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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Where
is
she
?
’
As
he
propounded
this
question
,
which
Kit
’
s
mother
echoed
,
somebody
in
a
room
near
at
hand
,
uttered
a
great
shriek
,
and
a
stout
lady
in
a
white
dress
came
running
to
the
door
,
and
supported
herself
upon
the
bridegroom
’
s
arm
.
‘
Where
is
she
!
’
cried
this
lady
.
‘
What
news
have
you
brought
me
?
What
has
become
of
her
?
’
The
single
gentleman
started
back
,
and
gazed
upon
the
face
of
the
late
Mrs
Jarley
(
that
morning
wedded
to
the
philosophic
George
,
to
the
eternal
wrath
and
despair
of
Mr
Slum
the
poet
)
,
with
looks
of
conflicting
apprehension
,
disappointment
,
and
incredulity
.
At
length
he
stammered
out
,
‘
I
ask
you
where
she
is
?
What
do
you
mean
?
’
‘
Oh
sir
!
’
cried
the
bride
,
‘
If
you
have
come
here
to
do
her
any
good
,
why
weren
’
t
you
here
a
week
ago
?
’
‘
She
is
not
—
not
dead
?
’
said
the
person
to
whom
she
addressed
herself
,
turning
very
pale
.
‘
No
,
not
so
bad
as
that
.
’
‘
I
thank
God
!
’
cried
the
single
gentleman
feebly
.
‘
Let
me
come
in
.
’
They
drew
back
to
admit
him
,
and
when
he
had
entered
,
closed
the
door
.
