迪文小说

第72部分（第2页）

“What　do　you　disapprove　of；　Mr。　Rivers？”　I　asked。

“You　will　not　stay　at　Morton　long：　no；　no！”

“Why？　What　is　your　reason　for　saying　so？”

“I　read　it　in　your　eye；　it　is　not　of　that　description　which　promises　the　maintenance　of　an　even　tenor　in　life。”

“I　am　not　ambitious。”

He　started　at　the　word　“ambitious。”　He　repeated；　“No。　What　made　you　think　of　ambition？　Who　is　ambitious？　I　know　I　am：　but　how　did　you　find　it　out？”

“I　was　speaking　of　myself。”

“Well；　if　you　are　not　ambitious；　you　are—”　He　paused。

“What？”

“I　was　going　to　say；　impassioned：　but　perhaps　you　would　have　misunderstood　the　word；　and　been　displeased。　I　mean；　that　human　affections　and　sympathies　have　a　most　powerful　hold　on　you。　I　am　sure　you　cannot　long　be　content　to　pass　your　leisure　in　solitude；　and　to　devote　your　working　hours　to　a　monotonous　labour　wholly　void　of　stimulus：　any　more　than　I　can　be　content；”　he　added；　with　emphasis；　“to　live　here　buried　in　morass；　pent　in　with　mountains—my　nature；　that　God　gave　me；　contravened；　my　faculties；　heaven…　bestowed；　paralysed—made　useless。　You　hear　now　how　I　contradict　myself。　I；　who　preached　contentment　with　a　humble　lot；　and　justified　the　vocation　even　of　hewers　of　wood　and　drawers　of　water　in　God’s　service—I；　His　ordained　minister；　almost　rave　in　my　restlessness。　Well；　propensities　and　principles　must　be　reconciled　by　some　means。”

He　left　the　room。　In　this　brief　hour　I　had　learnt　more　of　him　than　in　the　whole　previous　month：　yet　still　he　puzzled　me。

Diana　and　Mary　Rivers　became　more　sad　and　silent　as　the　day　approached　for　leaving　their　brother　and　their　home。　They　both　tried　to　appear　as　usual；　bat　the　sorrow　they　had　to　struggle　against　was　one　that　could　not　be　entirely　conquered　or　concealed。　Diana　intimated　that　this　would　be　a　different　parting　from　any　they　had　ever　yet　known。　It　would　probably；　as　far　as　St。　John　was　concerned；　be　a　parting　for　years：　it　might　be　a　parting　for　life。

“He　will　sacrifice　all　to　his　long…framed　resolves；”　she　said：　“natural　affection　and　feelings　more　potent　still。　St。　John　looks　quiet；　Jane；　but　he　hides　a　fever　in　his　vitals。　You　would　think　him　gentle；　yet　in　some　things　he　is　inexorable　as　death；　and　the　worst　of　it　is；　my　conscience　will　hardly　permit　me　to　dissuade　him　from　his　severe　decision：　certainly；　I　cannot　for　a　moment　blame　him　for　it。　It　is　right；　noble；　Christian：　yet　it　breaks　my　heart！”　And　the　tears　gushed　to　her　fine　eyes。　Mary　bent　her　head　low　over　her　work。

“We　are　now　without　father：　we　shall　soon　be　without　home　and　brother；”　she　murmured；

At　that　moment　a　little　accident　supervened；　which　seemed　decreed　by　fate　purposely　to　prove　the　truth　of　the　adage；　that　“misfortunes　never　e　singly；”　and　to　add　to　their　distresses　the　vexing　one　of　the　slip　between　the　cup　and　the　lip。　St。　John　passed　the　window　reading　a　letter。　He　entered。

“Our　uncle　John　is　dead；”　said　he。

Both　the　sisters　seemed　struck：　not　shocked　or　appalled；　the　tidings　appeared　in　their　eyes　rather　momentous　than　afflicting。

“Dead？”　repeated　Diana。

“Yes。”

She　riveted　a　searching　gaze　on　her　brother’s　face。　“And　what　then？”　she　demanded；　in　a　low　voice。

“What　then；　Die？”　he　replied；　maintaining　a　marble　immobility　of　feature。　“What　then？　Why—nothing。　Read。”

He　threw　the　letter　into　her　lap。　She　glanced　over　it；　and　handed　it　to　Mary。　Mary　perused　it　in　silence；　and　returned　it　to　her　brother。　All　three　looked　at　each　other；　and　all　three　smiled—a　dreary；　pensive　smile　enough。

“Amen！　We　can　yet　live；”　said　Diana　at　last。

“At　any　rate；　it　makes　us　no　worse　off　than　we　were　before；”　remarked　Mary。

“Only　it　forces　rather　strongly　on　the　mind　the　picture　of　what　might　have　been；”　said　Mr。　Rivers；　“and　contrasts　it　somewhat　too　vividly　with　what　IS。”

He　folded　the　letter；　locked　it　in　his　desk；　and　again　went　out。

For　some　minutes　no　one　spoke。　Diana　then　turned　to　me。

“Jane；　you　will　wonder　at　us　and　our　mysteries；”　she　said；　“and　think　us　hard…hearted　b