Мхи старой усадьбы
Roger Malvin's Burial
"FortheloveofHeaven,Reuben,speaktome!"criedDorcas;andthestrangesoundofherownvoiceaffrightedherevenmorethanthedeadsilence.
Herhusbandstarted,staredintoherface,drewhertothefrontoftherock,andpointedwithhisfinger.
Oh,therelaytheboy,asleep,butdreamless,uponthefallenforestleaves!Hischeekresteduponhisarm—hiscurledlockswerethrownbackfromhisbrow—hislimbswereslightlyrelaxed.Hadasuddenwearinessovercometheyouthfulhunter?Wouldhismother’svoicearousehim?Sheknewthatitwasdeath.
"Thisbroadrockisthegravestoneofyournearkindred,Dorcas,"saidherhusband."Yourtearswillfallatonceoveryourfatherandyourson."
Sheheardhimnot.Withonewildshriek,thatseemedtoforceitswayfromthesufferer’sinmostsoul,shesankinsensiblebythesideofherdeadboy.Atthatmomentthewitheredtopmostboughoftheoaklooseneditselfinthestillyair,andfellinsoft,lightfragmentsupontherock,upontheleaves,uponReuben,uponhiswifeandchild,anduponRogerMalvin’sbones.ThenReuben’sheartwasstricken,andthetearsgushedoutlikewaterfromarock.Thevowthatthewoundedyouthhadmadetheblightedmanhadcometoredeem.Hissinwasexpiated,—thecursewasgonefromhim;andinthehourwhenhehadshedblooddearertohimthanhisown,aprayer,thefirstforyears,wentuptoHeavenfromthelipsofReubenBourne.
