o
to India, I go to premature death. And how will the interval between
leaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? Oh, I
know well! That, too, is very clear to my vision. By straining to
satisfy St. John till my sinews ache, I _shall_ satisfy him--to the
finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. If
I _do_ go with him--if I _do_ make the sacrifice he urges, I will make it
absolutely: I will throw all on the altar--heart, vitals, the entire
victim. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him
energies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. Yes, I
can work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging.

"Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item--one dreadful
item. It is--that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a
husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which the
stream is foaming in yonder gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would a
good weapon; and that is all. Unmarried to him, this would never grieve
me; but can I let him complete his calculations--coolly put into practice
his plans--go through the wedding ceremony? Can I receive from him the
bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would
scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I
bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice
made on principle? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous. I will
never undergo it. As his sister, I might accompany him--not as his wife:
I will tell him so."

I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostrate column;
his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. He started to
his feet and approached me.

"I am ready to go to India, if I may go free."

"Your answer requires a commentary," he said; "it is not clear."

"You have hitherto been my adopted brother--I, your adopted sister: let
us continue as such: you and I had better not marry."

He shook his head. "Adopted fraternity will not do in this case. If you
were my real sister it would be different: I should take you, and seek no
wife. But as it is, either our union must be consecrated and sealed by
marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles oppose themselves to
any other plan. Do you not see it, Jane? Consider a moment--your strong
sense will guide you."

I did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me only to