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- Чарльз Диккенс
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'
Father
,
I
want
to
speak
to
you
.
'
'
What
is
the
matter
?
How
strange
you
look
!
And
good
Heaven
,
'
said
Mr.
Gradgrind
,
wondering
more
and
more
,
'
have
you
come
here
exposed
to
this
storm
?
'
She
put
her
hands
to
her
dress
,
as
if
she
hardly
knew
.
'
Yes
.
'
Then
she
uncovered
her
head
,
and
letting
her
cloak
and
hood
fall
where
they
might
,
stood
looking
at
him
:
so
colourless
,
so
dishevelled
,
so
defiant
and
despairing
,
that
he
was
afraid
of
her
.
'
What
is
it
?
I
conjure
you
,
Louisa
,
tell
me
what
is
the
matter
.
'
She
dropped
into
a
chair
before
him
,
and
put
her
cold
hand
on
his
arm
.
'
Father
,
you
have
trained
me
from
my
cradle
?
'
'
Yes
,
Louisa
.
'
'
I
curse
the
hour
in
which
I
was
born
to
such
a
destiny
.
'
He
looked
at
her
in
doubt
and
dread
,
vacantly
repeating
:
'
Curse
the
hour
?
Curse
the
hour
?
'
