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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 355/445
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I
have
brought
you
a
book
for
evening
solace
,
"
and
he
laid
on
the
table
a
new
publication
--
a
poem
:
one
of
those
genuine
productions
so
often
vouchsafed
to
the
fortunate
public
of
those
days
--
the
golden
age
of
modern
literature
.
Alas
!
the
readers
of
our
era
are
less
favoured
.
But
courage
!
I
will
not
pause
either
to
accuse
or
repine
.
I
know
poetry
is
not
dead
,
nor
genius
lost
;
nor
has
Mammon
gained
power
over
either
,
to
bind
or
slay
:
they
will
both
assert
their
existence
,
their
presence
,
their
liberty
and
strength
again
one
day
.
Powerful
angels
,
safe
in
heaven
!
they
smile
when
sordid
souls
triumph
,
and
feeble
ones
weep
over
their
destruction
.
Poetry
destroyed
?
Genius
banished
?
No
!
Mediocrity
,
no
:
do
not
let
envy
prompt
you
to
the
thought
.
No
;
they
not
only
live
,
but
reign
and
redeem
:
and
without
their
divine
influence
spread
everywhere
,
you
would
be
in
hell
--
the
hell
of
your
own
meanness
.
While
I
was
eagerly
glancing
at
the
bright
pages
of
"
Marmion
"
(
for
"
Marmion
"
it
was
)
,
St.
John
stooped
to
examine
my
drawing
.
His
tall
figure
sprang
erect
again
with
a
start
:
he
said
nothing
.
I
looked
up
at
him
:
he
shunned
my
eye
.
I
knew
his
thoughts
well
,
and
could
read
his
heart
plainly
;
at
the
moment
I
felt
calmer
and
cooler
than
he
:
I
had
then
temporarily
the
advantage
of
him
,
and
I
conceived
an
inclination
to
do
him
some
good
,
if
I
could
.
"
With
all
his
firmness
and
self-control
,
"
thought
I
,
"
he
tasks
himself
too
far
:
locks
every
feeling
and
pang
within
--
expresses
,
confesses
,
imparts
nothing
.
I
am
sure
it
would
benefit
him
to
talk
a
little
about
this
sweet
Rosamond
,
whom
he
thinks
he
ought
not
to
marry
:
I
will
make
him
talk
.
"
I
said
first
,
"
Take
a
chair
,
Mr.
Rivers
.
"
But
he
answered
,
as
he
always
did
,
that
he
could
not
stay
.
"
Very
well
,
"
I
responded
,
mentally
,
"
stand
if
you
like
;
but
you
shall
not
go
just
yet
,
I
am
determined
:
solitude
is
at
least
as
bad
for
you
as
it
is
for
me
.
I
'll
try
if
I
can
not
discover
the
secret
spring
of
your
confidence
,
and
find
an
aperture
in
that
marble
breast
through
which
I
can
shed
one
drop
of
the
balm
of
sympathy
.
"
"
Is
this
portrait
like
?
"
I
asked
bluntly
.
"
Like
!
Like
whom
?
I
did
not
observe
it
closely
.
"
"
You
did
,
Mr.
Rivers
.
"
He
almost
started
at
my
sudden
and
strange
abruptness
:
he
looked
at
me
astonished
.
"
Oh
,
that
is
nothing
yet
,
"
I
muttered
within
.
"
I
do
n't
mean
to
be
baffled
by
a
little
stiffness
on
your
part
;
I
'm
prepared
to
go
to
considerable
lengths
.
"
I
continued
,
"
You
observed
it
closely
and
distinctly
;
but
I
have
no
objection
to
your
looking
at
it
again
,
"
and
I
rose
and
placed
it
in
his
hand
.
"
A
well-executed
picture
,
"
he
said
;
"
very
soft
,
clear
colouring
;
very
graceful
and
correct
drawing
.
"
