Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Mr. Samuel Weller, being intrusted with a Mission of Love, proceeds to execute it; with what Success

           Assoonasshecamenearlybelowthetree,Sambegan,bywayofgentlyindicatinghispresence,tomakesundrydiabolicalnoisessimilartothosewhichwouldprobablybenaturaltoapersonofmiddleagewhohadbeenafflictedwithacombinationofinflammatorysorethroat,croup,andwhooping-cough,fromhisearliestinfancy.

           Uponthis,theyoungladycastahurriedglancetowardsthespotwhencethedreadfulsoundsproceeded;andherpreviousalarmbeingnotatalldiminishedwhenshesawamanamongthebranches,shewouldmostcertainlyhavedecamped,andalarmedthehouse,hadnotfearfortunatelydeprivedherofthepowerofmoving,andcausedhertosinkdownonagardenseat,whichhappenedbygoodlucktobenearathand.

           ‘She’sa-goin’off,’soliloquisedSamingreatperplexity.‘Wotathingitis,asthesehereyoungcreeturswillgoa-faintin’avayjustventheyoughtn’tto.Here,young‘ooman,MissSawbones,Mrs.Vinkle,don’t!’

           WhetheritwasthemagicofMr.Winkle’sname,orthecoolnessoftheopenair,orsomerecollectionofMr.Weller’svoice,thatrevivedArabella,mattersnot.Sheraisedherheadandlanguidlyinquired,‘Who’sthat,andwhatdoyouwant?’

           ‘Hush,’saidSam,swinginghimselfontothewall,andcrouchingthereinassmallacompassashecouldreducehimselfto,‘onlyme,miss,onlyme.’

           ‘Mr.Pickwick’sservant!’saidArabellaearnestly.

           ‘Thewerysame,miss,’repliedSam.

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