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- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
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- Белые люди
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- Стр. 19/45
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“
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
it
is
in
your
eyes
.
It
was
what
I
saw
and
found
myself
wondering
about
when
I
watched
you
in
the
train
.
It
was
really
the
moor
and
the
mist
and
the
things
you
think
are
hidden
in
it
.
”
“
Did
you
watch
me
?
”
I
asked
.
“
I
could
not
help
watching
you
a
little
,
when
you
were
so
kind
to
the
poor
woman
.
I
was
afraid
you
would
see
me
and
think
me
rude
.
”
“
It
was
the
far
look
in
your
face
I
watched
,
”
he
said
.
“
If
you
will
come
to
tea
under
the
big
apple
-
tree
I
will
tell
you
more
about
it
.
”
“
Indeed
I
will
come
,
”
I
answered
.
“
Now
we
must
go
and
sit
among
the
other
people
—
those
who
don
’
t
care
about
Muircarrie
at
all
.
”
I
went
to
tea
under
the
big
apple
-
tree
.
It
was
very
big
and
old
and
wonderful
.
No
wonder
Mr
.
MacNairn
and
his
mother
loved
it
.
Its
great
branches
spread
out
farther
than
I
had
ever
seen
the
branches
of
an
apple
-
tree
spread
before
.
They
were
gnarled
and
knotted
and
beautiful
with
age
.
Their
shadows
upon
the
grass
were
velvet
,
deep
and
soft
.
Such
a
tree
could
only
have
lived
its
life
in
such
a
garden
.
At
least
it
seemed
so
to
me
.
The
high
,
dim
-
colored
walls
,
with
their
curious
,
low
corner
towers
and
the
leafage
of
the
wall
fruits
spread
against
their
brick
,
inclosed
it
embracingly
,
as
if
they
were
there
to
take
care
of
it
and
its
beauty
.
But
the
tree
itself
seemed
to
have
grown
there
in
all
its
dignified
loveliness
of
shadow
to
take
care
of
Mrs
.
MacNairn
,
who
sat
under
it
.
I
felt
as
if
it
loved
and
was
proud
of
her
.
I
have
heard
clever
literary
people
speak
of
Mrs
.
MacNairn
as
a
“
survival
of
type
.
”
Sometimes
clever
people
bewilder
me
by
the
terms
they
use
,
but
I
thought
I
understood
what
they
meant
in
her
case
.
She
was
quite
unlike
the
modern
elderly
woman
,
and
yet
she
was
not
in
the
least
old
-
fashioned
or
demodee
.
She
was
only
exquisitely
distinct
.
When
she
rose
from
her
chair
under
the
apple
-
tree
boughs
and
came
forward
to
meet
me
that
afternoon
,
the
first
things
which
struck
me
were
her
height
and
slenderness
and
her
light
step
.
Then
I
saw
that
her
clear
profile
seemed
cut
out
of
ivory
and
that
her
head
was
a
beautiful
shape
and
was
beautifully
set
.
Its
every
turn
and
movement
was
exquisite
.
The
mere
fact
that
both
her
long
,
ivory
hands
enfolded
mine
thrilled
me
.
I
wondered
if
it
were
possible
that
she
could
be
unaware
of
her
loveliness
.
Beautiful
people
are
thrilling
to
me
,
and
Mrs
.
MacNairn
has
always
seemed
more
so
than
any
one
else
.
This
is
what
her
son
once
said
of
her
:
“
She
is
not
merely
beautiful
;
she
is
Beauty
—
Beauty
’
s
very
spirit
moving
about
among
us
mortals
;
pure
Beauty
.
”
She
drew
me
to
a
chair
under
her
tree
,
and
we
sat
down
together
.
I
felt
as
if
she
were
glad
that
I
had
come
.
The
watching
look
I
had
seen
in
her
son
’
s
eyes
was
in
hers
also
.
They
watched
me
as
we
talked
,
and
I
found
myself
telling
her
about
my
home
as
I
had
found
myself
telling
him
.
He
had
evidently
talked
to
her
about
it
himself
.
I
had
never
met
any
one
who
thought
of
Muircarrie
as
I
did
,
but
it
seemed
as
if
they
who
were
strangers
were
drawn
by
its
wild
,
beautiful
loneliness
as
I
was
.
