JANE EYRE.
269
"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 comes 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 its 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