Літо
VII
Whenevershewasunhappyshefeltherselfatbayagainstapitilessworld,andakindofanimalsecretivenesspossessedher.Butthestreetwasempty,andshepassedunnoticedthroughthegateandupthepathtothehouse.Itswhitefrontglimmeredindistinctlythroughthetrees,showingonlyoneoblongoflightonthelowerfloor.ShehadsupposedthatthelampwasinMissHatchard’ssitting-room;butshenowsawthatitshonethroughawindowatthefarthercornerofthehouse.Shedidnotknowtheroomtowhichthiswindowbelonged,andshepausedunderthetrees,checkedbyasenseofstrangeness.Thenshemovedon,treadingsoftlyontheshortgrass,andkeepingsoclosetothehousethatwhoeverwasintheroom,evenifrousedbyherapproach,wouldnotbeabletoseeher.
Thewindowopenedonanarrowverandahwithatrellisedarch.Sheleanedclosetothetrellis,andpartingthespraysofclematisthatcovereditlookedintoacorneroftheroom.Shesawthefootofamahoganybed,anengravingonthewall,awash-standonwhichatowelhadbeentossed,andoneendofthegreen-coveredtablewhichheldthelamp.Halfofthelampshadeprojectedintoherfieldofvision,andjustunderittwosmoothsunburnthands,oneholdingapencilandtheotheraruler,weremovingtoandfrooveradrawing-board.
Herheartjumpedandthenstoodstill.Hewasthere,afewfeetaway;andwhilehersoulwastossingonseasofwoehehadbeenquietlysittingathisdrawing-board.Thesightofthosetwohands,movingwiththeirusualskillandprecision,wokeheroutofherdream.
