Возвращение на родину

IX. Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy

           

           Wildevewalkedapaceortwoamongtheheatherwithoutreplying.Thepausewasfilledupbytheintonationofapollardthornalittlewaytowindward,thebreezesfilteringthroughitsunyieldingtwigsasthroughastrainer.Itwasasifthenightsangdirgeswithclenchedteeth.

           Shecontinued,halfsorrowfully,“Sincemeetingyoulast,ithasoccurredtomeonceortwicethatperhapsitwasnotforloveofmeyoudidnotmarryher.Tellme,Damon—I’lltrytobearit.HadInothingwhatevertodowiththematter?”

           “Doyoupressmetotell?”

           “Yes,Imustknow.IseeIhavebeentooreadytobelieveinmyownpower.”

           “Well,theimmediatereasonwasthatthelicensewouldnotdofortheplace,andbeforeIcouldgetanothersheranaway.Uptothatpointyouhadnothingtodowithit.SincethenheraunthasspokentomeinatonewhichIdon’tatalllike.”

           “Yes,yes!Iamnothinginit—Iamnothinginit.Youonlytriflewithme.Heaven,whatcanI,EustaciaVye,bemadeoftothinksomuchofyou!”

           “Nonsense;donotbesopassionate....Eustacia,howwerovedamongthesebusheslastyear,whenthehotdayshadgotcool,andtheshadesofthehillskeptusalmostinvisibleinthehollows!”

           Sheremainedinmoodysilencetillshesaid,“Yes;andhowIusedtolaughatyoufordaringtolookuptome!Butyouhavewellmademesufferforthatsince.”

           “Yes,youservedmecruellyenoughuntilIthoughtIhadfoundsomeonefairerthanyou.Ablessedfindforme,Eustacia.”

           “Doyoustillthinkyoufoundsomebodyfairer?”

           “SometimesIdo,sometimesIdon’t.

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