迪文小说

第83部分（第2页）

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　another　feelings　and　views　in　which　it　has　no　power　to　sympathise：　in　short；　as　a　man；　he　would　have　wished　to　coerce　me　into　obedience：　it　was　only　as　a　sincere　Christian　he　bore　so　patiently　with　my　perversity；　and　allowed　so　long　a　space　for　reflection　and　repentance。

That　night；　after　he　had　kissed　his　sisters；　he　thought　proper　to　forget　even　to　shake　hands　with　me；　but　left　the　room　in　silence。　I—who；　though　I　had　no　love；　had　much　friendship　for　him—was　hurt　by　the　marked　omission：　so　much　hurt　that　tears　started　to　my　eyes。

“I　see　you　and　St。　John　have　been　quarrelling；　Jane；”　said　Diana；　“during　your　walk　on　the　moor。　But　go　after　him；　he　is　now　lingering　in　the　passage　expecting　you—he　will　make　it　up。”

I　have　not　much　pride　under　such　circumstances：　I　would　always　rather　be　happy　than　dignified；　and　I　ran　after　him—he　stood　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs。

“Good…night；　St。　John；”　said　I。

“Good…night；　Jane；”　he　replied　calmly。

“Then　shake　hands；”　I　added。

What　a　cold；　loose　touch；　he　impressed　on　my　fingers！　He　was　deeply　displeased　by　what　had　occurred　that　day；　cordiality　would　not　warm；　nor　tears　move　him。　No　happy　reconciliation　was　to　be　had　with　him—no　cheering　smile　or　generous　word：　but　still　the　Christian　was　patient　and　placid；　and　when　I　asked　him　if　he　forgave　me；　he　answered　that　he　was　not　in　the　habit　of　cherishing　the　remembrance　of　vexation；　that　he　had　nothing　to　forgive；　not　having　been　offended。

And　with　that　answer　he　left　me。　I　would　much　rather　he　had　knocked　me　down。

Chapter　35

He　did　not　leave　for　Cambridge　the　next　day；　as　he　had　said　he　would。　He　deferred　his　departure　a　whole　week；　and　during　that　time　he　made　me　feel　what　severe　punishment　a　good　yet　stern；　a　conscientious　yet　implacable　man　can　inflict　on　one　who　has　offended　him。　Without　one　overt　act　of　hostility；　one　upbraiding　word；　he　contrived　to　impress　me　momently　with　the　conviction　that　I　was　put　beyond　the　pale　of　his　favour。

Not　that　St。　John　harboured　a　spirit　of　unchristian　vindictiveness—　not　that　he　would　have　injured　a　hair　of　my　head；　if　it　had　been　fully　in　his　power　to　do　so。　Both　by　nature　and　principle；　he　was　superior　to　the　mean　gratification　of　vengeance：　he　had　forgiven　me　for　saying　I　scorned　him　and　his　love；　but　he　had　not　forgotten　the　words；　and　as　long　as　he　and　I　lived　he　never　would　forget　them。　I　saw　by　his　look；　when　he　turned　to　me；　that　they　were　always　written　on　the　air　between　me　and　him；　whenever　I　spoke；　they　sounded　in　my　voice　to　his　ear；　and　their　echo　toned　every　answer　he　gave　me。

He　did　not　abstain　from　conversing　with　me：　he　even　called　me　as　usual　each　morning　to　join　him　at　his　desk；　and　I　fear　the　corrupt　man　within　him　had　a　pleasure　unimparted　to；　and　unshared　by；　the　pure　Christian；　in　evincing　with　what　skill　he　could；　while　acting　and　speaking　apparently　just　as　usual；　extract　from　every　deed　and　every　phrase　the　spirit　of　interest　and　approval　which　had　formerly　municated　a　certain　austere　charm　to　his　language　and　manner。　To　me；　he　was　in　reality　bee　no