Сестра Керри

Chapter XI. The Persuasion Of Fashion: Feeling Guards O’er Its Own

           Carriehearditthroughtheopendoorfromtheparlourbelow.Itwasatthathourbetweenafternoonandnightwhen,fortheidle,thewanderer,thingsareapttotakeonawistfulaspect.Themindwandersforthonfarjourneysandreturnswithsheavesofwitheredanddepartedjoys.Carriesatatherwindowlookingout.Drouethadbeenawaysinceteninthemorning.Shehadamusedherselfwithawalk,abookbyBerthaM.ClaywhichDrouethadleftthere,thoughshedidnotwhollyenjoythelatter,andbychangingherdressfortheevening.Nowshesatlookingoutacrosstheparkaswistfulanddepressedasthenaturewhichcravesvarietyandlifecanbeundersuchcircumstances.Asshecontemplatedhernewstate,thestrainfromtheparlourbelowstoleupward.Withitherthoughtsbecamecolouredandenmeshed.Sherevertedtothethingswhichwerebestandsaddestwithinthesmalllimitofherexperience.Shebecameforthemomentarepentant.

           WhileshewasinthismoodDrouetcamein,bringingwithhimanentirelydifferentatmosphere.ItwasduskandCarriehadneglectedtolightthelamp.Thefireinthegrate,too,hadburnedlow.

           “Whereareyou,Cad?”hesaid,usingapetnamehehadgivenher.

           “Here,”sheanswered.

           Therewassomethingdelicateandlonelyinhervoice,buthecouldnothearit.Hehadnotthepoetryinhimthatwouldseekawomanoutundersuchcircumstancesandconsoleherforthetragedyoflife.Instead,hestruckamatchandlightedthegas.

           “Hello,”heexclaimed,“you’vebeencrying.”

           Hereyeswerestillwetwithafewvaguetears.

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