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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 441/761
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‘
I
do
beg
,
’
he
repeated
,
‘
that
this
may
be
attended
to
,
and
that
you
will
seriously
take
pains
and
try
to
conduct
yourself
in
a
manner
both
becoming
your
position
as
—
ha
—
Miss
Amy
Dorrit
,
and
satisfactory
to
myself
and
Mrs
General
.
’
That
lady
shut
her
eyes
again
,
on
being
again
referred
to
;
then
,
slowly
opening
them
and
rising
,
added
these
words
:
‘
If
Miss
Amy
Dorrit
will
direct
her
own
attention
to
,
and
will
accept
of
my
poor
assistance
in
,
the
formation
of
a
surface
,
Mr
.
Dorrit
will
have
no
further
cause
of
anxiety
.
May
I
take
this
opportunity
of
remarking
,
as
an
instance
in
point
,
that
it
is
scarcely
delicate
to
look
at
vagrants
with
the
attention
which
I
have
seen
bestowed
upon
them
by
a
very
dear
young
friend
of
mine
?
They
should
not
be
looked
at
.
Nothing
disagreeable
should
ever
be
looked
at
.
Apart
from
such
a
habit
standing
in
the
way
of
that
graceful
equanimity
of
surface
which
is
so
expressive
of
good
breeding
,
it
hardly
seems
compatible
with
refinement
of
mind
.
A
truly
refined
mind
will
seem
to
be
ignorant
of
the
existence
of
anything
that
is
not
perfectly
proper
,
placid
,
and
pleasant
.
’
Having
delivered
this
exalted
sentiment
,
Mrs
General
made
a
sweeping
obeisance
,
and
retired
with
an
expression
of
mouth
indicative
of
Prunes
and
Prism
.
Little
Dorrit
,
whether
speaking
or
silent
,
had
preserved
her
quiet
earnestness
and
her
loving
look
.
It
had
not
been
clouded
,
except
for
a
passing
moment
,
until
now
.
But
now
that
she
was
left
alone
with
him
the
fingers
of
her
lightly
folded
hands
were
agitated
,
and
there
was
repressed
emotion
in
her
face
.
Not
for
herself
.
She
might
feel
a
little
wounded
,
but
her
care
was
not
for
herself
.
Her
thoughts
still
turned
,
as
they
always
had
turned
,
to
him
.
A
faint
misgiving
,
which
had
hung
about
her
since
their
accession
to
fortune
,
that
even
now
she
could
never
see
him
as
he
used
to
be
before
the
prison
days
,
had
gradually
begun
to
assume
form
in
her
mind
.
She
felt
that
,
in
what
he
had
just
now
said
to
her
and
in
his
whole
bearing
towards
her
,
there
was
the
well
-
known
shadow
of
the
Marshalsea
wall
.
It
took
a
new
shape
,
but
it
was
the
old
sad
shadow
.
She
began
with
sorrowful
unwillingness
to
acknowledge
to
herself
that
she
was
not
strong
enough
to
keep
off
the
fear
that
no
space
in
the
life
of
man
could
overcome
that
quarter
of
a
century
behind
the
prison
bars
.
She
had
no
blame
to
bestow
upon
him
,
therefore
:
nothing
to
reproach
him
with
,
no
emotions
in
her
faithful
heart
but
great
compassion
and
unbounded
tenderness
.
This
is
why
it
was
,
that
,
even
as
he
sat
before
her
on
his
sofa
,
in
the
brilliant
light
of
a
bright
Italian
day
,
the
wonderful
city
without
and
the
splendours
of
an
old
palace
within
,
she
saw
him
at
the
moment
in
the
long
-
familiar
gloom
of
his
Marshalsea
lodging
,
and
wished
to
take
her
seat
beside
him
,
and
comfort
him
,
and
be
again
full
of
confidence
with
him
,
and
of
usefulness
to
him
.
If
he
divined
what
was
in
her
thoughts
,
his
own
were
not
in
tune
with
it
.
After
some
uneasy
moving
in
his
seat
,
he
got
up
and
walked
about
,
looking
very
much
dissatisfied
.
‘
Is
there
anything
else
you
wish
to
say
to
me
,
dear
father
?
’
‘
No
,
no
.
Nothing
else
.
’
‘
I
am
sorry
you
have
not
been
pleased
with
me
,
dear
.
