Мідлмарч

Chapter 62

           Theworld,itseemed,wasturninguglyandhateful,andtherewasnoplaceforhertrustfulness."Itisnottrue—itisnottrue!"wasthevoicewithinherthatshelistenedto;butallthewhilearemembrancetowhichtherehadalwaysclungavagueuneasinesswouldthrustitselfonherattention—theremembranceofthatdaywhenshehadfoundWillLadislawwithMrs.Lydgate,andhadheardhisvoiceaccompaniedbythepiano.

           "HesaidhewouldneverdoanythingthatIdisapproved—IwishIcouldhavetoldhimthatIdisapprovedofthat,"saidpoorDorothea,inwardly,feelingastrangealternationbetweenangerwithWillandthepassionatedefenceofhim."Theyalltrytoblackenhimbeforeme;butIwillcarefornopain,ifheisnottoblame.Ialwaysbelievedhewasgood."—Thesewereherlastthoughtsbeforeshefeltthatthecarriagewaspassingunderthearchwayofthelodge-gateattheGrange,whenshehurriedlypressedherhandkerchieftoherfaceandbegantothinkofhererrands.Thecoachmanbeggedleavetotakeoutthehorsesforhalfanhourastherewassomethingwrongwithashoe;andDorothea,havingthesensethatshewasgoingtorest,tookoffherglovesandbonnet,whileshewasleaningagainstastatueintheentrance-hall,andtalkingtothehousekeeper.Atlastshesaid—

           "Imuststayherealittle,Mrs.Kell.Iwillgointothelibraryandwriteyousomememorandafrommyuncle’sletter,ifyouwillopentheshuttersforme.

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