Холодный дом

A Wintry Day and Night

           ButthestepontheGhost’sWalkwillwalkmyLadydown,George;ithasbeenmanyadaybehindher,andnowitwillpassherandgoon.""Well,motherdear,Isayagain,Ihopenot.""Ah,sodoI,George,"theoldladyreturns,shakingherheadandpartingherfoldedhands."Butifmyfearscometrue,andhehastoknowit,whowilltellhim!""Aretheseherrooms?""ThesearemyLady’srooms,justassheleftthem.""Why,now,"saysthetrooper,glancingroundhimandspeakinginalowervoice,"Ibegintounderstandhowyoucometothinkasyoudothink,mother.Roomsgetanawfullookaboutthemwhentheyarefittedup,likethese,foronepersonyouareusedtoseeinthem,andthatpersonisawayunderanyshadow,letalonebeingGodknowswhere."Heisnotfarout.Asallpartingsforeshadowthegreatfinalone,so,emptyrooms,bereftofafamiliarpresence,mournfullywhisperwhatyourroomandwhatminemustonedaybe.MyLady’sstatehasahollowlook,thusgloomyandabandoned;andintheinnerapartment,whereMr.Bucketlastnightmadehissecretperquisition,thetracesofherdressesandherornaments,eventhemirrorsaccustomedtoreflectthemwhentheywereaportionofherself,haveadesolateandvacantair.Darkandcoldasthewintrydayis,itisdarkerandcolderinthesedesertedchambersthaninmanyahutthatwillbarelyexcludetheweather;andthoughtheservantsheapfiresinthegratesandsetthecouchesandthechairswithinthewarmglassscreensthatlettheirruddylightshootthroughtothefurthestcorners,thereisaheavycloudupontheroomswhichnolightwilldispel.

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