Far From the Madding Crowd. Томас Харди
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– what a mistake! – it is not mine. Nor is it for my shepherd. It is for Miss Everdene’s. You had better take it on to him – Gabriel Oak – and say I opened it in mistake.’
At this moment on the ridge, up against the blazing sky, a figure was visible, like the black snuff in the midst of a candle-flame. Then it moved and began to bustle about vigorously from place to place, carrying square skeleton masses, which were riddled by the same rays. A small figure on all fours followed behind. The tall form was that of Gabriel Oak; the small one that of George; the articles in course of transit were hurdles.
‘Wait,’ said Boldwood. ‘That’s the man on the hill. I’ll take the letter to him myself.’
To Boldwood it was now no longer merely a letter to another man. It was an opportunity. Exhibiting a face pregnant with intention, he entered the snowy field Gabriel, at that minute, descended the hill towards the right. The glow stretched down in this direction now, and touched the distant roof of Warren’s Malthouse – whither the shepherd was apparently bent. Boldwood followed at a distance.
Chapter 15
A morning meeting – The letter again
The scarlet and orange light outside the malthouse did not penetrate to its interior, which was, as usual, lighted by a rival glow of similar hue, radiating from the hearth.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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