Холодный дом

Esther’s Narrative

           Allthistime,keptfreshbyacertainenjoymentoftheworkinwhichhewasengaged,hewasupanddownateveryhousewecameto,addressingpeoplewhomhehadneverbeheldbeforeasoldacquaintances,runningintowarmhimselfateveryfirehesaw,talkinganddrinkingandshakinghandsateverybarandtap,friendlywitheverywaggoner,wheelwright,blacksmith,andtoll-taker,yetneverseemingtolosetime,andalwaysmountingtotheboxagainwithhiswatchful,steadyfaceandhisbusiness-like"Geton,mylad!"Whenwewerechanginghorsesthenexttime,hecamefromthestable-yard,withthewetsnowencrusteduponhimanddroppingoffhimplashingandcrashingthroughittohiswetkneesashehadbeendoingfrequentlysinceweleftSaintAlbansandspoketomeatthecarriageside."Keepupyourspirits.It’scertainlytruethatshecameonhere,MissSummerson.There’snotadoubtofthedressbythistime,andthedresshasbeenseenhere.""Stillonfoot?"saidI."Stillonfoot.Ithinkthegentlemanyoumentionedmustbethepointshe’saimingat,andyetIdon’tlikehislivingdowninherownpartofthecountryneither.""Iknowsolittle,"saidI."Theremaybesomeoneelsenearerhere,ofwhomIneverheard.""That’strue.Butwhateveryoudo,don’tyoufalla-crying,mydear;anddon’tyouworryyourselfnomorethanyoucanhelp.Geton,mylad!"Thesleetfellallthatdayunceasingly,athickmistcameonearly,anditneverroseorlightenedforamoment.SuchroadsIhadneverseen.Isometimesfearedwehadmissedthewayandgotintotheploughedgroundsorthemarshes.

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