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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 109/459
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She
was
looking
at
a
humble
stone
which
told
of
a
young
man
who
had
died
at
twenty
-
three
years
old
,
fifty
-
five
years
ago
,
when
she
heard
a
faltering
step
approaching
,
and
looking
round
saw
a
feeble
woman
bent
with
the
weight
of
years
,
who
tottered
to
the
foot
of
that
same
grave
and
asked
her
to
read
the
writing
on
the
stone
.
The
old
woman
thanked
her
when
she
had
done
,
saying
that
she
had
had
the
words
by
heart
for
many
a
long
,
long
year
,
but
could
not
see
them
now
.
‘
Were
you
his
mother
?
’
said
the
child
.
‘
I
was
his
wife
,
my
dear
.
’
She
the
wife
of
a
young
man
of
three
-
and
-
twenty
!
Ah
,
true
!
It
was
fifty
-
five
years
ago
.
‘
You
wonder
to
hear
me
say
that
,
’
remarked
the
old
woman
,
shaking
her
head
.
‘
You
’
re
not
the
first
.
Older
folk
than
you
have
wondered
at
the
same
thing
before
now
.
Yes
,
I
was
his
wife
.
Death
doesn
’
t
change
us
more
than
life
,
my
dear
.
’
‘
Do
you
come
here
often
?
’
asked
the
child
.
‘
I
sit
here
very
often
in
the
summer
time
,
’
she
answered
,
‘
I
used
to
come
here
once
to
cry
and
mourn
,
but
that
was
a
weary
while
ago
,
bless
God
!
’
‘
I
pluck
the
daisies
as
they
grow
,
and
take
them
home
,
’
said
the
old
woman
after
a
short
silence
.
‘
I
like
no
flowers
so
well
as
these
,
and
haven
’
t
for
five
-
and
-
fifty
years
.
It
’
s
a
long
time
,
and
I
’
m
getting
very
old
.
’
Then
growing
garrulous
upon
a
theme
which
was
new
to
one
listener
though
it
were
but
a
child
,
she
told
her
how
she
had
wept
and
moaned
and
prayed
to
die
herself
,
when
this
happened
;
and
how
when
she
first
came
to
that
place
,
a
young
creature
strong
in
love
and
grief
,
she
had
hoped
that
her
heart
was
breaking
as
it
seemed
to
be
.
But
that
time
passed
by
,
and
although
she
continued
to
be
sad
when
she
came
there
,
still
she
could
bear
to
come
,
and
so
went
on
until
it
was
pain
no
longer
,
but
a
solemn
pleasure
,
and
a
duty
she
had
learned
to
like
.
And
now
that
five
-
and
-
fifty
years
were
gone
,
she
spoke
of
the
dead
man
as
if
he
had
been
her
son
or
grandson
,
with
a
kind
of
pity
for
his
youth
,
growing
out
of
her
own
old
age
,
and
an
exalting
of
his
strength
and
manly
beauty
as
compared
with
her
own
weakness
and
decay
;
and
yet
she
spoke
about
him
as
her
husband
too
,
and
thinking
of
herself
in
connexion
with
him
,
as
she
used
to
be
and
not
as
she
was
now
,
talked
of
their
meeting
in
another
world
,
as
if
he
were
dead
but
yesterday
,
and
she
,
separated
from
her
former
self
,
were
thinking
of
the
happiness
of
that
comely
girl
who
seemed
to
have
died
with
him
.
