Джэйн Эйр

Chapter XXVII

           Whatapigmyintellectshehad,andwhatgiantpropensities!Howfearfulwerethecursesthosepropensitiesentailedonme! BerthaMason,thetruedaughterofaninfamousmother,draggedmethroughallthehideousanddegradingagonieswhichmustattendamanboundtoawifeatonceintemperateandunchaste. 

           "Mybrotherintheintervalwasdead,andattheendofthefouryearsmyfatherdiedtoo. Iwasrichenoughnow—yetpoortohideousindigence:anaturethemostgross,impure,depravedIeversaw,wasassociatedwithmine,andcalledbythelawandbysocietyapartofme. AndIcouldnotridmyselfofitbyanylegalproceedings:forthedoctorsnowdiscoveredthatmywifewasmad—herexcesseshadprematurelydevelopedthegermsofinsanity. Jane,youdon’tlikemynarrative;youlookalmostsick—shallIdefertheresttoanotherday?" 

           "No,sir,finishitnow;Ipityyou—Idoearnestlypityyou." 

           "Pity,Jane,fromsomepeopleisanoxiousandinsultingsortoftribute,whichoneisjustifiedinhurlingbackintheteethofthosewhoofferit;butthatisthesortofpitynativetocallous,selfishhearts;itisahybrid,egotisticalpainathearingofwoes,crossedwithignorantcontemptforthosewhohaveenduredthem. Butthatisnotyourpity,Jane; itisnotthefeelingofwhichyourwholefaceisfullatthismoment—withwhichyoureyesarenowalmostoverflowing—withwhichyourheartisheaving—withwhichyourhandistremblinginmine. 

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