Возвращение на родину

IX. Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy

           “SuchstrangethoughtsasI’vehadfromtimetotime,Eustacia;andtheycometomethismoment.Youhatetheheathasmuchasever;thatIknow.”

           “Ido,”shemurmureddeeply.“’Tismycross,myshame,andwillbemydeath!”

           “Iabhorittoo,”saidhe.“Howmournfullythewindblowsroundusnow!”

           Shedidnotanswer.Itstonewasindeedsolemnandpervasive.Compoundutterancesaddressedthemselvestotheirsenses,anditwaspossibletoviewbyearthefeaturesoftheneighbourhood.Acousticpictureswerereturnedfromthedarkenedscenery;theycouldhearwherethetractsofheatherbeganandended;wherethefurzewasgrowingstalkyandtall;whereithadbeenrecentlycut;inwhatdirectionthefir-clumplay,andhownearwasthepitinwhichtheholliesgrew;forthesedifferingfeatureshadtheirvoicesnolessthantheirshapesandcolours.

           “God,howlonelyitis!”resumedWildeve.“Whatarepicturesqueravinesandmiststouswhoseenothingelse?Whyshouldwestayhere?WillyougowithmetoAmerica?IhavekindredinWisconsin.”

           “Thatwantsconsideration.”

           “Itseemsimpossibletodowellhere,unlessonewereawildbirdoralandscape-painter.Well?”

           “Givemetime,”shesoftlysaid,takinghishand.“Americaissofaraway.Areyougoingtowalkwithmealittleway?”

           AsEustaciautteredthelatterwordssheretiredfromthebaseofthebarrow,andWildevefollowedher,sothatthereddlemancouldhearnomore.

           Heliftedtheturvesandarose.Theirblackfiguressankanddisappearedfromagainstthesky

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