Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

In which the old Man launches forth into his favourite Theme, and relates a Story about a queer Clie

           Hefellbackwardinhischair,and,claspinghishandstogether,gazedontheapparitionwithamingledlookofabhorrenceandfear.

           ‘"Thisdaysixyears,"saidHeyling,"Iclaimedthelifeyouowedmeformychild’s.Besidethelifelessformofyourdaughter,oldman,Isworetolivealifeofrevenge.Ihaveneverswervedfrommypurposeforamoment’sspace;butifIhad,onethoughtofheruncomplaining,sufferinglook,asshedroopedaway,orofthestarvingfaceofourinnocentchild,wouldhavenervedmetomytask.Myfirstactofrequitalyouwellremember:thisismylast."

           ‘Theoldmanshivered,andhishandsdroppedpowerlessbyhisside.

           ‘"IleaveEnglandto-morrow,"saidHeyling,afteramoment’spause."To-nightIconsignyoutothelivingdeathtowhichyoudevotedherahopelessprison—"

           ‘Heraisedhiseyestotheoldman’scountenance,andpaused.Heliftedthelighttohisface,setitgentlydown,andlefttheapartment.

           ‘"Youhadbetterseetotheoldman,"hesaidtothewoman,asheopenedthedoor,andmotionedtheofficertofollowhimintothestreet."Ithinkheisill."Thewomanclosedthedoor,ranhastilyupstairs,andfoundhimlifeless

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