Тяжёлые времена

Rachael

           ButinthatmomentRachaelstartedupwithasuppressedcry.Thecreaturestruggled,struckher,seizedherbythehair;butRachaelhadthecup.

           Stephenbrokeoutofhischair.‘Rachael,amIwakin’ordreamin’thisdreadfo’night?’

           ‘’Tisallwell,Stephen.Ihavebeenasleep,myself.’Tisnearthree.Hush!Ihearthebells.’

           Thewindbroughtthesoundsofthechurchclocktothewindow.Theylistened,anditstruckthree.Stephenlookedather,sawhowpaleshewas,notedthedisorderofherhair,andtheredmarksoffingersonherforehead,andfeltassuredthathissensesofsightandhearinghadbeenawake.Sheheldthecupinherhandevennow.

           ‘Ithoughtitmustbenearthree,’shesaid,calmlypouringfromthecupintothebasin,andsteepingthelinenasbefore.‘IamthankfulIstayed!’Tisdonenow,whenIhaveputthison.There!Andnowshe’squietagain.ThefewdropsinthebasinI’llpouraway,for’tisbadstufftoleaveabout,thougheversolittleofit.’Asshespoke,shedrainedthebasinintotheashesofthefire,andbrokethebottleonthehearth.

           Shehadnothingtodo,then,buttocoverherselfwithhershawlbeforegoingoutintothewindandrain.

           ‘Thou’ltletmewalkwi’theeatthishour,Rachael?’

           ‘No,Stephen.’Tisbutaminute,andI’mhome.

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