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作者: Charles Dickens

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Though he said it with a grave smile of earnestness, and though
he even put the old man's hand to his lips, he did not part from
him then. He helped him so far to arouse the rocking figure
before the dying embers, as to get a cloak and hat put upon it,
and to tempt it forth to find where the bench and work were
hidden that it still moaningly besought to have. He walked on the
other side of it and protected it to the courtyard of the house
where the afflicted heart--so happy in the memorable time when he
had revealed his own desolate heart to it--outwatched the awful
night. He entered the courtyard and remained there for a few
moments alone, looking up at the light in the window of her room.
Before he went away, he breathed a blessing towards it, and a
Farewell.
CHAPTER XIII. Fifty-two

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