Холодный дом

Nurse and Patient

           TowardsLondonaluridglareoverhungthewholedarkwaste,andthecontrastbetweenthesetwolights,andthefancywhichtheredderlightengenderedofanunearthlyfire,gleamingonalltheunseenbuildingsofthecityandonallthefacesofitsmanythousandsofwonderinginhabitants,wasassolemnasmightbe.Ihadnothoughtthatnightnone,Iamquitesureofwhatwassoontohappentome.ButIhavealwaysrememberedsincethatwhenwehadstoppedatthegarden-gatetolookupatthesky,andwhenwewentuponourway,IhadforamomentanundefinableimpressionofmyselfasbeingsomethingdifferentfromwhatIthenwas.IknowitwasthenandtherethatIhadit.Ihaveeversinceconnectedthefeelingwiththatspotandtimeandwitheverythingassociatedwiththatspotandtime,tothedistantvoicesinthetown,thebarkingofadog,andthesoundofwheelscomingdownthemiryhill.ItwasSaturdaynight,andmostofthepeoplebelongingtotheplacewhereweweregoingweredrinkingelsewhere.WefounditquieterthanIhadpreviouslyseenit,thoughquiteasmiserable.Thekilnswereburning,andastiflingvapoursettowardsuswithapale-blueglare.Wecametothecottage,wheretherewasafeeblecandleinthepatchedwindow.Wetappedatthedoorandwentin.Themotherofthelittlechildwhohaddiedwassittinginachairononesideofthepoorfirebythebed;andoppositetoher,awretchedboy,supportedbythechimney-piece,wascoweringonthefloor.

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