狄更斯的小说特点 狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第43章Part5

狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第43章Part5  

There was no change upon his face; and as she watched it
awfully
its motionless reponse recalled the faces that were gone. So they looked
so would he; so she
his weeping child
who should say when! so all the world of love and hatred and indifference around them! When that time should e
it would not be the heavier to him
for this that she was going to do; and it might fall something lighter upon her.
She stole close to the bed
and drawing in her breath
bent down
and softly kissed him on the face
and laid her own for one brief moment by its side
and put the arm
with which she dared not touch him
round about him on the pillow.
Awake
doomed man
while she is near! The time is flitting by; the hour is ing with an angry tread; its foot is in the house. Awake!
In her mind
she prayed to God to bless her father
and to soften him towards her
if it might be so; and if not
to five him if he was wrong
and pardon her the prayer which almost seemed impiety. And doing so
and looking back at him with blinded eyes
and stealing timidly away
passed out of his room
and crossed the other
and was gone.
He may sleep on now. He may sleep on while he may. But let him look for that slight figure when he wakes
and find it near him when the hour is e!
Sad and grieving was the heart of Florence
as she crept upstairs. The quiet house had grown more dismal since she came down. The sleep she had been looking on
in the dead of night
had the solemnity to her of death and life in one. The secrecy and silence of her own proceeding made the night secret
silent
and oppressive. She felt unwilling
almost unable
to go on to her own chamber; and turnIng into the drawing-rooms
where the clouded moon was shining through the blinds
looked out into the empty streets.
The wind was blowing drearily. The lamps looked pale
and shook as if they were cold. There was a distant glimmer of something that was not quite darkness
rather than of light
in the sky; and foreboding night was shivering and restless
as the dying are who make a troubled end. Florence remembered how
as a watcher
by a sick-bed
she had noted this bleak time
and felt its influence
as if in some hidden natural antipathy to it; and now it was very
very gloomy.
Her Mama had not e to her room that night
which was one cause of her having sat late out of her bed. In her general uneasiness
no less than in her ardent longing to have somebody to speak to
and to break the spell of gloom and silence
Florence directed her steps towards the chamber where she slept.
The door was not fastened within
and yielded smoothly to her hesitating hand. She was surprised to find a bright light burning; still more surprised
on looking in
to see that her Mama
but partially undressed
was sitting near the ashes of the fire
which had crumbled and dropped away. Her eyes were intently bent upon the air; and in their light
and in her face
and in her form
and in the grasp with which she held the elbows of her chair as if about to start up
Florence saw such fierce emotion that it terrified her.
'Mama!' she cried
'what is the matter?'