简爱(英文版)-第112部分

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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　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　relin