-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Лавка древностей
-
- Стр. 335/459
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
A
kind
office
,
’
said
the
little
gentleman
,
nodding
to
Nell
as
she
curtseyed
to
him
.
‘
Have
you
done
all
that
,
this
morning
?
’
‘
It
is
very
little
,
sir
,
’
returned
the
child
,
with
downcast
eyes
,
‘
to
what
we
mean
to
do
.
’
‘
Good
work
,
good
work
,
’
said
the
bachelor
.
‘
But
do
you
only
labour
at
the
graves
of
children
,
and
young
people
?
’
‘
We
shall
come
to
the
others
in
good
time
,
sir
,
’
replied
Nell
,
turning
her
head
aside
,
and
speaking
softly
.
It
was
a
slight
incident
,
and
might
have
been
design
or
accident
,
or
the
child
’
s
unconscious
sympathy
with
youth
.
But
it
seemed
to
strike
upon
her
grandfather
,
though
he
had
not
noticed
it
before
.
He
looked
in
a
hurried
manner
at
the
graves
,
then
anxiously
at
the
child
,
then
pressed
her
to
his
side
,
and
bade
her
stop
to
rest
.
Something
he
had
long
forgotten
,
appeared
to
struggle
faintly
in
his
mind
.
It
did
not
pass
away
,
as
weightier
things
had
done
;
but
came
uppermost
again
,
and
yet
again
,
and
many
times
that
day
,
and
often
afterwards
.
Once
,
while
they
were
yet
at
work
,
the
child
,
seeing
that
he
often
turned
and
looked
uneasily
at
her
,
as
though
he
were
trying
to
resolve
some
painful
doubts
or
collect
some
scattered
thoughts
,
urged
him
to
tell
the
reason
.
But
he
said
it
was
nothing
—
nothing
—
and
,
laying
her
head
upon
his
arm
,
patted
her
fair
cheek
with
his
hand
,
and
muttered
that
she
grew
stronger
every
day
,
and
would
be
a
woman
,
soon
.
From
that
time
,
there
sprung
up
in
the
old
man
’
s
mind
,
a
solicitude
about
the
child
which
never
slept
or
left
him
.
There
are
chords
in
the
human
heart
—
strange
,
varying
strings
—
which
are
only
struck
by
accident
;
which
will
remain
mute
and
senseless
to
appeals
the
most
passionate
and
earnest
,
and
respond
at
last
to
the
slightest
casual
touch
.
In
the
most
insensible
or
childish
minds
,
there
is
some
train
of
reflection
which
art
can
seldom
lead
,
or
skill
assist
,
but
which
will
reveal
itself
,
as
great
truths
have
done
,
by
chance
,
and
when
the
discoverer
has
the
plainest
end
in
view
.
From
that
time
,
the
old
man
never
,
for
a
moment
,
forgot
the
weakness
and
devotion
of
the
child
;
from
the
time
of
that
slight
incident
,
he
who
had
seen
her
toiling
by
his
side
through
so
much
difficulty
and
suffering
,
and
had
scarcely
thought
of
her
otherwise
than
as
the
partner
of
miseries
which
he
felt
severely
in
his
own
person
,
and
deplored
for
his
own
sake
at
least
as
much
as
hers
,
awoke
to
a
sense
of
what
he
owed
her
,
and
what
those
miseries
had
made
her
.
Never
,
no
,
never
once
,
in
one
unguarded
moment
from
that
time
to
the
end
,
did
any
care
for
himself
,
any
thought
of
his
own
comfort
,
any
selfish
consideration
or
regard
distract
his
thoughts
from
the
gentle
object
of
his
love
.
He
would
follow
her
up
and
down
,
waiting
till
she
should
tire
and
lean
upon
his
arm
—
he
would
sit
opposite
to
her
in
the
chimney
-
corner
,
content
to
watch
,
and
look
,
until
she
raised
her
head
and
smiled
upon
him
as
of
old
—
he
would
discharge
by
stealth
,
those
household
duties
which
tasked
her
powers
too
heavily
—
he
would
rise
,
in
the
cold
dark
nights
,
to
listen
to
her
breathing
in
her
sleep
,
and
sometimes
crouch
for
hours
by
her
bedside
only
to
touch
her
hand
.
He
who
knows
all
,
can
only
know
what
hopes
,
and
fears
,
and
thoughts
of
deep
affection
,
were
in
that
one
disordered
brain
,
and
what
a
change
had
fallen
on
the
poor
old
man
.
Sometimes
—
weeks
had
crept
on
,
then
—
the
child
,
exhausted
,
though
with
little
fatigue
,
would
pass
whole
evenings
on
a
couch
beside
the
fire
.
At
such
times
,
the
schoolmaster
would
bring
in
books
,
and
read
to
her
aloud
;
and
seldom
an
evening
passed
,
but
the
bachelor
came
in
,
and
took
his
turn
of
reading
.
The
old
man
sat
and
listened
—
with
little
understanding
for
the
words
,
but
with
his
eyes
fixed
upon
the
child
—
and
if
she
smiled
or
brightened
with
the
story
,
he
would
say
it
was
a
good
one
,
and
conceive
a
fondness
for
the
very
book
.
When
,
in
their
evening
talk
,
the
bachelor
told
some
tale
that
pleased
her
(
as
his
tales
were
sure
to
do
)
,
the
old
man
would
painfully
try
to
store
it
in
his
mind
;
nay
,
when
the
bachelor
left
them
,
he
would
sometimes
slip
out
after
him
,
and
humbly
beg
that
he
would
tell
him
such
a
part
again
,
that
he
might
learn
to
win
a
smile
from
Nell
.
But
these
were
rare
occasions
,
happily
;
for
the
child
yearned
to
be
out
of
doors
,
and
walking
in
her
solemn
garden
.
Parties
,
too
,
would
come
to
see
the
church
;
and
those
who
came
,
speaking
to
others
of
the
child
,
sent
more
;
so
even
at
that
season
of
the
year
they
had
visitors
almost
daily
.
The
old
man
would
follow
them
at
a
little
distance
through
the
building
,
listening
to
the
voice
he
loved
so
well
;
and
when
the
strangers
left
,
and
parted
from
Nell
,
he
would
mingle
with
them
to
catch
up
fragments
of
their
conversation
;
or
he
would
stand
for
the
same
purpose
,
with
his
grey
head
uncovered
,
at
the
gate
as
they
passed
through
.
They
always
praised
the
child
,
her
sense
and
beauty
,
and
he
was
proud
to
hear
them
!
But
what
was
that
,
so
often
added
,
which
wrung
his
heart
,
and
made
him
sob
and
weep
alone
,
in
some
dull
corner
!
Alas
!
even
careless
strangers
—
they
who
had
no
feeling
for
her
,
but
the
interest
of
the
moment
—
they
who
would
go
away
and
forget
next
week
that
such
a
being
lived
—
even
they
saw
it
—
even
they
pitied
her
—
even
they
bade
him
good
day
compassionately
,
and
whispered
as
they
passed
.