简爱(英文版)-第70章

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；　which　had　seemed　blocked　up；　paratively　clear。　My　work；　which　had　appeared　so　vague；　so　hopelessly　diffuse；　condensed　itself　as　he　proceeded；　and　assumed　a　definite　form　under　his　shaping　hand。　He　waited　for　an　answer。　I　demanded　a　quarter　of　an　hour　to　think；　before　I　again　hazarded　a　reply。
“Very　willingly；”　he　rejoined；　and　rising；　he　strode　a　little　distance　up　the　pass；　threw　himself　down　on　a　swell　of　heath；　and　there　lay　still。
“I　can　do　what　he　wants　me　to　do：　I　am　forced　to　see　and　acknowledge　that；”　I　meditated；—“that　is；　if　life　be　spared　me。　But　I　feel　mine　is　not　the　existence　to　be　long　protracted　under　an　Indian　sun。　What　then？　He　does　not　care　for　that：　when　my　time　came　to　die；　he　would　resign　me；　in　all　serenity　and　sanctity；　to　the　God　who　gave　me。　The　case　is　very　plain　before　me。　In　leaving　England；　I　should　leave　a　loved　but　empty　land—Mr。　Rochester　is　not　there；　and　if　he　were；　what　is；　what　can　that　ever　be　to　me？　My　business　is　to　live　without　him　now：　nothing　so　absurd；　so　weak　as　to　drag　on　from　day　to　day；　as　if　I　were　waiting　some　impossible　change　in　circumstances；　which　might　reunite　me　to　him。　Of　course　（as　St。　John　once　said）　I　must　seek　another　interest　in　life　to　replace　the　one　lost：　is　not　the　occupation　he　now　offers　me　truly　the　most　glorious　man　can　adopt　or　God　assign？　Is　it　not；　by　its　noble　cares　and　sublime　results；　the　one　best　calculated　to　fill　the　void　left　by　uptorn　affections　and　demolished　hopes？　I　believe　I　must　say；　Yes—and　yet　I　shudder。　Alas！　If　I　join　St。　John；　I　abandon　half　myself：　if　I　go　to　India；　I　go　to　premature　death。　And　how　will　the　interval　between　leaving　England　for　India；　and　India　for　the　grave；　be　filled？　Oh；　I　know　well！　That；　too；　is　very　clear　to　my　vision。　By　straining　to　satisfy　St。　John　till　my　sinews　ache；　I　shall　satisfy　him—to　the　finest　central　point　and　farthest　outward　circle　of　his　expectations。　If　I　do　go　with　him—　if　I　do　make　the　sacrifice　he　urges；　I　will　make　it　absolutely：　I　will　throw　all　on　the　altar—heart；　vitals；　the　entire　victim。　He　will　never　love　me；　but　he　shall　approve　me；　I　will　show　him　energies　he　has　not　yet　seen；　resources　he　has　never　suspected。　Yes；　I　can　work　as　hard　as　he　can；　and　with　as　little　grudging。
“Consent；　then；　to　his　demand　is　possible：　but　for　one　item—one　dreadful　item。　It　is—that　he　asks　me　to　be　his　wife；　and　has　no　more　of　a　husband’s　heart　for　me　than　that　frowning　giant　of　a　rock；　down　which　the　stream　is　foaming　in　yonder　gorge。　He　prizes　me　as　a　soldier　would　a　good　weapon；　and　that　is　all。　Unmarried　to　him；　this　would　never　grieve　me；　but　can　I　let　him　plete　his　calculations—coolly　put　into　practice　his　plans—go　through　the　wedding　ceremony？　Can　I　receive　from　him　the　bridal　ring；　endure　all　the　forms　of　love　（which　I　doubt　not　he　would　scrupulously　observe）　and　know　that　the　spirit　was　quite　absent？　Can　I　bear　the　consciousness　that　every　endearment　he　bestows　is　a　sacrifice　made　on　principle？　No：　such　a　martyrdom　would　be　monstrous。　I　will　never　undergo　it。　As　his　sister；　I　might　acpany　him—not　as　his　wife：　I　will　tell　him　so。”
I　looked　towards　the　knoll：　there　he　lay；　still　as　a　prostrate　column；　his　face　turned　to　me：　his　eye　beaming　watchful　and　keen。　He　started　to　his　feet　and　approached　me。
“I　am　ready　to　go　to　India；　if　I　may　go　free。”
“Your　ansentary；”　he　said；　“it　is　not　clear。”
“You　have　hitherto　been　my　adopted　brother—I；　your　adopted　sister：　let　us　continue　as　such：　you　and　I　had　better　not　marry。”
He　shook　his　head。　“Adopted　fraternity　will　not　do　in　this　case。　If　you　were　my　real　sister　it　would　be　different：　I　should　take　you；　and　seek　no　wife。　But　as　it　is；　either　our　union　must　be　consecrated　and　sealed　by　marriage；　or　it　cannot　exist：　practical　obstacles　oppose　themselves　to　any　other　plan。　Do　you　not　see　it；　Jane？　Consider　a　moment—your　strong　sense　will　guide　you。”
I　did　consider；　and　still　my　sense；　such　as　it　was；　directed　me　only　to　the　fact　that　we　did　not　love　each　other　as　man　and　wife　should：　and　therefore　it　inferred　we　ought　not　to　marry。　I　said　so。　“St。　John；”　I　returned；　“I　regard　you　as　a　brother—you；　me　as　a　sister：　so　let　us　continue。”
“We　cannot—we　cannot；”　he　answered；　with　short；　sharp　determination：　“it　would　not　do。　You　have　said　you　will　go　with　me　to　India：　remember—you　have　said　that。”
“Conditionally。”
“Well—well。　To　the　main　point—the　departure　with　me　from　England；　the　co…operation　with　me　in　my　future　labours—you　do　not　object。　You　have　already　as　good　as　put　your　hand　to　the　plough：　you　are　too　consistent　to　withdraw　it。　You　have　but　one　end　to　keep　in　view—how　the　work　you　have　undertaken　can　best　be　done。　Simplify　your　plicated　interests；　feelings；　thoughts；　wishes；　aims；　merge　all　considerations　in　one　purpose：　that　of　fulfilling　with　effect—　with　power—the　mission　of　your　great　Master。　To　do　so；　you　must　have　a　coadjutor：　not　a　brother—that　is　a　loose　tie—but　a　husband。　I；　too；　do　not　want　a　sister：　a　sister　might　any　day　be　taken　from　me。　I　want　a　wife：　the　sole　helpmeet　I　can　influence　efficiently　in　life；　and　retain　absolutely　till　death。”
I　shuddered　as　he　spoke：　I　felt　his　influence　in　my　marrow—his　hold　on　my　limbs。
“Seek　one　elsewhere　than　in　me；　St。　John：　seek　one　fitted　to　you。”
“One　fitted　to　my　purpose；　you　mean—fitted　to　my　vocation。　Again　I　tell　you　it　is　not　the　insignificant　private　individual—the　mere　man；　with　the　man’s　selfish　senses—I　wish　to　mate：　it　is　the　missionary。”
“And　I　will　give　the　missionary　my　energies—it　is　all　he　wants—but　not　myself：　that　would　be　only　adding　the　husk　and　shell　to　the　kernel。　For　them　he　has　no　use：　I　retain　them。”
“You　cannot—you　ought　not。　Do　you　think　God　will　be　satisfied　with　half　an　oblation？　Will　He　accept　a　mutilated　sacrifice？　It　is　the　cause　of　God　I　advocate：　it　is　under　His　standard　I　enlist　you。　I　cannot　accept　on　His　behalf　a　divided　allegiance：　it　must　be　entire。”
“Oh！　I　will　give　my　heart　to　God；”　I　said。　“You　do　not　want　it。”
I　will　not　swear；　reader；　that　there　was　not　something　of　repressed　sarcasm　both　in　the　tone　in　which　I　uttered　this　sentence；　and　in　the　feeling　that　acpanied　it。　I　had　silently　feared　St。　John　till　now；　because　I　had　not　understood　him。　He　had　held　me　in　awe；　because　he　had　held　me　in　doubt。　How　much　of　him　was　saint；　how　much　mortal；　I　could　not　heretofore　tell：　but　revelations　were　being　made　in　this　conference：　the　analysis　of　his　nature　was　proceeding　before　my　eyes。　I　saw　his　fallibilities：　I　prehended　them。　I　understood　that；　sitting　there　where　I　did；　on　the　bank　of　heath；　and　with　that　handsome　form　before　me；　I　sat　at　the　feet　of　a　man；　caring　as　I。　The　veil　fell　from　his　hardness　and　despotism。　Having　felt　in　him　the　presence　of　these　qualities；　I　felt　his　imperfection　and　took　courage。　I　　I　might　argue—one　whom；　if　I　saw　good；　I　might　resist。
He　was　silent　after　I　had　uttered　the　last　sentence；　and　I　presently　risked　an　upward　glance　at　his　countenance。
His　eye；　bent　on　me；　expressed　at　once　stern　surprise　and　keen　inquiry。　“Is　she　sarcastic；　and　sarcastic　to　me！”　it　seemed　to　say。　“What　does　this　signify？”
“Do　not　let　us　forget　that　this　is　a　solemn　matter；”　he　said　ere　long；　“one　of　which　we　may　neither　think　nor　talk　lightly　without　sin。　I　trust；　Jane；　you　are　in　earnest　when　you　say　you　will　serve　your　heart　to　God：　it　is　all　I　want。　Once　wrench　your　heart　from　man；　and　fix　it　on　your　Maker；　the　advancement　of　that　Maker’s　spiritual　kingdom　on　earth　will　be　your　chief　delight　and　endeavour；　you　will　be　ready　to　do　at　once　whatever　furthers　that　end。　You　will　see　what　impetus　would　be　given　to　your　efforts　and　mine　by　our　physical　and　mental　union　in　marriage：　the　only　union　that　gives　a　character　of　permanent　conformity　to　the　destinies　and　designs　of　human　beings；　and；　passing　over　all　minor　caprices—all　trivial　difficulties　and　delicacies　of　feeling—all　scruple　about　the　degree；　kind；　strength　or　tenderness　of　mere　personal　inclination—　you　will　hasten　to　enter　into　that　union　at　once。”
“Shall　I？”　I　said　briefly；　and　I　looked　at　his　features；　beautiful　in　their　harmony；　but　strangely　formidable　in　their　still　severity；　at　his　brow；　manding　but　not　open；　at　his　eyes；　bright　and　deep　and　searching；　but　never　soft；　at　his　tall　imposing　figure；　and　fancied　myself　in　idea　HIS　WIFE。　Oh！　it　would　never　do！　As　his　curate；　his　rade；　all　would　be　right：　I　would　cross　oceans　with　him　in　that　capacity；　toil　under　Eastern　suns；　in　Asian　deserts　with　him　in　that　office；　admire　and　emulate　his　courage　and　devotion　and　vigour；　acmodate　quietly　to　his　masterhood；　smile　undisturbed　at　his　ineradicable　ambition；　discriminate　the　Christian　from　the　man：　profoundly　esteem　the　one；　and　freely　forgive　the　other。　I　should　suffer　often；　no　doubt；　attached　to　him　only　in　this　capacity：　my　body　would　be　under　rather　a　stringent　yoke；　but　my　heart　and　mind　would　be　free。　I　should　still　have　my　unblighted　self　to　turn　to：　my　natural　unenslaved　feelings　with　which　to　municate　in　moments　of　loneliness。　There　would　be　recesses　in　my　mind　which　would　be　only　mine；　to　which　he　never　came；　and　sentiments　growing　there　fresh　and　sheltered　which　his　austerity　could　never　blight；　nor　his　measured　warrior…march　trample　down：　but　as　his　wife—at　his　side　always；　and　always　restrained；　and　always　checked—forced　to　keep　the　fire　of　my　nature　continually　low；　to　pel　it　to　burn　inwardly　and　never　utter　a　cry；　though　the　imprisoned　flame　consumed　vital　after　vital—this　would　be　unendurable。
“St。　John！”　I　exclaimed；　when　I　had　got　so　far　in　my　meditation。
“Well？”　he　answered　icily。
“I　repeat　I　freely　consent　to　go　with　you　as　your　fellow…missionary；　but　not　as　your　wife；　I　cannot　marry　you　and　bee　part　of　you。”
“A　part　of　me　you　must　bee；”　he　answered　steadily；　“otherwise　the　whole　bargain　is　void。　How　can　I；　a　man　not　yet　thirty；　take　out　with　me　to　India　a　girl　of　nieen；　unless　she　be　married　to　me？　How　can　we　be　for　ever　together—sometimes　in　solitudes；　sometimes　amidst　savage　tribes—and　unwed？”
“Very　well；”　I　said　shortly；　“under　the　circumstances；　quite　as　well　as　if　I　were　either　your　real　sister；　or　a　man　and　a　clergyman　like　yourself。”
“It　is　known　that　you　are　not　my　sister；　I　cannot　introduce　you　as　such：　to　attempt　it　would　be　to　fasten　injurious　suspicions　on　us　both。　And　for　the　rest；　though　you　have　a　man’s　vigorous　brain；　you　have　a　woman’s　heart　and—it　would　not　do。”
“It　would　do；”　I　affirmed　with　some　disdain；　“perfectly　well。　I　have　a　woman’s　heart；　but　not　where　you　are　concerned；　for　you　I　have　only　a　rade’s　constancy；　a　fellow…soldier’s　frankness；　fidelity；　fraternity；　if　you　like；　a　neophyte’s　respect　and　submission　to　his　hierophant：　nothing　more—don’t　fear。”
“It　is　what　I　want；”　he　said；　speaking　to　himself；　“it　is　just　what　I　want。　And　there　are　obstacles　in　the　way：　they　must　be　hewn　down。　Jane；　you　would　not　repent　marrying　me—be　certain　of　that；　we　must　be　married。　I　repeat　it：　there　is　no　other　way；　and　undoubtedly　enough　of　love　would　follow　upon　marriage　to　render　the　union　right　even　in　your　eyes。”
“I　scorn　your　idea　of　love；”　I　could　not　help　saying；　as　I　rose　up　and　stood　before　him；　leaning　my　back　against　the　rock。　“I　scorn　the　counterfeit　sentiment　you　offer：　yes；　St。　John；　and　I　scorn　you　when　you　offer　it。”
He　looked　at　me　fixedly；　pressing　his　well…cut　lips　while　he　did　so。　Whether　he　was　incensed　or　surprised；　or　what；　it　was　not　easy　to　tell：　he　could　mand　his　countenance　thoroughly。
“I　scarcely　expected　to　hear　that　expression　from　you；”　he　said：　“I　think　I　have　done　and　uttered　nothing　to　deserve　scorn。”
I　was　touched　by　his　gentle　tone；　and　overawed　by　his　high；　calm　mien。
“Forgive　me　the　words；　St。　John；　but　it　is　your　own　fault　that　I　have　been　roused　to　speak　so　unguardedly。　You　have　introduced　a　topic　on　which　our　natures　are　at　variance—a　topic　we　should　never　discuss：　the　very　name　of　love　is　an　apple　of　discord　between　us。　If　the　reality　were　required；　what　should　we　do？　How　should　we　feel？　My　dear　cousin；　abandon　your　scheme　of　marriage—forget　it。”
“No；”　said　he；　“it　is　a　long…cherished　scheme；　and　the　only　one　which　can　secure　my　great　end：　but　I　shall　urge　you　no　further　at　present。　To…morrow；　I　leave　home　for　Cambridge：　I　have　many　friends　there　to　whom　I　should　wish　to　say　farewell。　I　shall　be　absent　a　fortnight—take　that　space　of　time　to　consider　my　offer：　and　do　not　forget　that　if　you　reject　it；　it　is　not　me　you　deny；　but　God。　Through　my　means；　He　opens　to　you　a　noble　career；　as　my　wife　only　can　you　enter　upon　it。　Refuse　to　be　my　wife；　and　you　limit　yourself　for　ever　to　a　track　of　selfish　ease　and　barren　obscurity。　Tremble　lest　in　that　case　you　should　be　numbered　with　those　who　have　denied　the　faith；　and　are　worse　than　infidels！”
He　had　done。　Turning　from　me；　he　once　more
“Looked　to　river；　looked　to　hill。”
But　this　time　his　feelings　were　all　pent　in　his　heart：　I　was　not　worthy　to　hear　them　uttered。　As　I　walked　by　his　side　homeward；　I　read　well　in　his　iron　silence　all　he　felt　towards　me：　the　disappointment　of　an　austere　and　despotic　nature；　which　has　met　resistance　where　it　expected　submission—the　disapprobation　of　a　cool；　inflexible　judgment；　which　has　detected　in　anothe