it was near christmas by the time all was settled: the season of general holiday approached. i now closed morton school, taking care that the parting should not be barren on my side. good fortune opens the hand as well as the heart wonderfully; and to give somewhat when we have largely received, is but to afford a 2 to the unusual ebullition of the sensations. i had long felt with pleasure that many of my 3 scholars liked me, and when we parted, that consciousness was confirmed: they manifested their affection plainly and strongly. deep was my gratification to find i had really a place in their unsophisticated hearts: i promised them that never a week should pass in future that i did not visit them, and give them an hour's teaching in their school.
mr. rivers came up as, having seen the classes, now numbering sixty girls, file out before me, and locked the door, i stood with the key in my hand, exchanging a few words of special farewell with some half-dozen of my best scholars: as decent, respectable, modest, and well-informed young women as could be found in the ranks of the british peasantry. and that is saying a great deal; for after all, the british peasantry are the best taught, best mannered, most self- respecting of any in europe: since those days i have seen paysannes and bauerinnen; and the best of them seemed to me ignorant, coarse, and besotted, compared with my morton girls.
"do you consider you have got your reward for a season of 4?" asked mr. rivers, when they were gone. "does not the consciousness of having done some real good in your day and generation give pleasure?"
"doubtless."
"and you have only 6 a few months! would not a life 7 to the task of 8 your race be well spent?"
"yes," i said; "but i could not go on for ever so: i want to enjoy my own 9 as well as to cultivate those of other people. i must enjoy them now; don't recall either my mind or body to the school; i am out of it and disposed for full holiday."
he looked grave. "what now? what sudden eagerness is this you evince? what are you going to do?"
"to be active: as active as i can. and first i must beg you to set hannah at liberty, and get somebody else to wait on you."
"do you want her?"
"yes, to go with me to 10 house. diana and mary will be at home in a week, and i want to have everything in order against their arrival."
"i understand. i thought you were for flying off on some excursion. it is better so: hannah shall go with you."
"tell her to be ready by to-morrow then; and here is the schoolroom key: i will give you the key of my cottage in the morning."
he took it. "you give it up very gleefully," said he; "i don't quite understand your light-heartedness, because i cannot tell what employment you propose to yourself as a substitute for the one you are 11. what aim, what purpose, what ambition in life have you now?"
"my first aim will be to clean down (do you comprehend the full force of the expression?)--to clean down moor house from 12 to cellar; my next to rub it up with bees-wax, oil, and an indefinite number of cloths, till it glitters again; my third, to arrange every chair, table, bed, carpet, with mathematical precision; afterwards i shall go near to ruin you in coals and peat to keep up good fires in every room; and lastly, the two days preceding that on which your sisters are expected will be devoted by hannah and me to such a beating of eggs, sorting of currants, grating of spices, compounding of christmas cakes, chopping up of materials for mince-pies, and solemnising of other culinary 13, as words can convey but an 14 notion of to the uninitiated like you. my purpose, in short, is to have all things in an absolutely perfect state of readiness for diana and mary before next thursday; and my ambition is to give them a beau-ideal of a welcome when they come."
st. john smiled slightly: still he was dissatisfied.
"it is all very well for the present," said he; "but seriously, i trust that when the first flush of 15 is over, you will look a little higher than domestic 17 and household joys."
"the best things the world has!" i interrupted.
"no, jane, no: this world is not the scene of fruition; do not attempt to make it so: nor of rest; do not turn slothful."
"i mean, on the contrary, to be busy."
"jane, i excuse you for the present: two months' grace i allow you for the full 18 of your new position, and for pleasing yourself with this late-found charm of relationship; but then, i hope you will begin to look beyond moor house and morton, and sisterly society, and the selfish calm and sensual comfort of civilised 19. i hope your energies will then once more trouble you with their strength."
i looked at him with surprise. "st. john," i said, "i think you are almost wicked to talk so. i am disposed to be as content as a queen, and you try to stir me up to restlessness! to what end?"
"to the end of turning to profit the talents which god has committed to your keeping; and of which he will surely one day demand a strict account. jane, i shall watch you closely and anxiously--i warn you of that. and try to restrain the disproportionate fervour with which you throw yourself into commonplace home pleasures. don't cling so 20 to ties of the flesh; save your constancy and ardour for an adequate cause; forbear to waste them on 21 transient objects. do you hear, jane?"
"yes; just as if you were speaking greek. i feel i have adequate cause to be happy, and i will be happy. goodbye!"
happy at moor house i was, and hard i worked; and so did hannah: she was charmed to see how 22 i could be amidst the 23 of a house turned topsy-turvy--how i could brush, and dust, and clean, and cook. and really, after a day or two of confusion worse confounded, it was 24 by degrees to 25 order from the 26 ourselves had made. i had 27 taken a journey to s- to purchase some new furniture: my cousins having given me carte blanche to effect what 28 i pleased, and a sum having been set aside for that purpose. the ordinary 29 and bedrooms i left much as they were: for i knew diana and mary would 30 more pleasure from seeing again the old 31 tables, and chairs, and beds, than from the spectacle of the smartest innovations. still some novelty was necessary, to give to their return the 32 with which i wished it to be invested. dark handsome new carpets and curtains, an arrangement of some carefully selected antique 33 in 34 and bronze, new coverings, and mirrors, and dressing-cases, for the toilet tables, answered the end: they looked fresh without being glaring. a spare parlour and bedroom i refurnished 35, with old mahogany and 36 upholstery: i laid canvas on the passage, and carpets on the stairs. when all was finished, i thought moor house as complete a model of bright modest 37 within, as it was, at this season, a 38 of wintry waste and desert 39 without.
the eventful thursday at length came. they were expected about dark, and ere dusk fires were lit upstairs and below; the kitchen was in perfect trim; hannah and i were dressed, and all was in readiness.
st. john arrived first. i had 40 him to keep quite clear of the house till everything was arranged: and, indeed, the bare idea of the 41, at once 42 and trivial, going on within its walls sufficed to scare him to 43. he found me in the kitchen, watching the progress of certain cakes for tea, then baking. approaching the 44, he asked, "if i was at last satisfied with housemaid's work?" i answered by 45 him to accompany me on a general 46 of the result of my labours. with some difficulty, i got him to make the tour of the house. he just looked in at the doors i opened; and when he had wandered upstairs and downstairs, he said i must have gone through a great deal of 47 and trouble to have effected such considerable changes in so short a time: but not a 48 did he utter indicating pleasure in the improved aspect of his 49.
this silence damped me. i thought perhaps the alterations had disturbed some old associations he valued. i inquired whether this was the case: no doubt in a somewhat crest-fallen tone.
"not at all; he had, on the contrary, remarked that i had 50 respected every association: he feared, indeed, i must have 51 more thought on the matter than it was worth. how many minutes, for instance, had i devoted to studying the arrangement of this very room?--by-the-bye, could i tell him where such a book was?"
i showed him the volume on the shelf: he took it down, and withdrawing to his accustomed window 52, he began to read it.
now, i did not like this, reader. st. john was a good man; but i began to feel he had spoken truth of himself when he said he was hard and cold. the humanities and 54 of life had no attraction for him--its peaceful 55 no charm. 56, he lived only to 57--after what was good and great, certainly; but still he would never rest, nor approve of others resting round him. as i looked at his lofty forehead, still and pale as a white stone-- at his fine lineaments 58 in study--i comprehended all at once that he would hardly make a good husband: that it would be a trying thing to be his wife. i understood, as by inspiration, the nature of his love for miss oliver; i agreed with him that it was but a love of the senses. i comprehended how he should despise himself for the 59 influence it exercised over him; how he should wish to 60 and destroy it; how he should mistrust its ever conducting 61 to his happiness or hers. i saw he was of the material from which nature 62 her heroes--63 and pagan--her lawgivers, her statesmen, her 64: a 65 66 for great interests to rest upon; but, at the fireside, too often a cold cumbrous column, gloomy and out of place.
"this parlour is not his sphere," i reflected: "the himalayan 67 or caffre bush, even the plague-cursed guinea coast swamp would suit him better. well may he 68 the calm of domestic life; it is not his element: there his faculties stagnate--they cannot develop or appear to advantage. it is in scenes of 69 and danger--where courage is proved, and energy exercised, and 70 tasked--that he will speak and move, the leader and superior. a merry child would have the advantage of him on this hearth. he is right to choose a 71's career--i see it now."
"they are coming! they are coming!" cried hannah, throwing open the parlour door. at the same moment old carlo barked 72. out i ran. it was now dark; but a 73 of wheels was audible. hannah soon had a lantern lit. the vehicle had stopped at the wicket; the driver opened the door: first one well-known form, then another, stepped out. in a minute i had my face under their 74, in contact first with mary's soft cheek, then with diana's flowing curls. they laughed--kissed me--then hannah: patted carlo, who was half wild with delight; asked eagerly if all was well; and being assured in the affirmative, hastened into the house.
they were stiff with their long and 76 drive from whitcross, and chilled with the frosty night air; but their pleasant 78 expanded to the cheerful firelight. while the driver and hannah brought in the boxes, they demanded st. john. at this moment he advanced from the parlour. they both threw their arms round his neck at once. he gave each one quiet kiss, said in a low tone a few words of welcome, stood a while to be talked to, and then, intimating that he supposed they would soon rejoin him in the parlour, withdrew there as to a place of refuge.
i had lit their candles to go upstairs, but diana had first to give 79 orders respecting the driver; this done, both followed me. they were delighted with the 80 and decorations of their rooms; with the new drapery, and fresh carpets, and rich 82 china vases: they expressed their gratification ungrudgingly. i had the pleasure of feeling that my arrangements met their wishes exactly, and that what i had done added a vivid charm to their 84 return home.
sweet was that evening. my cousins, full of exhilaration, were so 85 in 86 and comment, that their 87 covered st. john's taciturnity: he was sincerely glad to see his sisters; but in their glow of fervour and flow of joy he could not sympathise. the event of the day--that is, the return of diana and mary--pleased him; but the accompaniments of that event, the glad 88, the 89 glee of reception irked him: i saw he wished the calmer morrow was come. in the very 90 of the night's enjoyment, about an hour after tea, a rap was heard at the door. hannah entered with the intimation that "a poor lad was come, at that unlikely time, to fetch mr. rivers to see his mother, who was drawing away."
"where does she live, hannah?"
"clear up at whitcross brow, almost four miles off, and moor and 91 all the way."
"tell him i will go."
"i'm sure, sir, you had better not. it's the worst road to travel after dark that can be: there's no track at all over the 92. and then it is such a bitter night--the keenest wind you ever felt. you had better send word, sir, that you will be there in the morning."
but he was already in the passage, putting on his cloak; and without one objection, one 93, he departed. it was then nine o'clock: he did not return till midnight. starved and tired enough he was: but he looked happier than when he set out. he had performed an act of duty; made an exertion; felt his own strength to do and deny, and was on better terms with himself.
i am afraid the whole of the ensuing week tried his patience. it was christmas week: we took to no settled employment, but spent it in a sort of merry domestic dissipation. the air of the 94, the freedom of home, the dawn of prosperity, acted on diana and mary's spirits like some life-giving 95: they were gay from morning till noon, and from noon till night. they could always talk; and their 96, 97, 98, original, had such charms for me, that i preferred listening to, and sharing in it, to doing anything else. st. john did not 99 our vivacity; but he escaped from it: he was seldom in the house; his parish was large, the population 100, and he found daily business in visiting the sick and poor in its different districts.
one morning at breakfast, diana, after looking a little 101 for some minutes, asked him, "if his plans were yet unchanged."
"unchanged and unchangeable," was the reply. and he proceeded to inform us that his departure from england was now 102 fixed for the ensuing year.
"and rosamond oliver?" suggested mary, the words seeming to escape her lips involuntarily: for no sooner had she uttered them, than she made a gesture as if wishing to recall them. st. john had a book in his hand--it was his unsocial custom to read at meals--he closed it, and looked up,
"rosamond oliver," said he, "is about to be married to mr. granby, one of the best connected and most estimable residents in s-, grandson and heir to sir frederic granby: i had the intelligence from her father yesterday."
his sisters looked at each other and at me; we all three looked at him: he was 103 as glass.
"the match must have been got up hastily," said diana: "they cannot have known each other long."
"but two months: they met in october at the county ball at s-. but where there are no obstacles to a union, as in the present case, where the connection is in every point desirable, delays are unnecessary: they will be married as soon as s- place, which sir frederic gives up to them, can he refitted for their reception."
the first time i found st. john alone after this communication, i felt 104 to inquire if the event 105 him: but he seemed so little to need sympathy, that, so far from venturing to offer him more, i experienced some shame at the recollection of what i had already hazarded. besides, i was out of practice in talking to him: his reserve was again frozen over, and my frankness was 106 beneath it. he had not kept his promise of treating me like his sisters; he continually made little chilling differences between us, which did not at all tend to the development of cordiality: in short, now that i was acknowledged his kinswoman, and lived under the same roof with him, i felt the distance between us to be far greater than when he had known me only as the village schoolmistress. when i remembered how far i had once been admitted to his confidence, i could hardly comprehend his present 107.
such being the case, i felt not a little surprised when he raised his head suddenly from the desk over which he was stooping, and said -
"you see, jane, the battle is fought and the victory won."
startled at being thus addressed, i did not immediately reply: after a moment's 108 i answered -
"but are you sure you are not in the position of those conquerors whose triumphs have cost them too dear? would not such another ruin you?"
"i think not; and if i were, it does not much signify; i shall never be called upon to contend for such another. the event of the conflict is decisive: my way is now clear; i thank god for it!" so saying, he returned to his papers and his silence.
as our 109 happiness (i.e., diana's, mary's, and mine) settled into a quieter character, and we resumed our usual habits and regular studies, st. john stayed more at home: he sat with us in the same room, sometimes for hours together. while mary drew, diana pursued a course of encyclopaedic reading she had (to my 110 and amazement) undertaken, and i fagged away at german, he pondered a mystic 111 of his own: that of some eastern tongue, the acquisition of which he thought necessary to his plans.
thus engaged, he appeared, sitting in his own recess, quiet and absorbed enough; but that blue eye of his had a habit of leaving the outlandish-looking grammar, and wandering over, and sometimes fixing upon us, his fellow-students, with a curious 112 of observation: if caught, it would be instantly 113; yet ever and anon, it returned searchingly to our table. i wondered what it meant: i wondered, too, at the punctual satisfaction he never failed to exhibit on an occasion that seemed to me of small moment, namely, my weekly visit to morton school; and still more was i puzzled when, if the day was unfavourable, if there was snow, or rain, or high wind, and his sisters urged me not to go, he would invariably make light of their 114, and encourage me to accomplish the task without regard to the elements.
"jane is not such a weakling as you would make her," he would say: "she can bear a mountain blast, or a shower, or a few 115 of snow, as well as any of us. her constitution is both sound and elastic;--better calculated to endure variations of climate than many more 116."
and when i returned, sometimes a good deal tired, and not a little weather-beaten, i never dared complain, because i saw that to murmur would be to 117 him: on all occasions fortitude pleased him; the reverse was a special 118.
one afternoon, however, i got leave to stay at home, because i really had a cold. his sisters were gone to morton in my stead: i sat reading schiller; he, deciphering his 119 oriental 120. as i exchanged a translation for an exercise, i happened to look his way: there i found myself under the influence of the ever-121 blue eye. how long it had been searching me through and through, and over and over, i cannot tell: so keen was it, and yet so cold, i felt for the moment superstitious--as if i were sitting in the room with something uncanny.
"jane, what are you doing?"
"learning german."
"i want you to give up german and learn hindostanee."
"you are not in earnest?"
"in such earnest that i must have it so: and i will tell you why."
he then went on to explain that hindostanee was the language he was himself at present studying; that, as he advanced, he was apt to forget the commencement; that it would assist him greatly to have a pupil with whom he might again and again go over the elements, and so fix them 122 in his mind; that his choice had 123 for some time between me and his sisters; but that he had fixed on me because he saw i could sit at a task the longest of the three. would i do him this favour? i should not, perhaps, have to make the sacrifice long, as it wanted now barely three months to his departure.
st. john was not a man to be lightly refused: you felt that every impression made on him, either for pain or pleasure, was deep-graved and permanent. i consented. when diana and mary returned, the former found her scholar transferred from her to her brother: she laughed, and both she and mary agreed that st. john should never have persuaded them to such a step. he answered quietly -
"i know it."
i found him a very patient, very forbearing, and yet an 124 master: he expected me to do a great deal; and when i fulfilled his expectations, he, in his own way, 1 testified his 125. by degrees, he acquired a certain influence over me that took away my liberty of mind: his praise and notice were more restraining than his 126. i could no longer talk or laugh freely when he was by, because a 127 128 instinct reminded me that vivacity (at least in me) was distasteful to him. i was so fully aware that only serious moods and occupations were acceptable, that in his presence every effort to sustain or follow any other became vain: i fell under a freezing spell. when he said "go," i went; "come," i came; "do this," i did it. but i did not love my servitude: i wished, many a time, he had continued to neglect me.
one evening when, at bedtime, his sisters and i stood round him, bidding him good-night, he kissed each of them, as was his custom; and, as was equally his custom, he gave me his hand. diana, who chanced to be in a 129 humour (she was not painfully controlled by his will; for hers, in another way, was as strong), exclaimed -
"st. john! you used to call jane your third sister, but you don't treat her as such: you should kiss her too."
she pushed me towards him. i thought diana very provoking, and felt uncomfortably confused; and while i was thus thinking and feeling, st. john 130 his head; his greek face was brought to a level with mine, his eyes questioned my eyes piercingly--he kissed me. there are no such things as marble kisses or ice kisses, or i should say my ecclesiastical cousin's 131 belonged to one of these classes; but there may be experiment kisses, and his was an experiment kiss. when given, he viewed me to learn the result; it was not striking: i am sure i did not blush; perhaps i might have turned a little pale, for i felt as if this kiss were a seal 132 to my 133. he never omitted the ceremony afterwards, and the gravity and 134 with which i underwent it, seemed to invest it for him with a certain charm.
as for me, i daily wished more to please him; but to do so, i felt daily more and more that i must disown half my nature, stifle half my faculties, 135 my tastes from their original bent, force myself to the 136 of pursuits for which i had no natural 137. he wanted to train me to an 138 i could never reach; it racked me hourly to aspire to the standard he uplifted. the thing was as impossible as to mould my irregular features to his correct and classic pattern, to give to my changeable green eyes the sea-blue 81 and solemn 139 of his own.
not his 140 alone, however, held me in 141 at present. of late it had been easy enough for me to look sad: a cankering evil sat at my heart and drained my happiness at its source--the evil of 142.
perhaps you think i had forgotten mr. rochester, reader, amidst these changes of place and fortune. not for a moment. his idea was still with me, because it was not a vapour sunshine could 143, nor a sand-traced 144 storms could wash away; it was a name graven on a tablet, fated to last as long as the marble it 145. the 146 to know what had become of him followed me everywhere; when i was at morton, i re-entered my cottage every evening to think of that; and now at moor house, i sought my bedroom each night to brood over it.
in the course of my necessary correspondence with mr. briggs about the will, i had inquired if he knew anything of mr. rochester's present residence and state of health; but, as st. john had 147, he was quite ignorant of all concerning him. i then wrote to mrs. fairfax, 148 information on the subject. i had calculated with certainty on this step answering my end: i felt sure it would 149 an early answer. i was astonished when a fortnight passed without reply; but when two months wore away, and day after day the post arrived and brought nothing for me, i fell a 150 to the keenest anxiety.
i wrote again: there was a chance of my first letter having missed. renewed hope followed renewed effort: it shone like the former for some weeks, then, like it, it faded, 151: not a line, not a word reached me. when half a year wasted in vain 152, my hope died out, and then i felt dark indeed.
a fine spring shone round me, which i could not enjoy. summer approached; diana tried to cheer me: she said i looked ill, and wished to accompany me to the sea-side. this st. john opposed; he said i did not want dissipation, i wanted employment; my present life was too purposeless, i required an aim; and, i suppose, by way of supplying deficiencies, he prolonged still further my lessons in hindostanee, and grew more urgent in requiring their 153: and i, like a fool, never thought of resisting him--i could not resist him.
one day i had come to my studies in lower spirits than usual; the 154 was occasioned by a 155 felt disappointment. hannah had told me in the morning there was a letter for me, and when i went down to take it, almost certain that the long-looked for tidings were 156 me at last, i found only an unimportant note from mr. briggs on business. the bitter check had 157 from me some tears; and now, as i sat poring over the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an indian scribe, my eyes filled again.
st. john called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this my voice failed me: words were lost in 158. he and i were the only occupants of the parlour: diana was practising her music in the drawing-room, mary was gardening--it was a very fine may day, clear, sunny, and breezy. my companion 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 composed." and while i 159 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 160. having 161 my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered something about not being very well that morning, i resumed my task, and succeeded in completing 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 companion this morning, and that must be you. put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towards the head of 162 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, 163 to my own, between absolute 164 and 165 revolt. i have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with 166 167, into the other; and as neither present circumstances warranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, i observed careful 168 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 169 of heath and rush; the sky was of 170 blue; the stream 171 the ravine, 173 with past spring rains, poured along 174 and clear, 175 golden gleams from the sun, and 176 177 from the 178. 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 179 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 180, and exchanged the fresh for the frowning--where it guarded the forlorn hope of 181, 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 communion 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 182 overcomes me--on the shore of a darker stream!"
strange words of a strange love! an 183 patriot's passion for his fatherland! he sat down; for half-an-hour we never 53; neither he to me nor i to him: that 184 past, he recommenced -
"jane, i go in six weeks; i have taken my 185 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 186 laws and 187 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 188 under the same banner,--to join in the same enterprise."
"all have not your powers, and it would be 189 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 190 of the work, and competent to accomplish 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 191 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 192 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 193 over me: i trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and 194 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, 195 voice. "jane, come with me to india: come as my helpmeet and fellow- labourer."
the glen and sky 196 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, "come over and help us!" but i was no apostle,--i could not 197 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 198. 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 77, i saw he was prepared for a long and trying 200, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close--resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him.
"201, jane," said he, "is the groundwork of christian 202: 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 203 to 204 me. i know my leader: that he is just as well as 205; and while he has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, he will, from the 206 stores of his 207, supply the 208 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, 209 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 would not require my help."
"but my powers--where are they for this 210? 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 211, with one shrinking fear 212 in its depths--the fear of being persuaded by you to attempt what i cannot accomplish!"
"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 213 tests: and what have i seen and 214? in the village school i found you could perform well, punctually, uprightly, labour uncongenial to your habits and 215; i saw you could perform it with capacity and 75: you could win while you controlled. in the calm with which you learnt you had become suddenly rich, i read a mind clear of the 199 of demas:- 216 had no 217 power over you. in the 218 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 219 in the flame and excitement of sacrifice. in the 220 with which, at my wish, you 221 a study in which you were interested, and adopted another because it interested me; in the untiring assiduity with which you have since 222 in it--in the unflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met its difficulties--i acknowledge the 223 of the qualities i seek. jane, you are 224, 225, 226, faithful, constant, and 227; 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 228."
my iron 229 contracted round me; 230 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, comparatively clear. my work, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly 231, 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 172 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 232 under an indian sun. what then? he does not care for that: when my time came to die, he would resign me, in all 233 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 234 results, the one best calculated to fill the void left by uptorn affections and 235 hopes? i believe i must say, yes--and yet i 236. 237! if i join st. john, i abandon half myself: if i go to india, i go to 238 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 83.
"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 239 in yonder 240. 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 complete 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 16 he 241 is a sacrifice made on principle? no: such a martyrdom would be 242. i will never undergo it. as his sister, i might accompany him--not as his wife: i will tell him so."
i looked towards the 243: there he lay, still as a 244 column; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. he started to his feet and approached me.
"i am ready to go to india, if i may go free."
"your answer requires a commentary," he said; "it is not clear."
"you have hitherto been my adopted brother--i, your adopted sister: let us continue as such: you and i had better not marry."
he shook his head. "adopted fraternity will not do in this case. if you were my real sister it would be different: i should take you, and seek no wife. but as it is, either our union must be 245 and sealed by marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles oppose themselves to any other plan. do you not see it, jane? consider a moment--your strong sense will guide you."
i did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me only to the fact that we did not love each other as man and wife should: and therefore it inferred we ought not to marry. i said so. "st. john," i returned, "i regard you as a brother--you, me as a sister: so let us continue."
"we cannot--we cannot," he answered, with short, sharp determination: "it would not do. you have said you will go with me to india: remember--you have said that."
"246."
"well--well. to the main point--the departure with me from england, the co-operation with me in my future labours--you do not object. you have already as good as put your hand to the plough: you are too consistent to withdraw it. you have but one end to keep in view--how the work you have undertaken can best be done. simplify your complicated interests, feelings, thoughts, wishes, aims; 247 all considerations in one purpose: that of fulfilling with effect-- with power--the mission of your great master. to do so, you must have a coadjutor: not a brother--that is a loose tie--but a husband. i, too, do not want a sister: a sister might any day be taken from me. i want a wife: the sole helpmeet i can influence 248 in life, and retain absolutely till death."
i 249 as he spoke: i felt his influence in my marrow--his hold on my limbs.
"seek one elsewhere than in me, st. john: seek one fitted to you."
"one fitted to my purpose, you mean--fitted to my vocation. again i tell you it is not the 250 private individual--the 251 man, with the man's selfish senses--i wish to mate: it is the missionary."
"and i will give the missionary my energies--it is all he wants--but not myself: that would be only adding the husk and shell to the 252. for them he has no use: i retain them."
"you cannot--you ought not. do you think god will be satisfied with half an 253? will he accept a mutilated sacrifice? it is the cause of god i advocate: it is under his standard i enlist you. i cannot accept on his behalf a divided allegiance: it must be entire."
"oh! i will give my heart to god," i said. "you do not want it."
i will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressed 254 both in the tone in which i uttered this sentence, and in the feeling that accompanied it. i had silently feared st. john till now, because i had not understood him. he had held me in awe, because he had held me in doubt. how much of him was saint, how much mortal, i could not heretofore tell: but revelations were being made in this conference: the analysis of his nature was 255 before my eyes. i saw his fallibilities: i comprehended them. i understood that, sitting there where i did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form before me, i sat at the feet of a man, caring as i. the veil fell from his hardness and despotism. having felt in him the presence of these qualities, i felt his imperfection and took courage. i was with an equal--one with whom i might argue--one whom, if i saw good, i might resist.
he was silent after i had uttered the last sentence, and i presently risked an upward glance at his countenance.
his eye, bent on me, expressed at once stern surprise and keen 256. "is she 257, and sarcastic to me!" it seemed to say. "what does this signify?"
"do not let us forget that this is a solemn matter," he said ere long; "one of which we may neither think nor talk lightly without sin. i trust, jane, you are in earnest when you say you will serve your heart to god: it is all i want. once 258 your heart from man, and fix it on your 259, the 260 of that maker's spiritual kingdom on earth will be your chief delight and endeavour; you will be ready to do at once whatever furthers that end. you will see what 261 would be given to your efforts and mine by our physical and mental union in marriage: the only union that gives a character of permanent 262 to the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over all 263 caprices--all trivial difficulties and 264 of feeling--all 265 about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personal inclination-- you will hasten to enter into that union at once."
"shall i?" i said 266; and i looked at his features, beautiful in their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; at his brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall 267 figure; and fancied myself in idea his wife. oh! it would never do! as his curate, his comrade, all would be right: i would cross oceans with him in that capacity; 5 under eastern suns, in asian deserts with him in that office; admire and 268 his courage and devotion and 269; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at his ineradicable ambition; 270 the christian from the man: profoundly 271 the one, and freely forgive the other. i should suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body would be under rather a 272 273, but my heart and mind would be free. i should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. there would be 275 in my mind which would be only mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which his austerity could never 274, nor his measured warrior-march 276 down: but as his wife--at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked--forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the 277 flame consumed vital after vital--this would be unendurable.
"st. john!" i exclaimed, when i had got so far in my 278.
"well?" he answered icily.
"i repeat i freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary, but not as your wife; i cannot marry you and become part of you."
"a part of me you must become," he answered 279; "otherwise the whole bargain is void. how can i, a man not yet thirty, take out with me to india a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me? how can we be for ever together--sometimes in 280, sometimes amidst savage tribes--and unwed?"
"very well," i said shortly; "under the circumstances, quite as well as if i were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman like yourself."
"it is known that you are not my sister; i cannot introduce you as such: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both. and for the rest, though you have a man's vigorous brain, you have a woman's heart and--it would not do."
"it would do," i affirmed with some 281, "282 well. i have a woman's heart, but not where you are concerned; for you i have only a comrade's constancy; a fellow-soldier's frankness, 283, fraternity, if you like; a neophyte's respect and submission to his hierophant: nothing more--don't fear."
"it is what i want," he said, speaking to himself; "it is just what i want. and there are obstacles in the way: they must be hewn down. jane, you would not 284 marrying me--be certain of that; we must be married. i repeat it: there is no other way; and 285 enough of love would follow upon marriage to render the union right even in your eyes."
"i scorn your idea of love," i could not help saying, as i rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. "i scorn the 286 sentiment you offer: yes, st. john, and i scorn you when you offer it."
he looked at me 287, compressing his well-cut lips while he did so. whether he was 288 or surprised, or what, it was not easy to tell: he could command his countenance thoroughly.
"i scarcely expected to hear that expression from you," he said: "i think i have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn."
i was touched by his gentle tone, and overawed by his high, calm 289.
"forgive me the words, st. john; but it is your own fault that i have been roused to speak so unguardedly. you have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance--a topic we should never discuss: the very name of love is an apple of 290 between us. if the reality were required, what should we do? how should we feel? my dear cousin, abandon your scheme of marriage--forget it."
"no," said he; "it is a long-cherished scheme, and the only one which can secure my great end: but i shall urge you no further at present. to-morrow, i leave home for cambridge: i have many friends there to whom i should wish to say farewell. i shall be absent a fortnight--take that space of time to consider my offer: and do not forget that if you reject it, it is not me you deny, but god. through my means, he opens to you a noble career; as my wife only can you enter upon it. refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith, and are worse than infidels!"
he had done. turning from me, he once more
"looked to river, looked to hill."
but this time his feelings were all pent in his heart: i was not worthy to hear them uttered. as i walked by his side homeward, i read well in his iron silence all he felt towards me: the disappointment of an austere and despotic nature, which has met resistance where it expected submission--the disapprobation of a cool, 291 292, which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has no power to sympathise: in short, as a man, he would have wished to 293 me into obedience: it was only as a sincere christian he bore so patiently with my 294, and allowed so long a space for reflection and 295.
that night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. i--who, though i had no love, had much friendship for him--was hurt by the marked 296: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes.
"i see you and st. john have been quarrelling, jane," said diana, "during your walk on the moor. but go after him; he is now lingering in the passage expecting you--he will make it up."
i have not much pride under such circumstances: i would always rather be happy than 297; and i ran after him--he stood at the foot of the stairs.
"good-night, st. john," said i.
"good-night, jane," he replied calmly.
"then shake hands," i added.
what a cold, loose touch, he impressed on my fingers! he was deeply 298 by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm, nor tears move him. no happy 299 was to be had with him- -no cheering smile or generous word: but still the christian was patient and 300; and when i asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive, not having been offended.
and with that answer he left me. i would much rather he had knocked me down.
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