Грозовий перевал
Chapter 22
Edgarhadbeenworsethanordinary,athingneverknownfromhisconfession,butguessedbothbyherandme,fromhisincreasedsilenceandthemelancholyofhiscountenance.Shewentsadlyon:therewasnorunningorboundingnow,thoughthechillwindmightwellhavetemptedhertorace.Andoften,fromthesideofmyeve,Icoulddetectherraisingahand,andbrushingsomethingoffhercheek.Igazedroundforameansofdivertingherthoughts.Ononesideoftheroadroseahigh,roughbank,wherehazelsandstuntedoaks,withtheirrootshalf-exposedhelduncertaintenure:thesoilwastoolooseforthelatter;andstrongwindshadblownsomenearlyhorizontal.Insummer,MissCatherinedelightedtoclimbalongthesetrunks,andsitinthebranches,swingingtwentyfeetabovetheground;andI,pleasedwithheragilityandherlight,childishheart,stillconsidereditpropertoscoldeverytimeIcaughtheratsuchanelevation,butsothatsheknewtherewasnonecessityfordescending.Fromdinnertoteashewouldlieinherbreeze-rockedcradle,doingnothingexceptsingingoldsongs—mynurserylore—toherself,orwatchingthebirds,jointtenants,feedandenticetheiryoungonestofly:ornestlingwithclosedlids,halfthinking,halfdreaming,happierthanwordscanexpress.
"Look,miss!"Iexclaimed,pointingtoanookundertherootsofonetwistedtree."Winterisnothereyet.There’salittleflowerupyonder,thelastbudfromthemultitudeofbluebellsthatcloudedthoseturfstepsinJulywithalilacmist.
