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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 416/761
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She
did
so
with
great
care
.
Her
small
,
slight
hand
was
still
upon
the
letter
,
when
they
heard
some
one
in
the
gallery
outside
.
‘
I
promised
,
’
said
the
visitor
,
rising
,
‘
that
I
would
write
to
him
after
seeing
you
(
I
could
hardly
fail
to
see
you
sooner
or
later
)
,
and
tell
him
if
you
were
well
and
happy
.
I
had
better
say
you
were
well
and
happy
.
’
‘
Yes
,
yes
,
yes
!
Say
I
was
very
well
and
very
happy
.
And
that
I
thanked
him
affectionately
,
and
would
never
forget
him
.
’
‘
I
shall
see
you
in
the
morning
.
After
that
we
are
sure
to
meet
again
before
very
long
.
Good
night
!
’
‘
Good
night
.
Thank
you
,
thank
you
.
Good
night
,
my
dear
!
’
Both
of
them
were
hurried
and
fluttered
as
they
exchanged
this
parting
,
and
as
the
visitor
came
out
of
the
door
.
She
had
expected
to
meet
the
lady
’
s
husband
approaching
it
;
but
the
person
in
the
gallery
was
not
he
:
it
was
the
traveller
who
had
wiped
the
wine
-
drops
from
his
moustache
with
the
piece
of
bread
.
When
he
heard
the
step
behind
him
,
he
turned
round
—
for
he
was
walking
away
in
the
dark
.
His
politeness
,
which
was
extreme
,
would
not
allow
of
the
young
lady
’
s
lighting
herself
down
-
stairs
,
or
going
down
alone
.
He
took
her
lamp
,
held
it
so
as
to
throw
the
best
light
on
the
stone
steps
,
and
followed
her
all
the
way
to
the
supper
-
room
.
She
went
down
,
not
easily
hiding
how
much
she
was
inclined
to
shrink
and
tremble
;
for
the
appearance
of
this
traveller
was
particularly
disagreeable
to
her
.
She
had
sat
in
her
quiet
corner
before
supper
imagining
what
he
would
have
been
in
the
scenes
and
places
within
her
experience
,
until
he
inspired
her
with
an
aversion
that
made
him
little
less
than
terrific
.
He
followed
her
down
with
his
smiling
politeness
,
followed
her
in
,
and
resumed
his
seat
in
the
best
place
in
the
hearth
.
There
with
the
wood
-
fire
,
which
was
beginning
to
burn
low
,
rising
and
falling
upon
him
in
the
dark
room
,
he
sat
with
his
legs
thrust
out
to
warm
,
drinking
the
hot
wine
down
to
the
lees
,
with
a
monstrous
shadow
imitating
him
on
the
wall
and
ceiling
.
The
tired
company
had
broken
up
,
and
all
the
rest
were
gone
to
bed
except
the
young
lady
’
s
father
,
who
dozed
in
his
chair
by
the
fire
.
The
traveller
had
been
at
the
pains
of
going
a
long
way
up
-
stairs
to
his
sleeping
-
room
to
fetch
his
pocket
-
flask
of
brandy
.
He
told
them
so
,
as
he
poured
its
contents
into
what
was
left
of
the
wine
,
and
drank
with
a
new
relish
.
‘
May
I
ask
,
sir
,
if
you
are
on
your
way
to
Italy
?
’
