-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Элиот
-
- Мидлмарч
-
- Стр. 219/572
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
That
night
after
twelve
o
’
clock
Mary
Garth
relieved
the
watch
in
Mr
.
Featherstone
’
s
room
,
and
sat
there
alone
through
the
small
hours
.
She
often
chose
this
task
,
in
which
she
found
some
pleasure
,
notwithstanding
the
old
man
’
s
testiness
whenever
he
demanded
her
attentions
.
There
were
intervals
in
which
she
could
sit
perfectly
still
,
enjoying
the
outer
stillness
and
the
subdued
light
.
The
red
fire
with
its
gently
audible
movement
seemed
like
a
solemn
existence
calmly
independent
of
the
petty
passions
,
the
imbecile
desires
,
the
straining
after
worthless
uncertainties
,
which
were
daily
moving
her
contempt
.
Mary
was
fond
of
her
own
thoughts
,
and
could
amuse
herself
well
sitting
in
twilight
with
her
hands
in
her
lap
;
for
,
having
early
had
strong
reason
to
believe
that
things
were
not
likely
to
be
arranged
for
her
peculiar
satisfaction
,
she
wasted
no
time
in
astonishment
and
annoyance
at
that
fact
.
And
she
had
already
come
to
take
life
very
much
as
a
comedy
in
which
she
had
a
proud
,
nay
,
a
generous
resolution
not
to
act
the
mean
or
treacherous
part
.
Mary
might
have
become
cynical
if
she
had
not
had
parents
whom
she
honored
,
and
a
well
of
affectionate
gratitude
within
her
,
which
was
all
the
fuller
because
she
had
learned
to
make
no
unreasonable
claims
.
She
sat
to
-
night
revolving
,
as
she
was
wont
,
the
scenes
of
the
day
,
her
lips
often
curling
with
amusement
at
the
oddities
to
which
her
fancy
added
fresh
drollery
:
people
were
so
ridiculous
with
their
illusions
,
carrying
their
fool
’
s
caps
unawares
,
thinking
their
own
lies
opaque
while
everybody
else
’
s
were
transparent
,
making
themselves
exceptions
to
everything
,
as
if
when
all
the
world
looked
yellow
under
a
lamp
they
alone
were
rosy
.
Yet
there
were
some
illusions
under
Mary
’
s
eyes
which
were
not
quite
comic
to
her
.
She
was
secretly
convinced
,
though
she
had
no
other
grounds
than
her
close
observation
of
old
Featherstone
’
s
nature
,
that
in
spite
of
his
fondness
for
having
the
Vincys
about
him
,
they
were
as
likely
to
be
disappointed
as
any
of
the
relations
whom
he
kept
at
a
distance
.
She
had
a
good
deal
of
disdain
for
Mrs
.
Vincy
’
s
evident
alarm
lest
she
and
Fred
should
be
alone
together
,
but
it
did
not
hinder
her
from
thinking
anxiously
of
the
way
in
which
Fred
would
be
affected
,
if
it
should
turn
out
that
his
uncle
had
left
him
as
poor
as
ever
.
She
could
make
a
butt
of
Fred
when
he
was
present
,
but
she
did
not
enjoy
his
follies
when
he
was
absent
.
Yet
she
liked
her
thoughts
:
a
vigorous
young
mind
not
overbalanced
by
passion
,
finds
a
good
in
making
acquaintance
with
life
,
and
watches
its
own
powers
with
interest
.
Mary
had
plenty
of
merriment
within
.
Her
thought
was
not
veined
by
any
solemnity
or
pathos
about
the
old
man
on
the
bed
:
such
sentiments
are
easier
to
affect
than
to
feel
about
an
aged
creature
whose
life
is
not
visibly
anything
but
a
remnant
of
vices
.
She
had
always
seen
the
most
disagreeable
side
of
Mr
.
Featherstone
.
he
was
not
proud
of
her
,
and
she
was
only
useful
to
him
.
To
be
anxious
about
a
soul
that
is
always
snapping
at
you
must
be
left
to
the
saints
of
the
earth
;
and
Mary
was
not
one
of
them
.
She
had
never
returned
him
a
harsh
word
,
and
had
waited
on
him
faithfully
:
that
was
her
utmost
.
Old
Featherstone
himself
was
not
in
the
least
anxious
about
his
soul
,
and
had
declined
to
see
Mr
.
Tucker
on
the
subject
.
To
-
night
he
had
not
snapped
,
and
for
the
first
hour
or
two
he
lay
remarkably
still
,
until
at
last
Mary
heard
him
rattling
his
bunch
of
keys
against
the
tin
box
which
he
always
kept
in
the
bed
beside
him
.
About
three
o
’
clock
he
said
,
with
remarkable
distinctness
,
"
Missy
,
come
here
!
"
Mary
obeyed
,
and
found
that
he
had
already
drawn
the
tin
box
from
under
the
clothes
,
though
he
usually
asked
to
have
this
done
for
him
;
and
he
had
selected
the
key
.
He
now
unlocked
the
box
,
and
,
drawing
from
it
another
key
,
looked
straight
at
her
with
eyes
that
seemed
to
have
recovered
all
their
sharpness
and
said
,
"
How
many
of
’
em
are
in
the
house
?
"
"
You
mean
of
your
own
relations
,
sir
,
"
said
Mary
,
well
used
to
the
old
man
’
s
way
of
speech
.
He
nodded
slightly
and
she
went
on
.
"
Mr
.
Jonah
Featherstone
and
young
Cranch
are
sleeping
here
.
"
"
Oh
ay
,
they
stick
,
do
they
?
and
the
rest
—
they
come
every
day
,
I
’
ll
warrant
—
Solomon
and
Jane
,
and
all
the
young
uns
?
They
come
peeping
,
and
counting
and
casting
up
?
"