Since the on-coming of
twilight he had opened his door again and again, though only to shut
it immediately at seeing all distance veiled by the falling snow.
But the last time he opened it the snow had ceased, and the clouds
were parting here and there. He stood and listened, and gazed for a
long while- there was really something on the road coming towards
him then, but he caught no sign of it; and the stillness and the
wide trackless snow seemed to narrow his solitude, and touched his
yearning with the chill of despair. He went in again, and put his
right hand on the latch of the door to close it- but he did not
close it: he was arrested, as he had been already since his loss, by
the invisible wand of catalepsy, and stood like a graven image, with
wide but sightless eyes, holding open his door, powerless to resist
either the good or evil that might enter there.
When Marner's sensibility returned, he continued the action which
had been arrested, and closed his door, unaware of the chasm in his
consciousness, unaware of any intermediate change, except that the
light had grown dim, and that he was chilled and faint. He thought
he had been too long standing at the door and looking out. Turning
towards the hearth, where the two logs had fallen apart, and sent
forth only a red uncertain glimmer, he seated himself on his
fireside chair, and was stooping to push his logs together, when, to
his blurred vision, it seemed as if there were gold on the floor in
front of the hearth.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172