×

Usamos cookies para ayudar a mejorar LingQ. Al visitar este sitio, aceptas nuestras politicas de cookie.


image

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, CHAPTER XXX

CHAPTER XXX

The more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I liked them.

In a few days I had so far recovered my health that I could sit up all day, and walk out sometimes. I could join with Diana and Mary in all their occupations; converse with them as much as they wished, and aid them when and where they would allow me. There was a reviving pleasure in this intercourse, of a kind now tasted by me for the first time—the pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes, sentiments, and principles.

I liked to read what they liked to read: what they enjoyed, delighted me; what they approved, I reverenced.

They loved their sequestered home. I, too, in the grey, small, antique structure, with its low roof, its latticed casements, its mouldering walls, its avenue of aged firs—all grown aslant under the stress of mountain winds; its garden, dark with yew and holly—and where no flowers but of the hardiest species would bloom—found a charm both potent and permanent. They clung to the purple moors behind and around their dwelling—to the hollow vale into which the pebbly bridle-path leading from their gate descended, and which wound between fern-banks first, and then amongst a few of the wildest little pasture-fields that ever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock of grey moorland sheep, with their little mossy-faced lambs:—they clung to this scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. I could comprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. I saw the fascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep—on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag. These details were just to me what they were to them—so many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft breeze; the rough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and sunset; the moonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in these regions, the same attraction as for them—wound round my faculties the same spell that entranced theirs.

Indoors we agreed equally well.

They were both more accomplished and better read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the path of knowledge they had trodden before me. I devoured the books they lent me: then it was full satisfaction to discuss with them in the evening what I had perused during the day. Thought fitted thought; opinion met opinion: we coincided, in short, perfectly.

If in our trio there was a superior and a leader, it was Diana.

Physically, she far excelled me: she was handsome; she was vigorous. In her animal spirits there was an affluence of life and certainty of flow, such as excited my wonder, while it baffled my comprehension. I could talk a while when the evening commenced, but the first gush of vivacity and fluency gone, I was fain to sit on a stool at Diana's feet, to rest my head on her knee, and listen alternately to her and Mary, while they sounded thoroughly the topic on which I had but touched. Diana offered to teach me German. I liked to learn of her: I saw the part of instructress pleased and suited her; that of scholar pleased and suited me no less. Our natures dovetailed: mutual affection—of the strongest kind—was the result. They discovered I could draw: their pencils and colour-boxes were immediately at my service. My skill, greater in this one point than theirs, surprised and charmed them. Mary would sit and watch me by the hour together: then she would take lessons; and a docile, intelligent, assiduous pupil she made. Thus occupied, and mutually entertained, days passed like hours, and weeks like days.

As to Mr. St John, the intimacy which had arisen so naturally and rapidly between me and his sisters did not extend to him.

One reason of the distance yet observed between us was, that he was comparatively seldom at home: a large proportion of his time appeared devoted to visiting the sick and poor among the scattered population of his parish.

No weather seemed to hinder him in these pastoral excursions: rain or fair, he would, when his hours of morning study were over, take his hat, and, followed by his father's old pointer, Carlo, go out on his mission of love or duty—I scarcely know in which light he regarded it. Sometimes, when the day was very unfavourable, his sisters would expostulate. He would then say, with a peculiar smile, more solemn than cheerful—

“And if I let a gust of wind or a sprinkling of rain turn me aside from these easy tasks, what preparation would such sloth be for the future I propose to myself?”

Diana and Mary's general answer to this question was a sigh, and some minutes of apparently mournful meditation. But besides his frequent absences, there was another barrier to friendship with him: he seemed of a reserved, an abstracted, and even of a brooding nature.

Zealous in his ministerial labours, blameless in his life and habits, he yet did not appear to enjoy that mental serenity, that inward content, which should be the reward of every sincere Christian and practical philanthropist. Often, of an evening, when he sat at the window, his desk and papers before him, he would cease reading or writing, rest his chin on his hand, and deliver himself up to I know not what course of thought; but that it was perturbed and exciting might be seen in the frequent flash and changeful dilation of his eye.

I think, moreover, that Nature was not to him that treasury of delight it was to his sisters.

He expressed once, and but once in my hearing, a strong sense of the rugged charm of the hills, and an inborn affection for the dark roof and hoary walls he called his home; but there was more of gloom than pleasure in the tone and words in which the sentiment was manifested; and never did he seem to roam the moors for the sake of their soothing silence—never seek out or dwell upon the thousand peaceful delights they could yield.

Incommunicative as he was, some time elapsed before I had an opportunity of gauging his mind.

I first got an idea of its calibre when I heard him preach in his own church at Morton. I wish I could describe that sermon: but it is past my power. I cannot even render faithfully the effect it produced on me.

It began calm—and indeed, as far as delivery and pitch of voice went, it was calm to the end: an earnestly felt, yet strictly restrained zeal breathed soon in the distinct accents, and prompted the nervous language.

This grew to force—compressed, condensed, controlled. The heart was thrilled, the mind astonished, by the power of the preacher: neither were softened. Throughout there was a strange bitterness; an absence of consolatory gentleness; stern allusions to Calvinistic doctrines—election, predestination, reprobation—were frequent; and each reference to these points sounded like a sentence pronounced for doom. When he had done, instead of feeling better, calmer, more enlightened by his discourse, I experienced an inexpressible sadness; for it seemed to me—I know not whether equally so to others—that the eloquence to which I had been listening had sprung from a depth where lay turbid dregs of disappointment—where moved troubling impulses of insatiate yearnings and disquieting aspirations. I was sure St. John Rivers—pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was—had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium—regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly.

Meantime a month was gone.

Diana and Mary were soon to leave Moor House, and return to the far different life and scene which awaited them, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of-England city, where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughty members they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neither knew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only their acquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook or the taste of their waiting-woman. Mr. St. John had said nothing to me yet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it became urgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. One morning, being left alone with him a few minutes in the parlour, I ventured to approach the window-recess—which his table, chair, and desk consecrated as a kind of study—and I was going to speak, though not very well knowing in what words to frame my inquiry—for it is at all times difficult to break the ice of reserve glassing over such natures as his—when he saved me the trouble by being the first to commence a dialogue.

Looking up as I drew near—“You have a question to ask of me?” he said.

“Yes; I wish to know whether you have heard of any service I can offer myself to undertake?”

“I found or devised something for you three weeks ago; but as you seemed both useful and happy here—as my sisters had evidently become attached to you, and your society gave them unusual pleasure—I deemed it inexpedient to break in on your mutual comfort till their approaching departure from Marsh End should render yours necessary.”

“And they will go in three days now?” I said.

“Yes; and when they go, I shall return to the parsonage at Morton: Hannah will accompany me; and this old house will be shut up.”

I waited a few moments, expecting he would go on with the subject first broached: but he seemed to have entered another train of reflection: his look denoted abstraction from me and my business.

I was obliged to recall him to a theme which was of necessity one of close and anxious interest to me.

“What is the employment you had in view, Mr. Rivers?

I hope this delay will not have increased the difficulty of securing it.”

“Oh, no; since it is an employment which depends only on me to give, and you to accept.”

He again paused: there seemed a reluctance to continue.

I grew impatient: a restless movement or two, and an eager and exacting glance fastened on his face, conveyed the feeling to him as effectually as words could have done, and with less trouble.

“You need be in no hurry to hear,” he said: “let me frankly tell you, I have nothing eligible or profitable to suggest.

Before I explain, recall, if you please, my notice, clearly given, that if I helped you, it must be as the blind man would help the lame. I am poor; for I find that, when I have paid my father's debts, all the patrimony remaining to me will be this crumbling grange, the row of scathed firs behind, and the patch of moorish soil, with the yew-trees and holly-bushes in front. I am obscure: Rivers is an old name; but of the three sole descendants of the race, two earn the dependant's crust among strangers, and the third considers himself an alien from his native country—not only for life, but in death. Yes, and deems, and is bound to deem, himself honoured by the lot, and aspires but after the day when the cross of separation from fleshly ties shall be laid on his shoulders, and when the Head of that church-militant of whose humblest members he is one, shall give the word, ‘Rise, follow Me! '” St.

John said these words as he pronounced his sermons, with a quiet, deep voice; with an unflushed cheek, and a coruscating radiance of glance. He resumed—

“And since I am myself poor and obscure, I can offer you but a service of poverty and obscurity.

You may even think it degrading—for I see now your habits have been what the world calls refined: your tastes lean to the ideal, and your society has at least been amongst the educated; but I consider that no service degrades which can better our race. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where the Christian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him—the scantier the meed his toil brings—the higher the honour. His, under such circumstances, is the destiny of the pioneer; and the first pioneers of the Gospel were the Apostles—their captain was Jesus, the Redeemer, Himself.”

“Well?” I said, as he again paused—“proceed.”

He looked at me before he proceeded: indeed, he seemed leisurely to read my face, as if its features and lines were characters on a page.

The conclusions drawn from this scrutiny he partially expressed in his succeeding observations.

“I believe you will accept the post I offer you,” said he, “and hold it for a while: not permanently, though: any more than I could permanently keep the narrow and narrowing—the tranquil, hidden office of English country incumbent; for in your nature is an alloy as detrimental to repose as that in mine, though of a different kind.”

“Do explain,” I urged, when he halted once more.

“I will; and you shall hear how poor the proposal is,—how trivial—how cramping.

I shall not stay long at Morton, now that my father is dead, and that I am my own master. I shall leave the place probably in the course of a twelve-month; but while I do stay, I will exert myself to the utmost for its improvement. Morton, when I came to it two years ago, had no school: the children of the poor were excluded from every hope of progress. I established one for boys: I mean now to open a second school for girls. I have hired a building for the purpose, with a cottage of two rooms attached to it for the mistress's house. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year: her house is already furnished, very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady, Miss Oliver; the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish—Mr. Oliver, the proprietor of a needle-factory and iron-foundry in the valley. The same lady pays for the education and clothing of an orphan from the workhouse, on condition that she shall aid the mistress in such menial offices connected with her own house and the school as her occupation of teaching will prevent her having time to discharge in person. Will you be this mistress?”

He put the question rather hurriedly; he seemed half to expect an indignant, or at least a disdainful rejection of the offer: not knowing all my thoughts and feelings, though guessing some, he could not tell in what light the lot would appear to me.

In truth it was humble—but then it was sheltered, and I wanted a safe asylum: it was plodding—but then, compared with that of a governess in a rich house, it was independent; and the fear of servitude with strangers entered my soul like iron: it was not ignoble—not unworthy—not mentally degrading, I made my decision.

“I thank you for the proposal, Mr. Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart.”

“But you comprehend me?” he said.

“It is a village school: your scholars will be only poor girls—cottagers' children—at the best, farmers' daughters. Knitting, sewing, reading, writing, ciphering, will be all you will have to teach. What will you do with your accomplishments? What, with the largest portion of your mind—sentiments—tastes?”

“Save them till they are wanted.

They will keep.”

“You know what you undertake, then?”

“I do.”

He now smiled: and not a bitter or a sad smile, but one well pleased and deeply gratified.

“And when will you commence the exercise of your function?”

“I will go to my house to-morrow, and open the school, if you like, next week.”

“Very well: so be it.”

He rose and walked through the room.

Standing still, he again looked at me. He shook his head.

“What do you disapprove of, Mr. Rivers?” I asked.

“You will not stay at Morton long: no, no!”

“Why?

What is your reason for saying so?”

“I read it in your eye; it is not of that description which promises the maintenance of an even tenor in life.”

“I am not ambitious.”

He started at the word “ambitious.” He repeated, “No.

What made you think of ambition? Who is ambitious? I know I am: but how did you find it out?”

“I was speaking of myself.”

“Well, if you are not ambitious, you are—” He paused.

“What?”

“I was going to say, impassioned: but perhaps you would have misunderstood the word, and been displeased.

I mean, that human affections and sympathies have a most powerful hold on you. I am sure you cannot long be content to pass your leisure in solitude, and to devote your working hours to a monotonous labour wholly void of stimulus: any more than I can be content,” he added, with emphasis, “to live here buried in morass, pent in with mountains—my nature, that God gave me, contravened; my faculties, heaven-bestowed, paralysed—made useless. You hear now how I contradict myself. I, who preached contentment with a humble lot, and justified the vocation even of hewers of wood and drawers of water in God's service—I, His ordained minister, almost rave in my restlessness. Well, propensities and principles must be reconciled by some means.”

He left the room.

In this brief hour I had learnt more of him than in the whole previous month: yet still he puzzled me.

Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home.

They both tried to appear as usual; but the sorrow they had to struggle against was one that could not be entirely conquered or concealed. Diana intimated that this would be a different parting from any they had ever yet known. It would probably, as far as St. John was concerned, be a parting for years: it might be a parting for life.

“He will sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves,” she said: “natural affection and feelings more potent still.

St.

John looks quiet, Jane; but he hides a fever in his vitals. You would think him gentle, yet in some things he is inexorable as death; and the worst of it is, my conscience will hardly permit me to dissuade him from his severe decision: certainly, I cannot for a moment blame him for it. It is right, noble, Christian: yet it breaks my heart!” And the tears gushed to her fine eyes. Mary bent her head low over her work.

“We are now without father: we shall soon be without home and brother,” she murmured.

At that moment a little accident supervened, which seemed decreed by fate purposely to prove the truth of the adage, that “misfortunes never come singly,” and to add to their distresses the vexing one of the slip between the cup and the lip.

St.

John passed the window reading a letter. He entered.

“Our uncle John is dead,” said he.

Both the sisters seemed struck: not shocked or appalled; the tidings appeared in their eyes rather momentous than afflicting.

“Dead?” repeated Diana.

“Yes.”

She riveted a searching gaze on her brother's face. “And what then?” she demanded, in a low voice.

“What then, Die?” he replied, maintaining a marble immobility of feature.

“What then? Why—nothing. Read.”

He threw the letter into her lap.

She glanced over it, and handed it to Mary. Mary perused it in silence, and returned it to her brother. All three looked at each other, and all three smiled—a dreary, pensive smile enough.

“Amen!

We can yet live,” said Diana at last.

“At any rate, it makes us no worse off than we were before,” remarked Mary.

“Only it forces rather strongly on the mind the picture of what might have been ,” said Mr. Rivers, “and contrasts it somewhat too vividly with what is .”

He folded the letter, locked it in his desk, and again went out.

For some minutes no one spoke.

Diana then turned to me.

“Jane, you will wonder at us and our mysteries,” she said, “and think us hard-hearted beings not to be more moved at the death of so near a relation as an uncle; but we have never seen him or known him.

He was my mother's brother. My father and he quarrelled long ago. It was by his advice that my father risked most of his property in the speculation that ruined him. Mutual recrimination passed between them: they parted in anger, and were never reconciled. My uncle engaged afterwards in more prosperous undertakings: it appears he realised a fortune of twenty thousand pounds. He was never married, and had no near kindred but ourselves and one other person, not more closely related than we. My father always cherished the idea that he would atone for his error by leaving his possessions to us; that letter informs us that he has bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception of thirty guineas, to be divided between St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers, for the purchase of three mourning rings. He had a right, of course, to do as he pleased: and yet a momentary damp is cast on the spirits by the receipt of such news. Mary and I would have esteemed ourselves rich with a thousand pounds each; and to St. John such a sum would have been valuable, for the good it would have enabled him to do.”

This explanation given, the subject was dropped, and no further reference made to it by either Mr. Rivers or his sisters.

The next day I left Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary quitted it for distant B-. In a week, Mr. Rivers and Hannah repaired to the parsonage: and so the old grange was abandoned.

CHAPTER XXX ГЛАВА XXX

The more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I liked them.

In a few days I had so far recovered my health that I could sit up all day, and walk out sometimes. Za několik dní jsem se uzdravil natolik, že jsem mohl celý den sedět a někdy i chodit ven. I could join with Diana and Mary in all their occupations; converse with them as much as they wished, and aid them when and where they would allow me. Mohl jsem se s Dianou a Marií zapojit do všech jejich činností, povídat si s nimi, jak si přály, a pomáhat jim, kdykoli a kdekoli mi to dovolily. Je pouvais me joindre à Diana et Mary dans toutes leurs occupations, converser avec elles autant qu'elles le souhaitaient et les aider quand et où elles me le permettaient. There was a reviving pleasure in this intercourse, of a kind now tasted by me for the first time—the pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes, sentiments, and principles. Tento styk byl pro mne oživujícím potěšením, které jsem nyní poprvé zakusil - potěšením plynoucím z dokonalé shody vkusu, citů a zásad. There was a reviving pleasure in this intercourse, of a kind now tasted by me for the first time—the pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes, sentiments, and principles. Il y avait un plaisir ravivant dans ce rapport, d'un genre que j'ai maintenant goûté par moi pour la première fois - le plaisir résultant d'une parfaite convivialité des goûts, des sentiments et des principes.

I liked to read what they liked to read: what they enjoyed, delighted me; what they approved, I reverenced. Rád jsem četl to, co rádi četli oni: co se líbilo jim, těšilo mě; co schvalovali, to jsem ctil. J'aimais lire ce qu'ils aimaient lire : ce qu'ils appréciaient me plaisait ; ce qu'ils approuvaient, je le vénérais.

They loved their sequestered home. Ils adoraient leur maison séquestrée. I, too, in the grey, small, antique structure, with its low roof, its latticed casements, its mouldering walls, its avenue of aged firs—all grown aslant under the stress of mountain winds; its garden, dark with yew and holly—and where no flowers but of the hardiest species would bloom—found a charm both potent and permanent. I já jsem v té šedivé, malé, starobylé stavbě s nízkou střechou, zamřížovanými okny, plesnivými zdmi, alejí starých jedlí - vše nakloněné pod náporem horských větrů -, v zahradě s temným tisem a cesmínou, kde kvetly jen ty nejodolnější druhy, našel silné a trvalé kouzlo. Moi aussi, dans la petite structure grise et antique, avec son toit bas, ses vantaux grillagés, ses murs de moisissure, son allée de vieux sapins - le tout poussé de travers sous le stress des vents des montagnes; son jardin, sombre d'if et de houx - et où ne fleuriraient que les espèces les plus rustiques - trouva un charme à la fois puissant et permanent. They clung to the purple moors behind and around their dwelling—to the hollow vale into which the pebbly bridle-path leading from their gate descended, and which wound between fern-banks first, and then amongst a few of the wildest little pasture-fields that ever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock of grey moorland sheep, with their little mossy-faced lambs:—they clung to this scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. Ils s'accrochaient aux landes pourpres derrière et autour de leur habitation - à la vallée creuse dans laquelle descendait le sentier de galets menant de leur porte, et qui serpentait d'abord entre les bancs de fougères, puis parmi quelques-uns des petits pâturages les plus sauvages. qui bordaient toujours un désert de bruyère, ou nourrissaient un troupeau de moutons gris des landes, avec leurs petits agneaux à face moussue: ils se sont accrochés à cette scène, dis-je, avec un enthousiasme parfait d'attachement. I could comprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. Dokázal jsem ten pocit pochopit a sdílet jeho sílu i pravdivost. I saw the fascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep—on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag. Cítil jsem posvátnost jeho osamělosti: mé oko se kochalo obrysy hřbetu a údolí, divokým zbarvením, které hřebenu a údolí dodával mech, vřesovištní zvonek, květinami posetý trávník, zářivě lesklé chrastí a měkké žulové skály. J'ai senti la consécration de sa solitude: mon œil se régalait du contour de la houle et du balayage - de la coloration sauvage communiquée à la crête et au creux par la mousse, par la cloche, par le gazon parsemé de fleurs, par la fougère brillante et le rocher de granit moelleux . These details were just to me what they were to them—so many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. These details were just to me what they were to them—so many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft breeze; the rough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and sunset; the moonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in these regions, the same attraction as for them—wound round my faculties the same spell that entranced theirs. La forte explosion et la douce brise; le jour rude et halcyon; les heures de lever et de coucher du soleil; le clair de lune et la nuit obscure, développaient pour moi, dans ces contrées, la même attirance que pour eux, enroulaient autour de mes facultés le même sort qui les ravissait.

Indoors we agreed equally well.

They were both more accomplished and better read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the path of knowledge they had trodden before me. They were both more accomplished and better read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the path of knowledge they had trodden before me. Ils étaient tous les deux plus accomplis et mieux lus que moi; mais avec empressement j'ai suivi le chemin de la connaissance qu'ils avaient foulé avant moi. I devoured the books they lent me: then it was full satisfaction to discuss with them in the evening what I had perused during the day. Je dévorais les livres qu'ils me prêtaient : puis c'était une grande satisfaction de discuter avec eux le soir de ce que j'avais parcouru pendant la journée. Thought fitted thought; opinion met opinion: we coincided, in short, perfectly. Pensée pensée adaptée; opinion rencontrée opinion: nous avons coïncidé, en somme, parfaitement.

If in our trio there was a superior and a leader, it was Diana. If in our trio there was a superior and a leader, it was Diana. Si dans notre trio il y avait un supérieur et un leader, c'était bien Diana.

Physically, she far excelled me: she was handsome; she was vigorous. Physically, she far excelled me: she was handsome; she was vigorous. In her animal spirits there was an affluence of life and certainty of flow, such as excited my wonder, while it baffled my comprehension. In her animal spirits there was an affluence of life and certainty of flow, such as excited my wonder, while it baffled my comprehension. Dans son esprit animal, il y avait une abondance de vie et une certitude de flux, telle qu'excitait mon émerveillement, alors qu'elle déroutait ma compréhension. I could talk a while when the evening commenced, but the first gush of vivacity and fluency gone, I was fain to sit on a stool at Diana's feet, to rest my head on her knee, and listen alternately to her and Mary, while they sounded thoroughly the topic on which I had but touched. Když večer začal, dokázal jsem chvíli mluvit, ale první záchvěv živosti a plynulosti pominul, a tak jsem si nejraději sedl na stoličku u Dianiných nohou, opřel si hlavu o její koleno a střídavě poslouchal ji a Marii, zatímco ony důkladně probíraly téma, kterého jsem se právě dotkl. I could talk a while when the evening commenced, but the first gush of vivacity and fluency gone, I was fain to sit on a stool at Diana's feet, to rest my head on her knee, and listen alternately to her and Mary, while they sounded thoroughly the topic on which I had but touched. Je pouvais parler un peu quand la soirée commençait, mais le premier jaillissement de vivacité et de fluidité parti, je voulais m'asseoir sur un tabouret aux pieds de Diana, reposer ma tête sur ses genoux, et écouter alternativement elle et Mary, pendant qu'ils sonnait à fond le sujet sur lequel je n'avais que touché. Diana offered to teach me German. I liked to learn of her: I saw the part of instructress pleased and suited her; that of scholar pleased and suited me no less. J'aimais apprendre d'elle: je voyais le rôle de l'instructrice lui plaire et lui convenir; celui de savant ne me plaisait pas moins et ne me convenait pas moins. Our natures dovetailed: mutual affection—of the strongest kind—was the result. Nos natures s'accordaient: l'affection mutuelle - du genre le plus fort - en était le résultat. They discovered I could draw: their pencils and colour-boxes were immediately at my service. Ils ont découvert que je savais dessiner : leurs crayons et leurs boîtes de couleurs ont été immédiatement mis à ma disposition. My skill, greater in this one point than theirs, surprised and charmed them. Mary would sit and watch me by the hour together: then she would take lessons; and a docile, intelligent, assiduous pupil she made. Mary would sit and watch me by the hour together: then she would take lessons; and a docile, intelligent, assiduous pupil she made. Thus occupied, and mutually entertained, days passed like hours, and weeks like days.

As to Mr. St John, the intimacy which had arisen so naturally and rapidly between me and his sisters did not extend to him. As to Mr. St John, the intimacy which had arisen so naturally and rapidly between me and his sisters did not extend to him. Quant à M. St John, l'intimité qui s'était créée si naturellement et si rapidement entre moi et ses sœurs ne s'étendait pas à lui.

One reason of the distance yet observed between us was, that he was comparatively seldom at home: a large proportion of his time appeared devoted to visiting the sick and poor among the scattered population of his parish. One reason of the distance yet observed between us was, that he was comparatively seldom at home: a large proportion of his time appeared devoted to visiting the sick and poor among the scattered population of his parish.

No weather seemed to hinder him in these pastoral excursions: rain or fair, he would, when his hours of morning study were over, take his hat, and, followed by his father's old pointer, Carlo, go out on his mission of love or duty—I scarcely know in which light he regarded it. Aucun temps ne semblait le gêner dans ces excursions pastorales: pluie ou beau, il allait, à la fin de ses heures d'étude matinale, prendre son chapeau, et, suivi du vieux pointeur de son père, Carlo, partir en mission d'amour ou devoir, je sais à peine sous quel jour il le considérait. Sometimes, when the day was very unfavourable, his sisters would expostulate. Parfois, quand la journée était très défavorable, ses sœurs s'exposaient. He would then say, with a peculiar smile, more solemn than cheerful— Il disait alors, avec un sourire singulier, plus solennel que joyeux ...

“And if I let a gust of wind or a sprinkling of rain turn me aside from these easy tasks, what preparation would such sloth be for the future I propose to myself?” “And if I let a gust of wind or a sprinkling of rain turn me aside from these easy tasks, what preparation would such sloth be for the future I propose to myself?” «Et si je laisse une rafale de vent ou un jet de pluie me détourner de ces tâches faciles, quelle préparation serait une telle paresse pour l'avenir que je me propose?

Diana and Mary's general answer to this question was a sigh, and some minutes of apparently mournful meditation. Diana and Mary's general answer to this question was a sigh, and some minutes of apparently mournful meditation. But besides his frequent absences, there was another barrier to friendship with him: he seemed of a reserved, an abstracted, and even of a brooding nature. But besides his frequent absences, there was another barrier to friendship with him: he seemed of a reserved, an abstracted, and even of a brooding nature. Mais outre ses fréquentes absences, il y avait un autre obstacle à l'amitié avec lui : il semblait d'une nature réservée, abstraite, voire sombre.

Zealous in his ministerial labours, blameless in his life and habits, he yet did not appear to enjoy that mental serenity, that inward content, which should be the reward of every sincere Christian and practical philanthropist. Zélé dans ses travaux ministériels, irréprochable dans sa vie et ses habitudes, il ne paraissait pourtant pas jouir de cette sérénité mentale, de ce contenu intérieur, qui devrait être la récompense de tout philanthrope sincère chrétien et pratique. Often, of an evening, when he sat at the window, his desk and papers before him, he would cease reading or writing, rest his chin on his hand, and deliver himself up to I know not what course of thought; but that it was perturbed and exciting might be seen in the frequent flash and changeful dilation of his eye. Often, of an evening, when he sat at the window, his desk and papers before him, he would cease reading or writing, rest his chin on his hand, and deliver himself up to I know not what course of thought; but that it was perturbed and exciting might be seen in the frequent flash and changeful dilation of his eye. Souvent, le soir, assis à la fenêtre, son bureau et ses papiers devant lui, il cessait de lire ou d'écrire, reposait son menton sur sa main, et se livrait à je ne sais quel cours de pensée; mais qu'il était perturbé et excitant pouvait être vu dans le flash fréquent et la dilatation changeante de son œil.

I think, moreover, that Nature was not to him that treasury of delight it was to his sisters. I think, moreover, that Nature was not to him that treasury of delight it was to his sisters. Je pense d'ailleurs que la nature n'était pas pour lui ce trésor de délices qu'elle était pour ses sœurs.

He expressed once, and but once in my hearing, a strong sense of the rugged charm of the hills, and an inborn affection for the dark roof and hoary walls he called his home; but there was more of gloom than pleasure in the tone and words in which the sentiment was manifested; and never did he seem to roam the moors for the sake of their soothing silence—never seek out or dwell upon the thousand peaceful delights they could yield. Il a exprimé une fois, mais une seule fois à mon oreille, un fort sentiment du charme sauvage des collines, et une affection innée pour le toit sombre et les murs châtains qu'il appelait chez lui; mais il y avait plus de tristesse que de plaisir dans le ton et les mots où le sentiment se manifestait; et il n'a jamais semblé errer dans les landes pour leur silence apaisant - ne jamais chercher ni s'attarder sur les mille plaisirs paisibles qu'ils pouvaient offrir.

Incommunicative as he was, some time elapsed before I had an opportunity of gauging his mind. Comme il était peu communicatif, un certain temps s'est écoulé avant que j'aie eu l'occasion de jauger son esprit.

I first got an idea of its calibre when I heard him preach in his own church at Morton. J'ai d'abord eu une idée de son ampleur quand je l'ai entendu prêcher dans sa propre église à Morton. I wish I could describe that sermon: but it is past my power. I cannot even render faithfully the effect it produced on me.

It began calm—and indeed, as far as delivery and pitch of voice went, it was calm to the end: an earnestly felt, yet strictly restrained zeal breathed soon in the distinct accents, and prompted the nervous language. Cela commença calmement - et en effet, pour ce qui était de la livraison et de la hauteur de la voix, c'était calme jusqu'à la fin: un zèle sincèrement ressenti, mais strictement retenu, respirait bientôt dans les accents distincts et incitait le langage nerveux.

This grew to force—compressed, condensed, controlled. Cela a grandi en force - comprimé, condensé, contrôlé. The heart was thrilled, the mind astonished, by the power of the preacher: neither were softened. Le cœur était ravi, l'esprit étonné par la puissance du prédicateur: aucun des deux ne s'est adouci. Throughout there was a strange bitterness; an absence of consolatory gentleness; stern allusions to Calvinistic doctrines—election, predestination, reprobation—were frequent; and each reference to these points sounded like a sentence pronounced for doom. Partout il y avait une étrange amertume; une absence de douceur consolante; les allusions sévères aux doctrines calvinistes - élection, prédestination, réprobation - étaient fréquentes; et chaque référence à ces points sonnait comme une phrase prononcée pour la mort. When he had done, instead of feeling better, calmer, more enlightened by his discourse, I experienced an inexpressible sadness; for it seemed to me—I know not whether equally so to others—that the eloquence to which I had been listening had sprung from a depth where lay turbid dregs of disappointment—where moved troubling impulses of insatiate yearnings and disquieting aspirations. Quand il eut fini, au lieu de me sentir mieux, plus calme, plus éclairé par son discours, j'éprouvai une tristesse inexprimable; car il me semblait - je ne sais pas s'il en était de même pour les autres - que l'éloquence que j'avais écoutée venait d'une profondeur où gisaient des restes troubles de la déception - où se déplaçaient des impulsions troublantes de désirs insatiables et d'aspirations inquiétantes. I was sure St. John Rivers—pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was—had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium—regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly. John Rivers—pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was—had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium—regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly. John Rivers - purement vécu, consciencieux, zélé comme il était - n'avait pas encore trouvé cette paix de Dieu qui surpasse toute intelligence: il ne l'avait pas plus trouvée, pensai-je, que je ne l'avais trouvée avec mes regrets cachés et déchirants pour mon idole brisée. et perdu l'elysium - des regrets auxquels j'ai évité dernièrement de me référer, mais qui m'ont possédé et tyrannisé impitoyablement.

Meantime a month was gone.

Diana and Mary were soon to leave Moor House, and return to the far different life and scene which awaited them, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of-England city, where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughty members they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neither knew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only their acquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook or the taste of their waiting-woman. Diana and Mary were soon to leave Moor House, and return to the far different life and scene which awaited them, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of-England city, where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughty members they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neither knew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only their acquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook or the taste of their waiting-woman. Diana et Mary devaient bientôt quitter Moor House et retourner à la vie et à la scène bien différentes qui les attendaient, en tant que gouvernantes dans une grande ville à la mode du sud de l'Angleterre, où chacune tenait une situation dans des familles dont les riches et hautains membres, ils n'étaient considérés que comme des personnes à charge humbles, et qui ne connaissaient ni ne recherchaient leurs excellences innées, et n'appréciaient que leurs réalisations acquises car ils appréciaient l'habileté de leur cuisinier ou le goût de leur serveuse. Mr. St. John had said nothing to me yet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it became urgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. John had said nothing to me yet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it became urgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. One morning, being left alone with him a few minutes in the parlour, I ventured to approach the window-recess—which his table, chair, and desk consecrated as a kind of study—and I was going to speak, though not very well knowing in what words to frame my inquiry—for it is at all times difficult to break the ice of reserve glassing over such natures as his—when he saved me the trouble by being the first to commence a dialogue. Un matin, resté seul avec lui quelques minutes dans le salon, je me suis aventuré à m'approcher du renfoncement de la fenêtre - que sa table, sa chaise et son bureau consacraient comme une sorte d'étude - et j'allais parler, mais pas très bien. sachant dans quels mots encadrer mon enquête - car il est toujours difficile de briser la glace du verre de réserve sur des natures comme la sienne - quand il m'a épargné la peine en étant le premier à entamer un dialogue.

Looking up as I drew near—“You have a question to ask of me?” he said.

“Yes; I wish to know whether you have heard of any service I can offer myself to undertake?” "Oui, je voudrais savoir si vous avez entendu parler d'un service que je pourrais me proposer d'entreprendre ?"

“I found or devised something for you three weeks ago; but as you seemed both useful and happy here—as my sisters had evidently become attached to you, and your society gave them unusual pleasure—I deemed it inexpedient to break in on your mutual comfort till their approaching departure from Marsh End should render yours necessary.” «J'ai trouvé ou conçu quelque chose pour vous il y a trois semaines; mais comme vous paraissiez à la fois utile et heureux ici - comme mes sœurs s'étaient manifestement attachées à vous, et votre société leur avait donné un plaisir inhabituel - j'ai jugé inutile de rompre avec votre confort mutuel jusqu'à ce que leur départ imminent de Marsh End rende le vôtre nécessaire. . »

“And they will go in three days now?” I said.

“Yes; and when they go, I shall return to the parsonage at Morton: Hannah will accompany me; and this old house will be shut up.”

I waited a few moments, expecting he would go on with the subject first broached: but he seemed to have entered another train of reflection: his look denoted abstraction from me and my business. J'attendis quelques instants, espérant qu'il continuerait avec le sujet abordé en premier: mais il semblait être entré dans une autre voie de réflexion: son regard dénotait une abstraction de ma part et de mon entreprise.

I was obliged to recall him to a theme which was of necessity one of close and anxious interest to me. J'ai été obligé de le rappeler à un thème qui m'intéressait forcément de près et avec anxiété.

“What is the employment you had in view, Mr. Rivers?

I hope this delay will not have increased the difficulty of securing it.” J'espère que ce retard n'aura pas augmenté la difficulté de l'obtenir.

“Oh, no; since it is an employment which depends only on me to give, and you to accept.” "Oh, non, puisque c'est un emploi qui ne dépend que de moi pour le donner, et de vous pour l'accepter."

He again paused: there seemed a reluctance to continue. He again paused: there seemed a reluctance to continue.

I grew impatient: a restless movement or two, and an eager and exacting glance fastened on his face, conveyed the feeling to him as effectually as words could have done, and with less trouble. I grew impatient: a restless movement or two, and an eager and exacting glance fastened on his face, conveyed the feeling to him as effectually as words could have done, and with less trouble. Je m'impatientai: un mouvement agité ou deux, et un regard impatient et exigeant fixé sur son visage, lui transmettaient le sentiment aussi efficacement que les mots auraient pu le faire, et avec moins de peine.

“You need be in no hurry to hear,” he said: “let me frankly tell you, I have nothing eligible or profitable to suggest. «Vous n'avez pas besoin d'être pressé d'entendre», a-t-il dit: «laissez-moi vous dire franchement, je n'ai rien d'éligible ou de rentable à suggérer.

Before I explain, recall, if you please, my notice, clearly given, that if I helped you, it must be as the blind man would help the lame. Avant d'expliquer, rappelez-vous, s'il vous plaît, mon avis, clairement donné, que si je vous aidais, ce devait être comme l'aveugle aiderait le boiteux. I am poor; for I find that, when I have paid my father's debts, all the patrimony remaining to me will be this crumbling grange, the row of scathed firs behind, and the patch of moorish soil, with the yew-trees and holly-bushes in front. Je suis pauvre; car je trouve que, quand j'aurai payé les dettes de mon père, tout le patrimoine qui me restera sera cette grange en ruine, la rangée de sapins cinglés derrière, et la parcelle de terre mauresque, avec les ifs et les houx devant . I am obscure: Rivers is an old name; but of the three sole descendants of the race, two earn the dependant's crust among strangers, and the third considers himself an alien from his native country—not only for life, but in death. Je suis obscur: Rivers est un ancien nom; mais des trois seuls descendants de la race, deux gagnent la croûte de la personne à charge parmi les étrangers, et le troisième se considère comme un étranger de son pays natal, non seulement pour la vie, mais dans la mort. Yes, and deems, and is bound to deem, himself honoured by the lot, and aspires but after the day when the cross of separation from fleshly ties shall be laid on his shoulders, and when the Head of that church-militant of whose humblest members he is one, shall give the word, ‘Rise, follow Me! Oui, et juge, et est tenu de se juger, lui-même honoré par le sort, et n'aspire qu'après le jour où la croix de séparation des liens charnels sera posée sur ses épaules, et lorsque le chef de cette église-militante dont les plus humbles membres, il est un, donnera le mot: «Lève-toi, suis-moi! '” St.

John said these words as he pronounced his sermons, with a quiet, deep voice; with an unflushed cheek, and a coruscating radiance of glance. John said these words as he pronounced his sermons, with a quiet, deep voice; with an unflushed cheek, and a coruscating radiance of glance. Jean a dit ces mots en prononçant ses sermons, d'une voix calme et profonde; avec une joue non rincée, et un éclat de regard coruscitant. He resumed—

“And since I am myself poor and obscure, I can offer you but a service of poverty and obscurity.

You may even think it degrading—for I see now your habits have been what the world calls refined: your tastes lean to the ideal, and your society has at least been amongst the educated; but I consider that no service degrades which can better our race. You may even think it degrading—for I see now your habits have been what the world calls refined: your tastes lean to the ideal, and your society has at least been amongst the educated; but I consider that no service degrades which can better our race. Vous pouvez même le trouver dégradant - car je vois maintenant que vos habitudes ont été ce que le monde appelle raffinées: vos goûts penchent vers l'idéal, et votre société a au moins été parmi les éduqués; mais je considère qu'aucun service ne dégrade ce qui peut améliorer notre race. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where the Christian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him—the scantier the meed his toil brings—the higher the honour. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where the Christian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him—the scantier the meed his toil brings—the higher the honour. Je soutiens que plus le sol est aride et non réclamé où la tâche de labour du laboureur chrétien lui est confiée - plus maigreur est maigre que son labeur apporte - plus l'honneur est élevé. His, under such circumstances, is the destiny of the pioneer; and the first pioneers of the Gospel were the Apostles—their captain was Jesus, the Redeemer, Himself.” Dans de telles circonstances, le destin du pionnier est le sien ; et les premiers pionniers de l'Évangile ont été les Apôtres - leur capitaine était Jésus, le Rédempteur, lui-même".

“Well?” I said, as he again paused—“proceed.”

He looked at me before he proceeded: indeed, he seemed leisurely to read my face, as if its features and lines were characters on a page. Il me regarda avant de continuer: en effet, il semblait lire tranquillement mon visage, comme si ses traits et ses lignes étaient des caractères sur une page.

The conclusions drawn from this scrutiny he partially expressed in his succeeding observations. Les conclusions tirées de cet examen, il les a partiellement exprimées dans ses observations ultérieures.

“I believe you will accept the post I offer you,” said he, “and hold it for a while: not permanently, though: any more than I could permanently keep the narrow and narrowing—the tranquil, hidden office of English country incumbent; for in your nature is an alloy as detrimental to repose as that in mine, though of a different kind.” «Je crois que vous accepterez le poste que je vous propose,» dit-il, «et le tiendrez pendant un moment: pas de façon permanente, cependant: pas plus que je ne pourrais en permanence garder l'étroit et le rétrécissement - le bureau tranquille et caché du pays anglais ; car dans votre nature il y a un alliage aussi nuisible au repos que dans le mien, quoique d'un autre genre.

“Do explain,” I urged, when he halted once more.

“I will; and you shall hear how poor the proposal is,—how trivial—how cramping. "Je vais; et vous entendrez à quel point la proposition est pauvre, - à quel point insignifiante - à quel point elle est crampe.

I shall not stay long at Morton, now that my father is dead, and that I am my own master. Je ne resterai pas longtemps à Morton, maintenant que mon père est mort et que je suis mon propre maître. I shall leave the place probably in the course of a twelve-month; but while I do stay, I will exert myself to the utmost for its improvement. Je quitterai les lieux probablement au cours d'un douze mois; mais pendant que je reste, je m'efforcerai au maximum de son amélioration. Morton, when I came to it two years ago, had no school: the children of the poor were excluded from every hope of progress. I established one for boys: I mean now to open a second school for girls. I have hired a building for the purpose, with a cottage of two rooms attached to it for the mistress's house. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year: her house is already furnished, very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady, Miss Oliver; the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish—Mr. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year: her house is already furnished, very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady, Miss Oliver; the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish—Mr. Son salaire sera de trente livres par an: sa maison est déjà meublée, très simplement, mais suffisamment, par la gentillesse d'une dame, miss Oliver; la fille unique du seul homme riche de ma paroisse - M. Oliver, the proprietor of a needle-factory and iron-foundry in the valley. Oliver, propriétaire d'une fabrique d'aiguilles et d'une fonderie de fer dans la vallée. The same lady pays for the education and clothing of an orphan from the workhouse, on condition that she shall aid the mistress in such menial offices connected with her own house and the school as her occupation of teaching will prevent her having time to discharge in person. La même dame paie pour l'éducation et l'habillement d'un orphelin de la maison de travail, à condition qu'elle aide la maîtresse dans les tâches subalternes liées à sa propre maison et à l'école, car son occupation d'enseigner l'empêchera d'avoir le temps de se libérer en personne. . Will you be this mistress?”

He put the question rather hurriedly; he seemed half to expect an indignant, or at least a disdainful rejection of the offer: not knowing all my thoughts and feelings, though guessing some, he could not tell in what light the lot would appear to me. Il posa la question assez rapidement; il semblait s'attendre à moitié à un rejet indigné, ou du moins dédaigneux, de l'offre: ne connaissant pas toutes mes pensées et mes sentiments, tout en en devinant quelques-uns, il ne pouvait dire sous quelle lumière le sort m'apparaîtrait.

In truth it was humble—but then it was sheltered, and I wanted a safe asylum: it was plodding—but then, compared with that of a governess in a rich house, it was independent; and the fear of servitude with strangers entered my soul like iron: it was not ignoble—not unworthy—not mentally degrading, I made my decision. En vérité, c'était humble - mais ensuite c'était à l'abri, et je voulais un asile sûr: c'était marchant - mais alors, comparé à celui d'une gouvernante dans une maison riche, c'était indépendant; et la peur de la servitude avec des étrangers est entrée dans mon âme comme du fer: ce n'était pas ignoble - pas indigne - pas mentalement dégradant, j'ai pris ma décision.

“I thank you for the proposal, Mr. Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart.”

“But you comprehend me?” he said.

“It is a village school: your scholars will be only poor girls—cottagers' children—at the best, farmers' daughters. "C'est une école de village : vos élèves ne seront que des filles pauvres, des enfants de propriétaires de chalets, au mieux des filles de fermiers. Knitting, sewing, reading, writing, ciphering, will be all you will have to teach. Tricoter, coudre, lire, écrire, chiffrer, sera tout ce que vous aurez à enseigner. What will you do with your accomplishments? Que ferez-vous de vos réalisations? What, with the largest portion of your mind—sentiments—tastes?” Qu'est-ce, avec la plus grande partie de votre esprit - les sentiments - les goûts?

“Save them till they are wanted. «Sauvez-les jusqu'à ce qu'ils soient recherchés.

They will keep.” Ils se maintiendront".

“You know what you undertake, then?” "Vous savez ce que vous entreprenez, alors ?"

“I do.”

He now smiled: and not a bitter or a sad smile, but one well pleased and deeply gratified. Il souriait maintenant, et ce n'était pas un sourire amer ou triste, mais un sourire satisfait et profondément gratifié.

“And when will you commence the exercise of your function?”

“I will go to my house to-morrow, and open the school, if you like, next week.” "J'irai chez moi demain, et j'ouvrirai l'école, si vous voulez, la semaine prochaine."

“Very well: so be it.” "Très bien: qu'il en soit ainsi."

He rose and walked through the room.

Standing still, he again looked at me. He shook his head.

“What do you disapprove of, Mr. Rivers?” I asked. "Qu'est-ce que vous désapprouvez, M. Rivers ? ai-je demandé.

“You will not stay at Morton long: no, no!” "Vous ne resterez pas longtemps à Morton : non, non !"

“Why?

What is your reason for saying so?”

“I read it in your eye; it is not of that description which promises the maintenance of an even tenor in life.” «Je l'ai lu dans vos yeux; ce n'est pas de cette description qui promet le maintien d'un ténor égal dans la vie.

“I am not ambitious.”

He started at the word “ambitious.”  He repeated, “No.

What made you think of ambition? Who is ambitious? I know I am: but how did you find it out?” Je sais que je le suis: mais comment l’avez-vous découvert? »

“I was speaking of myself.”

“Well, if you are not ambitious, you are—”  He paused.

“What?”

“I was going to say, impassioned: but perhaps you would have misunderstood the word, and been displeased. «J'allais dire, passionné: mais peut-être auriez-vous mal compris le mot, et été mécontent.

I mean, that human affections and sympathies have a most powerful hold on you. Je veux dire, que les affections et les sympathies humaines ont une emprise très puissante sur vous. I am sure you cannot long be content to pass your leisure in solitude, and to devote your working hours to a monotonous labour wholly void of stimulus: any more than I can be content,” he added, with emphasis, “to live here buried in morass, pent in with mountains—my nature, that God gave me, contravened; my faculties, heaven-bestowed, paralysed—made useless. Je suis sûr que vous ne pouvez pas vous contenter longtemps de passer vos loisirs dans la solitude, et de consacrer vos heures de travail à un travail monotone, sans aucun stimulus: pas plus que je ne peux me contenter », a-t-il ajouté avec emphase,« vivre ici enterré dans le bourbier, enfermé dans les montagnes, ma nature, que Dieu m'a donnée, a contrevenu; mes facultés, accordées par le ciel, paralysées, rendues inutiles. You hear now how I contradict myself. I, who preached contentment with a humble lot, and justified the vocation even of hewers of wood and drawers of water in God's service—I, His ordained minister, almost rave in my restlessness. Moi qui ai prêché le contentement avec beaucoup d'humilité, et justifié la vocation même de tailleurs de bois et de tireurs d'eau au service de Dieu - moi, Son ministre ordonné, je me délire presque de mon inquiétude. Well, propensities and principles must be reconciled by some means.” Eh bien, les tendances et les principes doivent être conciliés par certains moyens. »

He left the room.

In this brief hour I had learnt more of him than in the whole previous month: yet still he puzzled me. Au cours de cette brève heure, j'en avais appris plus sur lui que pendant tout le mois précédent, mais il me laissait toujours perplexe.

Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home. Diana et Mary Rivers deviennent de plus en plus tristes et silencieuses à mesure que le jour approche où elles devront quitter leur frère et leur maison.

They both tried to appear as usual; but the sorrow they had to struggle against was one that could not be entirely conquered or concealed. Ils ont tous deux essayé de paraître comme d'habitude; mais la douleur contre laquelle ils devaient lutter était une douleur qui ne pouvait être entièrement vaincue ou dissimulée. Diana intimated that this would be a different parting from any they had ever yet known. Diana a laissé entendre que ce serait une séparation différente de tout ce qu'ils avaient jamais connu. It would probably, as far as St. Ce serait probablement, aussi loin que St. John was concerned, be a parting for years: it might be a parting for life. John était inquiet, être une séparation pendant des années: cela pourrait être une séparation pour la vie.

“He will sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves,” she said: “natural affection and feelings more potent still. «Il sacrifiera tout à ses résolutions à long terme», dit-elle: «une affection naturelle et des sentiments encore plus puissants.

St.

John looks quiet, Jane; but he hides a fever in his vitals. John a l'air calme, Jane, mais il cache une fièvre dans ses organes vitaux. You would think him gentle, yet in some things he is inexorable as death; and the worst of it is, my conscience will hardly permit me to dissuade him from his severe decision: certainly, I cannot for a moment blame him for it. On le croirait doux, mais dans certaines choses, il est inexorable comme la mort; et le pire, c'est que ma conscience ne me permettra guère de le dissuader de sa décision sévère: certes, je ne peux pas un instant l'en blâmer. It is right, noble, Christian: yet it breaks my heart!”  And the tears gushed to her fine eyes. It is right, noble, Christian: yet it breaks my heart!” And the tears gushed to her fine eyes. C'est juste, noble, chrétien: pourtant cela me brise le cœur! Et les larmes jaillirent de ses beaux yeux. Mary bent her head low over her work. Mary baisse la tête sur son travail.

“We are now without father: we shall soon be without home and brother,” she murmured. “We are now without father: we shall soon be without home and brother,” she murmured.

At that moment a little accident supervened, which seemed decreed by fate purposely to prove the truth of the adage, that “misfortunes never come singly,” and to add to their distresses the vexing one of the slip between the cup and the lip. A ce moment survint un petit accident, qui semblait décrété par le destin pour prouver exprès la vérité de l'adage, que «les malheurs ne viennent jamais seuls», et pour ajouter à leurs angoisses la vexante du glissement entre la coupe et la lèvre.

St.

John passed the window reading a letter. He entered.

“Our uncle John is dead,” said he.

Both the sisters seemed struck: not shocked or appalled; the tidings appeared in their eyes rather momentous than afflicting. Les deux sœurs semblaient frappées: ni choquées ni consternées; la nouvelle paraissait à leurs yeux plutôt capitale qu'affligeante.

“Dead?” repeated Diana.

“Yes.”

She riveted a searching gaze on her brother's face. Elle fixa un regard pénétrant sur le visage de son frère. “And what then?” she demanded, in a low voice.

“What then, Die?” he replied, maintaining a marble immobility of feature.

“What then? Why—nothing. Read.”

He threw the letter into her lap.

She glanced over it, and handed it to Mary. Elle y jeta un œil et le tendit à Mary. Mary perused it in silence, and returned it to her brother. Mary la parcourut en silence et la rendit à son frère. All three looked at each other, and all three smiled—a dreary, pensive smile enough. Tous les trois se sont regardés, et tous les trois ont souri - un sourire assez morne et pensif.

“Amen!

We can yet live,” said Diana at last. Nous pouvons encore vivre », dit enfin Diana.

“At any rate, it makes us no worse off than we were before,” remarked Mary. «En tout cas, cela ne nous rend pas plus mal qu'avant», a fait remarquer Mary.

“Only it forces rather strongly on the mind the picture of what might have been ,” said Mr. Rivers, “and contrasts it somewhat too vividly with what is .” "Seulement, cela force assez fortement à l'esprit l'image de ce qui aurait pu être", a déclaré M. Rivers, "et le contraste un peu trop vivement avec ce qui est."

He folded the letter, locked it in his desk, and again went out.

For some minutes no one spoke.

Diana then turned to me.

“Jane, you will wonder at us and our mysteries,” she said, “and think us hard-hearted beings not to be more moved at the death of so near a relation as an uncle; but we have never seen him or known him. «Jane, vous vous émerveillerez de nous et de nos mystères», dit-elle, «et vous penserez que nous, êtres au cœur dur, ne serez pas plus émus à la mort d'une relation aussi proche qu'un oncle; mais nous ne l'avons jamais vu ni connu.

He was my mother's brother. My father and he quarrelled long ago. Mon père et lui se sont disputés il y a longtemps. It was by his advice that my father risked most of his property in the speculation that ruined him. C'est sur ses conseils que mon père a risqué la plupart de ses biens dans la spéculation qui l'a ruiné. Mutual recrimination passed between them: they parted in anger, and were never reconciled. Des récriminations mutuelles passèrent entre eux: ils se séparèrent de colère et ne se réconcilièrent jamais. My uncle engaged afterwards in more prosperous undertakings: it appears he realised a fortune of twenty thousand pounds. Mon oncle s'est engagé ensuite dans des entreprises plus prospères: il paraît qu'il a réalisé une fortune de vingt mille livres. He was never married, and had no near kindred but ourselves and one other person, not more closely related than we. Il n'a jamais été marié et n'avait pas de parenté proche mais nous-mêmes et une autre personne, pas plus proches que nous. My father always cherished the idea that he would atone for his error by leaving his possessions to us; that letter informs us that he has bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception of thirty guineas, to be divided between St. Mon père a toujours aimé l'idée qu'il expierait son erreur en nous laissant ses biens; cette lettre nous informe qu'il a légué chaque sou à l'autre parent, à l'exception de trente guinées, à partager entre St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers, for the purchase of three mourning rings. John, Diana et Mary Rivers, pour l'achat de trois anneaux de deuil. He had a right, of course, to do as he pleased: and yet a momentary damp is cast on the spirits by the receipt of such news. Il avait le droit, bien sûr, de faire ce qu'il voulait: et pourtant, une humidité momentanée est jetée sur les esprits par la réception de telles nouvelles. Mary and I would have esteemed ourselves rich with a thousand pounds each; and to St. Mary et moi nous serions estimés riches de mille livres chacun; et à St. John such a sum would have been valuable, for the good it would have enabled him to do.” John, une telle somme aurait été précieuse, pour le bien qu'elle lui aurait permis de faire.

This explanation given, the subject was dropped, and no further reference made to it by either Mr. Rivers or his sisters.

The next day I left Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary quitted it for distant B-. In a week, Mr. Rivers and Hannah repaired to the parsonage: and so the old grange was abandoned. En une semaine, M. Rivers et Hannah se rendirent au presbytère: la vieille grange fut abandonnée.