-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
-
- Стр. 629/820
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
We
were
now
down
in
Westminster
.
We
had
turned
back
to
follow
her
,
having
encountered
her
coming
towards
us
;
and
Westminster
Abbey
was
the
point
at
which
she
passed
from
the
lights
and
noise
of
the
leading
streets
.
She
proceeded
so
quickly
,
when
she
got
free
of
the
two
currents
of
passengers
setting
towards
and
from
the
bridge
,
that
,
between
this
and
the
advance
she
had
of
us
when
she
struck
off
,
we
were
in
the
narrow
water
-
side
street
by
Millbank
before
we
came
up
with
her
.
At
that
moment
she
crossed
the
road
,
as
if
to
avoid
the
footsteps
that
she
heard
so
close
behind
;
and
,
without
looking
back
,
passed
on
even
more
rapidly
.
A
glimpse
of
the
river
through
a
dull
gateway
,
where
some
waggons
were
housed
for
the
night
,
seemed
to
arrest
my
feet
.
I
touched
my
companion
without
speaking
,
and
we
both
forbore
to
cross
after
her
,
and
both
followed
on
that
opposite
side
of
the
way
;
keeping
as
quietly
as
we
could
in
the
shadow
of
the
houses
,
but
keeping
very
near
her
.
There
was
,
and
is
when
I
write
,
at
the
end
of
that
low
-
lying
street
,
a
dilapidated
little
wooden
building
,
probably
an
obsolete
old
ferry
-
house
.
Its
position
is
just
at
that
point
where
the
street
ceases
,
and
the
road
begins
to
lie
between
a
row
of
houses
and
the
river
.
As
soon
as
she
came
here
,
and
saw
the
water
,
she
stopped
as
if
she
had
come
to
her
destination
;
and
presently
went
slowly
along
by
the
brink
of
the
river
,
looking
intently
at
it
.
All
the
way
here
,
I
had
supposed
that
she
was
going
to
some
house
;
indeed
,
I
had
vaguely
entertained
the
hope
that
the
house
might
be
in
some
way
associated
with
the
lost
girl
.
But
that
one
dark
glimpse
of
the
river
,
through
the
gateway
,
had
instinctively
prepared
me
for
her
going
no
farther
.
The
neighbourhood
was
a
dreary
one
at
that
time
;
as
oppressive
,
sad
,
and
solitary
by
night
,
as
any
about
London
.
There
were
neither
wharves
nor
houses
on
the
melancholy
waste
of
road
near
the
great
blank
Prison
.
A
sluggish
ditch
deposited
its
mud
at
the
prison
walls
.
Coarse
grass
and
rank
weeds
straggled
over
all
the
marshy
land
in
the
vicinity
.
In
one
part
,
carcases
of
houses
,
inauspiciously
begun
and
never
finished
,
rotted
away
.
In
another
,
the
ground
was
cumbered
with
rusty
iron
monsters
of
steam
-
boilers
,
wheels
,
cranks
,
pipes
,
furnaces
,
paddles
,
anchors
,
diving
-
bells
,
windmill
-
sails
,
and
I
know
not
what
strange
objects
,
accumulated
by
some
speculator
,
and
grovelling
in
the
dust
,
underneath
which
—
having
sunk
into
the
soil
of
their
own
weight
in
wet
weather
—
they
had
the
appearance
of
vainly
trying
to
hide
themselves
.
The
clash
and
glare
of
sundry
fiery
Works
upon
the
river
-
side
,
arose
by
night
to
disturb
everything
except
the
heavy
and
unbroken
smoke
that
poured
out
of
their
chimneys
.
Slimy
gaps
and
causeways
,
winding
among
old
wooden
piles
,
with
a
sickly
substance
clinging
to
the
latter
,
like
green
hair
,
and
the
rags
of
last
year
’
s
handbills
offering
rewards
for
drowned
men
fluttering
above
high
-
water
mark
,
led
down
through
the
ooze
and
slush
to
the
ebb
-
tide
.
There
was
a
story
that
one
of
the
pits
dug
for
the
dead
in
the
time
of
the
Great
Plague
was
hereabout
;
and
a
blighting
influence
seemed
to
have
proceeded
from
it
over
the
whole
place
.
Or
else
it
looked
as
if
it
had
gradually
decomposed
into
that
nightmare
condition
,
out
of
the
overflowings
of
the
polluted
stream
.
As
if
she
were
a
part
of
the
refuse
it
had
cast
out
,
and
left
to
corruption
and
decay
,
the
girl
we
had
followed
strayed
down
to
the
river
’
s
brink
,
and
stood
in
the
midst
of
this
night
-
picture
,
lonely
and
still
,
looking
at
the
water
.
There
were
some
boats
and
barges
astrand
in
the
mud
,
and
these
enabled
us
to
come
within
a
few
yards
of
her
without
being
seen
.
I
then
signed
to
Mr
.
Peggotty
to
remain
where
he
was
,
and
emerged
from
their
shade
to
speak
to
her
.
I
did
not
approach
her
solitary
figure
without
trembling
;
for
this
gloomy
end
to
her
determined
walk
,
and
the
way
in
which
she
stood
,
almost
within
the
cavernous
shadow
of
the
iron
bridge
,
looking
at
the
lights
crookedly
reflected
in
the
strong
tide
,
inspired
a
dread
within
me
.
I
think
she
was
talking
to
herself
.
I
am
sure
,
although
absorbed
in
gazing
at
the
water
,
that
her
shawl
was
off
her
shoulders
,
and
that
she
was
muffling
her
hands
in
it
,
in
an
unsettled
and
bewildered
way
,
more
like
the
action
of
a
sleep
-
walker
than
a
waking
person
.
I
know
,
and
never
can
forget
,
that
there
was
that
in
her
wild
manner
which
gave
me
no
assurance
but
that
she
would
sink
before
my
eyes
,
until
I
had
her
arm
within
my
grasp
.
