"William Morris - The Wood Beyond the World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris William)

amiss?”


“In nought, in nought,” she said; “but I am troubled, I wot not wherefore; some thought hath
taken hold of me, and I know it not. Mayhappen in a little while I shall know what troubles me.
Now I bid thee depart from me a little, and I will abide here; and when thou comest back, it will
either be that I have found it out or not; and in either case I will tell thee.”


She spoke earnestly to him; but he said: “How long shall I abide away?”


Her face was troubled as she answered him: “For no long while.”


He smiled on her and turned away, and went a space to the other side of the oak-trees, whence
she was still within eyeshot. There he abode until the time seemed long to him; but he schooled
himself and forbore; for he said: Lest she send me away again. So he abided until again the time
seemed long to him, and she called not to him: but once again he forbore to go; then at last he
arose, and his heart beat and he trembled, and he walked back again speedily, and came to the
maiden, who was still standing by the rock of the spring, her arms hanging down, her eyes
downcast. She looked up at him as he drew nigh, and her face changed with eagerness as she
said: “I am glad thou art come back, though it be no long while since thy departure” (sooth to say
it was scarce half an hour in all). “Nevertheless I have been thinking many things, and thereof
will I now tell thee.”


He said: “Maiden, there is a river betwixt us, though it be no big one. Shall I not stride over, and
come to thee, that we may sit down together side by side on the green grass?”


“Nay,” she said, “not yet; tarry a while till I have told thee of matters. I must now tell thee of my
thoughts in order.”


Her colour went and came now, and she plaited the folds of her gown with restless fingers. At
last she said: “Now the first thing is this; that though thou hast seen me first only within this

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hour, thou hast set thine heart upon me to have me for thy speech-friend and thy darling. And if
this be not so, then is all my speech, yea and all my hope, come to an end at once.”


“O yea!” said Walter, “even so it is: but how thou hast found this out I wot not; since now for the
first time I say it, that thou art indeed my love, and my dear and my darling.”


“Hush,” she said, “hush! lest the wood have ears, and thy speech is loud: abide, and I shall tell
thee how I know it. Whether this thy love shall outlast the first time that thou holdest my body in
thine arms, I wot not, nor dost thou. But sore is my hope that it may be so; for I also, though it be