Chapter 37 Chapter Thirty-Five

The next day, instead of going to Cambridge as he had said, he postponed his visit for a whole week.During this time, he made me realize how severely a kind but harsh, straightforward and ruthless person will punish those who offend him.Without a single act of open hostility, without a word of reproach, he could make me feel at every moment that I was no longer in his favor. It's not that St. John was vindictive in a non-Christian way—not that he would hurt a single hair of my head, though he could have done so.Neither in nature nor in religion can he seek the pleasure of a mean revenge.He had forgiven me for saying I despised him and his love, but he had not forgotten those words.He will never forget as long as he and I live.Whenever he turned his face towards me, I could always see in his look that those few words were written in the air between me and him.Whenever I speak, to him, there are always those few words in my voice, and every answer he gives me always echoes those few words.

He didn't avoid talking to me, and even called me to his desk every morning as usual.But I am afraid that the depraved man in him, behind the back of the pure Christian in him, is proudly displaying his ability, talking and behaving exactly as usual on the surface, but subtly abstracting from it the past. An attitude of concern and approval that gives his words and actions a serious charm.To me, he was actually no longer flesh and blood, but marble; his eyes were cold crystal sapphires; All this was torture to me—delicate, slow torture.It continually stirred up a vague rage and a quivering annoyance that left me uneasy and downcast.I realized that if I had been his wife, this good man, pure as a dark spring, would have killed me without drawing a drop of blood from my veins, and his crystal conscience would never Not stained with a single taint of crime.I especially feel this every time I try to reconcile with him.There was no remorse to return mine, and he didn't find the estrangement painful -- and there was no rush to reconcile.Although more than once my tears dripped down and wet the pages of the book we looked down at together, it had no effect on him, as if his heart were really made of stone.Yet at the same time he was more affectionate than usual toward his two sisters, as if he feared that mere indifference would not be enough to convince me that I was utterly ostracized and ostracized, but that he needed contrast for strength.And he did it, I am sure, not out of malice, but out of faith.

The night before he left home, I happened to see him walking alone in the garden at sunset.Looking at him, and remembering that, though now estranged from me, this man had, after all, saved my life, and that we were close relatives, I felt an impulse to make one last effort to regain his friendship.I went out of the house and went up to him, who was standing by the little door, and said to him straight away: "St. John, I'm upset because you're still mad at me. Let's stay friends." "I believe we are friends," he replied flatly, his eyes still on the rising moon.When I walked towards him just now, he has been watching.

"No, St. John, we're not friends like we used to be, you know that." "Not now? That's wrong. As far as I'm concerned, I don't want you to be bad, I just want you to be well." "I believe it, St. John, because I believe you wish no ill for any man. But, since I am your relation, I should always wish to have a little more love than your general kindness to strangers. " "Of course," said he, "your hope is just; but I am far from considering you a stranger." These words were said in a cold and calm tone, which was quite humiliating and discouraging to hear.If I had let pride and anger drive me, I would have left him immediately.But something was at work in me, stronger than either of these emotions.I deeply respect my cousin's talent and conviction.His friendship was extremely valuable to me, and it would be very hard to lose it.I'm not willing to give up trying to regain it so easily so soon.

"Must we part like this, St. John? Did you leave me just like that when you went to India, without a word of kindness other than what you just said?" Only then did he turn his face away from the moon at all, and face me. "I shall leave you, Jane, when I go to India? What! You are not going to India?" "You said that unless I marry you, I can't go." "So you don't want to marry me! You still insist on that decision?" Reader, do you, like me, know what horrors hard-hearted people can put into their icy interrogations?Do you also know how they are like an avalanche when they are angry, and how like a sea of ​​ice bursts when they are unhappy?

"Yes, St. John, I do not want to marry you, and I stand by my decision." The ice and snow were crumbling, sliding down a little, but not yet collapsing. "Again, why did you say no?" he asked. "Before," I answered, "it was because you didn't love me; now, I can answer you, it is because you almost hated me. If I married you, you would kill me. You are killing me now. kill me." His lips and cheeks were pale--very pale. "I'm going to kill you—I'm killing you? You shouldn't be saying things like that. It's too brutal to be a woman saying, and it's not true. It reveals a regrettable state of mind, It should be severely condemned. It is simply unforgivable. But it is a man's duty to forgive his fellow man, even seventy-seven times."

This is the end.My intent on erasing from his mind the traces of the previous offense had ended by imprinting another, much deeper, imprint on that uneasy surface.I literally baked it on. "Now you're really going to hate me," I said. "It's useless to try to reconcile with you. I think I've become your permanent enemy." This remark made a new mistake, worse than before, because it hit a sore spot.The trembling of the bloodless lips turned into a convulsion for a moment.I know that I sharpened that steel-knife-like anger.My heart throbbed. "You completely misunderstood my words." I said, grabbing his hand suddenly, "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable or miserable—really, not at all."

He gave an extremely ugly wry smile—resolutely withdrew his hand from mine. "So, I think you are taking back your promise now, and you don't want to go to India at all?" After a long silence, he said. "No, I'd like to go, as your assistant." I replied. A long silence followed.During this period, what kind of struggle was going on in his heart between humanity and grace, I cannot tell.I saw bursts of strange light flashing in his eyes, and strange shadows passing across his face.Finally, he finally spoke: "I have made it clear to you before that it is absurd for an unmarried woman of your age to offer to accompany a single man of my age abroad. To keep you from bringing it up again. And I'm sorry you did—sorry for you."

I cut him off.Anything that smacks of obvious rebuke would have given me a sudden burst of courage. "Be reasonable, St. John, you are talking nonsense. You pretend to be surprised at what I say. You are not really surprised. You have such a high mind that you are never dull or vain enough to misunderstand I mean it. I repeat, I can be your curate if you want, but not your wife." His face went gray again.But as before, he completely contained his anger.He replied solemnly and calmly: "A female curate, who is not my wife, is absolutely inappropriate to me. Well, it seems unlikely that you will come with me. But if you are so sincere, when I come to town, I could go and talk to a married missionary and his wife needs a helper. You have your own property and you don't have to rely on church relief. That way, you don't have to break your promises and break away from the group you promised to join And humiliated."

As the reader knows, I never made any formal commitments, nor did I promise to join any groups.Under such circumstances, it would be too harsh and too arbitrary to say such a thing.I replied: "I have nothing to be ashamed of in this matter. I have neither broken promises nor betrayed any party. I am under no obligation to go to India, especially with irrelevant people. I am willing to risk a great deal. I take the risk of going with you because I adore you, trust you, and love you like my own sister. But I am sure that no matter when I go, no matter who I go with, I will not survive in that climate long."

"Ah! So you are worried about yourself." He pouted as he said. "Yes. God didn't give me life to throw away. Now I'm beginning to feel that doing what you want me to do is almost suicidal. Not only that, but before I make a definite decision to leave England, I It must first be found out that I cannot be of any greater use if I remain in England than if I leave it." "what do you mean?" "It would be useless to explain. There is, however, one matter in which I have long harbored a painful mystery. I can go nowhere till I find some way to unravel that mystery." "I know where your heart is and what you are concerned about. This concern of yours is illegitimate and unholy. You should have dismissed it long ago. Now you should blush for bringing it up. Are you thinking Mr Rochester?" He was right, and I acquiesced. "You are going to see Mr. Rochester?" "I must find out how he is now." "Then," said he, "I can only think of you in my prayers, and I sincerely beg God that you should not be really an outcast. I thought I saw you as one of God's elect. But God sees differently than man, and should act according to His will." He opened the garden gate, went out, walked along the glen, and was out of sight for a while. I went back to the living room and found Diana standing at the window, looking pensive.Diana, who was quite a bit taller than me, put her hands on my shoulders and leaned over my face. "Jane," said she, "you've been restless and pale all the time. I think something must have happened. Tell me, what's the matter with St. John and you? I've been watching from the window for half an hour. Forgive me for being such a spy. But it's been a long time, and I've been thinking wildly, and I don't know what I'm thinking. St. John's a queer . . . " At this point she stopped - I didn't say anything.She went on at once: "I'm sure this brother of mine has a special opinion of you. He's been paying attention and attention to you for a long time, and he's never been to anyone else—for what purpose? I wish he was In love with you--have you, Jane?" I put her hand on my hot forehead and said, "No, Dee, it's not like that at all." "Then why does he keep looking at you like that? Wanting you to be alone with him so often, always wanting you to be around him? Both Mary and I are sure he wants you to marry him." "He so wishes—he has offered me to be his wife." Diana clapped her hands. "It's just what we've been looking for, just what we've wanted! You'll be willing to marry him, Jane, won't you? Then he'll stay in England." "Far from it, Diana. The sole object of his proposal was to find a suitable companion for his hard work in India." "What! He wants you to go to India?" "Exactly." "He's mad!" she cried. "I'm sure you won't live there three months. You mustn't go, you didn't promise—did you, Jane?" "I have refused to marry him..." "So that upsets him?" she prompted. "Very unhappy. I'm afraid he'll never forgive me. However, I offer to accompany him as his sister." "You are very foolish to do this, Jane. Think of the work you have to do--it is a never-ending toil that would kill even a strong man, and you are so thin." .St. John—you know him—will force you to do the impossible. With him you won't be allowed to rest on the hottest day. And unfortunately, I've noticed I realized that whatever he would have you do, you would have forced yourself to do it. It astonishes me that you had the courage to refuse his proposal. So you don't love him anymore, Jane?" "Not to love him as a husband." "But he's a handsome man." "And I, you see, Di, look so ordinary. We don't match at all." "Normal! You? Not like that at all. You're too beautiful and kind to be roasted alive in Calcutta." Then she tried desperately to dissuade me from going to India with her brother. "I really have to give it up," I said, "because when I proposed to be a deacon with him just now, he was surprised at my impropriety. He seemed to think that I proposed not to marry with him. He's going to be misbehaving, as if I didn't expect him to be my brother from the start, and have always treated him that way." "What makes you say he doesn't love you, Jane?" "You should hear what he has to say about the matter. He explained over and over that he wished to marry, not for himself, but for his priesthood, and that he needed an assistant. He also said to me that I This man was created for work—not for love. He is right, no doubt. But as far as I'm concerned, if I wasn't created for love, I wasn't created for marriage either. I just created it. Isn't it strange, Dai, to be chained to a man all your life and think of you only as a useful tool?" "Simply unbearable--inhuman--outrageous!" "Besides," I went on, "though I have nothing but sisterly affection for him now, if I were forced to be his wife, I can imagine that I might have an inevitable, strange, Painful love, for he is so gifted, and there is often a heroic grandeur in his look, manner, and speech. In that case, my fate would be unspeakably miserable. He does not would make me love him; if I showed that affection, he would make me understand that it was extra, that he didn't need it, and I shouldn't have it. I knew he would." "But St. John is a good man," said Diana. "He was a good and great man; but he mercilessly forgot the feelings and demands of little men in the pursuit of his great ideals. Therefore, it is better for the insignificant to avoid him, or else, He'll trample them underfoot on his way. He's coming! I must go, Diana." When I saw him go into the garden, I hurried upstairs. However, I had to see him again at dinner.At dinner he seemed as calm as ever.I thought he wouldn't talk to me at all, and I thought he must have given up on his marriage plans, but it turned out I was wrong on both counts.He talked to me exactly as he always did, or in the way he's been doing lately--a careful politeness.No doubt he had turned to the Holy Spirit to quell the anger I had stirred up in him, and now he believed he had forgiven me once more. For the reading before evening prayer, he chose the twenty-first chapter of Revelation.It was always a pleasure to hear the words of the Bible come out of his mouth.Never had his fine voice been so sweet and sonorous as in the oracle of God--never was the nobility and simplicity of his manner so memorable.And to-night, his voice more solemn, his manner more thrilling--he sits in the middle of the family circle (the May moonlight pouring in through the open window, Candlelight is almost superfluous).He sat there, bent over the big old Bible, and described the new heavens and the new earth to us page by page-telling everyone that God was coming to live with the people and he was going to wipe them dry tears, promising that henceforth there will be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying nor pain of any kind, because the former world has passed away. The words that followed made me shudder strangely as he uttered them.Especially when I sensed his gaze on me in the small, imperceptible change in tone of his voice. "He who overcomes shall inherit them; and I shall be his God, and he shall be my son." He read slowly and clearly, "But the timid, the unbelieving...their portion is burning in the lake of fire and brimstone; this is the second death." From then on, I knew what kind of fate St. John feared for me. As he read the glorious final verses of that chapter, he exuded a calm, restrained sense of triumph mingled with an eager longing.Convinced that his name is written in the Lamb's book of life, the one who reads longs for the time when he will enter that city where the kings of the earth have given their glory; The lamb is the lamp of the city. In the prayers after this chapter all his energies were concentrated—all his solemn zeal aroused, he prayed fervently to God, and was determined to win the victory.He prayed for strength for the weak of heart; for guidance for those who have strayed from the flock; for last-minute recovery for those who are tempted from the narrow way by the lusts of the world.He begged, he begged, he demanded that the scorching fire be removed.Devotion is always very dignified and touching.At first, as I listened to the prayer, I was amazed at his zeal; as he went on praying and his voice grew more and more passionate, I was moved, and at last, awed.He felt so sincerely the greatness and goodness of his purpose that others could not hear his prayers without feeling the same. After the prayers we all bid him farewell.He was leaving early the next morning.After kissing him, Diana and Mary went out of the room--hastily, I think, at his whispered cue.I held out my hand to him and wished him a good trip. "Thank you, Jane. As I said, I won't be back from Cambridge for two weeks. So you'll have time to think about it. If I had listened to human pride, I wouldn't have made peace with you." I got married, but I obeyed my duty and kept my eyes fixed on my primary goal - to do everything for the glory of God. My Lord suffered a long time, and so will I. I cannot see you condemned to hell; repent—make up your mind, before it is too late. Remember, we are bidden to work while it is day—and we are warned: 'Night In the future, no one will be able to work.' Don't forget the fate of the rich man who enjoyed all his wealth during his lifetime. God has given you the strength to choose the better blessing that cannot be taken away from you! " He put his hand on my head for the last few words.He spoke with sincerity and tenderness, and indeed he looked not like a lover looking at a girl he loves, but like a priest calling to lost lambs—or, rather, like a guardian angel watching. the soul he is responsible for.All talented people, no matter whether they are fanatics, careerists, or tyrants—as long as they are sincere—there are times when they excel, and whenever this happens, they can conquer others and rule other people.A reverence for St. John rose within me—a feeling so strong that it pushed me at once to a point I had long avoided.I longed not to fight him--but to rush into the abyss of his life with the current of his will, and drown my own.At this moment, I was almost surrounded by him, just as I was surrounded by another person in another way before.Both times I made a fool of myself.It would have been a mistake in principle if he had yielded that time, and it would have been a mistake in judgment if he had conceded this time.This is what I think now when I look back at that critical moment through the silent intermediary of time.And at the time, I didn't realize I was a fool. I stood there motionless under the touch of my holy master.My rejection was forgotten—my fear was overcome—my struggle was paralyzed.The impossible—that is, me marrying St. John—quickly became possible.Everything changed completely in an instant.Religion beckons—angels beckon—God commands—life rolls up like a scroll—the gates of death are thrown open to reveal eternal life beyond.It seems to say that for the safety and happiness over there, everything here can be sacrificed immediately.The dimly lit room is full of illusions. "Can you decide now?" the missionary asked.The tone of the question was very gentle, and he also gently pulled me to his side.Oh, that tenderness!How much more powerful it is than compulsion!I can withstand St. John's wrath, and under his mildness I am as limp as a reed.However, I have always known in my heart that even if I surrender now, one day he will ask me to repent of my previous resistance.His nature cannot be altered by an hour of solemn prayer, it is only ennobled. "As long as I'm sure, I can decide," I replied, "as long as I'm sure it's God's will for me to marry you, I can swear to marry you right now—whatever happens later!" "My prayers are answered!" exclaimed St. John.His hands pressed tighter on my head, as if he had decided that I belonged to him.He put his arms around me, almost loving me (I say almost—I know the difference—for I have experienced what it is to be loved; but, like him, I Love is out of the question now, and only duty is on his mind).I wrestled with an inner indecision that still had doubts churning before it.I sincerely, fervently and deeply desire to do the right thing and only the right thing. "Guide me, show me the way I should go!" I prayed to God.I've never been so excited.It is left to the reader to judge whether what happened next was the result of my excessive excitement. The whole house was silent, and, I believe, everyone except St. John and I had gone to bed.The only candle was dying out, and the room was flooded with bright moonlight.My heart was beating fast and violently, and I could hear its beating.Suddenly it came to a halt under the throbbing of an indescribable sensation, which in a moment passed from the heart to the brain to the extremities.It's not like an electric shock, but it's sharp, strange, and scary like an electric shock.Its effect on my senses was so strong that it seemed that before they were most active they were only dormant, and only then were they called and forced to wake up.They rose and waited, eyes and ears waited, and the muscles on the bones trembled with excitement. "What did you hear? What did you see?" asked St. John.I see nothing, but I hear a voice calling from somewhere: "Jane! Jane! Jane!"—no more. "Oh God! What is this?" I gasped. I could have asked, "Where is it?" for it was not in the room, nor in the house, nor in the garden; it did not come from the air, nor from the ground, nor from overhead.I heard it - and where it was, and whence it came, shall never be known!But this is the voice of man - a voice familiar, dear, and remembered - the voice of Edward Fairfax Rochester; it is the wild, mournful, urgent cry out of pain and sorrow the sound of. "I'm coming!" I yelled. "Wait for me! Oh, I'm coming!" I ran to the door and looked down the hall, which was dark.I ran out into the garden, which was empty. "Where are you?" I called. There was a faint echo from the mountains beyond Zegaya—"Where are you?" I listened.The wind sighed softly among the firs, and all around was the desolation of the marsh and the silence of midnight. "Fuck you, superstition!" I said to myself as the ghost loomed darkly by the black yew tree outside the door, "it's not your deceit, it's not your witchcraft, it's the work of nature .She was awakened and did—not a miracle but the greatest good.” I broke away from St. John who had been following me and trying to stop me.Now it's my turn to gain the upper hand.My strength came into play, and it worked out.I told him not to ask anything, not to say anything.I asked him to leave me.I want to be alone, I just want to be alone.He obeyed immediately.As long as you have the courage to order decisively, others will always obey.I went upstairs to the bedroom and locked myself in.I got down on my knees and prayed in my own way--not the same as St. John's, but with its own utility.It was as if I had been approaching a mighty god and pouring out my grateful heart and my whole being at his feet.After being thankful, I rose—resolved—and fell asleep, now clear and unafraid—looking forward only to the dawn.