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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 404/445
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I
stood
motionless
under
my
hierophant
's
touch
.
My
refusals
were
forgotten
--
my
fears
overcome
--
my
wrestlings
paralysed
.
The
Impossible
--
I.
E.
,
my
marriage
with
St.
John
--
was
fast
becoming
the
Possible
.
All
was
changing
utterly
with
a
sudden
sweep
.
Religion
called
--
Angels
beckoned
--
God
commanded
--
life
rolled
together
like
a
scroll
--
death
's
gates
opening
,
showed
eternity
beyond
:
it
seemed
,
that
for
safety
and
bliss
there
,
all
here
might
be
sacrificed
in
a
second
.
The
dim
room
was
full
of
visions
.
"
Could
you
decide
now
?
"
asked
the
missionary
.
The
inquiry
was
put
in
gentle
tones
:
he
drew
me
to
him
as
gently
.
Oh
,
that
gentleness
!
how
far
more
potent
is
it
than
force
!
I
could
resist
St.
John
's
wrath
:
I
grew
pliant
as
a
reed
under
his
kindness
.
Yet
I
knew
all
the
time
,
if
I
yielded
now
,
I
should
not
the
less
be
made
to
repent
,
some
day
,
of
my
former
rebellion
.
His
nature
was
not
changed
by
one
hour
of
solemn
prayer
:
it
was
only
elevated
.
"
I
could
decide
if
I
were
but
certain
,
"
I
answered
:
"
were
I
but
convinced
that
it
is
God
's
will
I
should
marry
you
,
I
could
vow
to
marry
you
here
and
now
--
come
afterwards
what
would
!
"
"
My
prayers
are
heard
!
"
ejaculated
St.
John
.
He
pressed
his
hand
firmer
on
my
head
,
as
if
he
claimed
me
:
he
surrounded
me
with
his
arm
,
almost
as
if
he
loved
me
(
I
say
almost
--
I
knew
the
difference
--
for
I
had
felt
what
it
was
to
be
loved
;
but
,
like
him
,
I
had
now
put
love
out
of
the
question
,
and
thought
only
of
duty
)
.
I
contended
with
my
inward
dimness
of
vision
,
before
which
clouds
yet
rolled
.
I
sincerely
,
deeply
,
fervently
longed
to
do
what
was
right
;
and
only
that
.
"
Show
me
,
show
me
the
path
!
"
I
entreated
of
Heaven
.
I
was
excited
more
than
I
had
ever
been
;
and
whether
what
followed
was
the
effect
of
excitement
the
reader
shall
judge
.
All
the
house
was
still
;
for
I
believe
all
,
except
St.
John
and
myself
,
were
now
retired
to
rest
.
The
one
candle
was
dying
out
:
the
room
was
full
of
moonlight
.
My
heart
beat
fast
and
thick
:
I
heard
its
throb
.
Suddenly
it
stood
still
to
an
inexpressible
feeling
that
thrilled
it
through
,
and
passed
at
once
to
my
head
and
extremities
.
The
feeling
was
not
like
an
electric
shock
,
but
it
was
quite
as
sharp
,
as
strange
,
as
startling
:
it
acted
on
my
senses
as
if
their
utmost
activity
hitherto
had
been
but
torpor
,
from
which
they
were
now
summoned
and
forced
to
wake
.
They
rose
expectant
:
eye
and
ear
waited
while
the
flesh
quivered
on
my
bones
.
"
What
have
you
heard
?
What
do
you
see
?
"
asked
St.
John
.
I
saw
nothing
,
but
I
heard
a
voice
somewhere
cry
--
"
Jane
!
Jane
!
Jane
!
"
--
nothing
more
.
"
O
God
!
what
is
it
?
"
I
gasped
.
I
might
have
said
,
"
Where
is
it
?
"
for
it
did
not
seem
in
the
room
--
nor
in
the
house
--
nor
in
the
garden
;
it
did
not
come
out
of
the
air
--
nor
from
under
the
earth
--
nor
from
overhead
.
I
had
heard
it
--
where
,
or
whence
,
for
ever
impossible
to
know
!
And
it
was
the
voice
of
a
human
being
--
a
known
,
loved
,
well-remembered
voice
--
that
of
Edward
Fairfax
Rochester
;
and
it
spoke
in
pain
and
woe
,
wildly
,
eerily
,
urgently
.
