Холодный дом

A Turn of the Screw

           Bagnet’shand,withherworkinit,afriendlyshake—forshetookherseatbesidehim—thetrooper’sattentionisattractedtoherface.Afterlookingatitforalittlewhileasshepliesherneedle,helookstoyoungWoolwich,sittingonhisstoolinthecorner,andbeckonsthatfifertohim."Seethere,myboy,"saysGeorge,verygentlysmoothingthemother’shairwithhishand,"there’sagoodlovingforeheadforyou!Allbrightwithloveofyou,myboy.Alittletouchedbythesunandtheweatherthroughfollowingyourfatheraboutandtakingcareofyou,butasfreshandwholesomeasaripeappleonatree."Mr.Bagnet’sfaceexpresses,sofarasinitswoodenmateriallies,thehighestapprobationandacquiescence."Thetimewillcome,myboy,"pursuesthetrooper,"whenthishairofyourmother’swillbegrey,andthisforeheadallcrossedandre-crossedwithwrinkles,andafineoldladyshe’llbethen.Takecare,whileyouareyoung,thatyoucanthinkinthosedays,’Ineverwhitenedahairofherdearhead—Inevermarkedasorrowfullineinherface!’Forofallthemanythingsthatyoucanthinkofwhenyouareaman,youhadbetterhaveTHATbyyou,Woolwich!"Mr.Georgeconcludesbyrisingfromhischair,seatingtheboybesidehismotherinit,andsaying,withsomethingofahurryabouthim,thathe’llsmokehispipeinthestreetabit.

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