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- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
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- Белые люди
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- Стр. 39/45
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I
wondered
why
he
looked
as
he
did
when
he
took
my
hand
and
drew
me
down
to
my
place
on
the
plaid
again
.
He
did
not
let
it
go
when
he
sat
down
by
my
side
.
He
held
it
in
his
own
large
,
handsome
one
,
looking
down
on
it
a
moment
or
so
;
and
then
he
bent
his
head
and
kissed
it
long
and
slowly
two
or
three
times
.
“
Dear
little
Ysobel
!
”
he
said
.
“
Beloved
,
strange
little
Ysobel
.
”
“
Am
I
strange
!
”
I
said
,
softly
.
“
Yes
,
thank
God
!
”
he
answered
.
I
had
known
that
some
day
when
we
were
at
Muircarrie
together
he
would
tell
me
what
his
mother
had
told
me
—
about
what
we
three
might
have
been
to
one
another
.
I
trembled
with
happiness
at
the
thought
of
hearing
him
say
it
himself
.
I
knew
he
was
going
to
say
it
now
.
He
held
my
hand
and
stroked
it
.
“
My
mother
told
you
,
Ysobel
—
what
I
am
waiting
for
?
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
.
”
“
Do
you
know
I
love
you
?
”
he
said
,
very
low
.
“
Yes
.
I
love
you
,
too
.
My
whole
life
would
have
been
heaven
if
we
could
always
have
been
together
,
”
was
my
answer
He
drew
me
up
into
his
arms
so
that
my
cheek
lay
against
his
breast
as
I
went
on
,
holding
fast
to
the
rough
tweed
of
his
jacket
and
whispering
:
“
I
should
have
belonged
to
you
two
,
heart
and
body
and
soul
.
I
should
never
have
been
lonely
again
.
I
should
have
known
nothing
,
whatsoever
happened
,
but
tender
joy
.
”
