Мхи старой усадьбы
Roger Malvin's Burial
Nonepayagreaterregardtoarbitrarydivisionsoftimethanthosewhoareexcludedfromsociety;andDorcasmentioned,asiftheinformationwereofimportance,thatitwasnowthetwelfthofMay.Herhusbandstarted.
"ThetwelfthofMay!Ishouldrememberitwell,"mutteredhe,whilemanythoughtsoccasionedamomentaryconfusioninhismind."WhereamI?WhitheramIwandering?WheredidIleavehim?"
Dorcas,toowellaccustomedtoherhusband’swaywardmoodstonoteanypeculiarityofdemeanor,nowlaidasidethealmanacandaddressedhiminthatmournfultonewhichthetenderheartedappropriatetogriefslongcoldanddead.
"Itwasnearthistimeofthemonth,eighteenyearsago,thatmypoorfatherleftthisworldforabetter.Hehadakindarmtoholdhisheadandakindvoicetocheerhim,Reuben,inhislastmoments;andthethoughtofthefaithfulcareyoutookofhimhascomfortedmemanyatimesince.Oh,deathwouldhavebeenawfultoasolitarymaninawildplacelikethis!"
"PrayHeaven,Dorcas,"saidReuben,inabrokenvoice,—"prayHeaventhatneitherofusthreediessolitaryandliesunburiedinthishowlingwilderness!"Andhehastenedaway,leavinghertowatchthefirebeneaththegloomypines.
ReubenBourne’srapidpacegraduallyslackenedasthepang,unintentionallyinflictedbythewordsofDorcas,becamelessacute.Manystrangereflections,however,throngeduponhim;and,strayingonwardratherlikeasleepwalkerthanahunter,itwasattributabletonocareofhisownthathisdeviouscoursekepthiminthevicinityoftheencampment.
