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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 220/761
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‘
Only
Amy
,
father
.
’
‘
Amy
,
my
child
,
come
here
.
I
want
to
say
a
word
to
you
.
’
He
raised
himself
a
little
in
his
low
bed
,
as
she
kneeled
beside
it
to
bring
her
face
near
him
;
and
put
his
hand
between
hers
.
O
!
Both
the
private
father
and
the
Father
of
the
Marshalsea
were
strong
within
him
then
.
‘
My
love
,
you
have
had
a
life
of
hardship
here
.
No
companions
,
no
recreations
,
many
cares
I
am
afraid
?
’
‘
Don
’
t
think
of
that
,
dear
.
I
never
do
.
’
‘
You
know
my
position
,
Amy
.
I
have
not
been
able
to
do
much
for
you
;
but
all
I
have
been
able
to
do
,
I
have
done
.
’
‘
Yes
,
my
dear
father
,
’
she
rejoined
,
kissing
him
.
‘
I
know
,
I
know
.
’
‘
I
am
in
the
twenty
-
third
year
of
my
life
here
,
’
he
said
,
with
a
catch
in
his
breath
that
was
not
so
much
a
sob
as
an
irrepressible
sound
of
self
-
approval
,
the
momentary
outburst
of
a
noble
consciousness
.
‘
It
is
all
I
could
do
for
my
children
—
I
have
done
it
.
Amy
,
my
love
,
you
are
by
far
the
best
loved
of
the
three
;
I
have
had
you
principally
in
my
mind
—
whatever
I
have
done
for
your
sake
,
my
dear
child
,
I
have
done
freely
and
without
murmuring
.
’
Only
the
wisdom
that
holds
the
clue
to
all
hearts
and
all
mysteries
,
can
surely
know
to
what
extent
a
man
,
especially
a
man
brought
down
as
this
man
had
been
,
can
impose
upon
himself
.
Enough
,
for
the
present
place
,
that
he
lay
down
with
wet
eyelashes
,
serene
,
in
a
manner
majestic
,
after
bestowing
his
life
of
degradation
as
a
sort
of
portion
on
the
devoted
child
upon
whom
its
miseries
had
fallen
so
heavily
,
and
whose
love
alone
had
saved
him
to
be
even
what
he
was
.
