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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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359 union that gives a character of permanent conformity to the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over all minor caprices-all trivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling-all scruple about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personal inclination-you will hasten to enter into that union at once.’ ‘Shall I?’ I said briefly; and I looked at his features, beautiful in their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; at his brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure; and fancied myself in idea his wife. Oh! it would never do! As his curate, his comrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him in that capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him in that office; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and vigour; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at his ineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man: profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. I should suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body would be under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be free. I should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. There would be recesses in my mind which would be only mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which his austerity could never blight, nor his measured warrior-march trample down: but as his wife-at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked-forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital-this would be unendurable. ‘St. John!’ I exclaimed, when I had got so far in my meditation. ‘Well?’ he answered icily. ‘I repeat I freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary, but not as your wife; I cannot marry you and become part of you.’ ‘A part of me you must become,’ he answered steadily: ‘otherwise the whole bargain is void. How can I, a man not yet thirty, take out with me to India a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me? How can we be for ever together-sometimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes-and unwed?’ ‘Very well,’ I said shortly; ‘under the circumstances, quite as well as if I were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman like yourself.’ ‘It is known that you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you as such: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both. And for the rest, though you have a man’s vigorous brain, you have a woman’s heart and-it would not do.’ |
