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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 750/761
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‘
My
dear
,
’
said
Mr
Meagles
,
‘
I
can
’
t
live
without
breathing
.
This
place
has
taken
my
breath
away
,
and
I
shall
never
get
it
back
again
until
Arthur
is
out
of
this
place
.
’
‘
How
is
that
a
reason
for
going
off
again
to
-
morrow
morning
?
’
‘
You
shall
understand
,
’
said
Mr
Meagles
.
‘
To
-
night
we
three
will
put
up
at
a
City
Hotel
.
To
-
morrow
morning
,
Mother
and
Tattycoram
will
go
down
to
Twickenham
,
where
Mrs
Tickit
,
sitting
attended
by
Dr
Buchan
in
the
parlour
-
window
,
will
think
them
a
couple
of
ghosts
;
and
I
shall
go
abroad
again
for
Doyce
.
We
must
have
Dan
here
.
Now
,
I
tell
you
,
my
love
,
it
’
s
of
no
use
writing
and
planning
and
conditionally
speculating
upon
this
and
that
and
the
other
,
at
uncertain
intervals
and
distances
;
we
must
have
Doyce
here
.
I
devote
myself
at
daybreak
to
-
morrow
morning
,
to
bringing
Doyce
here
.
It
’
s
nothing
to
me
to
go
and
find
him
.
I
’
m
an
old
traveller
,
and
all
foreign
languages
and
customs
are
alike
to
me
—
I
never
understand
anything
about
any
of
‘
em
.
Therefore
I
can
’
t
be
put
to
any
inconvenience
.
Go
at
once
I
must
,
it
stands
to
reason
;
because
I
can
’
t
live
without
breathing
freely
;
and
I
can
’
t
breathe
freely
until
Arthur
is
out
of
this
Marshalsea
.
I
am
stifled
at
the
present
moment
,
and
have
scarcely
breath
enough
to
say
this
much
,
and
to
carry
this
precious
box
down
-
stairs
for
you
.
’
They
got
into
the
street
as
the
bell
began
to
ring
,
Mr
Meagles
carrying
the
box
Little
Dorrit
had
no
conveyance
there
:
which
rather
surprised
him
.
He
called
a
coach
for
her
and
she
got
into
it
,
and
he
placed
the
box
beside
her
when
she
was
seated
.
In
her
joy
and
gratitude
she
kissed
his
hand
.
‘
I
don
’
t
like
that
,
my
dear
,
’
said
Mr
Meagles
.
‘
It
goes
against
my
feeling
of
what
’
s
right
,
that
you
should
do
homage
to
me
—
at
the
Marshalsea
Gate
.
’
She
bent
forward
,
and
kissed
his
cheek
.
‘
You
remind
me
of
the
days
,
’
said
Mr
Meagles
,
suddenly
drooping
—
‘
but
she
’
s
very
fond
of
him
,
and
hides
his
faults
,
and
thinks
that
no
one
sees
them
—
and
he
certainly
is
well
connected
and
of
a
very
good
family
!
’
It
was
the
only
comfort
he
had
in
the
loss
of
his
daughter
,
and
if
he
made
the
most
of
it
,
who
could
blame
him
?
On
a
healthy
autumn
day
,
the
Marshalsea
prisoner
,
weak
but
otherwise
restored
,
sat
listening
to
a
voice
that
read
to
him
.
On
a
healthy
autumn
day
;
when
the
golden
fields
had
been
reaped
and
ploughed
again
,
when
the
summer
fruits
had
ripened
and
waned
,
when
the
green
perspectives
of
hops
had
been
laid
low
by
the
busy
pickers
,
when
the
apples
clustering
in
the
orchards
were
russet
,
and
the
berries
of
the
mountain
ash
were
crimson
among
the
yellowing
foliage
.
Already
in
the
woods
,
glimpses
of
the
hardy
winter
that
was
coming
were
to
be
caught
through
unaccustomed
openings
among
the
boughs
where
the
prospect
shone
defined
and
clear
,
free
from
the
bloom
of
the
drowsy
summer
weather
,
which
had
rested
on
it
as
the
bloom
lies
on
the
plum
.
So
,
from
the
seashore
the
ocean
was
no
longer
to
be
seen
lying
asleep
in
the
heat
,
but
its
thousand
sparkling
eyes
were
open
,
and
its
whole
breadth
was
in
joyful
animation
,
from
the
cool
sand
on
the
beach
to
the
little
sails
on
the
horizon
,
drifting
away
like
autumn
-
tinted
leaves
that
had
drifted
from
the
trees
.
