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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 181/247
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She
went
up
to
the
house
,
keeping
within
the
shrubbery
,
and
went
round
it
,
peeping
between
the
leaves
at
the
lower
windows
.
Most
of
them
were
open
,
as
they
usually
were
in
such
warm
weather
,
but
there
were
no
lights
yet
,
and
all
was
silent
.
She
tried
the
garden
with
no
better
effect
.
She
thought
of
the
wood
,
and
stole
towards
it
,
heedless
of
long
grass
and
briers
:
of
worms
,
snails
,
and
slugs
,
and
all
the
creeping
things
that
be
.
With
her
dark
eyes
and
her
hook
nose
warily
in
advance
of
her
,
Mrs.
Sparsit
softly
crushed
her
way
through
the
thick
undergrowth
,
so
intent
upon
her
object
that
she
probably
would
have
done
no
less
,
if
the
wood
had
been
a
wood
of
adders
.
Hark
!
The
smaller
birds
might
have
tumbled
out
of
their
nests
,
fascinated
by
the
glittering
of
Mrs.
Sparsit
's
eyes
in
the
gloom
,
as
she
stopped
and
listened
.
Low
voices
close
at
hand
.
His
voice
and
hers
.
The
appointment
was
a
device
to
keep
the
brother
away
!
There
they
were
yonder
,
by
the
felled
tree
.
Bending
low
among
the
dewy
grass
,
Mrs.
Sparsit
advanced
closer
to
them
.
She
drew
herself
up
,
and
stood
behind
a
tree
,
like
Robinson
Crusoe
in
his
ambuscade
against
the
savages
;
so
near
to
them
that
at
a
spring
,
and
that
no
great
one
,
she
could
have
touched
them
both
.
He
was
there
secretly
,
and
had
not
shown
himself
at
the
house
.
He
had
come
on
horseback
,
and
must
have
passed
through
the
neighbouring
fields
;
for
his
horse
was
tied
to
the
meadow
side
of
the
fence
,
within
a
few
paces
.
'
My
dearest
love
,
'
said
he
,
'
what
could
I
do
?
Knowing
you
were
alone
,
was
it
possible
that
I
could
stay
away
?
'
'
You
may
hang
your
head
,
to
make
yourself
the
more
attractive
;
I
do
n't
know
what
they
see
in
you
when
you
hold
it
up
,
'
thought
Mrs.
Sparsit
;
'
but
you
little
think
,
my
dearest
love
,
whose
eyes
are
on
you
!
'
That
she
hung
her
head
,
was
certain
.
She
urged
him
to
go
away
,
she
commanded
him
to
go
away
;
but
she
neither
turned
her
face
to
him
,
nor
raised
it
.
Yet
it
was
remarkable
that
she
sat
as
still
as
ever
the
amiable
woman
in
ambuscade
had
seen
her
sit
,
at
any
period
in
her
life
.
Her
hands
rested
in
one
another
,
like
the
hands
of
a
statue
;
and
even
her
manner
of
speaking
was
not
hurried
.
