第322页
《简·爱(英文版)》章节:第322页,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
A fresh wrong did these words inflict: the worse, because they
touched on the truth. That bloodless lip quivered to a temporary
spasm. I knew the steely ire I had whetted. I was heart-wrung.
'You utterly misinterpret my words,' I said, at once seizing his
hand: 'I have no intention to grieve or pain you- indeed, I have not.'
Most bitterly he smiled- most decidedly he withdrew his hand from
mine. 'And now you recall your promise, and will not go to India at
all, I presume?' said he, after a considerable pause.
'Yes, I will, as your assistant,' I answered.
A very long silence succeeded. What struggle there was in him
between Nature and Grace in this interval, I cannot tell: only
singular gleams scintillated in his eyes, and strange shadows passed
over his face. He spoke at last.
'I before proved to you the absurdity of a single woman of your age
proposing to accompany abroad a single man of mine. I proved it to you
in such terms as, I should have thought, would have prevented your
ever again alluding to the plan. That you have done so, I regret-
for your sake.'
I interrupted him. Anything like a tangible reproach gave me
courage at once. 'Keep to common sense, St. John: you are verging on
nonsense. You pretend to be shocked by what I have said. You are not
really shocked: for, with your superior mind, you cannot be either
so dull or so conceited as to misunderstand my meaning. I say again, I
will be your curate, if you like, but never your wife.'
Again he turned lividly pale; but, as before, controlled his
passion perfectly. He answered emphatically but calmly-
'A female curate, who is not my wife, would never suit me. With me,
then, it seems, you cannot go: but if you are sincere in your offer, I
will, while in town, speak to a married missionary, whose wife needs a
coadjutor. Your own fortune will make you independent of the Society's
aid; and thus you may still be spared the dishonour of breaking your
promise and deserting the band you engaged to join.'
Now I never had, as the reader knows, either given any formal
promise or entered into any engagement; and this language was all much
too hard and much too despotic for the occasion. I replied-
'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
committing suicide. Moreover, before I definitely resolve on
quitting England, I will know for certain whether I cannot be of
greater use by remaining in it than by leaving it.'