迪文小说

第84部分（第2页）

“There　is　no　dishonour；　no　breach　of　promise；　no　desertion　in　the　case。　I　am　not　under　the　slightest　obligation　to　go　to　India；　especially　with　strangers。　With　you　I　would　have　ventured　much；　because　I　admire；　confide　in；　and；　as　a　sister；　I　love　you；　but　I　am　convinced　that；　go　when　and　with　whom　I　would；　I　should　not　live　long　in　that　climate。”

“Ah！　you　are　afraid　of　yourself；”　he　said；　curling　his　lip。

“I　am。　God　did　not　give　me　my　life　to　throw　away；　and　to　do　as　you　wish　me　would；　I　begin　to　think；　be　almost　equivalent　to　mitting　suicide。　Moreover；　before　I　definitively　resolve　on　quitting　England；　I　will　know　for　certain　whether　I　cannot　be　of　greater　use　by　remaining　in　it　than　by　leaving　it。”

“What　do　you　mean？”

“It　would　be　fruitless　to　attempt　to　explain；　but　there　is　a　point　on　which　I　have　long　endured　painful　doubt；　and　I　can　go　nowhere　till　by　some　means　that　doubt　is　removed。”

“I　know　where　your　heart　turns　and　to　what　it　clings。　The　interest　you　cherish　is　lawless　and　unconsecrated。　Long　since　you　ought　to　have　crushed　it：　now　you　should　blush　to　allude　to　it。　You　think　of　Mr。　Rochester？”

It　was　true。　I　confessed　it　by　silence。

“Are　you　going　to　seek　Mr。　Rochester？”

“I　must　find　out　what　is　bee　of　him。”

“It　remains　for　me；　then；”　he　said；　“to　remember　you　in　my　prayers；　and　to　entreat　God　for　you；　in　all　earnestness；　that　you　may　not　indeed　bee　a　castaway。　I　had　thought　I　recognised　in　you　one　of　the　chosen。　But　God　sees　not　as　man　sees：　His　will　be　done—”

He　opened　the　gate；　passed　through　it；　and　strayed　away　down　the　glen。　He　was　soon　out　of　sight。

On　re…entering　the　parlour；　I　found　Diana　standing　at　the　window；　looking　very　thoughtful。　Diana　was　a　great　deal　taller　than　I：　she　put　her　hand　on　my　shoulder；　and；　stooping；　examined　my　face。

“Jane；”　she　said；　“you　are　always　agitated　and　pale　now。　I　am　sure　there　is　something　the　matter。　Tell　me　what　business　St。　John　and　you　have　on　hands。　I　have　watched　you　this　half　hour　from　the　window；　you　must　forgive　my　being　such　a　spy；　but　for　a　long　time　I　have　fancied　I　hardly　know　what。　St。　John　is　a　strange　being—”

She　paused—I　did　not　speak：　soon　she　resumed—

“That　brother　of　mine　cherishes　peculiar　views　of　some　sort　respecting　you；　I　am　sure：　he　has　long　distinguished　you　by　a　notice　and　interest　he　never　showed　to　any　one　else—to　what　end？　I　wish　he　loved　you—does　he；　Jane？”

I　put　her　cool　hand　to　my　hot　forehead；　“No；　Die；　not　one　whit。”

“Then　why　does　he　follow　you　so　with　his　eyes；　and　get　you　so　frequently　alone　with　him；　and　keep　you　so　continually　at　his　side？　Mary　and　I　had　both　concluded　he　wished　you　to　marry　him。”

“He　does—he　has　asked　me　to　be　his　wife。”

Diana　clapped　her　hands。　“That　is　just　what　we　hoped　and　thought！　And　you　will　marry　him；　Jane；　won’t　you？　And　then　he　will　stay　in　England。”

“Far　from　that；　Diana；　his　sole　idea　in　proposing　to　me　is　to　procure　a　fitting　fellow…labourer　in　his　Indian　toils。”

“What！　He　wishes　you　to　go　to　India？”

“Yes。”

“Madness！”　she　exclaimed。　“You　would　not　live　three　months　there；　I　am　certain。　You　never　shall　go：　you　have　not　consented；　have　you；　Jane？”

“I　have　refused　to　marry　him—”

“And　have　consequently　displeased　him？”　she　suggested。

“Deeply：　he　will　never　forgive　me；　I　fear：　yet　I　offered　to　acpany　him　as　his　sister。”

“It　was　frantic　folly　to　do　so；　Jane。　Think　of　the　task　you　undertook—one　of　incessant　fatigue；　where　fatigue　kills　even　the　strong；　and　you　are　weak。　St。　John—you　know　him—would　urge　you　to　impossibilities：　with　him　there　would　be　no　permission　to　rest　during　the　hot　hours；　and　unfortunately；　I　have　noticed；　whatever　he　exacts；　you　force　yourself　to　perform。　I　am　astonished　you　found　courage　to　refuse　his　hand。　You　do　not　love　him　then；　Jane？”

“Not　as　a　husband。”

“Yet　he　is　a　handsome　fellow。”

“And　I　am　so　plain；　you　see；　Die。　We　should　never　suit。”

“Plain！　You？　Not　at　all。　You　are　much　too　pretty；　as　well　as　too　good；　to　be　grilled　alive　in　Calcutta。”　And　again　she　earnestly　conjured　me　to　give　up　all　thoughts　of　going　out　with　her　brother。

“I　must　indeed；”　I　said；　“for　when　just　now　I　repeated　the　offer　of　serving　him　for　a　deacon；　he　expressed　himself　shocked　at　my　want　of　decency。　He　seemed　to　think　I　had　mitted　an　impropriety　in　proposing　to　acpany　him　unmarried：　as　if　I　had　not　from　the　first　hoped　to　find　in　him　a　brother；　and　habitually　regarded　him　as　such。”

“What　makes　you　say　he　does　not　love　you；　Jane？”

“You　should　hear　himself　on　the　subject。　He　has　again　and　again　explained　that　it　is　not　himself；　but　his　office　he　wishes　to　mate。　He　has　told　me　I　am　formed　for　labour—not　for　love：　which　is　true；　no　doubt。　But；　in　my　opinion；　if　I　am　not　formed　for　lov