Рождественская история

           Helay,inthedarkemptyhouse,withnotaman,awoman,orachild,tosaythathewaskindtomeinthisorthat,andforthememoryofonekindwordIwillbekindtohim.Acatwastearingatthedoor,andtherewasasoundofgnawingratsbeneaththehearth-stone.Whattheywantedintheroomofdeath,andwhytheyweresorestlessanddisturbed,Scroogedidnotdaretothink.

           ‘Spirit,’hesaid,‘thisisafearfulplace.Inleavingit,Ishallnotleaveitslesson,trustme.Letusgo.’

           StilltheGhostpointedwithanunmovedfingertothehead.

           ‘Iunderstandyou,’Scroogereturned,‘andIwoulddoit,ifIcould.ButIhavenotthepower,Spirit.Ihavenotthepower.’

           Againitseemedtolookuponhim.

           ‘Ifthereisanypersoninthetown,whofeelsemotioncausedbythisman’sdeath,’saidScroogequiteagonised,‘showthatpersontome,Spirit,Ibeseechyou.’

           ThePhantomspreaditsdarkrobebeforehimforamoment,likeawing;andwithdrawingit,revealedaroombydaylight,whereamotherandherchildrenwere.

           Shewasexpectingsomeone,andwithanxiouseagerness;forshewalkedupanddowntheroom;startedateverysound;lookedoutfromthewindow;glancedattheclock;tried,butinvain,toworkwithherneedle;andcouldhardlybearthevoicesofthechildrenintheirplay.

           Atlengththelong-expectedknockwasheard.Shehurriedtothedoor,andmetherhusband;amanwhosefacewascarewornanddepressed,thoughhewasyoung.