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- Джордж Элиот
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- Стр. 191/572
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1st
Gent
.
All
times
are
good
to
seek
your
wedded
homeBringing
a
mutual
delight
.
2d
Gent
.
Why
,
true
.
The
calendar
hath
not
an
evil
dayFor
souls
made
one
by
love
,
and
even
deathWere
sweetness
,
if
it
came
like
rolling
wavesWhile
they
two
clasped
each
other
,
and
foresawNo
life
apart
.
Mr
.
and
Mrs
.
Casaubon
,
returning
from
their
wedding
journey
,
arrived
at
Lowick
Manor
in
the
middle
of
January
.
A
light
snow
was
falling
as
they
descended
at
the
door
,
and
in
the
morning
,
when
Dorothea
passed
from
her
dressing
-
room
avenue
the
blue
-
green
boudoir
that
we
know
of
,
she
saw
the
long
avenue
of
limes
lifting
their
trunks
from
a
white
earth
,
and
spreading
white
branches
against
the
dun
and
motionless
sky
.
The
distant
flat
shrank
in
uniform
whiteness
and
low
-
hanging
uniformity
of
cloud
.
The
very
furniture
in
the
room
seemed
to
have
shrunk
since
she
saw
it
before
:
the
slag
in
the
tapestry
looked
more
like
a
ghost
in
his
ghostly
blue
-
green
world
;
the
volumes
of
polite
literature
in
the
bookcase
looked
morn
like
immovable
imitations
of
books
.
The
bright
fire
of
dry
oak
-
boughs
burning
on
the
dogs
seemed
an
incongruous
renewal
of
life
and
glow
—
like
the
figure
of
Dorothea
herself
as
she
entered
carrying
the
red
-
leather
cases
containing
the
cameos
for
Celia
.
She
was
glowing
from
her
morning
toilet
as
only
healthful
youth
can
glow
:
there
was
gem
-
like
brightness
on
her
coiled
hair
and
in
her
hazel
eyes
;
there
was
warm
red
life
in
her
lips
;
her
throat
had
a
breathing
whiteness
above
the
differing
white
of
the
fur
which
itself
seemed
to
wind
about
her
neck
and
cling
down
her
blue
-
gray
pelisse
with
a
tenderness
gathered
from
her
own
,
a
sentient
commingled
innocence
which
kept
its
loveliness
against
the
crystalline
purity
of
the
outdoor
snow
.
As
she
laid
the
cameo
-
cases
on
the
table
in
the
bow
-
window
,
she
unconsciously
kept
her
hands
on
them
,
immediately
absorbed
in
looking
out
on
the
still
,
white
enclosure
which
made
her
visible
world
.
Mr
.
Casaubon
,
who
had
risen
early
complaining
of
palpitation
,
was
in
the
library
giving
audience
to
his
curate
Mr
.
Tucker
.
By
-
and
-
by
Celia
would
come
in
her
quality
of
bridesmaid
as
well
as
sister
,
and
through
the
next
weeks
there
would
be
wedding
visits
received
and
given
;
all
in
continuance
of
that
transitional
life
understood
to
correspond
with
the
excitement
of
bridal
felicity
,
and
keeping
up
the
sense
of
busy
ineffectiveness
,
as
of
a
dream
which
the
dreamer
begins
to
suspect
.
The
duties
of
her
married
life
,
contemplated
as
so
great
beforehand
,
seemed
to
be
shrinking
with
the
furniture
and
the
white
vapor
-
walled
landscape
.
The
clear
heights
where
she
expected
to
walk
in
full
communion
had
become
difficult
to
see
even
in
her
imagination
;
the
delicious
repose
of
the
soul
on
a
complete
superior
had
been
shaken
into
uneasy
effort
and
alarmed
with
dim
presentiment
.
When
would
the
days
begin
of
that
active
wifely
devotion
which
was
to
strengthen
her
husband
’
s
life
and
exalt
her
own
?
Never
perhaps
,
as
she
had
preconceived
them
;
but
somehow
—
still
somehow
.
In
this
solemnly
pledged
union
of
her
life
,
duty
would
present
itself
in
some
new
form
of
inspiration
and
give
a
new
meaning
to
wifely
love
.
Meanwhile
there
was
the
snow
and
the
low
arch
of
dun
vapor
—
there
was
the
stifling
oppression
of
that
gentlewoman
’
s
world
,
where
everything
was
done
for
her
and
none
asked
for
her
aid
—
where
the
sense
of
connection
with
a
manifold
pregnant
existence
had
to
be
kept
up
painfully
as
an
inward
vision
,
instead
of
coming
from
without
in
claims
that
would
have
shaped
her
energies
.
—
"
What
shall
I
do
?
"
"
Whatever
you
please
,
my
dear
:
"
that
had
been
her
brief
history
since
she
had
left
off
learning
morning
lessons
and
practising
silly
rhythms
on
the
hated
piano
.
Marriage
,
which
was
to
bring
guidance
into
worthy
and
imperative
occupation
,
had
not
yet
freed
her
from
the
gentlewoman
’
s
oppressive
liberty
:
it
had
not
even
filled
her
leisure
with
the
ruminant
joy
of
unchecked
tenderness
.
Her
blooming
full
-
pulsed
youth
stood
there
in
a
moral
imprisonment
which
made
itself
one
with
the
chill
,
colorless
,
narrowed
landscape
,
with
the
shrunken
furniture
,
the
never
-
read
books
,
and
the
ghostly
stag
in
a
pale
fantastic
world
that
seemed
to
be
vanishing
from
the
daylight
.
In
the
first
minutes
when
Dorothea
looked
out
she
felt
nothing
but
the
dreary
oppression
;
then
came
a
keen
remembrance
,
and
turning
away
from
the
window
she
walked
round
the
room
.
The
ideas
and
hopes
which
were
living
in
her
mind
when
she
first
saw
this
room
nearly
three
months
before
were
present
now
only
as
memories
:
she
judged
them
as
we
judge
transient
and
departed
things
.
All
existence
seemed
to
beat
with
a
lower
pulse
than
her
own
,
and
her
religious
faith
was
a
solitary
cry
,
the
struggle
out
of
a
nightmare
in
which
every
object
was
withering
and
shrinking
away
from
her
.
Each
remembered
thing
in
the
room
was
disenchanted
,
was
deadened
as
an
unlit
transparency
,
till
her
wandering
gaze
came
to
the
group
of
miniatures
,
and
there
at
last
she
saw
something
which
had
gathered
new
breath
and
meaning
:
it
was
the
miniature
of
Mr
.
Casaubon
’
s
aunt
Julia
,
who
had
made
the
unfortunate
marriage
—
of
Will
Ladislaw
’
s
grandmother
.
Dorothea
could
fancy
that
it
was
alive
now
—
the
delicate
woman
’
s
face
which
yet
had
a
headstrong
look
,
a
peculiarity
difficult
to
interpret
.
Was
it
only
her
friends
who
thought
her
marriage
unfortunate
?
or
did
she
herself
find
it
out
to
be
a
mistake
,
and
taste
the
salt
bitterness
of
her
tears
in
the
merciful
silence
of
the
night
?
What
breadths
of
experience
Dorothea
seemed
to
have
passed
over
since
she
first
looked
at
this
miniature
!
She
felt
a
new
companionship
with
it
,
as
if
it
had
an
ear
for
her
and
could
see
how
she
was
looking
at
it
.
Here
was
a
woman
who
had
known
some
difficulty
about
marriage
.
Nay
,
the
colors
deepened
,
the
lips
and
chin
seemed
to
get
larger
,
the
hair
and
eyes
seemed
to
be
sending
out
light
,
the
face
was
masculine
and
beamed
on
her
with
that
full
gaze
which
tells
her
on
whom
it
falls
that
she
is
too
interesting
for
the
slightest
movement
of
her
eyelid
to
pass
unnoticed
and
uninterpreted
.
The
vivid
presentation
came
like
a
pleasant
glow
to
Dorothea
:
she
felt
herself
smiling
,
and
turning
from
the
miniature
sat
down
and
looked
up
as
if
she
were
again
talking
to
a
figure
in
front
of
her
.
But
the
smile
disappeared
as
she
went
on
meditating
,
and
at
last
she
said
aloud
—
