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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 209/761
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’
To
the
inexpressible
consternation
of
her
lover
,
Little
Dorrit
,
with
her
hands
to
her
averted
face
,
and
rocking
herself
where
she
stood
as
if
she
were
in
pain
,
murmured
,
‘
O
father
,
how
can
you
!
O
dear
,
dear
father
,
how
can
you
,
can
you
,
do
it
!
’
The
poor
fellow
stood
gazing
at
her
,
overflowing
with
sympathy
,
but
not
knowing
what
to
make
of
this
,
until
,
having
taken
out
her
handkerchief
and
put
it
to
her
still
averted
face
,
she
hurried
away
.
At
first
he
remained
stock
still
;
then
hurried
after
her
.
‘
Miss
Amy
,
pray
!
Will
you
have
the
goodness
to
stop
a
moment
?
Miss
Amy
,
if
it
comes
to
that
,
let
me
go
.
I
shall
go
out
of
my
senses
,
if
I
have
to
think
that
I
have
driven
you
away
like
this
.
’
His
trembling
voice
and
unfeigned
earnestness
brought
Little
Dorrit
to
a
stop
.
‘
Oh
,
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
do
,
’
she
cried
,
‘
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
do
!
’
To
Young
John
,
who
had
never
seen
her
bereft
of
her
quiet
self
-
command
,
who
had
seen
her
from
her
infancy
ever
so
reliable
and
self
-
suppressed
,
there
was
a
shock
in
her
distress
,
and
in
having
to
associate
himself
with
it
as
its
cause
,
that
shook
him
from
his
great
hat
to
the
pavement
.
He
felt
it
necessary
to
explain
himself
.
He
might
be
misunderstood
—
supposed
to
mean
something
,
or
to
have
done
something
,
that
had
never
entered
into
his
imagination
.
He
begged
her
to
hear
him
explain
himself
,
as
the
greatest
favour
she
could
show
him
.
‘
Miss
Amy
,
I
know
very
well
that
your
family
is
far
above
mine
.
It
were
vain
to
conceal
it
.
There
never
was
a
Chivery
a
gentleman
that
ever
I
heard
of
,
and
I
will
not
commit
the
meanness
of
making
a
false
representation
on
a
subject
so
momentous
.
Miss
Amy
,
I
know
very
well
that
your
high
-
souled
brother
,
and
likewise
your
spirited
sister
,
spurn
me
from
a
height
.
What
I
have
to
do
is
to
respect
them
,
to
wish
to
be
admitted
to
their
friendship
,
to
look
up
at
the
eminence
on
which
they
are
placed
from
my
lowlier
station
—
for
,
whether
viewed
as
tobacco
or
viewed
as
the
lock
,
I
well
know
it
is
lowly
—
and
ever
wish
them
well
and
happy
.
’
There
really
was
a
genuineness
in
the
poor
fellow
,
and
a
contrast
between
the
hardness
of
his
hat
and
the
softness
of
his
heart
(
albeit
,
perhaps
,
of
his
head
,
too
)
,
that
was
moving
.
Little
Dorrit
entreated
him
to
disparage
neither
himself
nor
his
station
,
and
,
above
all
things
,
to
divest
himself
of
any
idea
that
she
supposed
hers
to
be
superior
.
This
gave
him
a
little
comfort
.
‘
Miss
Amy
,
’
he
then
stammered
,
‘
I
have
had
for
a
long
time
—
ages
they
seem
to
me
—
Revolving
ages
—
a
heart
-
cherished
wish
to
say
something
to
you
.
May
I
say
it
?
’
