第320页
《简·爱(英文版)》章节:第320页,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
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
communicated a certain austere charm to his language and manner. To
me, he was in reality become no longer flesh, but marble; his eye
was a cold, bright, blue gem; his tongue a speaking instrument-
nothing more.
All this was torture to me- refined, lingering torture. It kept
up a slow fire of indignation and a trembling trouble of grief,
which harassed and crushed me altogether. I felt how- if I were his
wife, this good man, pure as the deep sunless source, could soon
kill me, without drawing from my veins a single drop of blood, or
receiving on his own crystal conscience the faintest stain of crime.
Especially I felt this when I made any attempt to propitiate him. No
ruth met my ruth. He experienced no suffering from estrangement- no
yearning after reconciliation; and though, more than once, my fast
falling tears blistered the page over which we both bent, they
produced no more effect on him than if his heart had been really a
matter of stone or metal. To his sisters, meantime, he was somewhat
kinder than usual: as if afraid that mere coldness would not
sufficiently convince me how completely I was banished and banned,
he added the force of contrast; and this I am sure he did not by
malice, but on principle.
The night before he left home, happening to see him walking in
the garden about sunset, and remembering, as I looked at him, that
this man, alienated as he now was, had once saved my life, and that we
were near relations, I was moved to make a last attempt to regain