-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Харди
-
- Возвращение на родину
-
- Стр. 342/387
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
A
sudden
recollection
had
flashed
on
her
this
moment
—
she
had
not
money
enough
for
undertaking
a
long
journey
.
Amid
the
fluctuating
sentiments
of
the
day
her
unpractical
mind
had
not
dwelt
on
the
necessity
of
being
well
-
provided
,
and
now
that
she
thoroughly
realized
the
conditions
she
sighed
bitterly
and
ceased
to
stand
erect
,
gradually
crouching
down
under
the
umbrella
as
if
she
were
drawn
into
the
Barrow
by
a
hand
from
beneath
.
Could
it
be
that
she
was
to
remain
a
captive
still
?
Money
—
she
had
never
felt
its
value
before
.
Even
to
efface
herself
from
the
country
means
were
required
.
To
ask
Wildeve
for
pecuniary
aid
without
allowing
him
to
accompany
her
was
impossible
to
a
woman
with
a
shadow
of
pride
left
in
her
;
to
fly
as
his
mistress
—
and
she
knew
that
he
loved
her
—
was
of
the
nature
of
humiliation
.
Anyone
who
had
stood
by
now
would
have
pitied
her
,
not
so
much
on
account
of
her
exposure
to
weather
,
and
isolation
from
all
of
humanity
except
the
mouldered
remains
inside
the
tumulus
;
but
for
that
other
form
of
misery
which
was
denoted
by
the
slightly
rocking
movement
that
her
feelings
imparted
to
her
person
.
Extreme
unhappiness
weighed
visibly
upon
her
.
Between
the
drippings
of
the
rain
from
her
umbrella
to
her
mantle
,
from
her
mantle
to
the
heather
,
from
the
heather
to
the
earth
,
very
similar
sounds
could
be
heard
coming
from
her
lips
;
and
the
tearfulness
of
the
outer
scene
was
repeated
upon
her
face
.
The
wings
of
her
soul
were
broken
by
the
cruel
obstructiveness
of
all
about
her
;
and
even
had
she
seen
herself
in
a
promising
way
of
getting
to
Budmouth
,
entering
a
steamer
,
and
sailing
to
some
opposite
port
,
she
would
have
been
but
little
more
buoyant
,
so
fearfully
malignant
were
other
things
.
She
uttered
words
aloud
.
When
a
woman
in
such
a
situation
,
neither
old
,
deaf
,
crazed
,
nor
whimsical
,
takes
upon
herself
to
sob
and
soliloquize
aloud
there
is
something
grievous
the
matter
.
“
Can
I
go
,
can
I
go
?
”
she
moaned
.
“
He
’
s
not
GREAT
enough
for
me
to
give
myself
to
—
he
does
not
suffice
for
my
desire
!
.
.
.
If
he
had
been
a
Saul
or
a
Bonaparte
—
ah
!
But
to
break
my
marriage
vow
for
him
—
it
is
too
poor
a
luxury
!
.
.
.
And
I
have
no
money
to
go
alone
!
And
if
I
could
,
what
comfort
to
me
?
I
must
drag
on
next
year
,
as
I
have
dragged
on
this
year
,
and
the
year
after
that
as
before
.
How
I
have
tried
and
tried
to
be
a
splendid
woman
,
and
how
destiny
has
been
against
me
!
.
.
.
I
do
not
deserve
my
lot
!
”
she
cried
in
a
frenzy
of
bitter
revolt
.
“
O
,
the
cruelty
of
putting
me
into
this
ill
-
conceived
world
!
I
was
capable
of
much
;
but
I
have
been
injured
and
blighted
and
crushed
by
things
beyond
my
control
!
O
,
how
hard
it
is
of
Heaven
to
devise
such
tortures
for
me
,
who
have
done
no
harm
to
Heaven
at
all
!
”
The
distant
light
which
Eustacia
had
cursorily
observed
in
leaving
the
house
came
,
as
she
had
divined
,
from
the
cottage
window
of
Susan
Nunsuch
.
What
Eustacia
did
not
divine
was
the
occupation
of
the
woman
within
at
that
moment
.
Susan
’
s
sight
of
her
passing
figure
earlier
in
the
evening
,
not
five
minutes
after
the
sick
boy
’
s
exclamation
,
“
Mother
,
I
do
feel
so
bad
!
”
persuaded
the
matron
that
an
evil
influence
was
certainly
exercised
by
Eustacia
’
s
propinquity
.
On
this
account
Susan
did
not
go
to
bed
as
soon
as
the
evening
’
s
work
was
over
,
as
she
would
have
done
at
ordinary
times
.
To
counteract
the
malign
spell
which
she
imagined
poor
Eustacia
to
be
working
,
the
boy
’
s
mother
busied
herself
with
a
ghastly
invention
of
superstition
,
calculated
to
bring
powerlessness
,
atrophy
,
and
annihilation
on
any
human
being
against
whom
it
was
directed
.
It
was
a
practice
well
known
on
Egdon
at
that
date
,
and
one
that
is
not
quite
extinct
at
the
present
day
.
She
passed
with
her
candle
into
an
inner
room
,
where
,
among
other
utensils
,
were
two
large
brown
pans
,
containing
together
perhaps
a
hundredweight
of
liquid
honey
,
the
produce
of
the
bees
during
the
foregoing
summer
.
On
a
shelf
over
the
pans
was
a
smooth
and
solid
yellow
mass
of
a
hemispherical
form
,
consisting
of
beeswax
from
the
same
take
of
honey
.
Susan
took
down
the
lump
,
and
cutting
off
several
thin
slices
,
heaped
them
in
an
iron
ladle
,
with
which
she
returned
to
the
living
-
room
,
and
placed
the
vessel
in
the
hot
ashes
of
the
fireplace
.
As
soon
as
the
wax
had
softened
to
the
plasticity
of
dough
she
kneaded
the
pieces
together
.
And
now
her
face
became
more
intent
.
She
began
moulding
the
wax
;
and
it
was
evident
from
her
manner
of
manipulation
that
she
was
endeavouring
to
give
it
some
preconceived
form
.
The
form
was
human
.
By
warming
and
kneading
,
cutting
and
twisting
,
dismembering
and
re
-
joining
the
incipient
image
she
had
in
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour
produced
a
shape
which
tolerably
well
resembled
a
woman
,
and
was
about
six
inches
high
.
She
laid
it
on
the
table
to
get
cold
and
hard
.
Meanwhile
she
took
the
candle
and
went
upstairs
to
where
the
little
boy
was
lying
.
“
Did
you
notice
,
my
dear
,
what
Mrs
.
Eustacia
wore
this
afternoon
besides
the
dark
dress
?
”
