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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 320/459
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Thoroughly
persuaded
,
in
the
end
,
that
he
had
made
them
miserable
by
his
severity
,
he
dismissed
them
with
a
small
present
,
and
an
admonition
to
walk
quietly
home
,
without
any
leapings
,
scufflings
,
or
turnings
out
of
the
way
;
which
injunction
,
he
informed
the
schoolmaster
in
the
same
audible
confidence
,
he
did
not
think
he
could
have
obeyed
when
he
was
a
boy
,
had
his
life
depended
on
it
.
Hailing
these
little
tokens
of
the
bachelor
’
s
disposition
as
so
many
assurances
of
his
own
welcome
course
from
that
time
,
the
schoolmaster
parted
from
him
with
a
light
heart
and
joyous
spirits
,
and
deemed
himself
one
of
the
happiest
men
on
earth
.
The
windows
of
the
two
old
houses
were
ruddy
again
,
that
night
,
with
the
reflection
of
the
cheerful
fires
that
burnt
within
;
and
the
bachelor
and
his
friend
,
pausing
to
look
upon
them
as
they
returned
from
their
evening
walk
,
spoke
softly
together
of
the
beautiful
child
,
and
looked
round
upon
the
churchyard
with
a
sigh
.
Nell
was
stirring
early
in
the
morning
,
and
having
discharged
her
household
tasks
,
and
put
everything
in
order
for
the
good
schoolmaster
(
though
sorely
against
his
will
,
for
he
would
have
spared
her
the
pains
)
,
took
down
,
from
its
nail
by
the
fireside
,
a
little
bundle
of
keys
with
which
the
bachelor
had
formally
invested
her
on
the
previous
day
,
and
went
out
alone
to
visit
the
old
church
.
The
sky
was
serene
and
bright
,
the
air
clear
,
perfumed
with
the
fresh
scent
of
newly
fallen
leaves
,
and
grateful
to
every
sense
.
The
neighbouring
stream
sparkled
,
and
rolled
onward
with
a
tuneful
sound
;
the
dew
glistened
on
the
green
mounds
,
like
tears
shed
by
Good
Spirits
over
the
dead
.
Some
young
children
sported
among
the
tombs
,
and
hid
from
each
other
,
with
laughing
faces
.
They
had
an
infant
with
them
,
and
had
laid
it
down
asleep
upon
a
child
’
s
grave
,
in
a
little
bed
of
leaves
.
It
was
a
new
grave
—
the
resting
-
place
,
perhaps
,
of
some
little
creature
,
who
,
meek
and
patient
in
its
illness
,
had
often
sat
and
watched
them
,
and
now
seemed
,
to
their
minds
,
scarcely
changed
.
She
drew
near
and
asked
one
of
them
whose
grave
it
was
.
The
child
answered
that
that
was
not
its
name
;
it
was
a
garden
—
his
brother
’
s
.
It
was
greener
,
he
said
,
than
all
the
other
gardens
,
and
the
birds
loved
it
better
because
he
had
been
used
to
feed
them
.
When
he
had
done
speaking
,
he
looked
at
her
with
a
smile
,
and
kneeling
down
and
nestling
for
a
moment
with
his
cheek
against
the
turf
,
bounded
merrily
away
.
She
passed
the
church
,
gazing
upward
at
its
old
tower
,
went
through
the
wicket
gate
,
and
so
into
the
village
.
The
old
sexton
,
leaning
on
a
crutch
,
was
taking
the
air
at
his
cottage
door
,
and
gave
her
good
morrow
.
‘
You
are
better
?
’
said
the
child
,
stopping
to
speak
with
him
.
‘
Ay
surely
,
’
returned
the
old
man
.
‘
I
’
m
thankful
to
say
,
much
better
.
’
‘
You
will
be
quite
well
soon
.
’
