Різдвяна історія
Chapter 4
‘Spectre,’saidScrooge,‘somethinginformsmethatourpartingmomentisathand.Iknowit,butIknownothow.Tellmewhatmanthatwaswhomwesawlyingdead.’
TheGhostofChristmasYetToComeconveyedhim,asbefore—thoughatadifferenttime,hethought:indeed,thereseemednoorderintheselattervisions,savethattheywereintheFuture—intotheresortsofbusinessmen,butshowedhimnothimself.Indeed,theSpiritdidnotstayforanything,butwentstraighton,astotheendjustnowdesired,untilbesoughtbyScroogetotarryforamoment.
‘Thiscourt,’saidScrooge,‘throughwhichwehurrynow,iswheremyplaceofoccupationis,andhasbeenforalengthoftime.Iseethehouse.LetmebeholdwhatIshallbe,indaystocome.’
TheSpiritstopped;thehandwaspointedelsewhere.
‘Thehouseisyonder,’Scroogeexclaimed.‘Whydoyoupointaway?’
Theinexorablefingerunderwentnochange.
Scroogehastenedtothewindowofhisoffice,andlookedin.Itwasanofficestill,butnothis.Thefurniturewasnotthesame,andthefigureinthechairwasnothimself.ThePhantompointedasbefore.
Hejoineditonceagain,andwonderingwhyandwhitherhehadgone,accompaniedituntiltheyreachedanirongate.Hepausedtolookroundbeforeentering.
Achurchyard.Here,then,thewretchedmanwhosenamehehadnowtolearn,layunderneaththeground.Itwasaworthyplace.Walledinbyhouses;overrunbygrassandweeds,thegrowthofvegetation’sdeath,notlife;chokedupwithtoomuchburying;fatwithrepletedappetite.
