The Professor / Учитель. Книга для чтения на английском языке

I read – then dreamily made marks on the margin with my pencil; thinking all the while of other things; thinking that “Jane” was now at my side; no child, but a girl of nineteen; and she might be mine, so my heart afifrmed; Poverty’s curse was taken off me[468]; Envy and Jealousy were far away, and unapprized of this our quiet meeting; the frost of the Master’s manner might melt; I felt the thaw coming fast, whether I would or not; no further need for the eye to practise a hard look, for the brow to compress its expense into a stern fold: it was now permitted to suffer the outward revelation of the inward glow – to seek, demand, elicit an answering ardour. While musing thus, I thought that the grass on Hermon[469] never drank the fresh dews of sunset more gratefully than my feelings drank the bliss of this hour.

Frances rose, as if restless; she passed before me to stir the fire, which did not want stirring; she lifted and put down the little ornaments on the mantelpiece; her dress waved within a yard of me; slight, straight, and elegant, she stood erect on the hearth.

There are impulses we can control; but there are others which control us, because they attain us with a tiger-leap, and are our masters ere we have seen them. Perhaps, though, such impulses are seldom altogether bad; perhaps Reason, by a process as brief as quiet, a process that is finished ere felt, has ascertained the sanity of the deed Instinct meditates, and feels justified in remaining passive while it is performed. I know I did not reason, I did not plan or intend, yet, whereas one moment I was sitting solus on the chair near the table, the next, I held Frances on my knee, placed there with sharpness and decision, and retained with exceeding tenacity.

“Monsieur!” cried Frances, and was still: not another word escaped her lips; sorely confounded she seemed during the lapse of the first few moments; but the amazement soon subsided; terror did not succeed, nor fury: after all, she was only a little nearer than she had ever been before, to one she habitually respected and trusted; embarrassment might have impelled her to contend, but self-respect checked resistance where resistance was useless.

“Frances, how much regard have you for me?” was my demand. No answer; the situation was yet too new and surprising to permit speech. On this consideration, I compelled myself for some seconds to tolerate her silence, though impatient of it: presently, I repeated the same question – probably, not in the calmest of tones; she looked at me; my face, doubtless, was no model of composure, my eyes no still wells of tranquillity.

“Do speak,” I urged; and a very low, hurried, yet still arch voice said:

“Monsieur, vous me faites mal; de grâce lachez un peu ma main droite.[470]”

In truth I became aware that I was holding the said “main droite” in a somewhat ruthless grasp: I did as desired; and, for the third time, asked more gently:

“Frances, how much regard have you for me?”

“Mon maître, j’en ai beaucoup[471],” was the truthful rejoinder.

“Frances, have you enough to give yourself to me as my wife? – to accept me as your husband?”

I felt the agitation of the heart, I saw “the purple light of love” cast its glowing reflection on cheeks, temples, neck; I desired to consult the eye, but sheltering lash and lid forbade.

“Monsieur,” said the soft voice at last, – “Monsieur désire savoir si je consens – si – enfin, si je veux me marier avec lui?[472]”

“Justement.[473]”

“Monsieur sera-t-il aussi bon mari qu’il a été bon maître?[474]”

“I will try, Frances.”

A pause; then with a new, yet still subdued inflexion of the voice – an inflexion which provoked while it pleased me – accompanied, too, by a “sourire à la fois fin et timide[475]” in perfect harmony with the tone:

“C’est à dire, monsieur sera toujours un peu entêté exigeant, volontaire – ?[476]”

“Have I been so, Frances?”

“Mais oui; vous le savez bien.[477]”

“Have I been nothing else?”

“Mais oui; vons avez été mon meilleur ami.[478]”

“And what, Frances, are you to me?”

“Votre devouée élève, qui vous aime de tout son cœur.[479]”

“Will my pupil consent to pass her life with me? Speak English now, Frances.”

Some moments were taken for reflection; the answer, pronounced slowly, ran thus: