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- Джордж Элиот
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- Мидлмарч
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- Стр. 551/572
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But
when
the
rain
was
quiet
,
Dorothea
turned
to
look
at
Will
.
With
passionate
exclamation
,
as
if
some
torture
screw
were
threatening
him
,
he
started
up
and
said
,
"
It
is
impossible
!
"
He
went
and
leaned
on
the
back
of
the
chair
again
,
and
seemed
to
be
battling
with
his
own
anger
,
while
she
looked
towards
him
sadly
.
"
It
is
as
fatal
as
a
murder
or
any
other
horror
that
divides
people
,
"
he
burst
out
again
;
"
it
is
more
intolerable
—
to
have
our
life
maimed
by
petty
accidents
.
"
"
No
—
don
’
t
say
that
—
your
life
need
not
be
maimed
,
"
said
Dorothea
,
gently
.
"
Yes
,
it
must
,
"
said
Will
,
angrily
.
"
It
is
cruel
of
you
to
speak
in
that
way
—
as
if
there
were
any
comfort
.
You
may
see
beyond
the
misery
of
it
,
but
I
don
’
t
.
It
is
unkind
—
it
is
throwing
back
my
love
for
you
as
if
it
were
a
trifle
,
to
speak
in
that
way
in
the
face
of
the
fact
.
We
can
never
be
married
.
"
"
Some
time
—
we
might
,
"
said
Dorothea
,
in
a
trembling
voice
.
"
When
?
"
said
Will
,
bitterly
.
"
What
is
the
use
of
counting
on
any
success
of
mine
?
It
is
a
mere
toss
up
whether
I
shall
ever
do
more
than
keep
myself
decently
,
unless
I
choose
to
sell
myself
as
a
mere
pen
and
a
mouthpiece
.
I
can
see
that
clearly
enough
.
I
could
not
offer
myself
to
any
woman
,
even
if
she
had
no
luxuries
to
renounce
.
"
There
was
silence
.
Dorothea
’
s
heart
was
full
of
something
that
she
wanted
to
say
,
and
yet
the
words
were
too
difficult
.
She
was
wholly
possessed
by
them
:
at
that
moment
debate
was
mute
within
her
And
it
was
very
hard
that
she
could
not
say
what
she
wanted
to
say
.
Will
was
looking
out
of
the
window
angrily
.
If
he
would
have
looked
at
her
and
not
gone
away
from
her
side
,
she
thought
everything
would
have
been
easier
.
At
last
he
turned
,
still
resting
against
the
chair
,
and
stretching
his
hand
automatically
towards
his
hat
,
said
with
a
sort
of
exasperation
,
"
Good
-
by
.
"
