-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Шарлотта Бронте
-
- Джэйн Эйр
-
- Стр. 408/445
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
crows
sailing
overhead
perhaps
watched
me
while
I
took
this
survey
.
I
wonder
what
they
thought
.
They
must
have
considered
I
was
very
careful
and
timid
at
first
,
and
that
gradually
I
grew
very
bold
and
reckless
.
A
peep
,
and
then
a
long
stare
;
and
then
a
departure
from
my
niche
and
a
straying
out
into
the
meadow
;
and
a
sudden
stop
full
in
front
of
the
great
mansion
,
and
a
protracted
,
hardy
gaze
towards
it
.
"
What
affectation
of
diffidence
was
this
at
first
?
"
they
might
have
demanded
;
"
what
stupid
regardlessness
now
?
"
Hear
an
illustration
,
reader
.
A
lover
finds
his
mistress
asleep
on
a
mossy
bank
;
he
wishes
to
catch
a
glimpse
of
her
fair
face
without
waking
her
.
He
steals
softly
over
the
grass
,
careful
to
make
no
sound
;
he
pauses
--
fancying
she
has
stirred
:
he
withdraws
:
not
for
worlds
would
he
be
seen
.
All
is
still
:
he
again
advances
:
he
bends
above
her
;
a
light
veil
rests
on
her
features
:
he
lifts
it
,
bends
lower
;
now
his
eyes
anticipate
the
vision
of
beauty
--
warm
,
and
blooming
,
and
lovely
,
in
rest
.
How
hurried
was
their
first
glance
!
But
how
they
fix
!
How
he
starts
!
How
he
suddenly
and
vehemently
clasps
in
both
arms
the
form
he
dared
not
,
a
moment
since
,
touch
with
his
finger
!
How
he
calls
aloud
a
name
,
and
drops
his
burden
,
and
gazes
on
it
wildly
!
He
thus
grasps
and
cries
,
and
gazes
,
because
he
no
longer
fears
to
waken
by
any
sound
he
can
utter
--
by
any
movement
he
can
make
.
He
thought
his
love
slept
sweetly
:
he
finds
she
is
stone
dead
.
I
looked
with
timorous
joy
towards
a
stately
house
:
I
saw
a
blackened
ruin
.
No
need
to
cower
behind
a
gate-post
,
indeed
!
--
to
peep
up
at
chamber
lattices
,
fearing
life
was
astir
behind
them
!
No
need
to
listen
for
doors
opening
--
to
fancy
steps
on
the
pavement
or
the
gravel-walk
!
The
lawn
,
the
grounds
were
trodden
and
waste
:
the
portal
yawned
void
.
The
front
was
,
as
I
had
once
seen
it
in
a
dream
,
but
a
well-like
wall
,
very
high
and
very
fragile-looking
,
perforated
with
paneless
windows
:
no
roof
,
no
battlements
,
no
chimneys
--
all
had
crashed
in
.
And
there
was
the
silence
of
death
about
it
:
the
solitude
of
a
lonesome
wild
.
No
wonder
that
letters
addressed
to
people
here
had
never
received
an
answer
:
as
well
despatch
epistles
to
a
vault
in
a
church
aisle
.
The
grim
blackness
of
the
stones
told
by
what
fate
the
Hall
had
fallen
--
by
conflagration
:
but
how
kindled
?
What
story
belonged
to
this
disaster
?
What
loss
,
besides
mortar
and
marble
and
wood-work
had
followed
upon
it
?
Had
life
been
wrecked
as
well
as
property
?
If
so
,
whose
?
Dreadful
question
:
there
was
no
one
here
to
answer
it
--
not
even
dumb
sign
,
mute
token
.
In
wandering
round
the
shattered
walls
and
through
the
devastated
interior
,
I
gathered
evidence
that
the
calamity
was
not
of
late
occurrence
.
Winter
snows
,
I
thought
,
had
drifted
through
that
void
arch
,
winter
rains
beaten
in
at
those
hollow
casements
;
for
,
amidst
the
drenched
piles
of
rubbish
,
spring
had
cherished
vegetation
:
grass
and
weed
grew
here
and
there
between
the
stones
and
fallen
rafters
.
And
oh
!
where
meantime
was
the
hapless
owner
of
this
wreck
?
In
what
land
?
Under
what
auspices
?
My
eye
involuntarily
wandered
to
the
grey
church
tower
near
the
gates
,
and
I
asked
,
"
Is
he
with
Damer
de
Rochester
,
sharing
the
shelter
of
his
narrow
marble
house
?
"
Some
answer
must
be
had
to
these
questions
.
I
could
find
it
nowhere
but
at
the
inn
,
and
thither
,
ere
long
,
I
returned
.
The
host
himself
brought
my
breakfast
into
the
parlour
.
I
requested
him
to
shut
the
door
and
sit
down
:
I
had
some
questions
to
ask
him
.
But
when
he
complied
,
I
scarcely
knew
how
to
begin
;
such
horror
had
I
of
the
possible
answers
.
And
yet
the
spectacle
of
desolation
I
had
just
left
prepared
me
in
a
measure
for
a
tale
of
misery
.
The
host
was
a
respectable-looking
,
middle-aged
man
.
