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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 397/445
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"
Formerly
,
"
I
answered
,
"
because
you
did
not
love
me
;
now
,
I
reply
,
because
you
almost
hate
me
.
If
I
were
to
marry
you
,
you
would
kill
me
.
You
are
killing
me
now
.
"
His
lips
and
cheeks
turned
white
--
quite
white
.
"
I
should
kill
you
--
I
am
killing
you
?
Your
words
are
such
as
ought
not
to
be
used
:
violent
,
unfeminine
,
and
untrue
.
They
betray
an
unfortunate
state
of
mind
:
they
merit
severe
reproof
:
they
would
seem
inexcusable
,
but
that
it
is
the
duty
of
man
to
forgive
his
fellow
even
until
seventy-and-seven
times
.
"
I
had
finished
the
business
now
.
While
earnestly
wishing
to
erase
from
his
mind
the
trace
of
my
former
offence
,
I
had
stamped
on
that
tenacious
surface
another
and
far
deeper
impression
,
I
had
burnt
it
in
.
"
Now
you
will
indeed
hate
me
,
"
I
said
.
"
It
is
useless
to
attempt
to
conciliate
you
:
I
see
I
have
made
an
eternal
enemy
of
you
.
"
A
fresh
wrong
did
these
words
inflict
:
the
worse
,
because
they
touched
on
the
truth
.
That
bloodless
lip
quivered
to
a
temporary
spasm
.
I
knew
the
steely
ire
I
had
whetted
.
I
was
heart-wrung
.
"
You
utterly
misinterpret
my
words
,
"
I
said
,
at
once
seizing
his
hand
:
"
I
have
no
intention
to
grieve
or
pain
you
--
indeed
,
I
have
not
.
"
Most
bitterly
he
smiled
--
most
decidedly
he
withdrew
his
hand
from
mine
.
"
And
now
you
recall
your
promise
,
and
will
not
go
to
India
at
all
,
I
presume
?
"
said
he
,
after
a
considerable
pause
.
"
Yes
,
I
will
,
as
your
assistant
,
"
I
answered
.
A
very
long
silence
succeeded
.
What
struggle
there
was
in
him
between
Nature
and
Grace
in
this
interval
,
I
can
not
tell
:
only
singular
gleams
scintillated
in
his
eyes
,
and
strange
shadows
passed
over
his
face
.
He
spoke
at
last
.
