Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXV

           Shewonderedthathecouldaddresshimselfsocomposedlytohistask,andthenironicallyreflectedthatsuchdetachmentwasasignofhissuperiority.Shecrossedthethresholdandwenttowardhim;butassheadvancedshehadasuddenvisionofOwen,standingoutsideinthecoldautumnduskandwatchingDarrowandSophyVinerastheyfacedeachotheracrossthelamplitdesk....Theevocationwassovividthatitcaughtherbreathlikeablow,andshesankdownhelplesslyonthedivanamongthepiled-upbooks.Distinctly,atthemoment,sheunderstoodthattheendhadcome.“WhenhespeakstomeIwilltellhim!”shethought...

           Darrow,layingasidehispen,lookedatherforamomentinsilence;thenhestoodupandshutthedoor.

           “Imustgoto-morrowearly,”hesaid,sittingdownbesideher.Hisvoicewasgrave,withaslighttingeofsadness.Shesaidtoherself:“HeknowswhatIamfeeling...”andnowthethoughtmadeherfeellessalone.Theexpressionofhisfacewassternandyettender:forthefirsttimesheunderstoodwhathehadsuffered.

           Shehadnodoubtastothenecessityofgivinghimup,butitwasimpossibletotellhimsothen.Shestoodupandsaid:“I’llleaveyoutoyourletters.”Hemadenoprotest,butmerelyanswered:“You’llcomedownpresentlyforawalk?”anditoccurredtoheratoncethatshewouldwalkdowntotheriverwithhim,andgiveherselfforthelasttimethetragicluxuryofsittingathissideinthelittlepavilion.“Perhaps,”shethought,“itwillbeeasiertotellhimthere.

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