"Hawthorne, Nathaniel - Ethan Brand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawthorne Nathaniel)

onward and upward!- farewell all, and forever. Come, deadly element of
Fire- henceforth my familiar friend! Embrace me, as I do thee!"

That night the sound of a fearful peal of laughter rolled heavily
through the sleep of the lime-burner and his little son; dim shapes of
horror and anguish haunted their dreams, and seemed still present in
the rude hovel, when they opened their eyes to the daylight.

"Up, boy, up!" cried the lime-burner, staring about him. "Thank
Heaven, the night is gone, at last; and rather than pass such another,
I would watch my lime-kiln, wide awake, for a twelvemonth. This
Ethan Brand, with his humbug of an Unpardonable Sin, has done me no
such mighty favor, in taking my place!"

He issued from the hut, followed by little Joe, who kept fast
hold of his father's hand. The early sunshine was already pouring
its gold upon the mountain-tops; and though the valleys were still
in shadow, they smiled cheerfully in the promise of the bright day
that was hastening onward. The village, completely shut in by hills,
which swelled away gently about it, looked as if it had rested
peacefully in the hollow of the great hand of Providence. Every
dwelling was distinctly visible; the little spires of the two churches
pointed upwards, and caught a fore-glimmering of brightness from the
sun-gilt skies upon their gilded weather-cocks. The tavern was
astir, and the figure of the old, smoke-dried stage-agent, cigar in
mouth, was seen beneath the stoop. Old Graylock was glorified with a
golden cloud upon his head. Scattered likewise over the breasts of the
surrounding mountains, there were heaps of hoary mist, in fantastic
shapes, some of them far down into the valley, others high up
towards the summits and still others, of the same family of mist or
cloud, hovering in the gold radiance of the upper atmosphere. Stepping
from one to another of the clouds that rested on the hills, and thence
to the loftier brotherhood that sailed in air, it seemed almost as
if a mortal man might thus ascend into the heavenly regions. Earth was
so mingled with sky that it was a day-dream to look at it.

To supply that charm of the familiar and homely, which Nature so
readily adopts into a scene like this, the stage-coach was rattling
down the mountain-road, and the driver sounded his horn, while echo
caught up the notes, and intertwined them into a rich and varied and
elaborate harmony, of which the original performer could lay claim
to little share. The great hills played a concert among themselves,
each contributing a strain of airy sweetness.

Little Joe's face brightened at once.

"Dear father," cried he, skipping cheerily to and fro, "that
strange man is gone, and the sky and the mountains all seem glad of
it!"