《Jane Eyre》第145章

“once　or　twice。”
a　pause。
“how　long　did　you　reside　with　him　and　his　sisters　after　the　cousinship　was　discovered？”
“five　months。”
“did　rivers　spend　much　time　with　the　ladies　of　his　family？”
“yes；　the　back　parlour　was　both　his　study　and　ours：　he　sat　near　the　window；　and　we　by　the　table。”
“did　he　study　much？”
“a　good　deal。”
“what？”
“hindostanee。”
“and　what　did　you　do　meantime？”
“i　learnt　german；　at　first。”
“did　he　teach　you？”
“he　did　not　understand　german。”
“did　he　teach　you　nothing？”
“a　little　hindostanee。”
“rivers　taught　you　hindostanee？”
“yes；　sir。”
“and　his　sisters　also？”
“no。”
“only　you？”
“only　me。”
“did　you　ask　to　learn？”
“no。”
“he　wished　to　teach　you？”
“yes。”
a　second　pause。
“why　did　he　wish　it？　of　what　use　could　hindostanee　be　to　you？”
“he　intended　me　to　go　with　him　to　india。”
“ah！　here　i　reach　the　root　of　the　matter。　he　wanted　you　to　marry　him？”
“he　asked　me　to　marry　him。”
“that　is　a　fiction—an　impudent　invention　to　vex　me。”
“i　beg　your　pardon；　it　is　the　literal　truth：　he　asked　me　more　than　once；　and　was　as　stiff　about　urging　his　point　as　ever　you　could　be。”
“miss　eyre；　i　repeat　it；　you　can　leave　me。　how　often　am　i　to　say　the　same　thing？　why　do　you　remain　pertinaciously　perched　on　my　knee；　when　i　have　given　you　notice　to　quit？”
“because　i　am　fortable　there。”
“no；　jane；　you　are　not　fortable　there；　because　your　heart　is　not　with　me：　it　is　with　this　cousin—this　st。　john。　oh；　till　this　moment；　i　thought　my　little　jane　was　all　mine！　i　had　a　belief　she　loved　me　even　when　she　left　me：　that　was　an　atom　of　sweet　in　much　bitter。　long　as　we　have　been　parted；　hot　tears　as　i　have　wept　over　our　separation；　i　never　thought　that　while　i　was　mourning　her；　she　was　loving　another！　but　it　is　useless　grieving。　jane；　leave　me：　go　and　marry　rivers。”
“shake　me　off；　then；　sir；—push　me　away；　for　i’ll　not　leave　you　of　my　own　accord。”
“jane；　i　ever　like　your　tone　of　voice：　it　still　renews　hope；　it　sounds　so　truthful。　when　i　hear　it；　it　carries　me　back　a　year。　i　forget　that　you　have　formed　a　new　tie。　but　i　am　not　a　fool—go—”
“where　must　i　go；　sir？”
“your　own　way—with　the　husband　you　have　chosen。”
“who　is　that？”
“you　know—this　st。　john　rivers。”
“he　is　not　my　husband；　nor　ever　will　be。　he　does　not　love　me：　i　do　not　love　him。　he　loves　（as　he　can　love；　and　that　is　not　as　you　love）　a　beautiful　young　lady　called　rosamond。　he　wanted　to　marry　me　only　because　he　thought　i　should　make　a　suitable　missionary’s　wife；　which　she　would　not　have　done。　he　is　good　and　great；　but　severe；　and；　for　me；　cold　as　an　iceberg。　he　is　not　like　you；　sir：　i　am　not　happy　at　his　side；　nor　near　him；　nor　with　him。　he　has　no　indulgence　for　me—no　fondness。　he　sees　nothing　attractive　in　me；　not　even　youth—only　a　few　useful　mental　points。—then　i　must　leave　you；　sir；　to　go　to　him？”
i　shuddered　involuntarily；　and　clung　instinctively　closer　to　my　blind　but　beloved　master。　he　smiled。
“what；　jane！　is　this　true？　is　such　really　the　state　of　matters　between　you　and　rivers？”
“absolutely；　sir！　oh；　you　need　not　be　jealous！　i　wanted　to　tease　you　a　little　to　make　you　less　sad：　i　thought　anger　would　be　better　than　grief。　but　if　you　wish　me　to　love　you；　could　you　but　see　how　much　i　do　love　you；　you　would　be　proud　and　content。　all　my　heart　is　yours；　sir：　it　belongs　to　you；　and　with　you　it　would　remain；　were　fate　to　exile　the　rest　of　me　from　your　presence　for　ever。”
again；　as　he　kissed　me；　painful　thoughts　darkened　his　aspect。　“my　scared　vision！　my　crippled　strength！”　he　murmured　regretfully。
i　caressed；　in　order　to　soothe　him。　i　knew　of　what　he　was　thinking；　and　wanted　to　speak　for　him；　but　dared　not。　as　he　turned　aside　his　face　a　minute；　i　saw　a　tear　slide　from　under　the　sealed　eyelid；　and　trickle　down　the　manly　cheek。　my　heart　swelled。
“i　am　no　better　than　the　old　lightning…struck　chestnut…tree　in　thornfield　orchard；”　he　remarked　ere　long。　“and　what　right　would　that　ruin　have　to　bid　a　budding　woodbine　cover　its　decay　with　freshness？”
“you　are　no　ruin；　sir—no　lightning…struck　tree：　you　are　green　and　vigorous。　plants　will　grow　about　your　roots；　whether　you　ask　them　or　not；　because　they　take　delight　in　your　bountiful　shadow；　and　as　they　grow　they　will　lean　towards　you；　and　wind　round　you；　because　your　strength　offers　them　so　safe　a　prop。”
again　he　smiled：　i　gave　him　fort。
“you　speak　of　friends；　jane？”　he　asked。
“yes；　of　friends；”　i　answered　rather　hesitatingly：　for　i　knew　i　meant　more　than　friends；　but　could　not　tell　what　other　word　to　employ。　he　helped　me。
“ah！　jane。　but　i　want　a　wife。”
“do　you；　sir？”
“yes：　is　it　news　to　you？”
“of　course：　you　said　nothing　about　it　before。”
“is　it　unwele　news？”
“that　depends　on　circumstances；　sir—on　your　choice。”
“which　you　shall　make　for　me；　jane。　i　will　abide　by　your　decision。”
“choose　then；　sir—her　who　loves　you　best。”
“i　will　at　least　choose—her　i　love　best。　jane；　will　you　marry　me？”
“yes；　sir。”
“a　poor　blind　man；　whom　you　will　have　to　lead　about　by　the　hand？”
“yes；　sir。”
“a　crippled　man；　twenty　years　older　than　you；　whom　you　will　have　to　wait　on？”
“yes；　sir。”
“truly；　jane？”
“most　truly；　sir。”
“oh！　my　darling！　god　bless　you　and　reward　you！”
“mr。　rochester；　if　ever　i　did　a　good　deed　in　my　life—if　ever　i　thought　a　good　thought—if　ever　i　prayed　a　sincere　and　blameless　prayer—if　ever　i　wished　a　righteous　wish；—i　am　rewarded　now。　to　be　your　wife　is；　for　me；　to　be　as　happy　as　i　can　be　on　earth。”
“because　you　delight　in　sacrifice。”
“sacrifice！　what　do　i　sacrifice？　famine　for　food；　expectation　for　content。　to　be　privileged　to　put　my　arms　round　what　i　value—to　press　my　lips　to　what　i　love—to　repose　on　what　i　trust：　is　that　to　make　a　sacrifice？　if　so；　then　certainly　i　delight　in　sacrifice。”
“and　to　bear　with　my　infirmities；　jane：　to　overlook　my　deficiencies。”
“which　are　none；　sir；　to　me。　i　love　you　better　now；　when　i　can　really　be　useful　to　you；　than　i　did　in　your　state　of　proud　independence；　when