Шарлотта Бронте - Shirley

"She could not hear me speak so unmoved, and she was moved. It was right—I meant to move her. She could not answer me, nor could she look at me. I should have been sorry if she could have done either. Her cheek glowed as if a crimson flower through whose petals the sun shone had cast its light upon it. On the white lid and dark lashes of her downcast eye trembled all that is graceful in the sense of half–painful, half–pleasing shame.

"Soon she controlled her emotion, and took all her feelings under command. I saw she had felt insurrection, and was waking to empire. She sat down. There was that in her face which I could read. It said, I see the line which is my limit; nothing shall make me pass it. I feel—I know how far I may reveal my feelings, and when I must clasp the volume. I have advanced to a certain distance, as far as the true and sovereign and undegraded nature of my kind permits; now here I stand rooted. My heart may break if it is baffled; let it break. It shall never dishonour me; it shall never dishonour my sisterhood in me. Suffering before degradation! death before treachery!

"I, for my part, said, 'If she were poor, I would be at her feet; if she were lowly, I would take her in my arms. Her gold and her station are two griffins that guard her on each side. Love looks and longs, and dares not; Passion hovers round, and is kept at bay; Truth and Devotion are scared. There is nothing to lose in winning her, no sacrifice to make. It is all clear gain, and therefore unimaginably difficult.'

"Difficult or not, something must be done, something must be said. I could not, and would not, sit silent with all that beauty modestly mute in my presence. I spoke thus, and still I spoke with calm. Quiet as my words were, I could hear they fell in a tone distinct, round, and deep.

"'Still, I know I shall be strangely placed with that mountain nymph Liberty. She is, I suspect, akin to that Solitude which I once wooed, and from which I now seek a divorce. These Oreads are peculiar. They come upon you with an unearthly charm, like some starlight evening; they inspire a wild but not warm delight; their beauty is the beauty of spirits; their grace is not the grace of life, but of seasons or scenes in nature. Theirs is the dewy bloom of morning, the languid flush of evening, the peace of the moon, the changefulness of clouds. I want and will have something different. This elfish splendour looks chill to my vision, and feels frozen to my touch. I am not a poet; I cannot live with abstractions. You, Miss Keeldar, have sometimes, in your laughing satire, called me a material philosopher, and implied that I live sufficiently for the substantial. Certainly I feel material from head to foot; and glorious as Nature is, and deeply as I worship her with the solid powers of a solid heart, I would rather behold her through the soft human eyes of a loved and lovely wife than through the wild orbs of the highest goddess of Olympus.'

"'Juno could not cook a buffalo steak as you like it,' said she.

"'She could not; but I will tell you who could—some young, penniless, friendless orphan girl. I wish I could find such a one—pretty enough for me to love, with something of the mind and heart suited to my taste; not uneducated—honest and modest. I care nothing for attainments, but I would fain have the germ of those sweet natural powers which nothing acquired can rival; any temper Fate wills—I can manage the hottest. To such a creature as this I should like to be first tutor and then husband. I would teach her my language, my habits and my principles, and then I would reward her with my love.'

"' Reward her, lord of the creation— reward her!'" ejaculated she, with a curled lip.

"'And be repaid a thousandfold.'

"'If she willed it, monseigneur.'

"'And she should will it.'

"'You have stipulated for any temper Fate wills. Compulsion is flint and a blow to the metal of some souls.'

"'And love the spark it elicits.'

"'Who cares for the love that is but a spark—seen, flown upward, and gone?'

"'I must find my orphan girl. Tell me how, Miss Keeldar.'

"'Advertise; and be sure you add, when you describe the qualifications, she must be a good plain cook.'

"'I must find her; and when I do find her I shall marry her.'

"'Not you!' and her voice took a sudden accent of peculiar scorn.

"I liked this. I had roused her from the pensive mood in which I had first found her. I would stir her further.

"'Why doubt it?'

"' You marry!'

"'Yes, of course; nothing more evident than that I can and shall.'

"'The contrary is evident, Mr. Moore.'

"She charmed me in this mood—waxing disdainful, half insulting; pride, temper, derision, blent in her large fine eye, that had just now the look of a merlin's.

"'Favour me with your reasons for such an opinion, Miss Keeldar.'

"'How will you manage to marry, I wonder?'

"'I shall manage it with ease and speed when I find the proper person.'

"'Accept celibacy!' (and she made a gesture with her hand as if she gave me something) 'take it as your doom!'

"'No; you cannot give what I already have. Celibacy has been mine for thirty years. If you wish to offer me a gift, a parting present, a keepsake, you must change the boon.'

"'Take worse, then!'

"'How—what?'

"I now felt, and looked, and spoke eagerly. I was unwise to quit my sheet–anchor of calm even for an instant; it deprived me of an advantage and transferred it to her. The little spark of temper dissolved in sarcasm, and eddied over her countenance in the ripples of a mocking smile.

"'Take a wife that has paid you court to save your modesty, and thrust herself upon you to spare your scruples.'

"'Only show me where.'

"'Any stout widow that has had a few husbands already, and can manage these things.'

"'She must not be rich, then. Oh these riches!'

"'Never would you have gathered the produce of the gold–bearing garden. You have not courage to confront the sleepless dragon; you have not craft to borrow the aid of Atlas.'

"'You look hot and haughty.'

"'And you far haughtier. Yours is the monstrous pride which counterfeits humility.'

"'I am a dependant; I know my place.'

"'I am a woman; I know mine.'

"'I am poor; I must be proud.'

"'I have received ordinances, and own obligations stringent as yours.'

"We had reached a critical point now, and we halted and looked at each other. She would not give in, I felt. Beyond this I neither felt nor saw. A few moments yet were mine. The end was coming—I heard its rush—but not come. I would dally, wait, talk, and when impulse urged I would act. I am never in a hurry; I never was in a hurry in my whole life. Hasty people drink the nectar of existence scalding hot; I taste it cool as dew. I proceeded: 'Apparently, Miss Keeldar, you are as little likely to marry as myself. I know you have refused three—nay, four—advantageous offers, and, I believe, a fifth. Have you rejected Sir Philip Nunnely?'

"I put this question suddenly and promptly.

"'Did you think I should take him?'

"'I thought you might.'

"'On what grounds, may I ask?'

"'Conformity of rank, age, pleasing contrast of temper—for he is mild and amiable—harmony of intellectual tastes.'

"'A beautiful sentence! Let us take it to pieces. "Conformity of rank." He is quite above me. Compare my grange with his palace, if you please. I am disdained by his kith and kin. "Suitability of age." We were born in the same year; consequently he is still a boy, while I am a woman—ten years his senior to all intents and purposes. "Contrast of temper." Mild and amiable, is he; I—what? Tell me.'

"'Sister of the spotted, bright, quick, fiery leopard.'