简爱(英文版)-第90部分

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taste—and　perhaps　purer；　and　to　hew　out　for　the　adventurous　foot　a　road　as　direct　and　broad　as　the　one　Fortune　has　blocked　up　against　us；　if　rougher　than　it。
“A　year　ago　I　was　myself　intensely　miserable；　because　I　thought　I　had　made　a　mistake　in　entering　the　ministry：　its　uniform　duties　wearied　me　to　death。　I　burnt　for　the　more　active　life　of　the　world—for　the　more　exciting　toils　of　a　literary　career—for　the　destiny　of　an　artist；　author；　orator；　anything　rather　than　that　of　a　priest：　yes；　the　heart　of　a　politician；　of　a　soldier；　of　a　votary　of　glory；　a　lover　of　renown；　a　luster　after　power；　beat　under　my　curate’s　surplice。　I　considered；　my　life　was　so　wretched；　it　must　be　changed；　or　I　must　die。　After　a　season　of　darkness　and　struggling；　light　broke　and　relief　fell：　my　cramped　existence　all　at　once　spread　out　to　a　plain　without　bounds—my　powers　heard　a　call　from　heaven　to　rise；　gather　their　full　strength；　spread　their　wings；　and　mount　beyond　ken。　God　had　an　errand　for　me；　to　bear　which　afar；　to　deliver　it　well；　skill　and　strength；　courage　and　eloquence；　the　best　qualifications　of　soldier；　statesman；　and　orator；　were　all　needed：　for　these　all　centre　in　the　good　missionary。
“A　missionary　I　resolved　to　be。　From　that　moment　my　state　of　mind　changed；　the　fetters　dissolved　and　dropped　from　every　faculty；　leaving　nothing　of　bondage　but　its　galling　soreness—which　time　only　can　heal。　My　father；　indeed；　imposed　the　determination；　but　since　his　death；　I　have　not　a　legitimate　obstacle　to　contend　with；　some　affairs　settled；　a　successor　for　Morton　provided；　an　entanglement　or　two　of　the　feelings　broken　through　or　cut　asunder—a　last　conflict　with　human　weakness；　in　which　I　know　I　shall　overe；　because　I　have　vowed　that　I　will　overe—and　I　leave　Europe　for　the　East。”
He　said　this；　in　his　peculiar；　subdued；　yet　emphatic　voice；　looking；　when　he　had　ceased　speaking；　not　at　me；　but　at　the　setting　sun；　at　which　I　looked　too。　Both　he　and　I　had　our　backs　towards　the　path　leading　up　the　field　to　the　wicket。　We　had　heard　no　step　on　that　grass…grown　track；　the　water　running　in　the　vale　was　the　one　lulling　sound　of　the　hour　and　scene；　we　might　well　then　start　when　a　gay　voice；　sweet　as　a　silver　bell；　exclaimed—
“Good　evening；　Mr。　Rivers。　And　good　evening；　old　Carlo。　Your　dog　is　quicker　to　recognise　his　friends　than　you　are；　sir；　he　pricked　his　ears　and　wagged　his　tail　when　I　was　at　the　bottom　of　the　field；　and　you　have　your　back　towards　me　now。”
It　was　true。　Though　Mr。　Rivers　had　started　at　the　first　of　those　musical　accents；　as　if　a　thunderbolt　had　split　a　cloud　over　his　head；　he　stood　yet；　at　the　close　of　the　sentence；　in　the　same　attitude　in　which　the　speaker　had　surprised　him—his　arm　resting　on　the　gate；　his　face　directed　towards　the　west。　He　turned　at　last；　with　measured　deliberation。　A　vision；　as　it　seemed　to　me；　had　risen　at　his　side。　There　appeared；　within　three　feet　of　him；　a　form　clad　in　pure　white—a　youthful；　graceful　form：　full；　yet　fine　in　contour；　and　when；　after　bending　to　caress　Carlo；　it　lifted　up　its　head；　and　threw　back　a　long　veil；　there　bloomed　under　his　glance　a　face　of　perfect　beauty。　Perfect　beauty　is　a　strong　expression；　but　I　do　not　retrace　or　qualify　it：　as　sweet　features　as　ever　the　temperate　clime　of　Albion　moulded；　as　pure　hues　of　rose　and　lily　as　ever　her　humid　gales　and　vapoury　skies　generated　and　screened；　justified；　in　this　instance；　the　term。　No　charm　was　wanting；　no　defect　was　perceptible；　the　young　girl　had　regular　and　delicate　lineaments；　eyes　shaped　and　coloured　as　we　see　them　in　lovely　pictures；　large；　and　dark；　and　full；　the　long　and　shadowy　eyelash　which　encircles　a　fine　eye　with　so　soft　a　fascination；　the　pencilled　brow　which　gives　such　clearness；　the　white　smooth　forehead；　which　adds　such　repose　to　the　livelier　beauties　of　tint　and　ray；　the　cheek　oval；　fresh；　and　smooth；　the　lips；　fresh　too；　ruddy；　healthy；　sweetly　formed；　the　even　and　gleaming　teeth　without　flaw；　the　small　dimpled　chin；　the　ornament　of　rich；　plenteous　tresses—all　advantages；　in　short；　which；　bined；　realise　the　ideal　of　beauty；　were　fully　hers。　I　wondered；　as　I　looked　at　this　fair　creature：　I　admired　her　with　my　whole　heart。　Nature　had　surely　formed　her　in　a　partial　mood；　and；　forgetting　her　usual　stinted　step…mother　dole　of　gifts；　had　endowed　this；　her　darling；　with　a　grand…dame’s　bounty。
What　did　St。　John　Rivers　think　of　this　earthly　angel？　I　naturally　asked　myself　that　question　as　I　saw　him　turn　to　her　and　look　at　her；　and；　as　naturally；　I　sought　the　answer　to　the　inquiry　in　his　countenance。　He　had　already　withdrawn　his　eye　from　the　Peri；　and　was　looking　at　a　humble　tuft　of　daisies　which　grew　by　the　wicket。
“A　lovely　evening；　but　late　for　you　to　be　out　alone；”　he　said；　as　he　crushed　the　snowy　heads　of　the　closed　flowers　with　his　foot。
“Oh；　I　only　came　home　from　S…”　（she　mentioned　the　name　of　a　large　town　some　twenty　miles　distant）　“this　afternoon。　Papa　told　me　you　had　opened　your　school；　and　that　the　new　mistress　was　e；　and　so　I　put　on　my　bon　after　tea；　and　ran　up　the　valley　to　see　her：　this　is　she？”　pointing　to　me。
“It　is；”　said　St。　John。
“Do　you　think　you　shall　like　Morton？”　she　asked　of　me；　with　a　direct　and　naive　simplicity　of　tone　and　manner；　pleasing；　if　child…like。
“I　hope　I　shall。　I　have　many　inducements　to　do　so。”
“Did　you　find　your　scholars　as　attentive　as　you　expected？”
“Quite。”
“Do　you　like　your　house？”
“Very　much。”
“Have　I　furnished　it　nicely？”
“Very　nicely；　indeed。”
“And　made　a　good　choice　of　an　attendant　for　you　in　Alice　Wood？”
“You　have　indeed。　She　is　teachable　and　handy。”　（This　then；　I　thought；　is　Miss　Oliver；　the　heiress；　favoured；　it　seems；　in　the　gifts　of　fortune；　as　well　as　in　those　of　nature！　What　happy　bination　of　the　plas　presided　over　her　birth；　I　wonder？）
“I　shall　e　up　and　help　you　to　teach　sometimes；”　she　added。　“It　will　be　a　change　for　me　to　visit　you　now　and　then；　and　I　like　a　change。　Mr。　Rivers；　I　have　been　SO　gay　during　my　stay　at　S…。　　night；　or　rather　this　morning；　I　was　dancing　till　two　o’clock。　The—th　regiment　are　stationed　there　since　the　riots；　and　the　officers　are　the　most　agreeable　men　in　the　world：　they　put　all　our　young　knife…grinders　and　scissor　merchants　to　shame。”
It　seemed　to　me　that　Mr。　St。　John’s　under　lip　protruded；　and　his　upper　lip　curled　a　moment。　His　mouth　certainly　looked　a　good　deal　pressed；　and　the　lower　part　of　his　face　unusually　stern　and　square；　as　the　laughing　girl　gave　him　this　information。　He　lifted　his　gaze；　too；　from　the　daisies；　and　turned　it　on　her。　An　unsmiling；　a　searching；　a　meaning　gaze　it　was。　She　answered　it　with　a　second　laugh；　and　laughter　well　became　her　youth；　her　roses；　her　dimples；　her　bright　eyes。
As　he　stood；　mute　and　grave；　she　again　fell　to　caressing　Carlo。　“Poor　Carlo　loves　me；”　said　she。　“He　is　not　stern　and　distant　to　his　friends；　and　if　he　could　speak；　he　would　not　be　silent。”
As　she　patted　the　dog’s　head；　bending　with　native　grace　before　his　young　and　austere　master；　I　saw　a　glow　rise　to　that　master’s　face。　I　saw　his　solemn　eye　melt　with　sudden　fire；　and　flicker　with　resistless　emotion。　Flushed　and　kindled　thus；　he　looked　nearly　as　beautiful　for　a　man　as　she　for　a　woman。　His　chest　heaved　once；　as　if　his　large　heart；　weary　of　despotic　constriction；　had　expanded；　despite　the　will；　and　made　a　vigorous　bound　for　the　attainment　of　liberty。　But　he　curbed　it；　I　think；　as　a　resolute　rider　would　curb　a　rearing　steed。　He　responded　neither　by　word　nor　movement　to　the　gentle　advances　made　him。
“Papa　says　you　never　e　to　see　us　now；”　continued　Miss　Oliver；　looking　up。　“You　are　quite　a　stranger　at　Vale　Hall。　He　is　alone　this　evening；　and　not　very　well：　will　you　return　with　me　and　visit　him？”
“It　is　not　a　seasonable　hour　to　intrude　on　Mr。　Oliver；”　answered　St。　John。
“Not　a　seasonable　hour！　But　I　declare　it　is。　It　is　just　the　hour　when　papa　most　wants　pany：　when　the　works　are　closed　and　he　has　no　business　to　occupy　him。　Now；　Mr。　Rivers；　do　e。　Why　are　you　so　very　shy；　and　so　very　sombre？”　She　filled　up　the　hiatus　his　silence　left　by　a　reply　of　her　own。
“I　forgot！”　she　exclaimed；　shaking　her　beautiful　curled　head；　as　if　shocked　at　herself。　“I　am　so　giddy　and　thoughtless！　Do　excuse　me。　It　had　slipped　my　memory　that　you　have　good　reasons　to　be　indisposed　for　joining　in　my　chatter。　Diana　and　Mary　have　left　you；　and　Moor　House　is　shut　up；　and　you　are　so　lonely。　I　am　sure　I　pity　you。　Do　e　and　see　papa。”
“Not　to…night；　Miss　Rosamond；　not　to…night。”
Mr。　St。　John　spoke　almost　like　an　automaton：　himself　only　knew　the　effort　it　cost　him　thus　to　refuse。
“Well；　if　you　are　so　obstinate；　I　will　leave　you；　for　I　dare　not　stay　any　longer：　the　dew　begins　to　fall。　Good　evening！”
She　held　out　her　hand。　He　just　touched　it。　“Good　evening！”　he　repeated；　in　a　voice　low　and　hollow　as　an　echo。　She　turned；　but　in　a　moment　returned。
“Are　you　well？”　she　asked。　Well　might　she　put　the　question：　his　face　was　blanched　as　her　gown。
“Quite　well；”　he　enunciated；　and；　with　a　bow；　he　left　the　gate。　She　went　one　way；　he　another。　She　turned　twice　to　gaze　after　him　as　she　tripped　fairy…like　down　the　field；　he；　as　he　strode　firmly　across；　never　turned　at　all。
This　spectacle　of　another’s　suffering　and　sacrifice　rapt