Лето

           ”Hefixedhissterneyesonher,andshehadthesensethatthestrugglewithinhimwasatitshighest.“Doyouwanthimtomarryyou?”heasked.

           Theystoodandlookedateachotherforalongmoment,eyetoeye,withtheterribleequalityofcouragethatsometimesmadeherfeelasifshehadhisbloodinherveins.

           “Doyouwanthimto—say?I’llhavehimhereinanhourifyoudo.Iain’tbeeninthelawthirtyyearsfornothing.He’shiredCarrickFry’steamtotakehimtoHepburn,butheain’tgoingtostartforanotherhour.AndIcanputthingstohimsohewon’tbelongdeciding....He’ssoft:Icouldseethat.Idon’tsayyouwon’tbesorryafterward—but,byGod,I’llgiveyouthechancetobe,ifyousayso.”

           Sheheardhimoutinsilence,tooremotefromallhewasfeelingandsayingforanysallyofscorntorelieveher.Asshelistened,thereflittedthroughhermindthevisionofLiffHyatt’smuddybootcomingdownonthewhitebramble-flowers.Thesamethinghadhappenednow;somethingtransientandexquisitehadfloweredinher,andshehadstoodbyandseenittrampledtoearth.WhilethethoughtpassedthroughhershewasawareofMr.Royall,stillleaningagainstthedoor,butcrestfallen,diminished,asthoughhersilenceweretheanswerhemostdreaded.

           “Idon’twantanychanceyoucangiveme:I’mgladhe’sgoingaway,”shesaid.

           Hekepthisplaceamomentlonger,hishandonthedoor-knob.“Charity!”hepleaded.Shemadenoanswer,andheturnedtheknobandwentout.Sheheardhimfumblewiththelatchofthefrontdoor,andsawhimwalkdownthesteps.