Возвращение на родину

III. The First Act in a Timeworn Drama

           

           Yeobrightlookedthoughtfullyontheground.“Thatmeansmuch,”hesaid.

           “Itdoesindeed,”saidEustacia.

           “IrememberwhenIhadthesamelongingfortownbustle.Fiveyearsofagreatcitywouldbeaperfectcureforthat.”

           “Heavensendmesuchacure!Now,Mr.Yeobright,Iwillgoindoorsandplastermywoundedhand.”

           Theyseparated,andEustaciavanishedintheincreasingshade.Sheseemedfullofmanythings.Herpastwasablank,herlifehadbegun.TheeffectuponClymofthismeetinghedidnotfullydiscovertillsometimeafter.Duringhiswalkhomehismostintelligiblesensationwasthathisschemehadsomehowbecomeglorified.Abeautifulwomanhadbeenintertwinedwithit.

           Onreachingthehousehewentuptotheroomwhichwastobemadehisstudy,andoccupiedhimselfduringtheeveninginunpackinghisbooksfromtheboxesandarrangingthemonshelves.Fromanotherboxhedrewalampandacanofoil.Hetrimmedthelamp,arrangedhistable,andsaid,“Now,Iamreadytobegin.”

           Heroseearlythenextmorning,readtwohoursbeforebreakfastbythelightofhislamp—readallthemorning,alltheafternoon.Justwhenthesunwasgoingdownhiseyesfeltweary,andheleantbackinhischair.

           Hisroomoverlookedthefrontofthepremisesandthevalleyoftheheathbeyond.Thelowestbeamsofthewintersunthrewtheshadowofthehouseoverthepalings,acrossthegrassmarginoftheheath,andfarupthevale,wherethechimneyoutlinesandthoseofthesurroundingtree-topsstretchedforthinlongdarkprongs.

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