📝 您未登录，登录后完成练习可保存成绩、查看最佳记录。
总字符
0
正确字符
0
错误字符
0
错误率
0.00%
耗时(秒)
0
速度 WPM
0
0 / 71
1With what absurd emotions (for we think the feelings that are very serious in a man quite comical in a boy) I found
2myself again going to Miss Havisham's, matters little here. Nor, how I passed and repassed the gate many times before I
3could make up my mind to ring. Nor, how I debated whether I should go away without ringing; nor, how I should
4undoubtedly have gone, if my time had been my own, to come back. Miss Sarah Pocket came to the gate. No Estella. "How,
5then? You here again?" said Miss Pocket. "What do you want?" When I said that I only came to see how Miss Havisham was,
6Sarah evidently deliberated whether or no she should send me about my business. But unwilling to hazard the
7responsibility, she let me in, and presently brought the sharp message that I was to "come up." Everything was
8unchanged, and Miss Havisham was alone. "Well?" said she, fixing her eyes upon me. "I hope you want nothing? You'll get
9nothing." "No indeed, Miss Havisham. I only wanted you to know that I am doing very well in my apprenticeship, and am
10always much obliged to you." "There, there!" with the old restless fingers. "Come now and then; come on your
11birthday.--Ay!" she cried suddenly, turning herself and her chair towards me, "You are looking round for Estella? Hey?"
12I had been looking round,--in fact, for Estella,--and I stammered that I hoped she was well. "Abroad," said Miss
13Havisham; "educating for a lady; far out of reach; prettier than ever; admired by all who see her. Do you feel that you
14have lost her?" There was such a malignant enjoyment in her utterance of the last words, and she broke into such a
15disagreeable laugh, that I was at a loss what to say. She spared me the trouble of considering, by dismissing me. When
16the gate was closed upon me by Sarah of the walnut-shell countenance, I felt more than ever dissatisfied with my home
17and with my trade and with everything; and that was all I took by that motion. As I was loitering along the High Street,
18looking in disconsolately at the shop windows, and thinking what I would buy if I were a gentleman, who should come out
19of the bookshop but Mr. Wopsle. Mr. Wopsle had in his hand the affecting tragedy of George Barnwell, in which he had
20that moment invested sixpence, with the view of heaping every word of it on the head of Pumblechook, with whom he was
21going to drink tea. No sooner did he see me, than he appeared to consider that a special Providence had put a 'prentice
22in his way to be read at; and he laid hold of me, and insisted on my accompanying him to the Pumblechookian parlour. As
23I knew it would be miserable at home, and as the nights were dark and the way was dreary, and almost any companionship
24on the road was better than none, I made no great resistance; consequently, we turned into Pumblechook's just as the
25street and the shops were lighting up. As I never assisted at any other representation of George Barnwell, I don't know
26how long it may usually take; but I know very well that it took until half-past nine o' clock that night, and that when
27Mr. Wopsle got into Newgate, I thought he never would go to the scaffold, he became so much slower than at any former
28period of his disgraceful career. I thought it a little too much that he should complain of being cut short in his
29flower after all, as if he had not been running to seed, leaf after leaf, ever since his course began. This, however,
30was a mere question of length and wearisomeness. What stung me, was the identification of the whole affair with my
31unoffending self. When Barnwell began to go wrong, I declare that I felt positively apologetic, Pumblechook's indignant
32stare so taxed me with it. Wopsle, too, took pains to present me in the worst light. At once ferocious and maudlin, I
33was made to murder my uncle with no extenuating circumstances whatever; Millwood put me down in argument, on every
34occasion; it became sheer monomania in my master's daughter to care a button for me; and all I can say for my gasping
35and procrastinating conduct on the fatal morning, is, that it was worthy of the general feebleness of my character. Even
36after I was happily hanged and Wopsle had closed the book, Pumblechook sat staring at me, and shaking his head, and
37saying, "Take warning, boy, take warning!" as if it were a well-known fact that I contemplated murdering a near
38relation, provided I could only induce one to have the weakness to become my benefactor. It was a very dark night when
39it was all over, and when I set out with Mr. Wopsle on the walk home. Beyond town, we found a heavy mist out, and it
40fell wet and thick. The turnpike lamp was a blur, quite out of the lamp's usual place apparently, and its rays looked
41solid substance on the fog. We were noticing this, and saying how that the mist rose with a change of wind from a
42certain quarter of our marshes, when we came upon a man, slouching under the lee of the turnpike house. "Halloa!" we
43said, stopping. "Orlick there?" "Ah!" he answered, slouching out. "I was standing by a minute, on the chance of
44company." "You are late," I remarked. Orlick not unnaturally answered, "Well? And you're late." "We have been," said Mr.
45Wopsle, exalted with his late performance,--"we have been indulging, Mr. Orlick, in an intellectual evening." Old Orlick
46growled, as if he had nothing to say about that, and we all went on together. I asked him presently whether he had been
47spending his half-holiday up and down town? "Yes," said he, "all of it. I come in behind yourself. I didn't see you, but
48I must have been pretty close behind you. By the by, the guns is going again." "At the Hulks?" said I. "Ay! There's some
49of the birds flown from the cages. The guns have been going since dark, about. You'll hear one presently." In effect, we
50had not walked many yards further, when the well-remembered boom came towards us, deadened by the mist, and heavily
51rolled away along the low grounds by the river, as if it were pursuing and threatening the fugitives. "A good night for
52cutting off in," said Orlick. "We'd be puzzled how to bring down a jail-bird on the wing, to-night." The subject was a
53suggestive one to me, and I thought about it in silence. Mr. Wopsle, as the ill-requited uncle of the evening's tragedy,
54fell to meditating aloud in his garden at Camberwell. Orlick, with his hands in his pockets, slouched heavily at my
55side. It was very dark, very wet, very muddy, and so we splashed along. Now and then, the sound of the signal cannon
56broke upon us again, and again rolled sulkily along the course of the river. I kept myself to myself and my thoughts.
57Mr. Wopsle died amiably at Camberwell, and exceedingly game on Bosworth Field, and in the greatest agonies at
58Glastonbury. Orlick sometimes growled, "Beat it out, beat it out,--Old Clem! With a clink for the stout,--Old Clem!" I
59thought he had been drinking, but he was not drunk. Thus, we came to the village. The way by which we approached it took
60us past the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised to find--it being eleven o'clock--in a state of commotion,
61with the door wide open, and unwonted lights that had been hastily caught up and put down scattered about. Mr. Wopsle
62dropped in to ask what was the matter (surmising that a convict had been taken), but came running out in a great hurry.
63"There's something wrong," said he, without stopping, "up at your place, Pip. Run all!" "What is it?" I asked, keeping
64up with him. So did Orlick, at my side. "I can't quite understand. The house seems to have been violently entered when
65Joe Gargery was out. Supposed by convicts. Somebody has been attacked and hurt." We were running too fast to admit of
66more being said, and we made no stop until we got into our kitchen. It was full of people; the whole village was there,
67or in the yard; and there was a surgeon, and there was Joe, and there were a group of women, all on the floor in the
68midst of the kitchen. The unemployed bystanders drew back when they saw me, and so I became aware of my sister,--lying
69without sense or movement on the bare boards where she had been knocked down by a tremendous blow on the back of the
70head, dealt by some unknown hand when her face was turned towards the fire,--destined never to be on the Rampage again,
71while she was the wife of Joe.
🎉 全部完成！共 71 行