Сестра Керри

Chapter XIX. An Hour In Elfland: A Clamour Half Heard

           ItwasthefirsttimethatHurstwoodhadhadachancetoseeherfacingtheaudiencequitealone,fornowhereelsehadshebeenwithoutafoilofsomesort.Hesuddenlyfelt,assheentered,thatheroldstrength—thepowerthathadgraspedhimattheendofthefirstact—hadcomeback.Sheseemedtobegainingfeeling,nowthattheplaywasdrawingtoacloseandtheopportunityforgreatactionwaspassing.

           “PoorPearl,”shesaid,speakingwithnaturalpathos.“Itisasadthingtowantforhappiness,butitisaterriblethingtoseeanothergropingaboutblindlyforit,whenitisalmostwithinthegrasp.”

           Shewasgazingnowsadlyoutupontheopensea,herarmrestinglistlesslyuponthepolisheddoor-post.

           Hurstwoodbegantofeeladeepsympathyforherandforhimself.Hecouldalmostfeelthatshewastalkingtohim.Hewas,byacombinationoffeelingsandentanglements,almostdeludedbythatqualityofvoiceandmannerwhich,likeapatheticstrainofmusic,seemseverapersonalandintimatething.Pathoshasthisquality,thatitseemseveraddressedtoonealone.

           “Andyet,shecanbeveryhappywithhim,”wentonthelittleactress.“Hersunnytemper,herjoyousfacewillbrightenanyhome.”

           Sheturnedslowlytowardtheaudiencewithoutseeing.Therewassomuchsimplicityinhermovementsthatsheseemedwhollyalone.Thenshefoundaseatbyatable,andturnedoversomebooks,devotingathoughttothem.

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