Риф, або Там, де розбивається щастя

XVI

           Presentlyhernurseappeared,andAnnaroseatthesametime.“Stopaminuteinmysitting-roomonyourwayup,”shepausedtosaytoDarrowasshewent.

           Afewhoursearlier,herrequestwouldhavebroughthiminstantlytohisfeet.Shehadgivenhim,onthedayofhisarrival,aninvitingglimpseofthespaciousbook-linedroomabovestairsinwhichshehadgatheredtogetherallthetokensofherpersonaltastes:theretreatinwhich,asonemightfancy,AnnaLeathhadhiddentherestlessghostofAnnaSummers;andthethoughtofatalkwithhertherehadbeeninhismindeversince.Butnowhesatmotionless,asifspell-boundbytheplayofMadamedeChantelle’sneedlesandthepulsationsofOwen’sfitfulmusic.

           “Shewillwanttoaskmeaboutthegirl,”herepeatedtohimself,withafreshsenseoftheinsidioustaintthatembitteredallhisthoughts;thehandoftheslender-columnedclockonthemantel-piecehadspannedahalf-hourbeforeshameathisownindecisionfinallydrewhimtohisfeet.

           Fromherwriting-table,whereshesatoverapileofletters,Annaliftedherhappysmile.Theimpulsetopresshislipstoitmadehimcomecloseanddrawherupward.Shethrewherheadback,asifsurprisedattheabruptnessofthegesture;thenherfaceleanedtohiswiththeslowdroopofaflower.Hefeltagainthesweepofthesecrettides,andallhisfearswentdowninthem.

           Shesatdowninthesofa-cornerbythefireandhedrewanarmchairclosetoher.Hisgazeroamedpeacefullyaboutthequietroom.

           “It’sjustlikeyou—itisyou,”hesaid,ashiseyescamebacktoher.

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