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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 386/445
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"
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
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
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
slumber
overcomes
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
recommenced
--
"
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
.
