Мидлмарч

Chapter 80

           

           Andthere,aloof,yetpersistentlywithher,movingwherevershemoved,wastheWillLadislaw’whowasachangedbeliefexhaustedofhope,adetectedillusion—no,alivingmantowardswhomtherecouldnotyetstruggleanywailofregretfulpity,fromthemidstofscornandindignationandjealousoffendedpride.ThefireofDorothea’sangerwasnoteasilyspent,anditflamedoutinfitfulreturnsofspurningreproach.Whyhadhecomeobtrudinghislifeintohers,hersthatmighthavebeenwholeenoughwithouthim?Whyhadhebroughthischeapregardandhislip-bornwordstoherwhohadnothingpaltrytogiveinexchange?Heknewthathewasdeludingher—wished,intheverymomentoffarewell,tomakeherbelievethathegaveherthewholepriceofherheart,andknewthathehadspentithalfbefore.Whyhadhenotstayedamongthecrowdofwhomsheaskednothing—butonlyprayedthattheymightbelesscontemptible?

           Butshelostenergyatlastevenforherloud-whisperedcriesandmoans:shesubsidedintohelplesssobs,andonthecoldfloorshesobbedherselftosleep.

           Inthechillhoursofthemorningtwilight,whenallwasdimaroundher,sheawoke—notwithanyamazedwonderingwhereshewasorwhathadhappened,butwiththeclearestconsciousnessthatshewaslookingintotheeyesofsorrow.Sherose,andwrappedwarmthingsaroundher,andseated

           herselfinagreatchairwhereshehadoftenwatchedbefore.

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