第88部分(第6/7 页)

ction　of　the　reality　of　all　this　seized　him。

“It　is　you—is　it；　Jane？　You　are　e　back　to　me　then？”

“I　am。”

“And　you　do　not　lie　dead　in　some　ditch　under　some　stream？　And　you　are　not　a　pining　outcast　amongst　strangers？”

“No；　sir！　I　am　an　independent　woman　now。”

“Independent！　What　do　you　mean；　Jane？”

“My　uncle　in　Madeira　is　dead；　and　he　left　me　five　thousand　pounds。”

“Ah！　this　is　practical—this　is　real！”　he　cried：　“I　should　never　dream　that。　Besides；　there　is　that　peculiar　voice　of　hers；　so　animating　and　piquant；　as　well　as　soft：　it　cheers　my　withered　heart；　it　puts　life　into　it。—What；　Ja！　Are　you　an　independent　woman？　A　rich　woman？”

“If　you　won’t　let　me　live　with　you；　I　can　build　a　house　of　my　own　close　up　to　your　door；　and　you　may　e　and　sit　in　my　parlour　when　you　want　pany　of　an　evening。”

“But　as　you　are　rich；　Jane；　you　have　now；　no　doubt；　friends　who　will　look　after　you；　and　not　suffer　you　to　devote　yourself　to　a　blind　lameter　like　me？”

“I　told　you　I　am　independent；　sir；　as　well　as　rich：　I　am　my　own　mistress。”

“And　you　will　stay　with　me？”

“Certainly—unless　you　object。　I　will　be　your　neighbour；　your　nurse；　your　housekeeper。　I　find　you　lonely：　I　will　be　your　panion—to　read　to　you；　to　walk　with　you；　to　sit　with　you；　to　wait　on　you；　to　be　eyes　and　hands　to　you。　Cease　to　look　so　melancholy；　my　dear　master；　you　shall　not　be　left　desolate；　so　long　as　I　live。”

He　replied　not：　he　seemed　serious—abstracted；　he　sighed；　he　half…　opened　his　lips　as　if　to　speak：　he　closed　them　again。　I　felt　a　little　embarrassed。　Perhaps　I　had　too　rashly　over…leaped　conventionalities；　and　he；　like　St。　John；　saw　impropriety　in　my　inconsiderateness。　I　had　indeed　made　my　proposal　from　the　idea　that　he　wished　and　woul