简爱(英文版)-第99部分

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e　he　saw　I　could　sit　at　a　task　the　longest　of　the　three。　Would　I　do　him　this　favour？　I　should　not；　perhaps；　have　to　make　the　sacrifice　long；　as　it　wanted　now　barely　three　months　to　his　departure。
St。　John　was　not　a　man　to　be　lightly　refused：　you　felt　that　every　impression　made　on　him；　either　for　pain　or　pleasure；　was　deep…graved　and　permanent。　I　consented。　When　Diana　and　Mary　returned；　the　former　found　her　scholar　transferred　from　her　to　her　brother：　she　laughed；　and　both　she　and　Mary　agreed　that　St。　John　should　never　have　persuaded　them　to　such　a　step。　He　answered　quietly—
“I　know　it。”
I　found　him　a　very　patient；　very　forbearing；　and　yet　an　exacting　master：　he　expected　me　to　do　a　great　deal；　and　when　I　fulfilled　his　expectations；　he；　in　his　own　way；　fully　testified　his　approbation。　By　degrees；　he　acquired　a　certain　influence　over　me　that　took　away　my　liberty　of　mind：　his　praise　and　notice　were　more　restraining　than　his　indifference。　I　could　no　longer　talk　or　laugh　freely　when　he　was　by；　because　a　tiresomely　importunate　instinct　reminded　me　that　vivacity　（at　least　in　me）　was　distasteful　to　him。　I　was　so　fully　aware　that　only　serious　moods　and　occupations　were　acceptable；　that　in　his　presence　every　effort　to　sustain　or　follow　any　other　became　vain：　I　fell　under　a　freezing　spell。　When　he　said　“go；”　I　went；　“e；”　I　came；　“do　this；”　I　did　it。　But　I　did　not　love　my　servitude：　I　wished；　many　a　time；　he　had　continued　to　neglect　me。
One　evening　when；　at　bedtime；　his　sisters　and　I　stood　round　him；　bidding　him　good…night；　he　kissed　each　of　them；　as　was　his　custom；　and；　as　；　he　gave　me　his　hand。　Diana；　who　chanced　to　be　in　a　frolicsome　humour　（She　was　not　painfully　controlled　by　his　will；　for　hers；　in　another　way；　was　as　strong）；　exclaimed—
“St。　John！　you　used　to　call　Jane　your　third　sister；　but　you　don’t　treat　her　as　such：　you　should　kiss　her　too。”
She　pushed　me　towards　him。　I　thought　Diana　very　provoking；　and　felt　unfortably　confused；　and　while　I　was　thus　thinking　and　feeling；　St。　John　bent　his　head；　his　Greek　face　was　brought　to　a　level　y　eyes　piercingly—he　kissed　me。　There　are　no　such　things　as　marble　kisses　or　ice　kisses；　or　I　should　say　my　ecclesiastical　cousin’s　salute　belonged　to　one　of　these　classes；　but　there　may　be　experiment　kisses；　and　his　was　an　experiment　kiss。　When　given；　he　viewed　me　to　learn　the　result；　it　was　not　striking：　I　am　sure　I　did　not　blush；　perhaps　I　might　have　turned　a　little　pale；　for　I　felt　as　if　this　kiss　were　a　seal　affixed　to　my　fetters。　He　never　omitted　the　ceremony　afterwards；　and　the　gravity　and　quiescence　with　which　I　underwent　it；　seemed　to　invest　it　for　him　with　a　certain　charm。
As　for　me；　I　daily　wished　more　to　please　him；　but　to　do　so；　I　felt　daily　more　and　more　that　I　must　disown　half　my　nature；　stifle　half　my　faculties；　wrest　my　tastes　from　their　original　bent；　force　myself　to　the　adoption　of　pursuits　for　which　I　had　no　natural　vocation。　He　wanted　to　train　me　to　an　elevation　I　could　never　reach；　it　racked　me　hourly　to　aspire　to　the　standard　he　uplifted。　The　thing　was　as　impossible　as　to　mould　my　irregular　features　to　his　correct　and　classic　pattern；　to　give　to　my　changeable　green　eyes　the　sea…blue　tint　and　solemn　lustre　of　his　own。
Not　his　ascendancy　alone；　however；　held　me　in　thrall　at　present。　Of　late　it　had　been　easy　enough　for　me　to　look　sad：　a　cankering　evil　sat　at　my　heart　and　drained　my　happiness　at　its　source—the　evil　of　suspense。
Perhaps　you　think　I　had　forgotten　Mr。　Rochester；　reader；　amidst　these　changes　of　place　and　fortune。　Not　for　a　moment。　His　idea　was　still　with　me；　because　it　was　not　a　vapour　sunshine　could　disperse；　nor　a　sand…traced　effigy　storms　could　wash　away；　it　was　a　name　graven　on　a　tablet；　fated　to　last　as　long　as　the　marble　it　inscribed。　The　craving　to　know　what　had　bee　of　him　followed　me　everywhere；　when　I　was　at　Morton；　I　re…entered　my　cottage　every　evening　to　think　of　that；　and　now　at　Moor　House；　I　sought　my　bedroom　each　night　to　brood　over　it。
In　the　course　of　my　necessary　correspondence　with　Mr。　Briggs　about　the　will；　I　had　inquired　if　he　knew　anything　of　Mr。　Rochester’s　present　residence　and　state　of　health；　but；　as　St。　John　had　conjectured；　he　was　quite　ignorant　of　all　concerning　him。　I　then　wrote　to　Mrs。　Fairfax；　entreating　information　on　the　subject。　I　had　calculated　with　certainty　on　this　step　answering　my　end：　I　felt　sure　it　would　elicit　an　early　answer。　I　was　astonished　when　a　fortnight　passed　without　reply；　but　when　two　months　wore　away；　and　day　after　day　the　post　arrived　and　brought　nothing　for　me；　I　fell　a　prey　to　the　keenest　anxiety。
I　wrote　again：　there　was　a　chance　of　my　first　letter　having　missed。　Renewed　hope　followed　renewed　effort：　it　shone　like　the　former　for　some　weeks；　then；　like　it；　it　faded；　flickered：　not　a　line；　not　a　word　reached　me。　When　half　a　year　wasted　in　vain　expectancy；　my　hope　died　out；　and　then　I　felt　dark　indeed。
A　fine　spring　shone　round　me；　which　I　could　not　enjoy。　Summer　approached；　Diana　tried　to　cheer　me：　she　said　I　looked　ill；　and　wished　to　acpany　me　to　the　sea…side。　This　St。　John　opposed；　he　said　I　did　not　want　dissipation；　I　wanted　employment；　my　present　life　was　too　purposeless；　I　required　an　aim；　and；　I　suppose；　by　way　of　supplying　deficiencies；　he　prolonged　still　further　my　lessons　in　Hindostanee；　and　greplishment：　and　I；　like　a　fool；　never　thought　of　resisting　him—I　could　not　resist　him。
One　day　I　had　e　to　my　studies　in　lower　spirits　than　usual；　the　ebb　was　occasioned　by　a　poignantly　felt　disappointment。　Hannah　had　told　me　in　the　morning　there　was　a　letter　for　me；　and　when　I　went　down　to　take　it；　almost　certain　that　the　long…looked　for　tidings　were　vouchsafed　me　at　last；　I　found　only　an　unimportant　note　from　Mr。　Briggs　on　business。　The　bitter　check　had　wrung　from　me　some　tears；　and　now；　as　I　sat　poring　over　the　crabbed　characters　and　flourishing　tropes　of　an　Indian　scribe；　my　eyes　filled　again。
St。　John　called　me　to　his　side　to　read；　in　attempting　to　do　this　my　voice　failed　me：　words　were　lost　in　sobs。　He　and　I　were　the　only　occupants　of　the　parlour：　Diana　was　practising　her　music　in　the　drawing…room；　Mary　was　gardening—it　was　a　very　fine　May　day；　clear；　sunny；　and　breezy。　My　panion　expressed　no　surprise　at　this　emotion；　nor　did　he　question　me　as　to　its　cause；　he　only　said—
“We　will　wait　a　few　minutes；　Jane；　till　you　are　more　posed。”　And　while　I　smothered　the　paroxysm　with　all　haste；　he　sat　calm　and　patient；　leaning　on　his　desk；　and　looking　like　a　physician　watching　with　the　eye　of　science　an　expected　and　fully　understood　crisis　in　a　patient’s　malady。　Having　stifled　my　sobs；　wiped　my　eyes；　and　muttered　something　about　not　being　very　well　that　morning；　I　resumed　my　task；　and　succeeded　in　pleting　it。　St。　John　put　away　my　books　and　his；　locked　his　desk；　and　said—
“Now；　Jane；　you　shall　take　a　walk；　and　with　me。”
“I　will　call　Diana　and　Mary。”
“No；　I　want　only　one　panion　this　morning；　and　that　must　be　you。　Put　on　your　things；　go　out　by　the　kitchen…door：　take　the　road　towards　the　head　of　Marsh　Glen：　I　will　join　you　in　a　moment。”
I　know　no　medium：　I　never　in　my　life　have　known　any　medium　in　my　dealings　with　positive；　hard　characters；　antagonistic　to　my　own；　between　absolute　submission　and　determined　revolt。　I　have　always　faithfully　observed　the　one；　up　to　the　very　moment　of　bursting；　sometimes　with　volcanic　vehemence；　into　the　other；　and　as　neither　present　circumstances　warranted；　nor　my　present　mood　inclined　me　to　mutiny；　I　observed　careful　obedience　to　St。　John’s　directions；　and　in　ten　minutes　I　was　treading　the　wild　track　of　the　glen；　side　by　side　with　him。
The　breeze　was　from　the　west：　it　came　over　the　hills；　sweet　with　scents　of　heath　and　rush；　the　sky　was　of　stainless　blue；　the　stream　descending　the　ravine；　swelled　with　past　spring　rains；　poured　along　plentiful　and　clear；　catching　golden　gleams　from　the　sun；　and　sapphire　tints　from　the　firmament。　As　we　advanced　and　left　the　track；　we　trod　a　soft　turf；　mossy　fine　and　emerald　green；　minutely　enamelled　with　a　tiny　white　flower；　and　spangled　with　a　star…like　yellow　blossom：　the　hills；　meantime；　shut　us　quite　in；　for　the　glen；　towards　its　head；　wound　to　their　very　core。
“Let　us　rest　here；”　said　St。　John；　as　we　reached　the　first　stragglers　of　a　battalion　of　rocks；　guarding　a　sort　of　pass；　beyond　which　the　beck　rushed　down　a　waterfall；　and　where；　still　a　little　farther；　the　mountain　shook　off　turf　and　flower；　had　only　heath　for　raiment　and　crag　for　gem—where　it　exaggerated　the　wild　to　the　savage；　and　exchanged　the　fresh　for　the　frowning—where　it　guarded　the　forlorn　hope　of　solitude；　and　a　last　refuge　for　silence。
I　took　a　seat：　St。　John　stood　near　me。　He　looked　up　the　pass　and　down　the　hollow；　his　glance　wandered　away　with　the　stream；　and　returned　to　traverse　the　unclouded　heaven　which　coloured　it：　he　removed　his　hat；　let　the　breeze　stir　his　hair　and　kiss　his　brow。　He　seemed　in　munion　with　the　genius　of　the　haunt：　with　his　eye　he　bade　farewell　to　something。
“And　I　shall　see　it　again；”　he　said　aloud；　“in　dreams　when　I　sleep　by　the　Ganges：　and　again　in　a　more　remote　hour—when　another　slumber　overes　me—on　the　shore　of　a　darker　stream！”
Strange　words　of　a　strange　love！　An　austere　patriot’s　passion　for　his　fatherland！　He　sat　dow