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- Чарльз Диккенс
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But
in
that
moment
Rachael
started
up
with
a
suppressed
cry
.
The
creature
struggled
,
struck
her
,
seized
her
by
the
hair
;
but
Rachael
had
the
cup
.
Stephen
broke
out
of
his
chair
.
'
Rachael
,
am
I
wakin
'
or
dreamin
'
this
dreadfo
'
night
?
'
''
Tis
all
well
,
Stephen
.
I
have
been
asleep
,
myself
.
'
Tis
near
three
.
Hush
!
I
hear
the
bells
.
'
The
wind
brought
the
sounds
of
the
church
clock
to
the
window
.
They
listened
,
and
it
struck
three
.
Stephen
looked
at
her
,
saw
how
pale
she
was
,
noted
the
disorder
of
her
hair
,
and
the
red
marks
of
fingers
on
her
forehead
,
and
felt
assured
that
his
senses
of
sight
and
hearing
had
been
awake
.
She
held
the
cup
in
her
hand
even
now
.
'
I
thought
it
must
be
near
three
,
'
she
said
,
calmly
pouring
from
the
cup
into
the
basin
,
and
steeping
the
linen
as
before
.
'
I
am
thankful
I
stayed
!
'
Tis
done
now
,
when
I
have
put
this
on
.
There
!
And
now
she
's
quiet
again
.
The
few
drops
in
the
basin
I
'll
pour
away
,
for
'
tis
bad
stuff
to
leave
about
,
though
ever
so
little
of
it
.
'
As
she
spoke
,
she
drained
the
basin
into
the
ashes
of
the
fire
,
and
broke
the
bottle
on
the
hearth
.
She
had
nothing
to
do
,
then
,
but
to
cover
herself
with
her
shawl
before
going
out
into
the
wind
and
rain
.
'
Thou
'
lt
let
me
walk
wi
'
thee
at
this
hour
,
Rachael
?
'
'
No
,
Stephen
.
'
Tis
but
a
minute
,
and
I
'm
home
.
'
'
Thou
'
rt
not
fearfo
'
;
'
he
said
it
in
a
low
voice
,
as
they
went
out
at
the
door
;
'
to
leave
me
alone
wi
'
her
!
'
