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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 324/459
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Full
of
these
meditations
,
she
reached
the
church
.
It
was
easy
to
find
the
key
belonging
to
the
outer
door
,
for
each
was
labelled
on
a
scrap
of
yellow
parchment
.
Its
very
turning
in
the
lock
awoke
a
hollow
sound
,
and
when
she
entered
with
a
faltering
step
,
the
echoes
that
it
raised
in
closing
,
made
her
start
.
If
the
peace
of
the
simple
village
had
moved
the
child
more
strongly
,
because
of
the
dark
and
troubled
ways
that
lay
beyond
,
and
through
which
she
had
journeyed
with
such
failing
feet
,
what
was
the
deep
impression
of
finding
herself
alone
in
that
solemn
building
,
where
the
very
light
,
coming
through
sunken
windows
,
seemed
old
and
grey
,
and
the
air
,
redolent
of
earth
and
mould
,
seemed
laden
with
decay
,
purified
by
time
of
all
its
grosser
particles
,
and
sighing
through
arch
and
aisle
,
and
clustered
pillars
,
like
the
breath
of
ages
gone
!
Here
was
the
broken
pavement
,
worn
,
so
long
ago
,
by
pious
feet
,
that
Time
,
stealing
on
the
pilgrims
’
steps
,
had
trodden
out
their
track
,
and
left
but
crumbling
stones
.
Here
were
the
rotten
beam
,
the
sinking
arch
,
the
sapped
and
mouldering
wall
,
the
lowly
trench
of
earth
,
the
stately
tomb
on
which
no
epitaph
remained
—
all
—
marble
,
stone
,
iron
,
wood
,
and
dust
—
one
common
monument
of
ruin
.
The
best
work
and
the
worst
,
the
plainest
and
the
richest
,
the
stateliest
and
the
least
imposing
—
both
of
Heaven
’
s
work
and
Man
’
s
—
all
found
one
common
level
here
,
and
told
one
common
tale
.
Some
part
of
the
edifice
had
been
a
baronial
chapel
,
and
here
were
effigies
of
warriors
stretched
upon
their
beds
of
stone
with
folded
hands
—
cross
-
legged
,
those
who
had
fought
in
the
Holy
Wars
—
girded
with
their
swords
,
and
cased
in
armour
as
they
had
lived
.
Some
of
these
knights
had
their
own
weapons
,
helmets
,
coats
of
mail
,
hanging
upon
the
walls
hard
by
,
and
dangling
from
rusty
hooks
.
Broken
and
dilapidated
as
they
were
,
they
yet
retained
their
ancient
form
,
and
something
of
their
ancient
aspect
.
Thus
violent
deeds
live
after
men
upon
the
earth
,
and
traces
of
war
and
bloodshed
will
survive
in
mournful
shapes
long
after
those
who
worked
the
desolation
are
but
atoms
of
earth
themselves
.
The
child
sat
down
,
in
this
old
,
silent
place
,
among
the
stark
figures
on
the
tombs
—
they
made
it
more
quiet
there
,
than
elsewhere
,
to
her
fancy
—
and
gazing
round
with
a
feeling
of
awe
,
tempered
with
a
calm
delight
,
felt
that
now
she
was
happy
,
and
at
rest
.
She
took
a
Bible
from
the
shelf
,
and
read
;
then
,
laying
it
down
,
thought
of
the
summer
days
and
the
bright
springtime
that
would
come
—
of
the
rays
of
sun
that
would
fall
in
aslant
,
upon
the
sleeping
forms
—
of
the
leaves
that
would
flutter
at
the
window
,
and
play
in
glistening
shadows
on
the
pavement
—
of
the
songs
of
birds
,
and
growth
of
buds
and
blossoms
out
of
doors
—
of
the
sweet
air
,
that
would
steal
in
,
and
gently
wave
the
tattered
banners
overhead
.
What
if
the
spot
awakened
thoughts
of
death
!
Die
who
would
,
it
would
still
remain
the
same
;
these
sights
and
sounds
would
still
go
on
,
as
happily
as
ever
.
It
would
be
no
pain
to
sleep
amidst
them
.
She
left
the
chapel
—
very
slowly
and
often
turning
back
to
gaze
again
—
and
coming
to
a
low
door
,
which
plainly
led
into
the
tower
,
opened
it
,
and
climbed
the
winding
stair
in
darkness
;
save
where
she
looked
down
,
through
narrow
loopholes
,
on
the
place
she
had
left
,
or
caught
a
glimmering
vision
of
the
dusty
bells
.
At
length
she
gained
the
end
of
the
ascent
and
stood
upon
the
turret
top
Oh
!
the
glory
of
the
sudden
burst
of
light
;
the
freshness
of
the
fields
and
woods
,
stretching
away
on
every
side
,
and
meeting
the
bright
blue
sky
;
the
cattle
grazing
in
the
pasturage
;
the
smoke
,
that
,
coming
from
among
the
trees
,
seemed
to
rise
upward
from
the
green
earth
;
the
children
yet
at
their
gambols
down
below
—
all
,
everything
,
so
beautiful
and
happy
!
It
was
like
passing
from
death
to
life
;
it
was
drawing
nearer
Heaven
.
The
children
were
gone
,
when
she
emerged
into
the
porch
,
and
locked
the
door
.
As
she
passed
the
school
-
house
she
could
hear
the
busy
hum
of
voices
.
Her
friend
had
begun
his
labours
only
on
that
day
.
The
noise
grew
louder
,
and
,
looking
back
,
she
saw
the
boys
come
trooping
out
and
disperse
themselves
with
merry
shouts
and
play
.
‘
It
’
s
a
good
thing
,
’
thought
the
child
,
‘
I
am
very
glad
they
pass
the
church
.
’
And
then
she
stopped
,
to
fancy
how
the
noise
would
sound
inside
,
and
how
gently
it
would
seem
to
die
away
upon
the
ear
.
Again
that
day
,
yes
,
twice
again
,
she
stole
back
to
the
old
chapel
,
and
in
her
former
seat
read
from
the
same
book
,
or
indulged
the
same
quiet
train
of
thought
.
Even
when
it
had
grown
dusk
,
and
the
shadows
of
coming
night
made
it
more
solemn
still
,
the
child
remained
,
like
one
rooted
to
the
spot
,
and
had
no
fear
or
thought
of
stirring
.
They
found
her
there
,
at
last
,
and
took
her
home
.
She
looked
pale
but
very
happy
,
until
they
separated
for
the
night
;
and
then
,
as
the
poor
schoolmaster
stooped
down
to
kiss
her
cheek
,
he
thought
he
felt
a
tear
upon
his
face
.
