-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Элиот
-
- Мидлмарч
-
- Стр. 395/572
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Her
temper
was
too
sweet
for
her
to
show
any
anger
,
but
she
felt
that
her
happiness
had
received
a
bruise
,
and
for
several
days
merely
to
look
at
Fred
made
her
cry
a
little
as
if
he
were
the
subject
of
some
baleful
prophecy
.
Perhaps
she
was
the
slower
to
recover
her
usual
cheerfulness
because
Fred
had
warned
her
that
she
must
not
reopen
the
sore
question
with
his
father
,
who
had
accepted
his
decision
and
forgiven
him
.
If
her
husband
had
been
vehement
against
Fred
,
she
would
have
been
urged
into
defence
of
her
darling
.
It
was
the
end
of
the
fourth
day
when
Mr
.
Vincy
said
to
her
—
"
Come
,
Lucy
,
my
dear
,
don
’
t
be
so
down
-
hearted
.
You
always
have
spoiled
the
boy
,
and
you
must
go
on
spoiling
him
.
"
"
Nothing
ever
did
cut
me
so
before
,
Vincy
,
"
said
the
wife
,
her
fair
throat
and
chin
beginning
to
tremble
again
,
"
only
his
illness
.
"
"
Pooh
,
pooh
,
never
mind
!
We
must
expect
to
have
trouble
with
our
children
.
Don
’
t
make
it
worse
by
letting
me
see
you
out
of
spirits
.
"
"
Well
,
I
won
’
t
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Vincy
,
roused
by
this
appeal
and
adjusting
herself
with
a
little
shake
as
of
a
bird
which
lays
down
its
ruffled
plumage
.
"
It
won
’
t
do
to
begin
making
a
fuss
about
one
,
"
said
Mr
.
Vincy
,
wishing
to
combine
a
little
grumbling
with
domestic
cheerfulness
.
"
There
’
s
Rosamond
as
well
as
Fred
.
"
"
Yes
,
poor
thing
.
I
’
m
sure
I
felt
for
her
being
disappointed
of
her
baby
;
but
she
got
over
it
nicely
"
"
Baby
,
pooh
!
I
can
see
Lydgate
is
making
a
mess
of
his
practice
,
and
getting
into
debt
too
,
by
what
I
hear
.
I
shall
have
Rosamond
coming
to
me
with
a
pretty
tale
one
of
these
days
.
But
they
’
ll
get
no
money
from
me
,
I
know
.
Let
HIS
family
help
him
.
I
never
did
like
that
marriage
.
But
it
’
s
no
use
talking
.
Ring
the
bell
for
lemons
,
and
don
’
t
look
dull
any
more
,
Lucy
.
I
’
ll
drive
you
and
Louisa
to
Riverston
to
-
morrow
.
"
They
numbered
scarce
eight
summers
when
a
nameRose
on
their
souls
and
stirred
such
motions
thereAs
thrill
the
buds
and
shape
their
hidden
frameAt
penetration
of
the
quickening
air
:
His
name
who
told
of
loyal
Evan
Dhu
,
Of
quaint
Bradwardine
,
and
Vich
Ian
Vor
,
Making
the
little
world
their
childhood
knewLarge
with
a
land
of
mountain
lake
and
scaur
,
And
larger
yet
with
wonder
love
beliefToward
Walter
Scott
who
living
far
awaySent
them
this
wealth
of
joy
and
noble
grief
.
The
book
and
they
must
part
,
but
day
by
day
,
In
lines
that
thwart
like
portly
spiders
ranThey
wrote
the
tale
,
from
Tully
Veolan
.
