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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 312/761
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Mr
Meagles
and
his
family
,
under
these
combined
discouragements
,
had
begun
reluctantly
to
give
up
Tattycoram
as
irrecoverable
,
when
the
new
and
active
firm
of
Doyce
and
Clennam
,
in
their
private
capacities
,
went
down
on
a
Saturday
to
stay
at
the
cottage
until
Monday
.
The
senior
partner
took
the
coach
,
and
the
junior
partner
took
his
walking
-
stick
.
A
tranquil
summer
sunset
shone
upon
him
as
he
approached
the
end
of
his
walk
,
and
passed
through
the
meadows
by
the
river
side
.
He
had
that
sense
of
peace
,
and
of
being
lightened
of
a
weight
of
care
,
which
country
quiet
awakens
in
the
breasts
of
dwellers
in
towns
.
Everything
within
his
view
was
lovely
and
placid
.
The
rich
foliage
of
the
trees
,
the
luxuriant
grass
diversified
with
wild
flowers
,
the
little
green
islands
in
the
river
,
the
beds
of
rushes
,
the
water
-
lilies
floating
on
the
surface
of
the
stream
,
the
distant
voices
in
boats
borne
musically
towards
him
on
the
ripple
of
the
water
and
the
evening
air
,
were
all
expressive
of
rest
.
In
the
occasional
leap
of
a
fish
,
or
dip
of
an
oar
,
or
twittering
of
a
bird
not
yet
at
roost
,
or
distant
barking
of
a
dog
,
or
lowing
of
a
cow
—
in
all
such
sounds
,
there
was
the
prevailing
breath
of
rest
,
which
seemed
to
encompass
him
in
every
scent
that
sweetened
the
fragrant
air
.
The
long
lines
of
red
and
gold
in
the
sky
,
and
the
glorious
track
of
the
descending
sun
,
were
all
divinely
calm
.
Upon
the
purple
tree
-
tops
far
away
,
and
on
the
green
height
near
at
hand
up
which
the
shades
were
slowly
creeping
,
there
was
an
equal
hush
.
Between
the
real
landscape
and
its
shadow
in
the
water
,
there
was
no
division
;
both
were
so
untroubled
and
clear
,
and
,
while
so
fraught
with
solemn
mystery
of
life
and
death
,
so
hopefully
reassuring
to
the
gazer
’
s
soothed
heart
,
because
so
tenderly
and
mercifully
beautiful
.
Clennam
had
stopped
,
not
for
the
first
time
by
many
times
,
to
look
about
him
and
suffer
what
he
saw
to
sink
into
his
soul
,
as
the
shadows
,
looked
at
,
seemed
to
sink
deeper
and
deeper
into
the
water
.
He
was
slowly
resuming
his
way
,
when
he
saw
a
figure
in
the
path
before
him
which
he
had
,
perhaps
,
already
associated
with
the
evening
and
its
impressions
.
Minnie
was
there
,
alone
.
She
had
some
roses
in
her
hand
,
and
seemed
to
have
stood
still
on
seeing
him
,
waiting
for
him
.
Her
face
was
towards
him
,
and
she
appeared
to
have
been
coming
from
the
opposite
direction
.
There
was
a
flutter
in
her
manner
,
which
Clennam
had
never
seen
in
it
before
;
and
as
he
came
near
her
,
it
entered
his
mind
all
at
once
that
she
was
there
of
a
set
purpose
to
speak
to
him
.
She
gave
him
her
hand
,
and
said
,
‘
You
wonder
to
see
me
here
by
myself
?
But
the
evening
is
so
lovely
,
I
have
strolled
further
than
I
meant
at
first
.
I
thought
it
likely
I
might
meet
you
,
and
that
made
me
more
confident
.
You
always
come
this
way
,
do
you
not
?
’
As
Clennam
said
that
it
was
his
favourite
way
,
he
felt
her
hand
falter
on
his
arm
,
and
saw
the
roses
shake
.
‘
Will
you
let
me
give
you
one
,
Mr
Clennam
?
I
gathered
them
as
I
came
out
of
the
garden
.
Indeed
,
I
almost
gathered
them
for
you
,
thinking
it
so
likely
I
might
meet
you
.
Mr
Doyce
arrived
more
than
an
hour
ago
,
and
told
us
you
were
walking
down
.
’
His
own
hand
shook
,
as
he
accepted
a
rose
or
two
from
hers
and
thanked
her
.
They
were
now
by
an
avenue
of
trees
.
Whether
they
turned
into
it
on
his
movement
or
on
hers
matters
little
.
He
never
knew
how
that
was
.
‘
It
is
very
grave
here
,
’
said
Clennam
,
‘
but
very
pleasant
at
this
hour
.
Passing
along
this
deep
shade
,
and
out
at
that
arch
of
light
at
the
other
end
,
we
come
upon
the
ferry
and
the
cottage
by
the
best
approach
,
I
think
.
’
