Холодный дом

Flight

           Theoldgirlpromptlymakesasignofentreatytohimtosaynothing;assentingwithanod,hesuffersthemtoenterasheshutsthedoor.SoGeorge,whoiswritingathistable,supposinghimselftobealone,doesnotraisehiseyes,butremainsabsorbed.Theoldhousekeeperlooksathim,andthosewanderinghandsofhersarequiteenoughforMrs.Bagnet’sconfirmation,evenifshecouldseethemotherandthesontogether,knowingwhatsheknows,anddoubttheirrelationship.Notarustleofthehousekeeper’sdress,notagesture,notawordbetraysher.Shestandslookingathimashewriteson,allunconscious,andonlyherflutteringhandsgiveutterancetoheremotions.Buttheyareveryeloquent,very,veryeloquent.Mrs.Bagnetunderstandsthem.Theyspeakofgratitude,ofjoy,ofgrief,ofhope;ofinextinguishableaffection,cherishedwithnoreturnsincethisstalwartmanwasastripling;ofabettersonlovedless,andthissonlovedsofondlyandsoproudly;andtheyspeakinsuchtouchinglanguagethatMrs.Bagnet’seyesbrimupwithtearsandtheyrunglisteningdownhersun-brownface."GeorgeRouncewell!Oh,mydearchild,turnandlookatme!"Thetrooperstartsup,claspshismotherroundtheneck,andfallsdownonhiskneesbeforeher.Whetherinalaterepentance,whetherinthefirstassociationthatcomesbackuponhim,heputshishandstogetherasachilddoeswhenitsaysitsprayers,andraisingthemtowardsherbreast,bowsdownhishead,andcries.

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