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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 108/459
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The
supper
was
very
good
,
but
she
was
too
tired
to
eat
,
and
yet
would
not
leave
the
old
man
until
she
had
kissed
him
in
his
bed
.
He
,
happily
insensible
to
every
care
and
anxiety
,
sat
listening
with
a
vacant
smile
and
admiring
face
to
all
that
his
new
friend
said
;
and
it
was
not
until
they
retired
yawning
to
their
room
,
that
he
followed
the
child
up
stairs
.
It
was
but
a
loft
partitioned
into
two
compartments
,
where
they
were
to
rest
,
but
they
were
well
pleased
with
their
lodging
and
had
hoped
for
none
so
good
.
The
old
man
was
uneasy
when
he
had
lain
down
,
and
begged
that
Nell
would
come
and
sit
at
his
bedside
as
she
had
done
for
so
many
nights
.
She
hastened
to
him
,
and
sat
there
till
he
slept
.
There
was
a
little
window
,
hardly
more
than
a
chink
in
the
wall
,
in
her
room
,
and
when
she
left
him
,
she
opened
it
,
quite
wondering
at
the
silence
.
The
sight
of
the
old
church
,
and
the
graves
about
it
in
the
moonlight
,
and
the
dark
trees
whispering
among
themselves
,
made
her
more
thoughtful
than
before
.
She
closed
the
window
again
,
and
sitting
down
upon
the
bed
,
thought
of
the
life
that
was
before
them
.
She
had
a
little
money
,
but
it
was
very
little
,
and
when
that
was
gone
,
they
must
begin
to
beg
.
There
was
one
piece
of
gold
among
it
,
and
an
emergency
might
come
when
its
worth
to
them
would
be
increased
a
hundred
fold
.
It
would
be
best
to
hide
this
coin
,
and
never
produce
it
unless
their
case
was
absolutely
desperate
,
and
no
other
resource
was
left
them
.
Her
resolution
taken
,
she
sewed
the
piece
of
gold
into
her
dress
,
and
going
to
bed
with
a
lighter
heart
sunk
into
a
deep
slumber
.
Another
bright
day
shining
in
through
the
small
casement
,
and
claiming
fellowship
with
the
kindred
eyes
of
the
child
,
awoke
her
.
At
sight
of
the
strange
room
and
its
unaccustomed
objects
she
started
up
in
alarm
,
wondering
how
she
had
been
moved
from
the
familiar
chamber
in
which
she
seemed
to
have
fallen
asleep
last
night
,
and
whither
she
had
been
conveyed
.
But
,
another
glance
around
called
to
her
mind
all
that
had
lately
passed
,
and
she
sprung
from
her
bed
,
hoping
and
trustful
.
It
was
yet
early
,
and
the
old
man
being
still
asleep
,
she
walked
out
into
the
churchyard
,
brushing
the
dew
from
the
long
grass
with
her
feet
,
and
often
turning
aside
into
places
where
it
grew
longer
than
in
others
,
that
she
might
not
tread
upon
the
graves
.
She
felt
a
curious
kind
of
pleasure
in
lingering
among
these
houses
of
the
dead
,
and
read
the
inscriptions
on
the
tombs
of
the
good
people
(
a
great
number
of
good
people
were
buried
there
)
,
passing
on
from
one
to
another
with
increasing
interest
.
It
was
a
very
quiet
place
,
as
such
a
place
should
be
,
save
for
the
cawing
of
the
rooks
who
had
built
their
nests
among
the
branches
of
some
tall
old
trees
,
and
were
calling
to
one
another
,
high
up
in
the
air
.
First
,
one
sleek
bird
,
hovering
near
his
ragged
house
as
it
swung
and
dangled
in
the
wind
,
uttered
his
hoarse
cry
,
quite
by
chance
as
it
would
seem
,
and
in
a
sober
tone
as
though
he
were
but
talking
to
himself
.
Another
answered
,
and
he
called
again
,
but
louder
than
before
;
then
another
spoke
and
then
another
;
and
each
time
the
first
,
aggravated
by
contradiction
,
insisted
on
his
case
more
strongly
.
Other
voices
,
silent
till
now
,
struck
in
from
boughs
lower
down
and
higher
up
and
midway
,
and
to
the
right
and
left
,
and
from
the
tree
-
tops
;
and
others
,
arriving
hastily
from
the
grey
church
turrets
and
old
belfry
window
,
joined
the
clamour
which
rose
and
fell
,
and
swelled
and
dropped
again
,
and
still
went
on
;
and
all
this
noisy
contention
amidst
a
skimming
to
and
fro
,
and
lighting
on
fresh
branches
,
and
frequent
change
of
place
,
which
satirised
the
old
restlessness
of
those
who
lay
so
still
beneath
the
moss
and
turf
below
,
and
the
strife
in
which
they
had
worn
away
their
lives
.
Frequently
raising
her
eyes
to
the
trees
whence
these
sounds
came
down
,
and
feeling
as
though
they
made
the
place
more
quiet
than
perfect
silence
would
have
done
,
the
child
loitered
from
grave
to
grave
,
now
stopping
to
replace
with
careful
hands
the
bramble
which
had
started
from
some
green
mound
it
helped
to
keep
in
shape
,
and
now
peeping
through
one
of
the
low
latticed
windows
into
the
church
,
with
its
worm
-
eaten
books
upon
the
desks
,
and
baize
of
whitened
-
green
mouldering
from
the
pew
sides
and
leaving
the
naked
wood
to
view
.
There
were
the
seats
where
the
poor
old
people
sat
,
worn
spare
,
and
yellow
like
themselves
;
the
rugged
font
where
children
had
their
names
,
the
homely
altar
where
they
knelt
in
after
life
,
the
plain
black
tressels
that
bore
their
weight
on
their
last
visit
to
the
cool
old
shady
church
.
Everything
told
of
long
use
and
quiet
slow
decay
;
the
very
bell
-
rope
in
the
porch
was
frayed
into
a
fringe
,
and
hoary
with
old
age
.
