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第28部分（第1页）

n　your　eye　（beware；　by…the…bye；　what　you　express　with　that　organ；　I　am　quick　at　interpreting　its　language）。　Then　take　my　word　for　it；—I　am　not　a　villain：　you　are　not　to　suppose　that—not　to　attribute　to　me　any　such　bad　eminence；　but；　owing；　I　verily　believe；　rather　to　circumstances　than　to　my　natural　bent；　I　am　a　trite　monplace　sinner；　hackneyed　in　all　the　poor　petty　dissipations　with　which　the　rich　and　worthless　try　to　put　on　life。　Do　you　wonder　that　I　avow　this　to　you？　Know；　that　in　the　course　of　your　future　life　you　will　often　find　yourself　elected　the　involuntary　confidant　of　your　acquaintances’　secrets：　people　will　instinctively　find　out；　as　I　have　done；　that　it　is　not　your　forte　to　tell　of　yourself；　but　to　listen　while　others　talk　of　themselves；　they　will　feel；　too；　that　you　listen　with　no　malevolent　scorn　of　their　indiscretion；　but　with　a　kind　of　innate　sympathy；　not　the　less　forting　and　encouraging　because　it　is　very　unobtrusive　in　its　manifestations。”

“How　do　you　know？—how　can　you　guess　all　this；　sir？”

“I　know　it　well；　therefore　I　proceed　almost　as　freely　as　if　I　were　writing　my　thoughts　in　a　diary。　You　would　say；　I　should　have　been　superior　to　circumstances；　so　I　should—so　I　should；　but　you　see　I　was　not。　When　fate　wronged　me；　I　had　not　the　wisdom　to　remain　cool：　I　turned　desperate；　then　I　degenerated。　Now；　when　any　vicious　simpleton　excites　my　disgust　by　his　paltry　ribaldry；　I　cannot　flatter　myself　that　I　am　better　than　he：　I　am　forced　to　confess　that　he　and　I　are　on　a　level。　I　wish　I　had　stood　firm—God　knows　I　do！　Dread　remorse　when　you　are　tempted　to　err；　Miss　Eyre；　remorse　is　the　poison　of　life。”

“Repentance　is　said　to　be　its　cure；　sir。”

“It　is　not　its　cure。　Reformation　may　be　its　cure；　and　I　could　reform—I　have　strength　yet　for　that—if—but　where　is　the　use　of　thinking　of　it；　hampered；　burdened；　cursed　as　I　am？　Besides；　since　happiness　is　irrevocably　denied　me；　I　have　a　right　to　get　pleasure　out　of　life：　and　I　will　get　it；　cost　what　it　may。”

“Then　you　will　degenerate　still　more；　sir。”

“Possibly：　yet　why　should　I；　if　I　can　get　sweet；　fresh　pleasure？　And　I　may　get　it　as　sweet　and　fresh　as　the　wild　honey　the　bee　gathers　on　the　moor。”

“It　will　sting—it　will　taste　bitter；　sir。”

“How　do　you　know？—you　never　tried　it。　How　very　serious—how　very　solemn　you　look：　and　you　are　as　ignorant　of　the　matter　as　this　cameo　head”　（taking　one　from　the　mantelpiece）。　“You　have　no　right　to　preach　to　me；　you　neophyte；　that　have　not　passed　the　porch　of　life；　and　are　absolutely　unacquainted　with　its　mysteries。”

“I　only　remind　you　of　your　own　words；　sir：　you　said　error　brought　remorse；　and　you　pronounced　remorse　the　poison　of　existence。”

“And　who　talks　of　error　now？　I　scarcely　think　the　notion　that　flittered　across　my　brain　was　an　error。　I　believe　it　was　an　inspiration　rather　than　a　temptation：　it　was　very　genial；　very　soothing—I　know　that。　Here　it　es　again！　It　is　no　devil；　I　assure　you；　or　if　it　be；　it　has　put　on　the　robes　of　an　angel　of　light。　I　think　I　must　admit　so　fair　a　guest　when　it　asks　entrance　to　my　heart。”

“Distrust　it；　sir；　it　is　not　a　true　angel。”

“Once　more；　how　do　you　know？　By　what　instinct　do　you　pretend　to　distinguish　between　a　fallen　seraph　of　the　abyss　and　a　messenger　from　the　eternal　throne—between　a　guide　and　a　seducer？”

“I　judged　by　your　countenance；　sir；　which　was　troubled　when　you　said　the　suggestion　had　returned　upon　you。　I　feel　sure　it　will　work　you　more　misery　if　you　listen　to　it。”

“Not　at　all—it　bears　the　most　gracious　message　in　the　world：　for　the　rest；　you　are　not　my　conscience…keeper；　so　don’t　make　yourself　uneasy。　Here；　e　in；　bonny　wanderer！”

He　said　this　as　if　he　spoke　to　a　vision；　viewless　to　any　eye　but　his　own；　then；　folding　his　arms；　which　he　had　half　extended；　on　his　chest；　he　seemed　to　enclose　in　their　embrace　the　invisible　being。

“Now；”　he　continued；　again　addressing　me；　“I　have　received　the　pilgrim—a　disguised　deity；　as　I　verify　believe。　Already　it　has　done　me　good：　my　heart　was　a　sort　of　charnel；　it　will　now　be　a　shrine。”

“To　speak　truth；　sir；　I　don’t　understand　you　at　all：　I　cannot　keep　up　the　conversation；　because　it　has　got　out　of　my　depth。　Only　one　thing；　I　know：　you　said　you　were　not　as　good　as　you　should　like　to　be；　and　that　you　regretted　your　own　imperfection；—one　thing　I　can　prehend：　you　intimated　that　to　have　a　sullied　memory　was　a　perpetual　bane。　It　seems　to　me；　that　if　you　tried　hard；　you　would　in　time　find　it　possible　to　bee　what　you　yourself　would　approve；　and　that　if　from　this　day　you　began　with　resolution　to　correct　your　thoughts　and　actions；　you　would　in　a　few　years　have　laid　up　a　new　and　stainless　store　of　recollections；　to　which　you　might　revert　with　pleasure。”

“Justly　thought；　rightly　said；　Miss　Eyre；　and；　at　this　moment；　I　am　paving　hell　with　energy。”

“Sir？”

“I　am　laying　down　good　intentions；　which　I　believe　durable　as　flint。　Certainly；　my　associates　and　pursuits　shall　be　other　than　they　have　been。”

“And　better？”

“And　better—so　much　better　as　pure　ore　is　than　foul　dross。　You　seem　to　doubt　me；　I　don’t　doubt　myself：　I　know　what　my　aim　is；　what　my　motives　are；　and　at　this　moment　I　pass　a　law；　unalterable　as　that　of　the　Medes　and　Persians；　that　both　are　right。”

“They　cannot　be；　sir；　if　they　require　a　new　statute　to　legalise　them。”

“They　are；　Miss　Eyre；　though　they　absolutely　require　a　new　statute：　unheard…of　binations　of　circumstances　demand　unheard…of　rules。”

“That　sounds　a　dangerous　maxim；　sir；　because　one　can　see　at　once　that　it　is　liable　to　abuse。”

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