"Шервуд Андерсен. Белый бедняк (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

Early in the morning before the train that was to take her away, came to
the station, Sarah Shepard called the young man to her and repeated the
instructions she had so often given her husband. "Do everything neatly and
carefully," she said. "Show yourself worthy of the trust that has been
given you."

The New England woman wanted to assure the boy, as she had so often assured
her husband, that if he would but work hard and faithfully promotion would
inevitably come; but in the face of the fact that Henry Shepard had for
years done without criticism the work Hugh was to do and had received
neither praise nor blame from those above him, she found it impossible to
say the words that arose to her lips. The woman and the son of the people
among whom she had lived for five years and had so often condemned, stood
beside each other in embarrassed silence. Stripped of her assurance as to
the purpose of life and unable to repeat her accustomed formula, Sarah
Shepard had nothing to say. Hugh's tall figure, leaning against the post
that supported the roof of the front porch of the little house where she
had taught him his lessons day after day, seemed to her suddenly old and
she thought his long solemn face suggested a wisdom older and more mature
than her own. An odd revulsion of feeling swept over her. For the moment
she began to doubt the advisability of trying to be smart and to get on in
life. If Hugh had been somewhat smaller of frame so that her mind could
have taken hold of the fact of his youth and immaturity, she would no doubt
have taken him into her arms and said words regarding her doubts. Instead
she also became silent and the minutes slipped away as the two people stood
before each other and stared at the floor of the porch. When the train on
which she was to leave blew a warning whistle, and Henry Shepard called to
her from the station platform, she put a hand on the lapel of Hugh's coat
and drawing his face down, for the first time kissed him on the cheek.
Tears came into her eyes and into the eyes of the young man. When he
stepped across the porch to get her bag Hugh stumbled awkwardly against a
chair. "Well, you do the best you can here," Sarah Shepard said quickly and
then out of long habit and half unconsciously did repeat her formula. "Do
little things well and big opportunities are bound to come," she declared
as she walked briskly along beside Hugh across the narrow road and to the
station and the train that was to bear her away.

After the departure of Sarah and Henry Shepard Hugh continued to struggle
with his inclination to give way to dreams. It seemed to him a struggle
it was necessary to win in order that he might show his respect and
appreciation of the woman who had spent so many long hours laboring with
him. Although, under her tutelage, he had received a better education than
any other young man of the river town, he had lost none of his physical
desire to sit in the sun and do nothing. When he worked, every task had
to be consciously carried on from minute to minute. After the woman left,
there were days when he sat in the chair in the telegraph office and fought
a desperate battle with himself. A queer determined light shone in his
small gray eyes. He arose from the chair and walked up and down the station
platform. Each time as he lifted one of his long feet and set it slowly
down a special little effort had to be made. To move about at all was a