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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 395/445
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He
did
not
abstain
from
conversing
with
me
:
he
even
called
me
as
usual
each
morning
to
join
him
at
his
desk
;
and
I
fear
the
corrupt
man
within
him
had
a
pleasure
unimparted
to
,
and
unshared
by
,
the
pure
Christian
,
in
evincing
with
what
skill
he
could
,
while
acting
and
speaking
apparently
just
as
usual
,
extract
from
every
deed
and
every
phrase
the
spirit
of
interest
and
approval
which
had
formerly
communicated
a
certain
austere
charm
to
his
language
and
manner
.
To
me
,
he
was
in
reality
become
no
longer
flesh
,
but
marble
;
his
eye
was
a
cold
,
bright
,
blue
gem
;
his
tongue
a
speaking
instrument
--
nothing
more
.
All
this
was
torture
to
me
--
refined
,
lingering
torture
.
It
kept
up
a
slow
fire
of
indignation
and
a
trembling
trouble
of
grief
,
which
harassed
and
crushed
me
altogether
.
I
felt
how
--
if
I
were
his
wife
,
this
good
man
,
pure
as
the
deep
sunless
source
,
could
soon
kill
me
,
without
drawing
from
my
veins
a
single
drop
of
blood
,
or
receiving
on
his
own
crystal
conscience
the
faintest
stain
of
crime
.
Especially
I
felt
this
when
I
made
any
attempt
to
propitiate
him
.
No
ruth
met
my
ruth
.
He
experienced
no
suffering
from
estrangement
--
no
yearning
after
reconciliation
;
and
though
,
more
than
once
,
my
fast
falling
tears
blistered
the
page
over
which
we
both
bent
,
they
produced
no
more
effect
on
him
than
if
his
heart
had
been
really
a
matter
of
stone
or
metal
.
To
his
sisters
,
meantime
,
he
was
somewhat
kinder
than
usual
:
as
if
afraid
that
mere
coldness
would
not
sufficiently
convince
me
how
completely
I
was
banished
and
banned
,
he
added
the
force
of
contrast
;
and
this
I
am
sure
he
did
not
by
force
,
but
on
principle
.
The
night
before
he
left
home
,
happening
to
see
him
walking
in
the
garden
about
sunset
,
and
remembering
,
as
I
looked
at
him
,
that
this
man
,
alienated
as
he
now
was
,
had
once
saved
my
life
,
and
that
we
were
near
relations
,
I
was
moved
to
make
a
last
attempt
to
regain
his
friendship
.
I
went
out
and
approached
him
as
he
stood
leaning
over
the
little
gate
;
I
spoke
to
the
point
at
once
.
"
St.
John
,
I
am
unhappy
because
you
are
still
angry
with
me
.
Let
us
be
friends
.
"
"
I
hope
we
are
friends
,
"
was
the
unmoved
reply
;
while
he
still
watched
the
rising
of
the
moon
,
which
he
had
been
contemplating
as
I
approached
.
"
No
,
St.
John
,
we
are
not
friends
as
we
were
.
You
know
that
.
"
"
Are
we
not
?
That
is
wrong
.
For
my
part
,
I
wish
you
no
ill
and
all
good
.
"
"
I
believe
you
,
St.
John
;
for
I
am
sure
you
are
incapable
of
wishing
any
one
ill
;
but
,
as
I
am
your
kinswoman
,
I
should
desire
somewhat
more
of
affection
than
that
sort
of
general
philanthropy
you
extend
to
mere
strangers
.
"
"
Of
course
,
"
he
said
.
"
Your
wish
is
reasonable
,
and
I
am
far
from
regarding
you
as
a
stranger
.
"
