Американська трагедія

Chapter 8

           Andhewhisperingtoherhowhappyhewas,howgratefulforallherloveandfaith,andatonepointalmosttemptedtoaskwhetherincaseitshouldeverappearthathewasnotasgoodasshenowseemedtoimaginehim,shewouldstilllovehimalittle—nothatehimentirely—yetrefrainingforfearthatafterthatexhibitionofterrortheprecedingnightshemightconnecthispresentmoodwiththat,orsomehowwiththehorrible,destructivesecretthatwasgnawingathisvitals.

           Andthenafterwards,lyinginthefour-cottentwithBaggott,HarrietandGrant,listeningnervouslyforhoursforanyprowlingstepsthatmightmean—thatmightmean—God—whatmighttheynotmeanevenuphere?—thelaw!arrest!exposure!Death.Andwakingtwiceinthenightoutofdread,destructivedreams—andfeelingasthough—andfearing—thathehadcriedoutinhissleep.

           Butthenthegloryofthemorningoncemore—withitsrotundandyellowsunrisingoverthewatersofthelake—andinacoveacrossthelakewildduckspaddlingabout.AndafteratimeGrantandStuartandHarley,half-cladandwithgunsandagreatshowoffowlingskill,foolishlysettingforthincanoesinthehopeofbaggingsomeofthegamewithlongdistanceshots,yetgettingnothing,tothemerrimentofalltheothers.Andtheboysandgirls,stealingoutinbright-coloredbathingsuitsandsilkenbeachrobestothewater,theretoplungegaylyinandshoutandclatterconcerningthejoyofitall.

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