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- Чарльз Диккенс
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I
could
answer
this
inquiry
with
a
better
heart
than
I
had
been
able
to
find
for
the
other
question
,
and
I
said
I
was
quite
willing
.
"
Then
go
into
that
opposite
room
,
"
said
she
,
pointing
at
the
door
behind
me
with
her
withered
hand
,
"
and
wait
there
till
I
come
.
"
I
crossed
the
staircase
landing
,
and
entered
the
room
she
indicated
.
From
that
room
,
too
,
the
daylight
was
completely
excluded
,
and
it
had
an
airless
smell
that
was
oppressive
.
A
fire
had
been
lately
kindled
in
the
damp
old
-
fashioned
grate
,
and
it
was
more
disposed
to
go
out
than
to
burn
up
,
and
the
reluctant
smoke
which
hung
in
the
room
seemed
colder
than
the
clearer
air
—
like
our
own
marsh
mist
.
Certain
wintry
branches
of
candles
on
the
high
chimney
-
piece
faintly
lighted
the
chamber
;
or
it
would
be
more
expressive
to
say
,
faintly
troubled
its
darkness
.
It
was
spacious
,
and
I
dare
say
had
once
been
handsome
,
but
every
discernible
thing
in
it
was
covered
with
dust
and
mould
,
and
dropping
to
pieces
.
The
most
prominent
object
was
a
long
table
with
a
tablecloth
spread
on
it
,
as
if
a
feast
had
been
in
preparation
when
the
house
and
the
clocks
all
stopped
together
.
An
epergne
or
centre
-
piece
of
some
kind
was
in
the
middle
of
this
cloth
;
it
was
so
heavily
overhung
with
cobwebs
that
its
form
was
quite
undistinguishable
;
and
,
as
I
looked
along
the
yellow
expanse
out
of
which
I
remember
its
seeming
to
grow
,
like
a
black
fungus
,
I
saw
speckle
-
legged
spiders
with
blotchy
bodies
running
home
to
it
,
and
running
out
from
it
,
as
if
some
circumstances
of
the
greatest
public
importance
had
just
transpired
in
the
spider
community
.
I
heard
the
mice
too
,
rattling
behind
the
panels
,
as
if
the
same
occurrence
were
important
to
their
interests
.
But
the
black
beetles
took
no
notice
of
the
agitation
,
and
groped
about
the
hearth
in
a
ponderous
elderly
way
,
as
if
they
were
short
-
sighted
and
hard
of
hearing
,
and
not
on
terms
with
one
another
.
These
crawling
things
had
fascinated
my
attention
,
and
I
was
watching
them
from
a
distance
,
when
Miss
Havisham
laid
a
hand
upon
my
shoulder
.
In
her
other
hand
she
had
a
crutch
-
headed
stick
on
which
she
leaned
,
and
she
looked
like
the
Witch
of
the
place
.
"
This
,
"
said
she
,
pointing
to
the
long
table
with
her
stick
,
"
is
where
I
will
be
laid
when
I
am
dead
.
They
shall
come
and
look
at
me
here
.
"
With
some
vague
misgiving
that
she
might
get
upon
the
table
then
and
there
and
die
at
once
,
the
complete
realization
of
the
ghastly
waxwork
at
the
Fair
,
I
shrank
under
her
touch
.
"
What
do
you
think
that
is
?
"
she
asked
me
,
again
pointing
with
her
stick
;
"
that
,
where
those
cobwebs
are
?
"
"
I
can
’
t
guess
what
it
is
,
ma
’
am
.
"
"
It
’
s
a
great
cake
.
A
bride
-
cake
.
Mine
!
"
