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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 434/761
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I
wish
I
knew
—
but
it
is
best
for
no
one
to
write
to
me
—
how
Mr
and
Mrs
Plornish
prosper
in
the
business
which
my
dear
father
bought
for
them
,
and
that
old
Mr
Nandy
lives
happily
with
them
and
his
two
grandchildren
,
and
sings
all
his
songs
over
and
over
again
.
I
cannot
quite
keep
back
the
tears
from
my
eyes
when
I
think
of
my
poor
Maggy
,
and
of
the
blank
she
must
have
felt
at
first
,
however
kind
they
all
are
to
her
,
without
her
Little
Mother
.
Will
you
go
and
tell
her
,
as
a
strict
secret
,
with
my
love
,
that
she
never
can
have
regretted
our
separation
more
than
I
have
regretted
it
?
And
will
you
tell
them
all
that
I
have
thought
of
them
every
day
,
and
that
my
heart
is
faithful
to
them
everywhere
?
O
,
if
you
could
know
how
faithful
,
you
would
almost
pity
me
for
being
so
far
away
and
being
so
grand
!
You
will
be
glad
,
I
am
sure
,
to
know
that
my
dear
father
is
very
well
in
health
,
and
that
all
these
changes
are
highly
beneficial
to
him
,
and
that
he
is
very
different
indeed
from
what
he
used
to
be
when
you
used
to
see
him
.
There
is
an
improvement
in
my
uncle
too
,
I
think
,
though
he
never
complained
of
old
,
and
never
exults
now
.
Fanny
is
very
graceful
,
quick
,
and
clever
.
It
is
natural
to
her
to
be
a
lady
;
she
has
adapted
herself
to
our
new
fortunes
with
wonderful
ease
.
This
reminds
me
that
I
have
not
been
able
to
do
so
,
and
that
I
sometimes
almost
despair
of
ever
being
able
to
do
so
.
I
find
that
I
cannot
learn
.
Mrs
General
is
always
with
us
,
and
we
speak
French
and
speak
Italian
,
and
she
takes
pains
to
form
us
in
many
ways
.
When
I
say
we
speak
French
and
Italian
,
I
mean
they
do
.
As
for
me
,
I
am
so
slow
that
I
scarcely
get
on
at
all
.
As
soon
as
I
begin
to
plan
,
and
think
,
and
try
,
all
my
planning
,
thinking
,
and
trying
go
in
old
directions
,
and
I
begin
to
feel
careful
again
about
the
expenses
of
the
day
,
and
about
my
dear
father
,
and
about
my
work
,
and
then
I
remember
with
a
start
that
there
are
no
such
cares
left
,
and
that
in
itself
is
so
new
and
improbable
that
it
sets
me
wandering
again
.
I
should
not
have
the
courage
to
mention
this
to
any
one
but
you
.
It
is
the
same
with
all
these
new
countries
and
wonderful
sights
.
They
are
very
beautiful
,
and
they
astonish
me
,
but
I
am
not
collected
enough
—
not
familiar
enough
with
myself
,
if
you
can
quite
understand
what
I
mean
—
to
have
all
the
pleasure
in
them
that
I
might
have
.
What
I
knew
before
them
,
blends
with
them
,
too
,
so
curiously
.
For
instance
,
when
we
were
among
the
mountains
,
I
often
felt
(
I
hesitate
to
tell
such
an
idle
thing
,
dear
Mr
Clennam
,
even
to
you
)
as
if
the
Marshalsea
must
be
behind
that
great
rock
;
or
as
if
Mrs
Clennam
’
s
room
where
I
have
worked
so
many
days
,
and
where
I
first
saw
you
,
must
be
just
beyond
that
snow
.
Do
you
remember
one
night
when
I
came
with
Maggy
to
your
lodging
in
Covent
Garden
?
That
room
I
have
often
and
often
fancied
I
have
seen
before
me
,
travelling
along
for
miles
by
the
side
of
our
carriage
,
when
I
have
looked
out
of
the
carriage
-
window
after
dark
.
We
were
shut
out
that
night
,
and
sat
at
the
iron
gate
,
and
walked
about
till
morning
.
I
often
look
up
at
the
stars
,
even
from
the
balcony
of
this
room
,
and
believe
that
I
am
in
the
street
again
,
shut
out
with
Maggy
.
It
is
the
same
with
people
that
I
left
in
England
.
When
I
go
about
here
in
a
gondola
,
I
surprise
myself
looking
into
other
gondolas
as
if
I
hoped
to
see
them
.
It
would
overcome
me
with
joy
to
see
them
,
but
I
don
’
t
think
it
would
surprise
me
much
,
at
first
.
In
my
fanciful
times
,
I
fancy
that
they
might
be
anywhere
;
and
I
almost
expect
to
see
their
dear
faces
on
the
bridges
or
the
quays
.
Another
difficulty
that
I
have
will
seem
very
strange
to
you
.
It
must
seem
very
strange
to
any
one
but
me
,
and
does
even
to
me
:
I
often
feel
the
old
sad
pity
for
—
I
need
not
write
the
word
—
for
him
.
Changed
as
he
is
,
and
inexpressibly
blest
and
thankful
as
I
always
am
to
know
it
,
the
old
sorrowful
feeling
of
compassion
comes
upon
me
sometimes
with
such
strength
that
I
want
to
put
my
arms
round
his
neck
,
tell
him
how
I
love
him
,
and
cry
a
little
on
his
breast
.
I
should
be
glad
after
that
,
and
proud
and
happy
.
But
I
know
that
I
must
not
do
this
;
that
he
would
not
like
it
,
that
Fanny
would
be
angry
,
that
Mrs
General
would
be
amazed
;
and
so
I
quiet
myself
.
Yet
in
doing
so
,
I
struggle
with
the
feeling
that
I
have
come
to
be
at
a
distance
from
him
;
and
that
even
in
the
midst
of
all
the
servants
and
attendants
,
he
is
deserted
,
and
in
want
of
me
.
Dear
Mr
Clennam
,
I
have
written
a
great
deal
about
myself
,
but
I
must
write
a
little
more
still
,
or
what
I
wanted
most
of
all
to
say
in
this
weak
letter
would
be
left
out
of
it
.
In
all
these
foolish
thoughts
of
mine
,
which
I
have
been
so
hardy
as
to
confess
to
you
because
I
know
you
will
understand
me
if
anybody
can
,
and
will
make
more
allowance
for
me
than
anybody
else
would
if
you
cannot
—
in
all
these
thoughts
,
there
is
one
thought
scarcely
ever
—
never
—
out
of
my
memory
,
and
that
is
that
I
hope
you
sometimes
,
in
a
quiet
moment
,
have
a
thought
for
me
.
I
must
tell
you
that
as
to
this
,
I
have
felt
,
ever
since
I
have
been
away
,
an
anxiety
which
I
am
very
anxious
to
relieve
.
I
have
been
afraid
that
you
may
think
of
me
in
a
new
light
,
or
a
new
character
.
Don
’
t
do
that
,
I
could
not
bear
that
—
it
would
make
me
more
unhappy
than
you
can
suppose
.
It
would
break
my
heart
to
believe
that
you
thought
of
me
in
any
way
that
would
make
me
stranger
to
you
than
I
was
when
you
were
so
good
to
me
.
What
I
have
to
pray
and
entreat
of
you
is
,
that
you
will
never
think
of
me
as
the
daughter
of
a
rich
person
;
that
you
will
never
think
of
me
as
dressing
any
better
,
or
living
any
better
,
than
when
you
first
knew
me
