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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 406/416
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“
I
am
going
to
die
very
soon
,
Mr
.
Presley
.
There
is
no
reason
why
I
should
live
any
longer
.
My
son
is
in
prison
for
life
,
everything
is
over
for
me
,
and
I
am
tired
,
worn
out
.
”
“
You
mustn
’
t
talk
like
that
,
Mrs
.
Dyke
,
”
protested
Presley
,
“
nonsense
;
you
will
live
long
enough
to
see
the
little
tad
married
.
”
He
tried
to
be
cheerful
.
But
he
knew
his
words
lacked
the
ring
of
conviction
.
Death
already
overshadowed
the
face
of
the
engineer
’
s
mother
.
He
felt
that
she
spoke
the
truth
,
and
as
he
stood
there
speaking
to
her
for
the
last
time
,
his
arm
about
little
Sidney
’
s
shoulder
,
he
knew
that
he
was
seeing
the
beginnings
of
the
wreck
of
another
family
and
that
,
like
Hilda
Hooven
,
another
baby
girl
was
to
be
started
in
life
,
through
no
fault
of
hers
,
fearfully
handicapped
,
weighed
down
at
the
threshold
of
existence
with
a
load
of
disgrace
.
Hilda
Hooven
and
Sidney
Dyke
,
what
was
to
be
their
histories
?
the
one
,
sister
of
an
outcast
;
the
other
,
daughter
of
a
convict
.
And
he
thought
of
that
other
young
girl
,
the
little
Honora
Gerard
,
the
heiress
of
millions
,
petted
,
loved
,
receiving
adulation
from
all
who
came
near
to
her
,
whose
only
care
was
to
choose
from
among
the
multitude
of
pleasures
that
the
world
hastened
to
present
to
her
consideration
.
“
Good
-
bye
,
”
he
said
,
holding
out
his
hand
.
“
Good
-
bye
.
”
“
Good
-
bye
,
Sidney
.
”
He
kissed
the
little
girl
,
clasped
Mrs
.
Dyke
’
s
hand
a
moment
with
his
;
then
,
slinging
his
satchel
about
his
shoulders
by
the
long
strap
with
which
it
was
provided
,
left
the
house
,
and
mounting
his
horse
rode
away
from
Los
Muertos
never
to
return
.
Presley
came
out
upon
the
County
Road
.
At
a
little
distance
to
his
left
he
could
see
the
group
of
buildings
where
once
Broderson
had
lived
.
These
were
being
remodelled
,
at
length
,
to
suit
the
larger
demands
of
the
New
Agriculture
.
A
strange
man
came
out
by
the
road
gate
;
no
doubt
,
the
new
proprietor
.
Presley
turned
away
,
hurrying
northwards
along
the
County
Road
by
the
mammoth
watering
-
tank
and
the
long
wind
-
break
of
poplars
.
He
came
to
Caraher
’
s
place
.
There
was
no
change
here
.
The
saloon
had
weathered
the
storm
,
indispensable
to
the
new
as
well
as
to
the
old
regime
.
The
same
dusty
buggies
and
buckboards
were
tied
under
the
shed
,
and
as
Presley
hurried
by
he
could
distinguish
Caraher
’
s
voice
,
loud
as
ever
,
still
proclaiming
his
creed
of
annihilation
.
Bonneville
Presley
avoided
.
He
had
no
associations
with
the
town
.
