Тяжкі часи

Rachael

           Thouartnotthemantocastthelaststone,Stephen,whensheisbroughtsolow.’

           ‘ORachael,Rachael!’

           ‘Thouhastbeenacruelsufferer,Heavenrewardthee!’shesaid,incompassionateaccents.‘Iamthypoorfriend,withallmyheartandmind.’

           Thewoundsofwhichshehadspoken,seemedtobeabouttheneckoftheself-madeoutcast.Shedressedthemnow,stillwithoutshowingher.Shesteepedapieceoflineninabasin,intowhichshepouredsomeliquidfromabottle,andlaiditwithagentlehanduponthesore.Thethree-leggedtablehadbeendrawnclosetothebedside,andonitthereweretwobottles.Thiswasone.

           Itwasnotsofaroff,butthatStephen,followingherhandswithhiseyes,couldreadwhatwasprintedonitinlargeletters.Heturnedofadeadlyhue,andasuddenhorrorseemedtofalluponhim.

           ‘Iwillstayhere,Stephen,’saidRachael,quietlyresumingherseat,‘tillthebellsgoThree.’Tistobedoneagainatthree,andthenshemaybelefttillmorning.’

           ‘Butthyrestagento-morrow’swork,mydear.’

           ‘Isleptsoundlastnight.Icanwakemanynights,whenIamputtoit.’Tisthouwhoartinneedofrestsowhiteandtired.Trytosleepinthechairthere,whileIwatch.Thouhadstnosleeplastnight,Icanwellbelieve.To-morrow’sworkisfarharderfortheethanforme.’

           Heheardthethunderingandsurgingoutofdoors,anditseemedtohimasifhislateangrymoodweregoingabouttryingtogetathim.Shehadcastitout;shewouldkeepitout;hetrustedtohertodefendhimfromhimself.

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