnet
as
me
alone
?
An
’
t
I
unfortnet
enough
for
you
yet
?
How
unfortnet
do
you
want
me
fur
to
be
?
I
’
ve
been
a
-
chivied
and
a
-
chivied
,
fust
by
one
on
you
and
nixt
by
another
on
you
,
till
I
’
m
worritted
to
skins
and
bones
.
The
inkwhich
warn
’
t
MY
fault
.
I
done
nothink
.
He
wos
wery
good
to
me
,
he
wos
;
he
wos
the
only
one
I
knowed
to
speak
to
,
as
ever
come
across
my
crossing
.
It
ain
’
t
wery
likely
I
should
want
him
to
be
inkwhiched
.
I
only
wish
I
wos
,
myself
.
I
don
’
t
know
why
I
don
’
t
go
and
make
a
hole
in
the
water
,
I
’
m
sure
I
don
’
t
.
"
He
says
it
with
such
a
pitiable
air
,
and
his
grimy
tears
appear
so
real
,
and
he
lies
in
the
corner
up
against
the
hoarding
so
like
a
growth
of
fungus
or
any
unwholesome
excrescence
produced
there
in
neglect
and
impurity
,
that
Allan
Woodcourt
is
softened
towards
him
.
He
says
to
the
woman
,
"
Miserable
creature
,
what
has
he
done
?
"
To
which
she
only
replies
,
shaking
her
head
at
the
prostrate
figure
more
amazedly
than
angrily
,
"
Oh
,
you
Jo
,
you
Jo
.
I
have
found
you
at
last
!
"
"
What
has
he
done
?
"
says
Allan
.
"
Has
he
robbed
you
?
"
"
No
,
sir
,
no
.
Robbed
me
?
He
did
nothing
but
what
was
kind
-
hearted
by
me
,
and
that
’
s
the
wonder
of
it
.
"
Allan
looks
from
Jo
to
the
woman
,
and
from
the
woman
to
Jo
,
waiting
for
one
of
them
to
unravel
the
riddle
.
"
But
he
was
along
with
me
,
sir
,
"
says
the
woman
.
"
Oh
,
you
Jo
!
He
was
along
with
me
,
sir
,
down
at
Saint
Albans
,
ill
,
and
a
young
lady
,
Lord
bless
her
for
a
good
friend
to
me
,
took
pity
on
him
when
I
durstn
’
t
,
and
took
him
home
—
"
Allan
shrinks
back
from
him
with
a
sudden
horror
.
"
Yes
,
sir
,
yes
.
Took
him
home
,
and
made
him
comfortable
,
and
like
a
thankless
monster
he
ran
away
in
the
night
and
never
has
been
seen
or
heard
of
since
till
I
set
eyes
on
him
just
now
.
And
that
young
lady
that
was
such
a
pretty
dear
caught
his
illness
,
lost
her
beautiful
looks
,
and
wouldn
’
t
hardly
be
known
for
the
same
young
lady
now
if
it
wasn
’
t
for
her
angel
temper
,
and
her
pretty
shape
,
and
her
sweet
voice
.
Do
you
know
it
?
You
ungrateful
wretch
,
do
you
know
that
this
is
all
along
of
you
and
of
her
goodness
to
you
?
"
demands
the
woman
,
beginning
to
rage
at
him
as
she
recalls
it
and
breaking
into
passionate
tears
.
The
boy
,
in
rough
sort
stunned
by
what
he
hears
,
falls
to
smearing
his
dirty
forehead
with
his
dirty
palm
,
and
to
staring
at
the
ground
,
and
to
shaking
from
head
to
foot
until
the
crazy
hoarding
against
which
he
leans
rattles
.
Allan
restrains
the
woman
,
merely
by
a
quiet
gesture
,
but
effectually
.
"
Richard
told
me
—
"
He
falters
.
"
I
mean
,
I
have
heard
of
this
—
don
’
t
mind
me
for
a
moment
,
I
will
speak
presently
.
"
He
turns
away
and
stands
for
a
while
looking
out
at
the
covered
passage
.
When
he
comes
back
,
he
has
recovered
his
composure
,
except
that
he
contends
against
an
avoidance
of
the
boy
,
which
is
so
very
remarkable
that
it
absorbs
the
woman
’
s
attention
.
"
You
hear
what
she
says
.
But
get
up
,
get
up
!
"
Jo
,
shaking
and
chattering
,
slowly
rises
and
stands
,
after
the
manner
of
his
tribe
in
a
difficulty
,
sideways
against
the
hoarding
,
resting
one
of
his
high
shoulders
against
it
and
covertly
rubbing
his
right
hand
over
his
left
and
his
left
foot
over
his
right
.
"
You
hear
what
she
says
,
and
I
know
it
’
s
true
.
Have
you
been
here
ever
since
?
"
"
Wishermaydie
if
I
seen
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
till
this
blessed
morning
,
"
replies
Jo
hoarsely
.
"
Why
have
you
come
here
now
?
"
Jo
looks
all
round
the
confined
court
,
looks
at
his
questioner
no
higher
than
the
knees
,
and
finally
answers
,
"
I
don
’
t
know
how
to
do
nothink
,
and
I
can
’
t
get
nothink
to
do
.
I
’
m
wery
poor
and
ill
,
and
I
thought
I
’
d
come
back
here
when
there
warn
’
t
nobody
about
,
and
lay
down
and
hide
somewheres
as
I
knows
on
till
arter
dark
,
and
then
go
and
beg
a
trifle
of
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
He
wos
allus
willin
fur
to
give
me
somethink
he
wos
,
though
Mrs
.
