Возвращение на родину

I. Tidings of the Comer

           

           “Yes.Poormaid,herhearthasachedenoughaboutit.Herhealthissufferingfromit,Ihear,forshewillbideentirelyindoors.Weneverseeheroutnow,scamperingoverthefurzewithafaceasredasarose,assheusedtodo.”

           “I’veheardshewouldn’thaveWildevenowifheaskedher.”

           “Youhave?’Tisnewstome.”

           Whilethefurze-gatherershaddesultorilyconversedthusEustacia’sfacegraduallybenttothehearthinaprofoundreverie,hertoeunconsciouslytappingthedryturfwhichlayburningatherfeet.

           Thesubjectoftheirdiscoursehadbeenkeenlyinterestingtoher.Ayoungandclevermanwascomingintothatlonelyheathfrom,ofallcontrastingplacesintheworld,Paris.Itwaslikeamancomingfromheaven.Moresingularstill,theheathmenhadinstinctivelycoupledherandthismantogetherintheirmindsasapairbornforeachother.

           ThatfiveminutesofoverhearingfurnishedEustaciawithvisionsenoughtofillthewholeblankafternoon.Suchsuddenalternationsfrommentalvacuitydosometimesoccurthusquietly.Shecouldneverhavebelievedinthemorningthathercolourlessinnerworldwouldbeforenightbecomeasanimatedaswaterunderamicroscope,andthatwithoutthearrivalofasinglevisitor.ThewordsofSamandHumphreyontheharmonybetweentheunknownandherselfhadonhermindtheeffectoftheinvadingBard’spreludeintheCastleofIndolence,atwhichmyriadsofimprisonedshapesarosewherehadpreviouslyappearedthestillnessofavoid.

           Involvedintheseimaginingssheknewnothingoftime.Whenshebecameconsciousofexternalsitwasdusk

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