-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Лавка древностей
-
- Стр. 332/459
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Full
of
grateful
tenderness
,
the
child
took
his
hand
,
and
folded
it
between
her
own
.
‘
It
’
s
God
’
s
will
!
’
she
said
,
when
they
had
been
silent
for
some
time
.
‘
What
?
’
‘
All
this
,
’
she
rejoined
;
‘
all
this
about
us
.
But
which
of
us
is
sad
now
?
You
see
that
I
am
smiling
.
’
‘
And
so
am
I
,
’
said
the
schoolmaster
;
‘
smiling
to
think
how
often
we
shall
laugh
in
this
same
place
.
Were
you
not
talking
yonder
?
’
‘
Yes
,
’
the
child
rejoined
.
‘
Of
something
that
has
made
you
sorrowful
?
’
There
was
a
long
pause
.
‘
What
was
it
?
’
said
the
schoolmaster
,
tenderly
.
‘
Come
.
Tell
me
what
it
was
.
’
‘
I
rather
grieve
—
I
do
rather
grieve
to
think
,
’
said
the
child
,
bursting
into
tears
,
‘
that
those
who
die
about
us
,
are
so
soon
forgotten
.
’
‘
And
do
you
think
,
’
said
the
schoolmaster
,
marking
the
glance
she
had
thrown
around
,
‘
that
an
unvisited
grave
,
a
withered
tree
,
a
faded
flower
or
two
,
are
tokens
of
forgetfulness
or
cold
neglect
?
Do
you
think
there
are
no
deeds
,
far
away
from
here
,
in
which
these
dead
may
be
best
remembered
?
Nell
,
Nell
,
there
may
be
people
busy
in
the
world
,
at
this
instant
,
in
whose
good
actions
and
good
thoughts
these
very
graves
—
neglected
as
they
look
to
us
—
are
the
chief
instruments
.
’