Крошка Доррит

Chapter 1. Fellow Travellers

           Hereandthere,thebarewhitewallswerebrokenbyanirongrate,andshethoughtasshewentalongthattheplacewassomethinglikeaprison.Thearcheddoorofthelady’sroom,orcell,wasnotquiteshut.Afterknockingatittwoorthreetimeswithoutreceivingananswer,shepusheditgentlyopen,andlookedin.

           Theladylaywithclosedeyesontheoutsideofthebed,protectedfromthecoldbytheblanketsandwrapperswithwhichshehadbeencoveredwhensherevivedfromherfaintingfit.Adulllightplacedinthedeeprecessofthewindow,madelittleimpressiononthearchedroom.Thevisitortimidlysteppedtothebed,andsaid,inasoftwhisper,‘Areyoubetter?’

           Theladyhadfallenintoaslumber,andthewhisperwastoolowtoawakeher.Hervisitor,standingquitestill,lookedatherattentively.

           ‘Sheisverypretty,’shesaidtoherself.‘Ineversawsobeautifulaface.Ohowunlikeme!’

           Itwasacuriousthingtosay,butithadsomehiddenmeaning,foritfilledhereyeswithtears.

           ‘IknowImustberight.Iknowhespokeofherthatevening.Icouldveryeasilybewrongonanyothersubject,butnotonthis,notonthis!’

           Withaquietandtenderhandsheputasideastrayingfoldofthesleeper’shair,andthentouchedthehandthatlayoutsidethecovering.

           ‘Iliketolookather,’shebreathedtoherself.‘Iliketoseewhathasaffectedhimsomuch.’

           Shehadnotwithdrawnherhand,whenthesleeperopenedhereyesandstarted.

           ‘Praydon’tbealarmed.Iamonlyoneofthetravellersfromdown-stairs.

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