-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Эмили Бронте
-
- Грозовой перевал
-
- Стр. 202/227
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Mistress
Dean
?
Nay
!
"
she
answered
,
"
shoo
does
n't
bide
here
:
Shoo
's
up
at
th
'
Heights
.
"
"
Are
you
the
housekeeper
,
then
?
"
I
continued
.
"
Eea
,
aw
keep
th
'
house
,
"
she
replied
.
"
Well
,
I
'm
Mr.
Lockwood
,
the
master
.
Are
there
any
rooms
to
lodge
me
in
,
I
wonder
?
I
wish
to
stay
all
night
.
"
"
T'maister
!
"
she
cried
in
astonishment
.
"
Whet
,
whoiver
knew
yah
wur
coming
?
Yah
sud
ha
'
send
word
.
They
's
nowt
norther
dry
nor
mensful
abaht
t
'
place
:
nowt
there
is
n't
!
"
She
threw
down
her
pipe
and
bustled
in
,
the
girl
followed
,
and
I
entered
too
;
soon
perceiving
that
her
report
was
true
,
and
,
moreover
,
that
I
had
almost
upset
her
wits
by
my
unwelcome
apparition
,
I
bade
her
be
composed
.
I
would
go
out
for
a
walk
;
and
,
meantime
,
she
must
try
to
prepare
a
corner
of
a
sitting-room
for
me
to
sup
in
,
and
a
bedroom
to
sleep
in
.
No
sweeping
and
dusting
,
only
good
fire
and
dry
sheets
were
necessary
.
She
seemed
willing
to
do
her
best
;
though
she
thrust
the
hearth-brush
into
the
grates
in
mistake
for
the
poker
,
and
mal-appropriated
several
other
articles
of
her
craft
:
but
I
retired
,
confiding
in
her
energy
for
a
resting-place
against
my
return
.
Wuthering
Heights
was
the
goal
of
my
proposed
excursion
.
An
after-thought
brought
me
back
,
when
I
had
quitted
the
court
.
"
All
well
at
the
Heights
?
"
I
enquired
of
the
woman
.
"
Eea
,
f
'
r
owt
ee
knew
,
"
she
answered
,
skurrying
away
with
a
pan
of
hot
cinders
.
I
would
have
asked
why
Mrs.
Dean
had
deserted
the
Grange
,
but
it
was
impossible
to
delay
her
at
such
a
crisis
,
so
I
turned
away
and
made
my
exit
,
rambling
leisurely
along
with
the
glow
of
a
sinking
sun
behind
,
and
the
mild
glory
of
a
rising
moon
in
front
--
one
fading
,
and
the
other
brightening
--
as
I
quitted
the
park
,
and
climbed
the
stony
byroad
branching
off
to
Mr.
Heathcliff
's
dwelling
.
Before
I
arrived
in
sight
of
it
,
all
that
remained
of
day
was
a
beamless
amber
light
along
the
west
:
but
I
could
see
every
pebble
on
the
path
,
and
every
blade
of
grass
,
by
that
splendid
moon
.
I
had
neither
to
climb
the
gate
nor
to
knock
--
it
yielded
to
my
hand
.
That
is
an
improvement
,
I
thought
.
And
I
noticed
another
,
by
the
aid
of
my
nostrils
;
a
fragrance
of
stocks
and
wall-flowers
wafted
on
the
air
from
amongst
the
homely
fruit-trees
.
