Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXV

           Hemusthavebeenintenselyawareofwhathadbeengoingoninhermindsincehisreturn,yetwhenshehadattemptedtorevealittohimhehadturnedfromtherevelation.Shewasthereforemerelyfollowingthelinehehadtracedinbehaving,tillthefinalmomentcame,asthoughtherewerenothingmoretosay...

           Thatmomentseemedatlasttobeathandwhen,atherusualhourafterdinner,MadamedeChantellerosetogoupstairs.Shelingeredalittletobidgood-byetoDarrow,whomshewasnotlikelytoseeinthemorning;andheraffableallusionstohispromptreturnsoundedinAnna’searlikethenoteofdestiny.

           Acoldrainhadfallenallday,andforgreaterwarmthandintimacytheyhadgoneafterdinnertotheoak-room,shuttingoutthechillyvistaofthefartherdrawing-rooms.Theautumnwind,comingupfromtheriver,criedaboutthehousewithavoiceoflossandseparation;andAnnaandDarrowsatsilent,asiftheyfearedtobreakthehushthatshutthemin.Thesolitude,thefire-light,theharmonyofsofthangingsandolddimpictures,woveaboutthemaspellofsecuritythroughwhichAnnafelt,fardowninherheart,themuffledbeatofaninextinguishablebliss.Howcouldshehavethoughtthatthislastmomentwouldbethemomenttospeaktohim,whenitseemedtohavegatheredupintoitsflightallthescatteredsplendoursofherdream?

           

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