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john4525
Wysłany: Wto 11:08, 15 Mar 2011
Temat postu: its woods and dark
from Thornfieldin a lane noted for wild roses in summerfor nuts
and blackberries in autumnand even now possessing a few coral
treasures in hips and hawsbut whose best winter delight lay in its
utter solitude and leafless repose. If a breath of air stirredit made
no sound here; for there was not a hollynot an evergreen to
rustleand the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as
the whiteworn stones which causewayed the middle of the path.
Far and wideon each sidethere were only fieldswhere no cattle
now browsed; and the little brown birdswhich stirred
occasionally in the hedgelooked like single russet leaves that had
forgotten to drop.
This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay; having reached the
middleI sat down on a stile which led thence into a field.
Gathering my mantle about meand sheltering my hands in my
muffI did not feel the coldthough it froze keenly; as was attested
by a sheet of ice covering the causewaywhere a little brooklet
now congealedhad overflowed after a rapid thaw some days
since. From my seat I could look down on Thornfield: the grey and
battlemented hall was the principal object in the vale below me; its
woods and dark yilai:
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