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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 739/820
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No
need
,
O
Steerforth
,
to
have
said
,
when
we
last
spoke
together
,
in
that
hour
which
I
so
little
deemed
to
be
our
parting
-
hour
—
no
need
to
have
said
,
‘
Think
of
me
at
my
best
!
’
I
had
done
that
ever
;
and
could
I
change
now
,
looking
on
this
sight
!
They
brought
a
hand
-
bier
,
and
laid
him
on
it
,
and
covered
him
with
a
flag
,
and
took
him
up
and
bore
him
on
towards
the
houses
.
All
the
men
who
carried
him
had
known
him
,
and
gone
sailing
with
him
,
and
seen
him
merry
and
bold
.
They
carried
him
through
the
wild
roar
,
a
hush
in
the
midst
of
all
the
tumult
;
and
took
him
to
the
cottage
where
Death
was
already
.
But
when
they
set
the
bier
down
on
the
threshold
,
they
looked
at
one
another
,
and
at
me
,
and
whispered
.
I
knew
why
.
They
felt
as
if
it
were
not
right
to
lay
him
down
in
the
same
quiet
room
.
We
went
into
the
town
,
and
took
our
burden
to
the
inn
.
So
soon
as
I
could
at
all
collect
my
thoughts
,
I
sent
for
Joram
,
and
begged
him
to
provide
me
a
conveyance
in
which
it
could
be
got
to
London
in
the
night
.
I
knew
that
the
care
of
it
,
and
the
hard
duty
of
preparing
his
mother
to
receive
it
,
could
only
rest
with
me
;
and
I
was
anxious
to
discharge
that
duty
as
faithfully
as
I
could
.
I
chose
the
night
for
the
journey
,
that
there
might
be
less
curiosity
when
I
left
the
town
.
But
,
although
it
was
nearly
midnight
when
I
came
out
of
the
yard
in
a
chaise
,
followed
by
what
I
had
in
charge
,
there
were
many
people
waiting
.
At
intervals
,
along
the
town
,
and
even
a
little
way
out
upon
the
road
,
I
saw
more
:
but
at
length
only
the
bleak
night
and
the
open
country
were
around
me
,
and
the
ashes
of
my
youthful
friendship
.
Upon
a
mellow
autumn
day
,
about
noon
,
when
the
ground
was
perfumed
by
fallen
leaves
,
and
many
more
,
in
beautiful
tints
of
yellow
,
red
,
and
brown
,
yet
hung
upon
the
trees
,
through
which
the
sun
was
shining
,
I
arrived
at
Highgate
.
I
walked
the
last
mile
,
thinking
as
I
went
along
of
what
I
had
to
do
;
and
left
the
carriage
that
had
followed
me
all
through
the
night
,
awaiting
orders
to
advance
.
The
house
,
when
I
came
up
to
it
,
looked
just
the
same
.
Not
a
blind
was
raised
;
no
sign
of
life
was
in
the
dull
paved
court
,
with
its
covered
way
leading
to
the
disused
door
.
The
wind
had
quite
gone
down
,
and
nothing
moved
.
I
had
not
,
at
first
,
the
courage
to
ring
at
the
gate
;
and
when
I
did
ring
,
my
errand
seemed
to
me
to
be
expressed
in
the
very
sound
of
the
bell
.
The
little
parlour
-
maid
came
out
,
with
the
key
in
her
hand
;
and
looking
earnestly
at
me
as
she
unlocked
the
gate
,
said
:
‘
I
beg
your
pardon
,
sir
.
Are
you
ill
?
’
