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“i scorn your idea of love；” i could not help saying； as i rose up and stood before him； leaning my back against the rock。 “i scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer： yes； st。 john； and i scorn you when you offer it。”
he looked at me fixedly； pressing his well…cut lips while he did so。 whether he was incensed or surprised； or what； it was not easy to tell： he could mand his countenance thoroughly。
“i scarcely expected to hear that expression from you；” he said： “i think i have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn。”
i was touched by his gentle tone； and overawed by his high； calm mien。
“forgive me the words； st。 john； but it is your own fault that i have been roused to speak so unguardedly。 you have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance—a topic we should never discuss： the very name of love is an apple of discord between us。 if the reality were required； what should we do？ how should we feel？ my dear cousin； abandon your scheme of marriage—forget it。”
“no；” said he； “it is a long…cherished scheme； and the only one which can secure my great end： but i shall urge you no further at present。 to…morrow； i leave home for cambridge： i have many friends there to whom i should wish to say farewell。 i shall be absent a fortnight—take that space of time to consider my offer： and do not forget that if you reject it； it is not me you deny； but god。 through my means； he opens to you a noble career； as my wife only can you enter upon it。 refuse to be my wife； and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity。 tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith； and are worse than infidels！”
he had done。 turning from me； he once more
“looked to river； looked to hill。”
but this time his feelings were all pent in his heart： i was not worthy to hear them uttered。 as i walked by his side homeward； i read well in his iron silence all he felt towards me： the disappointment of an austere and despotic nature； which has met resistance where it expected submission—the disapprobation of a cool； inflexible judgment； which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has no power to sympathise： in short； as a man； he would have wished to coerce me into obedience： it was only as a sincere christian he bore so patiently with my perversity； and allowed so long a space for reflection and repentance。
that night； after he had kissed his sisters； he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me； but left the room in silence。 i—who； though i had no love； had much friendship for him—was hurt by the marked omission： so much hurt that tears started to my eyes。
“i see you and st。 john have been quarrelling； jane；” said diana； “during your walk on the moor。 but go after him； he is now lingering in the passage expecting you—he will make it up。”
i have not much pride under such circumstances： i would always rather be happy than dignified； and i ran after him—he stood at the foot of the stairs。
“good…night； st。 john；” said i。
“good…night； jane；” he replied calmly。
“then shake hands；” i added。
what a cold； loose touch； he impressed on my fingers！ he was deeply displeased by what had occurred that day； cordiality would not warm； nor tears move him。 no happy reconciliation was to be had with him—no cheering smile or generous word： but still the christian was patient and placid； and when i asked him if he forgave me； he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation； that he had nothing to forgive； not having been offended。
and with that answer he left me。 i would much rather he had knocked me down。
xs
Chapter 34
生
when mr。 st。 john went； it was beginning to snow； the whirling storm continued all night。 the next day a keen wind brought fresh and blinding falls； by twilight the valley was drifted up and almost impassable。 i had closed my shutter； laid a mat to the door to prevent the snow from blowing in under it； trimmed my fire； and after sitting nearly an hour on the hearth listening to the muffled fury of the tempest； i lit a candle； took down “marmion；” and beginning—
“day set on norham’s castled steep；
and tweed’s fair river broad and deep；
and cheviot’s mountains lone；
the massive towers； the donjon keep；
the flanking walls that round them sweep；
in yellow lustre shone”—
i soon forgot storm in music。
i heard a noise： the wind； i thought； shook the door。 no； it was st。 john rivers； who； lifting the latch； came in out of the frozen hurricane—the howling darkness—and stood before me： the cloak that covered his tall figure all white as a glacier。 i was almost in consternation； so little had i expected any guest from the blocked…up vale that night。
“any ill news？” i demanded。 “has anything happened？”
“no。 how very easily alarmed you are？” he answered； removing his cloak and hanging it up against the door； towards which he again coolly pushed the mat which his entrance had deranged。 he stamped the snow from his boots。
“i shall sully the purity of your floor；” said he； “but you must excuse me for once。” then he approached the fire。 “i have had hard work to get here； i assure you；” he observed； as he warmed his hands over the flame。 “one drift took me up to the waist； happily the snow is quite soft yet。”
“but why are you e？” i could not forbear saying。
“rather an inhospitable question to put to a visitor； but since you ask it； i answer simply to have a little talk with you； i got tired of my mute books and empty rooms。 besides； since yesterday i have experienced the excitement of a person to whom a tale has been half… told； and who is impatient to hear the sequel。”
he sat down。 i recalled his singular conduct of yesterday； and really i began to fear his wits were touched。 if he were insane； however； his was a very cool and collected insanity： i had never seen that handsome…featured face of his look more like chiselled marble than it did just now； as he put aside his snow…wet hair from his forehead and let the firelight shine free on his pale brow and cheek as pale； where