Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

An old-fashioned Card-party — The Clergyman’s verses — The Story of the Convict’s Return

           Thetimethathadstrengthenedthechild’sslightframeandknithisweaklimbsintothestrengthofmanhoodhadbowedhismother’sform,andenfeebledhersteps;butthearmthatshouldhavesupportedherwasnolongerlockedinhers;thefacethatshouldhavecheeredher,nomorelookeduponherown.Sheoccupiedheroldseat,buttherewasavacantonebesideher.TheBiblewaskeptascarefullyasever,theplaceswerefoundandfoldeddownastheyusedtobe:buttherewasnoonetoreaditwithher;andthetearsfellthickandfastuponthebook,andblottedthewordsfromhereyes.Neighbourswereaskindastheywerewonttobeofold,butsheshunnedtheirgreetingswithavertedhead.Therewasnolingeringamongtheoldelm-treesnow-nocheeringanticipationsofhappinessyetinstore.Thedesolatewomandrewherbonnetcloseroverherface,andwalkedhurriedlyaway.

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