Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XVIII

           

           ThesenseofanindefinableinterrogationinOwen’smindmadeher,asshespoke,fixhereyessteadilyonDarrow.

           Hehadpausedjustoppositethewindow,sothat,evenintherainyafternoonlight,hisfacewasclearlyopentoherscrutiny.Forasecond,immensesurprisewasalonevisibleonit:sovisiblethatshehalfturnedtoherstep-son,withafaintsmileforhisrefutedsuspicions.Why,shewondered,shouldOwenhavethoughtthatDarrowhadalreadyguessedhissecret,andwhat,afterall,couldbesodisturbingtohiminthisnotimprobablecontingency?Atanyrate,hisdoubtmusthavebeendispelled:therewasnothingfeignedaboutDarrow’sastonishment.WhenhereyesturnedbacktohimhewasalreadycrossingtoOwenwithoutstretchedhand,andshehad,throughanunaccountablefaintflutterofmisgiving,amereconfusedsenseoftheirexchangingthecustomaryphrases.HernextperceptionwasofOwen’stranquillizedlook,andofhissmilingreturnofDarrow’scongratulatorygrasp.Shehadtheeeriefeelingofhavingbeenoversweptbyashadowwhichtherehadbeennocloudtocast...

           AmomentlaterOwenhadlefttheroomandsheandDarrowwerealone.Hehadturnedawaytothewindowandstoodstaringoutintothedown-pour.

           “You’resurprisedatOwen’snews?”sheasked.

           “Yes:Iamsurprised,”heanswered.

           “Youhadn’tthoughtofitsbeingMissViner?”

           “WhyshouldIhavethoughtofMissViner?”

           “YouseenowwhyIwantedsomuchtofindoutwhatyouknewabouther

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