Пробний камінь
II
Hewastiredofheralready—hewasalwaystiredofher—yethewasnotsurethathewantedhertogo.
“Imayneverseeyouagain,”hesaid,asthoughconfidentlyappealingtohercompassion.
Herlookenvelopedhim.“AndIshallseeyoualways—always!”
“Whygothen—?”escapedhim.
“Tobeneareryou,”sheanswered;andthewordsdismissedhimlikeaclosingdoor.
Thedoorwasnevertoreopen;butthroughitsnarrowcrackGlennard,astheyearswenton,becamemoreandmoreconsciousofaninextinguishablelightdirectingitssmallraytowardthepastwhichconsumedsolittleofhisowncommemorativeoil.ThereproachwastakenfromthisthoughtbyMrs.Aubyn’sgradualtranslationintotermsofuniversality.InbecomingapersonageshesonaturallyceasedtobeapersonthatGlennardcouldalmostlookbacktohisexplorationsofherspiritasonavisittosomefamousshrine,immortalized,butinasensedesecrated,bypopularveneration.
Herletters,fromLondon,continuedtocomewiththesametenderpunctuality;butthealteredconditionsofherlife,thevistasofnewrelationshipsdisclosedbyeveryphrase,madehercommunicationsasimpersonalasapieceofjournalism.Itwasasthoughthestate,theworld,indeed,hadtakenheroffhishands,assumingthemaintenanceofatemperamentthathadlongexhaustedhisslenderstoreofreciprocity.
Intheretrospectivelightshedbythelettershewasblindedtotheirspecificmeaning.
