"Nathaniel Hawthorne - The Artist of the Beautiful" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawthorne Nathaniel)

"But I don't know whether you will condescend to such a task," said
she, laughing, "now that you are so taken up with the notion of
putting spirit into machinery."

"Where did you get that idea, Annie?" said Owen, starting in
surprise.

"Oh, out of my own head," answered she, "and from something that
I heard you say, long ago, when you were but a boy, and I a little
child. But, come! will you mend this poor thimble of mine?"

"Anything for your sake, Annie," said Owen Warland- "anything! even
were it to work at Robert Danforth's forge."

"And that would be a pretty sight!" retorted Annie, glancing with
imperceptible slightness at the artist's small and slender frame.
"Well; here is the thimble."

"But that is a strange idea of yours," said Owen, "about the
spiritualization of matter!"

And then the thought stole into his mind, that this young girl
possessed the gift to comprehend him, better than all the world
beside. And what a help and strength would it be to him, in his lonely
toil, if he could gain the sympathy of the only being whom he loved!
To persons whose pursuits are insulated from the common business of
life- who are either in advance of mankind, or apart from it- there
often comes a sensation of moral cold, that makes the spirit shiver,
as if it had reached the frozen solitudes around the pole. What the
prophet, the poet, the reformer, the criminal, or any other man,
with human yearnings, but separated from the multitude by a peculiar
lot, might feel, poor Owen Warland felt.

"Annie," cried he, growing pale as death at the thought, "how
gladly would I tell you the secret of my pursuit! You, methinks, would
estimate it rightly. You, I know, would hear it with a reverence
that I must not expect from the harsh, material world."

"Would I not! to be sure I would!" replied Annie Hovenden,
lightly laughing. "Come; explain to me quickly what is the meaning
of this little whirligig, so delicately wrought that it might be a
plaything for Queen Mab. See; I will put it in motion."

"Hold," exclaimed Owen, hold!"

Annie had but given the slightest possible touch, with the point of
a needle, to the same minute portion of complicated machinery which
has been more than once mentioned, when the artist seized her by the
wrist with a force that made her scream aloud. She was affrighted at