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简爱(英文版)-第90部分

小说: 简爱(英文版) 字数: 每页4000字

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 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 down; for half…an…hour we never spoke; neither he to me nor I to him: that interval past; he remenced—
“Jane; I go in six weeks; I have taken my berth in an East Indiaman which sails on the 20th of June。”
“God will protect you; for you have undertaken His work;” I answered。
“Yes;” said he; “there is my glory and joy。 I am the servant of an infallible Master。 I am not going out under human guidance; subject to the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow…worms: my king; my lawgiver; my captain; is the All…perfect。 It seems strange to me that all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner;—to join in the same enterprise。”
“All have not your powers; and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong。”
“I do not speak to the feeble; or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work; and petent to acplish it。”
“Those are few in number; and difficult to discover。”
“You say truly; but when found; it is right to stir them up—to urge and exhort them to the effort—to show them what their gifts are; and why they were given—to speak Heaven’s message in their ear;—to offer them; direct from God; a place in the ranks of His chosen。”
“If they are really qualified for the task; will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?”
I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: I trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and rivet the spell。
“And what does your heart say?” demanded St。 John。
“My heart is mute;—my heart is mute;” I answered; struck and thrilled。
“Then I must speak for it;” continued the deep; relentless voice。 “Jane; e with me to India: e as my helpmeet and fellow… labourer。”
The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved! It was as if I had heard a summons from Heaven—as if a visionary messenger; like him of Macedonia; had enounced; “e over and help us!” But I was no apostle;—I could not behold the herald;—I could not receive his call。
“Oh; St。 John!” I cried; “have some mercy!”
I appealed to one who; in the discharge of what he believed his duty; knew neither mercy nor remorse。 He continued—
“God and nature intended you for a missionary’s wife。 It is not personal; but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed for labour; not for love。 A missionary’s wife you must—shall be。 You shall be mine: I claim you—not for my pleasure; but for my Sovereign’s service。”
“I am not fit for it: I have no vocation;” I said。
He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated by them。 Indeed; as he leaned back against the crag behind him; folded his arms on his chest; and fixed his countenance; I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition; and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close—resolved; however; that that close should be conquest for him。
“Humility; Jane;” said he; “is the groundwork of Christian virtues: you say right that you are not fit for the work。 Who is fit for it? Or who; that ever was truly called; believed himself worthy of the summons? I; for instance; am but dust and ashes。 With St。 Paul; I acknowledge myself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me。 I know my Leader: that He is just as well as mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task; He will; from the boundless stores of His providence; supply the inadequacy of the means to the end。 Think like me; Jane—trust like me。 It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness。”
“I do not understand a missionary life: I have never studied missionary labours。”
“There I; humble as I am; can give you the aid you want: I can set you your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you from moment to moment。 This I could do in the beginning: soon (for I know your powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself; and y help。”
“But my powers—where are they for this undertaking? I do not feel them。 Nothing speaks or stirs in me while you talk。 I am sensible of no light kindling—no life quickening—no voice counselling or cheering。 Oh; I wish I could make you see how much my mind is at this moment like a rayless dungeon; with one shrinking fear fettered in its depths—the fear of being persuaded by you to attempt what I cannot acplish!”
“I have an answer for you—hear it。 I have watched you ever since we first met: I have made you my study for ten months。 I have proved you in that time by sundry tests: and what have I seen and elicited? In the village school I found you could perform well; punctually; uprightly; labour uncongenial to your habits and inclinations; I saw you could perform it with capacity and tact: you could win while you controlled。 In the calm with which you learnt you had bee suddenly rich; I read a mind clear of the vice of Demas:… lucre had no undue power over you。 In the resolute readiness with which you cut your wealth into four shares; keeping but one to yourself; and relinquishing the three others to the claim of abstract justice; I recognised a soul that revelled in the flame and excitement of sacrifice。 In the tractability with which; at my wish; you forsook a study in which you were interested; and adopted another because it interested me; in the untiring assiduity with which you have since persevered in it—in the unflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met its difficulties—I acknowledge the plement of the qualities I seek。 Jane; you are docile; diligent; disinterested; faithful; constant; and courageous; very gentle; and very heroic: cease to mistrust yourself—I can trust you unreservedly。 As a conductress of Indian schools; and a helper amongst Indian women; your assistance will be to me invaluable。”
My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow sure step。 Shut my eyes as I would; these last words of his succeeded in making the way; which had seemed blocked up; paratively clear。 My work; which had appeared so vague; so hopelessly diffuse; condensed itself as he proceeded; and assumed a definite form under his shaping hand。 He waited for an answer。 I demanded a quarter of an hour to think; before I again hazarded a reply。
“Very willingly;” he rejoined; and rising; he strode a little distance up the pass; threw himself down on a swell of heath; and there lay still。
“I can do what he wants me to do: I am forced to see and acknowledge that;” I meditated;—“that is; if life be spared me。 But I feel mine is not the existence to be long protracted under an Indian sun。 What then? He does not care for that: when my time came to die; he would resign me; in all serenity and sanctity; to the God who gave me。 The case is very plain before me。 In leaving England; I should leave a loved but empty land—Mr。 Rochester is not there; and if he were; what is; what can that ever be to me? My business is to live without him now: nothing so absurd; so weak as to drag on from day to day; as if I were waiting some impossible change in circumstances; which might reunite me to him。 Of course (as St。 John once said) I must seek another interest in life to replace the one lost: is not the occupation he now offers me truly the most glorious man can adopt or God assign? Is it not; by its noble cares and sublime results; the one best calculated to fill the void left by uptorn affections and demolished hopes? I believe I must say; Yes—and yet I shudder。 Alas! If I join St。 John; I abandon half myself: if I go to India; I go to premature death。 And how will the interval between leaving England for India; and India for the grave; be filled? Oh; I know well! That; too; is very clear to my vision。 By straining to satisfy St。 John till my sinews ache; I shall satisfy him—to the finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations。 If I do go with him— if I do make the sacrifice he urges; I will make it absolutely: I will throw all on the altar—heart; vitals; the entire victim。 He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him energies he has not yet seen; resources he has never suspected。 Yes; I can work as hard as he can; and with as little grudging。
“Consent; then; to his demand is possible: but for one item—one dreadful item。 It is—that he asks me to be his wife; and has no more of a husband’s heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock; down which the stream is foaming in yonder gorge。 He prizes me as a soldier would a good weapon; and that is all。 Unmarried to him; this would never grieve me; but can I let him plete his calculations—coolly put into practice his plans—go through the wedding ceremony? Can I receive from him the bridal ring; endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous。 I will never undergo it。 As his sister; I might acpany him—not as his wife: I will tell him so。”
I looked towards the knoll: ther

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