Холодный дом

The Ghost’s Walk

           Guppy’sdreams,theprobabilityisnotpursued.Buthestillremainssoabsorbedbytheportraitthathestandsimmovablebeforeituntiltheyounggardenerhasclosedtheshutters,whenhecomesoutoftheroominadazedstatethatisanoddthoughasufficientsubstituteforinterestandfollowsintothesucceedingroomswithaconfusedstare,asifhewerelookingeverywhereforLadyDedlockagain.Heseesnomoreofher.Heseesherrooms,whicharethelastshown,asbeingveryelegant,andhelooksoutofthewindowsfromwhichshelookedout,notlongago,upontheweatherthatboredhertodeath.Allthingshaveanend,evenhousesthatpeopletakeinfinitepainstoseeandaretiredofbeforetheybegintoseethem.Hehascometotheendofthesight,andthefreshvillagebeautytotheendofherdescription;whichisalwaysthis:"Theterracebelowismuchadmired.Itiscalled,fromanoldstoryinthefamily,theGhost’sWalk.""No?"saysMr.Guppy,greedilycurious."What’sthestory,miss?Isitanythingaboutapicture?""Praytellusthestory,"saysWattinahalfwhisper."Idon’tknowit,sir."Rosaisshyerthanever."Itisnotrelatedtovisitors;itisalmostforgotten,"saysthehousekeeper,advancing."Ithasneverbeenmorethanafamilyanecdote.""You’llexcusemyaskingagainifithasanythingtodowithapicture,ma’am,"observesMr.Guppy,"becauseIdoassureyouthatthemoreIthinkofthatpicturethebetterIknowit,withoutknowinghowIknowit!"Thestoryhasnothingtodowithapicture;thehousekeepercanguaranteethat.Mr.

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