-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Тяжёлые времена
-
- Стр. 186/247
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
'
How
could
you
give
me
life
,
and
take
from
me
all
the
inappreciable
things
that
raise
it
from
the
state
of
conscious
death
?
Where
are
the
graces
of
my
soul
?
Where
are
the
sentiments
of
my
heart
?
What
have
you
done
,
O
father
,
what
have
you
done
,
with
the
garden
that
should
have
bloomed
once
,
in
this
great
wilderness
here
!
'
She
struck
herself
with
both
her
hands
upon
her
bosom
.
'
If
it
had
ever
been
here
,
its
ashes
alone
would
save
me
from
the
void
in
which
my
whole
life
sinks
.
I
did
not
mean
to
say
this
;
but
,
father
,
you
remember
the
last
time
we
conversed
in
this
room
?
'
He
had
been
so
wholly
unprepared
for
what
he
heard
now
,
that
it
was
with
difficulty
he
answered
,
'
Yes
,
Louisa
.
'
'
What
has
risen
to
my
lips
now
,
would
have
risen
to
my
lips
then
,
if
you
had
given
me
a
moment
's
help
.
I
do
n't
reproach
you
,
father
.
What
you
have
never
nurtured
in
me
,
you
have
never
nurtured
in
yourself
;
but
O
!
if
you
had
only
done
so
long
ago
,
or
if
you
had
only
neglected
me
,
what
a
much
better
and
much
happier
creature
I
should
have
been
this
day
!
'
On
hearing
this
,
after
all
his
care
,
he
bowed
his
head
upon
his
hand
and
groaned
aloud
.
'
Father
,
if
you
had
known
,
when
we
were
last
together
here
,
what
even
I
feared
while
I
strove
against
it
--
as
it
has
been
my
task
from
infancy
to
strive
against
every
natural
prompting
that
has
arisen
in
my
heart
;
if
you
had
known
that
there
lingered
in
my
breast
,
sensibilities
,
affections
,
weaknesses
capable
of
being
cherished
into
strength
,
defying
all
the
calculations
ever
made
by
man
,
and
no
more
known
to
his
arithmetic
than
his
Creator
is
,
--
would
you
have
given
me
to
the
husband
whom
I
am
now
sure
that
I
hate
?
'
He
said
,
'
No
.
No
,
my
poor
child
.
'
'
Would
you
have
doomed
me
,
at
any
time
,
to
the
frost
and
blight
that
have
hardened
and
spoiled
me
?
Would
you
have
robbed
me
--
for
no
one
's
enrichment
--
only
for
the
greater
desolation
of
this
world
--
of
the
immaterial
part
of
my
life
,
the
spring
and
summer
of
my
belief
,
my
refuge
from
what
is
sordid
and
bad
in
the
real
things
around
me
,
my
school
in
which
I
should
have
learned
to
be
more
humble
and
more
trusting
with
them
,
and
to
hope
in
my
little
sphere
to
make
them
better
?
'
'
O
no
,
no
.
No
,
Louisa
.
'
