Мидлмарч

           ElseIshouldgivehimourownbottleo’rumaswekeepbyus.Butasitter-upsoasyou’vebeen,anddoingeverythingaslaidinyourpower—"

           Hereakeywasthrustthroughtheinchofdoorway,andMr.Bulstrodesaidhuskily,"Thatisthekeyofthewine-cooler.Youwillfindplentyofbrandythere."

           Earlyinthemorning—aboutsix—Mr.Bulstroderoseandspentsometimeinprayer.Doesanyonesupposethatprivateprayerisnecessarilycandid—necessarilygoestotherootsofaction?Privateprayerisinaudiblespeech,andspeechisrepresentative:whocanrepresenthimselfjustasheis,eveninhisownreflections?Bulstrodehadnotyetunravelledinhisthoughttheconfusedpromptingsofthelastfour-and-twentyhours.

           Helistenedinthepassage,andcouldhearhardstertorousbreathing.Thenhewalkedoutinthegarden,andlookedattheearlyrimeonthegrassandfreshspringleaves.Whenhere-enteredthehouse,hefeltstartledatthesightofMrs.Abel.

           "Howisyourpatient—asleep,Ithink?"hesaid,withanattemptatcheerfulnessinhistone.

           "He’sgoneverydeep,sir,"saidMrs.Abel."Hewentoffgradualbetweenthreeandfouro’clock.Wouldyoupleasetogoandlookathim?Ithoughtitnoharmtoleavehim.Myman’sgoneafield,andthelittlegirl’sseeingtothekettles."

           Bulstrodewentup.