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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 304/859
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‘
When
the
fever
left
him
,
and
consciousness
returned
,
he
awoke
to
find
himself
rich
and
free
,
to
hear
that
the
parent
who
would
have
let
him
die
in
jail
—
WOULD
!
who
HAD
let
those
who
were
far
dearer
to
him
than
his
own
existence
die
of
want
,
and
sickness
of
heart
that
medicine
cannot
cure
—
had
been
found
dead
in
his
bed
of
down
.
He
had
had
all
the
heart
to
leave
his
son
a
beggar
,
but
proud
even
of
his
health
and
strength
,
had
put
off
the
act
till
it
was
too
late
,
and
now
might
gnash
his
teeth
in
the
other
world
,
at
the
thought
of
the
wealth
his
remissness
had
left
him
.
He
awoke
to
this
,
and
he
awoke
to
more
.
To
recollect
the
purpose
for
which
he
lived
,
and
to
remember
that
his
enemy
was
his
wife
’
s
own
father
—
the
man
who
had
cast
him
into
prison
,
and
who
,
when
his
daughter
and
her
child
sued
at
his
feet
for
mercy
,
had
spurned
them
from
his
door
.
Oh
,
how
he
cursed
the
weakness
that
prevented
him
from
being
up
,
and
active
,
in
his
scheme
of
vengeance
!
‘
He
caused
himself
to
be
carried
from
the
scene
of
his
loss
and
misery
,
and
conveyed
to
a
quiet
residence
on
the
sea
-
coast
;
not
in
the
hope
of
recovering
his
peace
of
mind
or
happiness
,
for
both
were
fled
for
ever
;
but
to
restore
his
prostrate
energies
,
and
meditate
on
his
darling
object
.
And
here
,
some
evil
spirit
cast
in
his
way
the
opportunity
for
his
first
,
most
horrible
revenge
.
‘
It
was
summer
-
time
;
and
wrapped
in
his
gloomy
thoughts
,
he
would
issue
from
his
solitary
lodgings
early
in
the
evening
,
and
wandering
along
a
narrow
path
beneath
the
cliffs
,
to
a
wild
and
lonely
spot
that
had
struck
his
fancy
in
his
ramblings
,
seat
himself
on
some
fallen
fragment
of
the
rock
,
and
burying
his
face
in
his
hands
,
remain
there
for
hours
—
sometimes
until
night
had
completely
closed
in
,
and
the
long
shadows
of
the
frowning
cliffs
above
his
head
cast
a
thick
,
black
darkness
on
every
object
near
him
.
‘
He
was
seated
here
,
one
calm
evening
,
in
his
old
position
,
now
and
then
raising
his
head
to
watch
the
flight
of
a
sea
-
gull
,
or
carry
his
eye
along
the
glorious
crimson
path
,
which
,
commencing
in
the
middle
of
the
ocean
,
seemed
to
lead
to
its
very
verge
where
the
sun
was
setting
,
when
the
profound
stillness
of
the
spot
was
broken
by
a
loud
cry
for
help
;
he
listened
,
doubtful
of
his
having
heard
aright
,
when
the
cry
was
repeated
with
even
greater
vehemence
than
before
,
and
,
starting
to
his
feet
,
he
hastened
in
the
direction
whence
it
proceeded
.
‘
The
tale
told
itself
at
once
:
some
scattered
garments
lay
on
the
beach
;
a
human
head
was
just
visible
above
the
waves
at
a
little
distance
from
the
shore
;
and
an
old
man
,
wringing
his
hands
in
agony
,
was
running
to
and
fro
,
shrieking
for
assistance
.
The
invalid
,
whose
strength
was
now
sufficiently
restored
,
threw
off
his
coat
,
and
rushed
towards
the
sea
,
with
the
intention
of
plunging
in
,
and
dragging
the
drowning
man
ashore
.
‘
"
Hasten
here
,
Sir
,
in
God
’
s
name
;
help
,
help
,
sir
,
for
the
love
of
Heaven
.
He
is
my
son
,
Sir
,
my
only
son
!
"
said
the
old
man
frantically
,
as
he
advanced
to
meet
him
.
"
My
only
son
,
Sir
,
and
he
is
dying
before
his
father
’
s
eyes
!
"
‘
At
the
first
word
the
old
man
uttered
,
the
stranger
checked
himself
in
his
career
,
and
,
folding
his
arms
,
stood
perfectly
motionless
.
‘
"
Great
God
!
"
exclaimed
the
old
man
,
recoiling
,
"
Heyling
!
"
‘
The
stranger
smiled
,
and
was
silent
.
‘
"
Heyling
!
"
said
the
old
man
wildly
;
"
my
boy
,
Heyling
,
my
dear
boy
,
look
,
look
!
"
Gasping
for
breath
,
the
miserable
father
pointed
to
the
spot
where
the
young
man
was
struggling
for
life
.
‘
"
Hark
!
"
said
the
old
man
.
"
He
cries
once
more
.
He
is
alive
yet
.
Heyling
,
save
him
,
save
him
!
"
