Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XI

           Youreachbackandtakeeverything—backtothefirstdaysofall.”

           Shefrownedalittle,asifstrugglingwithaninarticulateperplexity.“It’scurioushow,inthosefirstdays,too,somethingthatIdidn’tunderstandcamebetweenus.”

           “Oh,inthosedaysweneitherofusunderstood,didwe?It’spartofwhat’scalledtheblissofbeingyoung.”

           “Yes,Ithoughtthat,too:thoughtit,Imean,inlookingback.Butitcouldn’t,eventhen,havebeenastrueofyouasofme;andnow——”

           “Now,”hesaid,“theonlythingthatmattersisthatwe’resittingheretogether.”

           Hedismissedtherestwithalightnessthatmighthaveseemedconclusiveevidenceofherpoweroverhim.Butshetooknoprideinsuchtriumphs.Itseemedtoherthatshewantedhisallegianceandhisadorationnotsomuchforherselfasfortheirmutuallove,andthatintreatinglightlyanypastphaseoftheirrelationhetooksomethingfromitspresentbeauty.Thecolourrosetoherface.

           “Betweenyouandmeeverythingmatters.”

           “Ofcourse!”Shefelttheunperceivingsweetnessofhissmile.“That’swhy,”hewenton,“‘everything,’forme,ishereandnow:onthisbench,betweenyouandme.”

           Shecaughtatthephrase.“That’swhatImeant:it’shereandnow;wecan’tgetawayfromit.”

           “Getawayfromit?Doyouwantto?again?”

           Herheartwasbeatingunsteadily.Somethinginher,fitfullyandwithreluctance,struggledtofreeitself,butthewarmthofhisnearnesspenetratedeverysenseasthesunlightsteepedthelandscape.

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