Мхи старої садиби
The Birthmark
WiththemorningtwilightAylmeropenedhiseyesuponhiswife’sfaceandrecognizedthesymbolofimperfection;andwhentheysattogetherattheeveninghearthhiseyeswanderedstealthilytohercheek,andbeheld,flickeringwiththeblazeofthewoodfire,thespectralhandthatwrotemortalitywherehewouldfainhaveworshipped.Georgianasoonlearnedtoshudderathisgaze.Itneededbutaglancewiththepeculiarexpressionthathisfaceoftenworetochangetherosesofhercheekintoadeathlikepaleness,amidwhichthecrimsonhandwasbroughtstronglyout,likeabass-reliefofrubyonthewhitestmarble.
Lateonenightwhenthelightsweregrowingdim,soashardlytobetraythestainonthepoorwife’scheek,sheherself,forthefirsttime,voluntarilytookupthesubject.
"Doyouremember,mydearAylmer,"saidshe,withafeebleattemptatasmile,"haveyouanyrecollectionofadreamlastnightaboutthisodioushand?"
"None!nonewhatever!"repliedAylmer,starting;butthenheadded,inadry,coldtone,affectedforthesakeofconcealingtherealdepthofhisemotion,"Imightwelldreamofit;forbeforeIfellasleepithadtakenaprettyfirmholdofmyfancy."
"Andyoudiddreamofit?"continuedGeorgiana,hastily;forshedreadedlestagushoftearsshouldinterruptwhatshehadtosay."Aterribledream!Iwonderthatyoucanforgetit.Isitpossibletoforgetthisoneexpression?—’Itisinherheartnow;wemusthaveitout!’Reflect,myhusband;forbyallmeansIwouldhaveyourecallthatdream.
