Мідлмарч

Chapter 80

           "There’sareasoninmourning,asI’vealwayssaid;andthreefoldsatthebottomofyourskirtandaplainquillinginyourbonnetandifeveranybodylookedlikeanangel,it’syouinanetquillingiswhat’sconsistentforasecondyear.Atleast,that’sMYthinking,"endedTantripp,lookinganxiouslyatthefire;"andifanybodywastomarrymeflatteringhimselfIshouldwearthosehijeousweeperstwoyearsforhim,he’dbedeceivedbyhisownvanity,that’sall."

           "Thefirewilldo,mygoodTan,"saidDorothea,speakingassheusedtodointheoldLausannedays,onlywithaverylowvoice;"getmethecoffee."

           Shefoldedherselfinthelargechair,andleanedherheadagainstitinfatiguedquiescence,whileTantrippwentawaywonderingatthisstrangecontrarinessinheryoungmistressthatjustthemorningwhenshehadmoreofawidow’sfacethanever,sheshouldhaveaskedforherlightermourningwhichshehadwaivedbefore.Tantrippwouldneverhavefoundtheclewtothismystery.Dorotheawishedtoacknowledgethatshehadnotthelessanactivelifebeforeherbecauseshehadburiedaprivatejoy;andthetraditionthatfreshgarmentsbelongedtoallinitiation,hauntinghermind,madehergraspaftereventhatslightoutwardhelptowardscalmresolve.Fortheresolvewasnoteasy

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