Поллианна
John Pendleton
Themanwincedalittleatthetoneofhervoice; buthisownvoicewasstillimpersonallycoolwhenhespokeagain. "Yes. Iwantedtoadopther—legally,youunderstand; makinghermyheir,ofcourse."
Thewomanintheoppositechairrelaxedalittle. Itcametoher,suddenly,whatabrilliantfutureitwouldhavemeantforPollyanna—thisadoption; andshewonderedifPollyannawereoldenoughandmercenaryenough—tobetemptedbythisman’smoneyandposition.
"IamveryfondofPollyanna,"themanwascontinuing. "Iamfondofherbothforherownsake,andfor—hermother’s. IstoodreadytogivePollyannathelovethathadbeentwenty-fiveyearsinstorage."
"LOVE." MissPollyrememberedsuddenlywhySHEhadtakenthischildinthefirstplace—andwiththerecollectioncametheremembranceofPollyanna’sownwordsutteredthatverymorning:"Ilovetobecalled‘dear’byfolksthatbelongtoyou!" Anditwasthislove-hungrylittlegirlthathadbeenofferedthestored-upaffectionoftwenty-fiveyears:—andshewasoldenoughtobetemptedbylove! WithasinkingheartMissPollyrealizedthat. Withasinkingheart,too,sherealizedsomethingelse:thedrearinessofherownfuturenowwithoutPollyanna.
"Well?"shesaid. Andtheman,recognizingtheself-controlthatvibratedthroughtheharshnessofthetone,smiledsadly.
"Shewouldnotcome,"heanswered.
"Why?"
"Shewouldnotleaveyou. Shesaidyouhadbeensogoodtoher. Shewantedtostaywithyou—andshesaidsheTHOUGHTyouwantedhertostay,"hefinished,ashepulledhimselftohisfeet.