Тесс з роду д’Ербервілей

Chapter 44

           Still,tostartonabriskwalk,andonsuchanerrandashers,onadryclearwintrymorning,throughtherarefiedairofthesechalkyhogs’-backs,wasnotdepressing;andthereisnodoubtthatherdreamatstartingwastowintheheartofhermother-in-law,tellherwholehistorytothatlady,enlistheronherside,andsogainbackthetruant.

           IntimeshereachedtheedgeofthevastescarpmentbelowwhichstretchedtheloamyValeofBlackmoor,nowlyingmistyandstillinthedawn.Insteadofthecolourlessairoftheuplandstheatmospheredowntherewasadeepblue.Insteadofthegreatenclosuresofahundredacresinwhichshewasnowaccustomedtotoiltherewerelittlefieldsbelowheroflessthanhalf-a-dozenacres,sonumerousthattheylookedfromthisheightlikethemeshesofanet.Herethelandscapewaswhitey-brown;downthere,asinFroomValley,itwasalwaysgreen.Yetiswasinthatvalethathersorrowhadtakenshape,andshedidnotloveitasformerly.Beautytoher,astoallwhohavefelt,laynotinthething,butinwhatthethingsymbolized.

           KeepingtheValeonherrightshesteeredsteadilywestward;passingabovetheHintocks,crossingatright-anglesthehigh-roadfromSherton-AbbastoCasterbridge,andskirtingDogburyHillandHigh-Stoy,withthedellbetweenthemcalled“TheDevil’sKitchen”.StillfollowingtheelevatedwayshereachedCross-in-Hand,wherethestonepillarstandsdesolateandsilent,tomarkthesiteofamiracle,ormurder,orboth.

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