Мхи старої садиби
The Birthmark
Sheslowlyunclosedhereyesandgazedintothemirrorwhichherhusbandhadarrangedforthatpurpose.Afaintsmileflittedoverherlipswhensherecognizedhowbarelyperceptiblewasnowthatcrimsonhandwhichhadonceblazedforthwithsuchdisastrousbrilliancyastoscareawayalltheirhappiness.ButthenhereyessoughtAylmer’sfacewithatroubleandanxietythathecouldbynomeansaccountfor.
"MypoorAylmer!"murmuredshe.
"Poor?Nay,richest,happiest,mostfavored!"exclaimedhe."Mypeerlessbride,itissuccessful!Youareperfect!"
"MypoorAylmer,"sherepeated,withamorethanhumantenderness,"youhaveaimedloftily;youhavedonenobly.Donotrepentthatwithsohighandpureafeeling,youhaverejectedthebesttheearthcouldoffer.Aylmer,dearestAylmer,Iamdying!"
Alas!itwastootrue!Thefatalhandhadgrappledwiththemysteryoflife,andwasthebondbywhichanangelicspiritkeptitselfinunionwithamortalframe.Asthelastcrimsontintofthebirthmark—thatsoletokenofhumanimperfection—fadedfromhercheek,thepartingbreathofthenowperfectwomanpassedintotheatmosphere,andhersoul,lingeringamomentnearherhusband,tookitsheavenwardflight.Thenahoarse,chucklinglaughwasheardagain!Thuseverdoesthegrossfatalityofearthexultinitsinvariabletriumphovertheimmortalessencewhich,inthisdimsphereofhalfdevelopment,demandsthecompletenessofahigherstate.Yet,hadAlymerreachedaprofounderwisdom,heneednotthushaveflungawaythehappinesswhichwouldhavewovenhismortallifeoftheselfsametexturewiththecelestial
