【长篇连载】Jane Eyre----简·爱（中英对照）一部催泪的小说〖全篇〗_English Corner

伊墨君(热心会员)

楼主 2013-01-30

这是一部具有浓厚浪漫主义色彩的现实主义小说，小说主要描写了简·爱与罗切斯特的爱情。主人公简·爱是一个心地纯洁、善于思考的女性，她生活在社会底层，受尽磨难。但她有倔强的性格和勇于追求平等幸福的精神。小说以浓郁抒情的笔法和深刻细腻的心理描写，引人入胜地展示了男女主人公曲折起伏的爱情经历，歌颂了摆脱一切旧习俗和偏见。扎根于相互理解、相互尊重的基础之上的深挚爱情，具有强烈的震撼心灵的艺术力量。其最为成功之处在于塑造了一个敢于反抗，敢于争取自由和平等地位的妇女形象。
简·爱是个孤女，出生于一个穷牧师家庭。父母由于染上伤寒，在一个月之中相继去世。幼小的简寄养在舅父母家里。舅父里德先生在红房子中去世后，简过了10年受尽歧视和虐待的生活。一次，由于反抗表哥的殴打，简被关进了红房子。肉体上的痛苦和心灵上的屈辱和恐惧，使她大病了一场。
舅母把她视作眼中钉，并把她和自己的孩子隔离开来，从此，她与舅母的对抗更加公开和坚决了。以后，简被送进了洛伍德孤儿院。
孤儿院教规严厉，生活艰苦，院长是个冷酷的伪君子。简在孤儿院继续受到精神和肉体上的摧残。由于恶劣的生活条件，孤儿院经常有孩子病死,她最好的朋友海伦在一次大的斑疹伤寒中去世了。这次斑疹伤寒也使孤儿院有了大的改善。简在新的环境下接受了六年的教育，并在这所学校任教两年。由于谭波尔儿小姐的离开，简厌倦了孤儿院里的生活，登广告谋求家庭教师的职业。
桑菲尔德庄园的女管家聘用了她。庄园的男主人罗切斯特经常在外旅行，偌大的宅邸只有一个不到10岁的女孩阿黛拉·瓦朗，罗切斯特是她的保护人，她就是简的学生。
一天黄昏，简外出散步，邂逅刚从国外归来的主人，这是他们第一次见面。以后她发现她的主人是个性格忧郁、喜怒无常的人，对她的态度时好时坏。整幢房子沉郁空旷，有时还会听到一种令人毛骨悚然的奇怪笑声。
一天，简在睡梦中被这种笑声惊醒，发现罗切斯特的房间着了火，简叫醒他并帮助他扑灭了火。
罗切斯特回来后经常举行家宴。在一次家宴上向一位名叫英格拉姆的漂亮小姐大献殷勤，简被召进客厅，却受到布兰奇母女的冷遇，她忍受屈辱，离开客厅。此时，她已经爱上了罗切斯特。其实罗切斯特也已爱上简，他只是想试探简对自己的爱情。当他向简求婚时，简答应了他。
婚礼前夜，简在朦胧中看到一个面目可憎的女人在镜前披戴她的婚纱。
第二天，当婚礼在教堂悄然进行时，突然有人出证：罗切斯特先生15年前已经结婚。他的妻子原来就是那个被关在三楼密室里的疯女人。法律阻碍了他们的爱情，使两人陷入深深的痛苦之中。在一个凄风苦雨之夜，简离开了罗切斯特。在寻找新的生活出路的途中，简风餐露宿，沿途乞讨，历尽磨难，最后在泽地房被牧师圣·约翰收留，并在当地一所小学校任教。
不久，简得知叔父去世并给她留下一笔遗产，同时还发现圣·约翰是她的表兄，简决定将财产平分。圣·约翰是个狂热的教徒，打算去印度传教。他请求简嫁给他并和他同去印度，但理由只是简·爱适合做一位传教士的妻子。简拒绝了他，并决定再看看罗切斯特。
她回到桑菲尔德庄园，那座宅子已成废墟，疯女人放火后坠楼身亡，罗切斯特也受伤致残（失去一只胳膊，一只眼睛）。简找到他并大受震动，最终和他结了婚，得到了自己理想的幸福生活。

[ 此帖被伊墨君在2013-02-14 16:32重新编辑 ]

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zhrdst(略知一二)

44楼 2013-02-28

经典的小说，小学时候是囫囵吐枣的看，直到高中后看了原版后又会看了旧版中文，反映得很经典。

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zkqh61ec(派派新人)

43楼 2013-02-22

不错不错

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p62348223862(*)

42楼 2013-02-21

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微青。(内阁元老)

41楼 2013-02-14

Thanks to sharing!!!
I will glad to see you have continue
Happy Spring Festival!!!
Thanks for your contribution to the English corner,Besr wish for you!
楼主留言：
谢谢昂~可以考虑给红包咳咳~
[ 此帖被微青。在2013-02-14 22:03重新编辑 ]

伊墨君(热心会员)

40楼 2013-02-14

Chapter 38

CONCLUSION READER, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I,the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, Iwent into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking thedinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said-
'Mary, I have beenmarried to Mr. Rochester this morning.' The housekeeper and her husbandwere both of that decent phlegmatic order of people, to whom one may atany time safely communicate a remarkable piece of news without incurringthe danger of having one's ears pierced by some shrill ejaculation, andsubsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy wonderment. Mary did lookup, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting a pairof chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hangsuspended in air; and for the same space of time John's knives also hadrest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast,said only-
'Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!'
A short time after she pursued- 'I seed you go out with the master,but I didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;' and she bastedaway. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.
'I telled Mary how it would be,' he said: 'I knew what Mr. Edward'(John was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadetof the house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)- 'I knewwhat Mr. Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait longneither: and he's done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss!'and he politely pulled his forelock.
'Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this.' Iput into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, Ileft the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, Icaught the words-
'She'll happen do better for him nor ony o' t' grand ladies.' Andagain, 'If she ben't one o' th' handsomest, she's noan faal and varrygood-natured; and i' his een she's fair beautiful, onybody may seethat.'
I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I haddone: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Maryapproved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just giveme time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.
'She had better not wait till then, Jane,' said Mr. Rochester, when Iread her letter to him; 'if she does, she will be too late, for ourhoneymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over yourgrave or mine.'
How St. John received the news, I don't know: he never answered theletter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me,without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to mymarriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind.
He has maintained a regular, though not frequent, correspondence eversince: he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who livewithout God in the world, and only mind earthly things.
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I hadnot; I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see herat the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at beholding meagain moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was nothappy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, itscourse of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home withme. I meant to become her governess once more, but I soon found thisimpracticable; my time and cares were now required by another- myhusband needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a moreindulgent system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often,and bringing her home sometimes. I took care she should never want foranything that could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in hernew abode, became very happy there, and made fair progress in herstudies. As she grew up, a sound English education corrected in a greatmeasure her French defects; and when she left school, I found in her apleasing and obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, andwell-principled. By her grateful attention to me and mine, she has longsince well repaid any little kindness I ever had it in my power to offerher.
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience ofmarried life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose nameshave most frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirelyfor and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest-blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's lifeas fully as he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am:ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know noweariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more thanwe each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separatebosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us tobe at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, Ibelieve, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated andan audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all hisconfidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited incharacter-perfect concord is the result.
Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union:perhaps it was that circumstance that drew us so very near- that knit usso very close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand.Literally, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He sawnature- he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing forhis behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town,river, cloud, sunbeam- of the landscape before us; of the weather roundus- and impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stampon his eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary ofconducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished tobe done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, mostexquisite, even though sad- because he claimed these services withoutpainful shame or damping humiliation.
He loved me so truly, that he knew no reluctance in profiting by myattendance: he felt I loved him so fondly, that to yield that attendancewas to indulge my sweetest wishes.
One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter tohis dictation, he came and bent over me, and said- 'Jane, have you aglittering ornament round your neck?'
I had a gold watch-chain: I answered 'Yes.'
'And have you a pale-blue dress on?'
I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied theobscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he wassure of it.
He and I went up to London. He had the advice of an eminent oculist;and he eventually recovered the sight of that one eye. He cannot now seevery distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his waywithout being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him- theearth no longer a void. When his first-born was put into his arms, hecould see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were-large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a fullheart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.
My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those wemost love are happy likewise. Diana and Mary Rivers are both married:alternately, once every year, they come to see us, and we go to seethem. Diana's husband is a captain in the navy, a gallant officer and agood man. Mary's is a clergyman, a college friend of her brother's, and,from his attainments and principles, worthy of the connection. BothCaptain Fitzjames and Mr. Wharton love their wives, and are loved bythem.
As to St. John Rivers, he left England: he went to India. He enteredon the path he had marked for himself; he pursues it still.
A more resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks anddangers. Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy, and zeal, andtruth, he labours for his race; he clears their painful way toimprovement; he hews down like a giant the prejudices of creed and castethat encumber it. He may be stern; he may be exacting; he may beambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, whoguards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is theexaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ, when he says-'Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up hiscross and follow me.' His is the ambition of the high master-spirit,which aims to fill a place in the first rank of those who are redeemedfrom the earth- who stand without fault before the throne of God, whoshare the last mighty victories of the Lamb, who are called, and chosen,and faithful.
St. John is unmarried: he never will marry now. Himself has hithertosufficed to the toil, and the toil draws near its close: his glorioussun hastens to its setting. The last letter I received from him drewfrom my eyes human tears, and yet filled my heart with divine joy: heanticipated his sure reward, his incorruptible crown. I know that astranger's hand will write to me next, to say that the good and faithfulservant has been called at length into the joy of his Lord. And whyweep for this? No fear of death will darken St.
John's last hour: his mind will be unclouded, his heart will beundaunted, his hope will be sure, his faith steadfast. His own words area pledge of this-'My Master,' he says, 'has forewarned me. Daily He announces moredistinctly,- "Surely I come quickly!" and hourly I more eagerlyrespond,- "Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!"'

读者呵，我同他结了婚。婚礼不事声张，到场的只有他和我，牧师和教堂执事。我从教堂里回来，走进庄园的厨房时，玛丽在做饭，约斡在擦拭刀具，我说：
“玛丽，今儿早上我和罗切斯特先生结了婚，”管家和她的丈夫都是不大动感情的规矩人，你什么时候都可以放心地告诉他们惊人的消息，而你的耳朵不会有被一声尖叫刺痛的危险，你也不会随之被一阵好奇的唠叨弄得目瞪口呆。玛丽确实抬起了头来，也确实盯着我看。她用来给两只烤着的鸡涂油的杓子，在空中停了大约三分钟，约翰忘了擦拭，手中的刀具停了同样长的时间。但是玛丽又弯下腰，忙她的烤鸡去了，只不过说：
“是吗，小姐？嗯，那毫无疑问！”
过了一会儿她接着说：“我看见你与主人出去，但我不知道你们是上教堂结婚的。”说完她又忙着给鸡涂油了，而约翰呢，我转向他的时候，他笑得合不拢嘴了。
“我告诉过玛丽，事情会怎么样，”他说，“我知道爱德华先生”（约翰是个老佣人，他的主人还是幼子的时候他就认识他了。因此他常常用教名称呼他）——“我知道爱德华先生会怎么干。我肯定他不会等得很久，也许他做得很对。我祝你快乐，小姐！”他很有礼貌
地拉了一下自己的前发。
“谢谢你，约翰。罗切斯特先生要我把这给你和玛丽。”
我把一张五英磅的钞票塞进他手里。我没有再等他说什么便离开了厨房。不久之后我经过这间密室时，听见了这样的话：
“也许她比哪一个阔小姐都更配他呢。”接着又说，“虽然她算不上最漂亮，但也不丑，而且脾气又好。我见她长得还是比较好看的，谁都看得出来。”
我立即写信给沼泽居和剑桥，把我的情况告诉了他们，并详细解释了我为什么要这么干。黛安娜和玛丽毫无保留地对此表示赞同，黛安娜还说，让我过好蜜月，就来看我。
“她还是别等到那个时候吧，简，”罗切斯特先生听我读了她的信后说，“要不然她会太晚了，因为我们的蜜月的清辉会照耀我们一生，它的光芒只有在你我进入坟墓时才会消褪。”
圣.约翰对这个消息的反响如何，我一无所知。我透露消息的那封信，他从来没有回复。但六个月后，他写信给我，却没有提及罗切斯特先生的名字，也没有说起我的婚事。他的信平静而友好，但很严肃。从那以后，他虽不经常来信，却按时写给我，祝我快乐，并相信我不会是那种活在世上，只顾俗事而忘了上帝的人。
你没有完全忘记小阿黛勒吧，是不是呀，读者？我并没有忘记。我向罗切斯特先生提出，并得到了他的许可，上他安顿小阿黛勒的学校去看看她。她一见我便欣喜若狂的情景，着实令我感动。她看上去苍白消瘦，还说不愉快。我发现对她这样年龄的孩子来说，这个学校的规章太严格，课程太紧张了。我把她带回了家。我本想再当她的家庭教师，但不久却发现不切实际。现在我的时间与精力给了另一个人——我的丈夫全都需要它。因此我选了一个校规比较宽容的学校，而且又近家，让我常常可去探望她，有时还可以把她带回家来。我还留意让她过得舒舒服服，什么都不缺。她很快在新的居所安顿下来了，在那儿过得很愉快，学习上也取得了长足的进步。她长大以后，健全的英国教育很大程度上纠正了她的法国式缺陷。她离开学校时，我发觉她已是一个讨人喜欢、懂礼貌的伙伴，和气，听话，很讲原则。她出于感激，对我和我家人的照应，早已报答了我在力所能及的情况下给予她的微小帮助。
我的故事已近尾声，再说一两句关于我婚后的生活情况，粗略地看一看他们的名字在我叙述中反复出现的人的命运，我也就把故事讲完了。
如今我结婚已经十年了。我明白一心跟世上我最喜爱的人生活，为他而生活是怎么回事。我认为自己无比幸福——幸福得难以言传，因为我完全是丈夫的生命，他也完全是我的生命。没有女人比我跟丈夫更为亲近了，比我更绝对地是他的骨中之骨，肉中之肉了。我与爱德华相处，永远不知疲倦，他同我相处也是如此，就像我们对搏动在各自的胸腔里的心跳不会厌倦一样。结果，我们始终呆在一起。对我们来说，在一起既像独处时一样自由，又像相聚时一样欢乐。我想我们整天交谈着，相互交谈不过是一种听得见、更活跃的思索罢了。他同我推心置腹，我同他无话不谈。我们的性格完全投合，结果彼此心心相印。
我们结合后的头两年，罗切断特先生依然失明，也许正是这种状况使我们彼此更加密切——靠得很紧，因为当时我成了他的眼晴，就像现在我依然是他的右手一样。我确实是他的眼珠（他常常这样称呼我）。他通过我看大自然，看书。我毫无厌倦地替他观察，用语言来描述田野、树林、城镇、河流、云彩、阳光和面前的景色的效果，描述我们周围的天气——用声音使他的耳朵得到光线无法再使他的眼睛得到的印象。我从不厌倦地读书给他听，领他去想去的地方，干他想干的事。我乐此不疲，尽管有些伤心，却享受充分而独特的愉快，——因为他要求我帮忙时没有痛苦地感到羞愧，也没有沮丧地觉得屈辱。他真诚地爱着我，从不勉为其难地受我照料。他觉得我爱他如此之深，受我照料就是满足我最愉快的希望。
第二年年末的一个早晨，我正由他口授，写一封信的时候，他走过来朝我低下头说——
“简，你脖子上有一件闪光的饰品吗？”
我挂着一根金表链，于是回答说：“是呀。”
“你还穿了件淡蓝色衣服吗？”
“我确实穿了。随后他告诉我，已经有一段时间，他设想遮蔽着一只眼的云翳已渐渐变薄，现在确信如此了。
他和我去了一趟伦敦，看了一位著名的眼科医生，最终恢复了那一只眼睛的视力。如今他虽不能看得清清楚楚，也不能久读多写，但可以不必让人牵着手就能走路，对他来说天空不再空空荡荡，大地不再是一片虚空。当他的第一个孩子放在他怀里时，他能看得清这男孩继承了他本来的那双眼睛——又大，又亮，又黑，在那一时刻，他又一次甘愿承认，上帝仁慈地减轻了对他的惩罚。
于是我的爱德华和我都很幸福，尤使我们感到幸福的是，我们最爱的人也一样很幸福。黛安娜和玛丽.里弗斯都结了婚。我们双方轮流，一年一度，不是他们来看我们，就是我们去看他们，黛安娜的丈夫是个海军上校，一位英武的军官，一个好人。玛丽的丈夫是位牧师，她哥哥大学里的朋友，无论从造诣还是品行来看，这门亲事都很般配。菲茨詹姆斯上校和沃顿先生同自己的妻子彼此相爱。
至于圣.约翰.里弗斯，他离开英国到了印度，踏上了自己所规划的道路，依然这么走下去，他奋斗于岩石和危险之中，再也没有比他更坚定不移、不知疲倦的先驱者了。他坚决、忠实、虔诚。他精力充沛、热情真诚地为自己的同类含辛茹苦，他为他们开辟艰辛的前进之路，像巨人一般砍掉拦在路上的信条和等级的偏见。他也许很严厉，也许很苛刻，也许还雄心勃勃，但他的严厉是武士大心一类的严厉，大心保卫他所护送的香客，免受亚玻伦人的袭击，他的苛刻是使徒那种苛刻，他代表上帝说：“若有人要跟从我，就当舍己，背起他的十字架来跟从我。”他的雄心是高尚的主的精神之雄心，目的是要名列尘世得救者的前茅——这些人毫无过错地站在上帝的宝座前面，分享耶稣最后的伟大胜利。他们被召唤，被选中，都是些忠贞不二的人。
圣.约翰没有结婚，现在再也不会了。他独自一人足以胜任辛劳，他的劳作已快结束。他那光辉的太阳急匆匆下沉。他给我的最后一封信，催下了我世俗的眼泪，也使我心中充满了神圣的欢乐。他提前得到了必定得到的酬报，那不朽的桂冠。我知道一只陌生的手随之会写信给我，说这位善良而忠实的仆人最后已被召安享受主的欢乐了。为什么要为此而哭泣呢？不会有死的恐惧使圣.约翰的临终时刻暗淡无光。他的头脑十分明晰；他的心灵无所畏惧；他的希望十分可靠；他的信念不可动摇。他自己的话就是一个很好的保证：
“我的主，”他说，“已经预先警告过我。日复一日他都更加明确地宣告，‘是了，我必快来，’我每时每刻更加急切地回答，‘阿门，主耶稣呵，我愿你来！’”

伊墨君(热心会员)

39楼 2013-02-14

Chapter 37

THE manor-house of Ferndean was a building of considerable antiquity,moderate size, and no architectural pretensions, deep buried in a wood.I had heard of it before. Mr. Rochester often spoke of it, andsometimes went there. His father had purchased the estate for the sakeof the game covers. He would have let the house, but could find notenant, in consequence of its ineligible and insalubrious site. Ferndeanthen remained uninhabited and unfurnished, with the exception of sometwo or three rooms fitted up for the accommodation of the squire when hewent there in the season to shoot.
To this house I came just eredark on an evening marked by the characteristics of sad sky, cold gale,and continued small penetrating rain. The last mile I performed on foot,having dismissed the chaise and driver with the double remuneration Ihad promised. Even when within a very short distance of the manor-house,you could see nothing of it, so thick and dark grew the timber of thegloomy wood about it. Iron gates between granite pillars showed me whereto enter, and passing through them, I found myself at once in thetwilight of close-ranked trees. There was a grass-grown track descendingthe forest aisle between hoar and knotty shafts and under branchedarches.
I followed it, expecting soon to reach the dwelling; but it stretchedon and on, it wound far and farther: no sign of habitation or groundswas visible.
I thought I had taken a wrong direction and lost my way. The darknessof natural as well as of sylvan dusk gathered over me. I looked roundin search of another road. There was none: all was interwoven stem,columnar trunk, dense summer foliage- no opening anywhere.
I proceeded: at last my way opened, the trees thinned a little;presently I beheld a railing, then the house- scarce, by this dim light,distinguishable from the trees, so dank and green were its decayingwalls. Entering a portal, fastened only by a latch, I stood amidst aspace of enclosed ground, from which the wood swept away in asemicircle. There were no flowers, no garden-beds; only a broadgravel-walk girdling a grass-plat, and this set in the heavy frame ofthe forest. The house presented two pointed gables in its front; thewindows were latticed and narrow: the front door was narrow too, onestep led up to it. The whole looked, as the host of the Rochester Armshad said, 'quite a desolate spot.' It was as still as a church on aweek-day: the pattering rain on the forest leaves was the only soundaudible in its vicinage.
'Can there be life here?' I asked.
Yes, life of some kind there was; for I heard a movement- that narrowfront-door was unclosing, and some shape was about to issue from thegrange.
It opened slowly: a figure came out into the twilight and stood onthe step; a man without a hat: he stretched forth his hand as if to feelwhether it rained. Dusk as it was, I had recognised him- it was mymaster, Edward Fairfax Rochester, and no other.
I stayed my step, almost my breath, and stood to watch him- toexamine him, myself unseen, and alas! to him invisible. It was a suddenmeeting, and one in which rapture was kept well in check by pain. I hadno difficulty in restraining my voice from exclamation, my step fromhasty advance.
His form was of the same strong and stalwart contour as ever: hisport was still erect, his hair was still raven black; nor were hisfeatures altered or sunk: not in one year's space, by any sorrow, couldhis athletic strength be quelled or his vigorous prime blighted.
But in his countenance I saw a change: that looked desperate andbrooding- that reminded me of some wronged and fettered wild beast orbird, dangerous to approach in his sullen woe. The caged eagle, whosegold-ringed eyes cruelty has extinguished, might look as looked thatsightless Samson.
And, reader, do you think I feared him in his blind ferocity?- if youdo, you little know me. A soft hope blent with my sorrow that soon Ishould dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock, and on those lips sosternly sealed beneath it: but not yet. I would not accost him yet.
He descended the one step, and advanced slowly and gropingly towardsthe grass-plat. Where was his daring stride now? Then he paused, as ifhe knew not which way to turn. He lifted his hand and opened hiseyelids; gazed blank, and with a straining effort, on the sky, andtoward the amphitheatre of trees: one saw that all to him was voiddarkness. He stretched his right hand (the left arm, the mutilated one,he kept hidden in his bosom); he seemed to wish by touch to gain an ideaof what lay around him: he met but vacancy still; for the trees weresome yards off where he stood. He relinquished the endeavour, folded hisarms, and stood quiet and mute in the rain, now falling fast on hisuncovered head. At this moment John approached him from some quarter.
'Will you take my arm, sir?' he said; 'there is a heavy shower coming on: had you not better go in?'
'Let me alone,' was the answer.
John withdrew without having observed me. Mr. Rochester now tried towalk about: vainly,- all was too uncertain. He groped his way back tothe house, and, re-entering it, closed the door.
I now drew near and knocked: John's wife opened for me. 'Mary,' I said, 'how are you?'
She started as if she had seen a ghost: I calmed her. To her hurried'Is it really you, miss, come at this late hour to this lonely place?' Ianswered by taking her hand; and then I followed her into the kitchen,where John now sat by a good fire. I explained to them, in a few words,that I had heard all which had happened since I left Thornfield, andthat I was come to see Mr. Rochester. I asked John to go down to theturnpike-house, where I had dismissed the chaise, and bring my trunk,which I had left there: and then, while I removed my bonnet and shawl, Iquestioned Mary as to whether I could be accommodated at the ManorHouse for the night; and finding that arrangements to that effect,though difficult, would not be impossible, I informed her I should stay.just at this moment the parlour-bell rang.
'When you go in,' said I, 'tell your master that a person wishes to speak to him, but do not give my name.'
'I don't think he will see you,' she answered; 'he refuses everybody.'
When she returned, I inquired what he had said.
'You are to send in your name and your business,' she replied.
She then proceeded to fill a glass with water, and place it on a tray, together with candles.
'Is that what he rang for?' I asked.
'Yes: he always has candles brought in at dark, though he is blind.'
'Give the tray to me; I will carry it in.'
I took it from her hand: she pointed me out the parlour door. Thetray shook as I held it; the water spilt from the glass; my heart struckmy ribs loud and fast. Mary opened the door for me, and shut it behindme.
This parlour looked gloomy: a neglected handful of fire burnt low inthe grate; and, leaning over it, with his head supported against thehigh, old-fashioned mantelpiece, appeared the blind tenant of the room.His old dog, Pilot, lay on one side, removed out of the way, and coiledup as if afraid of being inadvertently trodden upon.
Pilot pricked up his ears when I came in: then he jumped up with ayelp and a whine, and bounded towards me: he almost knocked the trayfrom my hands. I set it on the table; then patted him, and said softly,'Lie down!' Mr. Rochester turned mechanically to see what the commotionwas: but as he saw nothing, he returned and sighed.
'Give me the water, Mary,' he said.
I approached him with the now only half-filled glass; Pilot followed me, still excited.
'What is the matter?' he inquired.
'Down, Pilot!' I again said. He checked the water on its way to hislips, and seemed to listen: he drank, and put the glass down. 'This isyou, Mary, is it not?'
'Mary is in the kitchen,' I answered.
He put out his hand with a quick gesture, but not seeing where Istood, he did not touch me. 'Who is this? Who is this?' he demanded,trying, as it seemed, to see with those sightless eyes- unavailing anddistressing attempt! 'Answer me- speak again!' he ordered, imperiouslyand aloud.
'Will you have a little more water, sir? I spilt half of what was in the glass,' I said.
'Who is it? What is it? Who speaks?'
'Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here. I came only this evening,' I answered.
'Great God!- what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has seized me?'
'No delusion- no madness: your mind, sir, is too strong for delusion, your health too sound for frenzy.'
'And where is the speaker? Is it only a voice? Oh! I cannot see, but Imust feel, or my heart will stop and my brain burst. Whatever- whoeveryou are- be perceptible to the touch or I cannot live!'
He groped; I arrested his wandering hand, and prisoned it in both mine.
'Her very fingers!' he cried; 'her small, slight fingers! If so there must be more of her.'
The muscular hand broke from my custody; my arm was seized, my shoulder- neck- waist- I was entwined and gathered to him.
'Is it Jane? What is it? This is her shape- this is her size-'
'And this her voice,' I added. 'She is all here: her heart, too.
God bless you, sir! I am glad to be so near you again.'
'Jane Eyre!- Jane Eyre,' was all he said.
'My dear master,' I answered, 'I am Jane Eyre: I have found you out- I am come back to you.'
'In truth?- in the flesh? My living Jane?'
'You touch me, sir,- you hold me, and fast enough: I am not cold like a corpse, nor vacant like air, am I?'
'My living darling! These are certainly her limbs, and these herfeatures; but I cannot be so blest, after all my misery. It is a dream;such dreams as I have had at night when I have clasped her once more tomy heart, as I do now; and kissed her, as thus- and felt that she lovedme, and trusted that she would not leave me.'
'Which I never will, sir, from this day.'
'Never will, says the vision? But I always woke and found it an emptymockery; and I was desolate and abandoned- my life dark, lonely,hopeless- my soul athirst and forbidden to drink- my heart famished andnever to be fed. Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you willfly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me beforeyou go- embrace me, Jane.'
'There, sir- and there!'
I pressed my lips to his once brilliant and now rayless eyes- I swepthis hair from his brow, and kissed that too. He suddenly seemed toarouse himself: the conviction of the reality of all this seized him.
'It is you- is it, Jane? You are come 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 neverdream that. Besides, there is that peculiar voice of hers, so animatingand piquant, as well as soft: it cheers my withered heart; it puts lifeinto it.- What, Janet! Are you an independent woman? A rich woman?'
'Quite rich, sir. If you won't let me live with you, I can build ahouse of my own close up to your door, and you may come and sit in myparlour when you want company of an evening.'
'But as you are rich, Jane, you have now, no doubt, friends who willlook after you, and not suffer you to devote yourself to a blind lameterlike 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 companion- to readto you, to walk with you, to sit with you, to wait on you, to be eyesand hands to you. Cease to look so melancholy, my dear master; you shallnot be left desolate, so long as I live.'
He replied not: he seemed serious- abstracted; he sighed; hehalf-opened his lips as if to speak: he closed them again. I felt alittle embarrassed. Perhaps I had too rashly overleapedconventionalities; and he, like St. John, saw impropriety in myinconsiderateness. I had indeed made my proposal from the idea that he wished and would ask me to be his wife: an expectation, not the lesscertain because unexpressed, had buoyed me up, that he would claim me atonce as his own. But no hint to that effect escaping him and hiscountenance becoming more overcast, I suddenly remembered that I mighthave been all wrong, and was perhaps playing the fool unwittingly; and Ibegan gently to withdraw myself from his arms- but he eagerly snatchedme closer.
'No- no- Jane; you must not go. No- I have touched you, heard you,felt the comfort of your presence- the sweetness of your consolation: Icannot give up these joys. I have little left in myself- I must haveyou. The world may laugh- may call me absurd, selfish- but it does notsignify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will takedeadly vengeance on its frame.'
'Well, sir, I will stay with you: I have said so.'
'Yes- but you understand one thing by staying with me; and Iunderstand another. You, perhaps, could make up your mind to be about myhand and chair- to wait on me as a kind little nurse (for you have anaffectionate heart and a generous spirit, which prompt you to makesacrifices for those you pity), and that ought to suffice for me nodoubt. I suppose I should now entertain none but fatherly feelings foryou: do you think so? Come- tell me.'
'I will think what you like, sir: I am content to be only your nurse, if you think it better.'
'But you cannot always be my nurse, Janet: you are young- you must marry one day.'
'I don't care about being married.'
'You should care, Janet: if I were what I once was, I would try to make you care- but- a sightless block!'
He relapsed again into gloom. I, on the contrary, became morecheerful, and took fresh courage: these last words gave me an insight asto where the difficulty lay; and as it was no difficulty with me, Ifelt quite relieved from my previous embarrassment. I resumed a liveliervein of conversation.
'It is time some one undertook to rehumanise you,' said I, partinghis thick and long uncut locks; 'for I see you are being metamorphosedinto a lion, or something of that sort. You have a "faux air" ofNebuchadnezzar in the fields about you, that is certain: your hairreminds me of eagles' feathers; whether your nails are grown like birds'claws or not, I have not yet noticed.'
'On this arm, I have neither hand nor nails,' he said, drawing themutilated limb from his breast, and showing it to me. 'It is a merestump- a ghastly sight! Don't you think so, Jane?'
'It is a pity to see it; and a pity to see your eyes- and the scar offire on your forehead: and the worst of it is, one is in danger ofloving you too well for all this; and making too much of you.'
'I thought you would be revolted, Jane, when you saw my arm, and my cicatrised visage.'
'Did you? Don't tell me so- lest I should say something disparagingto your judgment. Now, let me leave you an instant, to make a betterfire, and have the hearth swept up. Can you tell when there is a goodfire?'
'Yes; with the right eye I see a glow- a ruddy haze.'
'And you see the candles?'
'Very dimly- each is a luminous cloud.'
'Can you see me?'
'No, my fairy: but I am only too thankful to hear and feel you.'
'When do you take supper?'
'I never take supper.'
'But you shall have some to-night. I am hungry: so are you, I daresay, only you forget.'
Summoning Mary, I soon had the room in more cheerful order: Iprepared him, likewise, a comfortable repast. My spirits were excited,and with pleasure and ease I talked to him during supper, and for a longtime after. There was no harassing restraint, no repressing of glee andvivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew Isuited him; all I said or did seemed either to console or revive him.Delightful consciousness! It brought to life and light my whole nature:in his presence I thoroughly lived; and he lived in mine. Blind as hewas, smiles played over his face, joy dawned on his forehead: hislineaments softened and warmed.
After supper, he began to ask me many questions, of where I had been,what I had been doing, how I had found him out; but I gave him onlyvery partial replies: it was too late to enter into particulars thatnight. Besides, I wished to touch no deep-thrilling chord- to open nofresh well of emotion in his heart: my sole present aim was to cheerhim. Cheered, as I have said, he was: and yet but by fits. If a moment'ssilence broke the conversation, he would turn restless, touch me, thensay, 'Jane.'
'You are altogether a human being, Janet? You are certain of that?'
'I conscientiously believe so, Mr. Rochester.'
'Yet how, on this dark and doleful evening, could you so suddenlyrise on my lone hearth? I stretched my hand to take a glass of waterfrom a hireling, and it was given me by you: I asked a question,expecting John's wife to answer me, and your voice spoke at my ear.'
'Because I had come in, in Mary's stead, with the tray.'
'And there is enchantment in the very hour I am now spending withyou. Who can tell what a dark, dreary, hopeless life I have dragged onfor months past? Doing nothing, expecting nothing; merging night in day;feeling but the sensation of cold when I let the fire go out, of hungerwhen I forgot to eat: and then a ceaseless sorrow, and, at times, avery delirium of desire to behold my Jane again. Yes: for herrestoration I longed, far more than for that of my lost sight. How canit be that Jane is with me, and says she loves me? Will she not departas suddenly as she came? To-morrow, I fear I shall find her no more.'
A commonplace, practical reply, out of the train of his own disturbedideas, was, I was sure, the best and most reassuring for him in thisframe of mind. I passed my finger over his eyebrows, and remarked thatthey were scorched, and that I would apply something which would makethem grow as broad and black as ever.
'Where is the use of doing me good in any way, beneficent spirit,when, at some fatal moment, you will again desert me- passing like ashadow, whither and how to me unknown, and for me remaining afterwardsundiscoverable?'
'Have you a pocket-comb about you, sir?'
'What for, Jane?'
'Just to comb out this shaggy black mane. I find you rather alarming,when I examine you close at hand: you talk of my being a fairy, but Iam sure, you are more like a brownie.'
'Am I hideous, Jane?'
'Very, sir: you always were, you know.'
'Humph! The wickedness has not been taken out of you, wherever you have sojourned.'
'Yet I have been with good people; far better than you: a hundredtimes better people; possessed of ideas and views you never entertainedin your life: quite more refined and exalted.'
'Who the deuce have you been with?'
'If you twist in that way you will make me pull the hair out of yourhead; and then I think you will cease to entertain doubts of mysubstantiality.'
'Who have you been with, Jane?'
'You shall not get it out of me to-night, sir; you must wait tillto-morrow; to leave my tale half told, will, you know, be a sort ofsecurity that I shall appear at your breakfast table to finish it.
By the bye, I must mind not to rise on your hearth with only a glassof water then: I must bring an egg at the least, to say nothing of friedham.'
'You mocking changeling- fairy-born and human-bred! You make me feelas I have not felt these twelve months. If Saul could have had you forhis David, the evil spirit would have been exorcised without the aid ofthe harp.'
'There, sir, you are redd up and made decent. Now I'll leave you: Ihave been travelling these last three days, and I believe I am tired.Good night.'
'Just one word, Jane: were there only ladies in the house where you have been?'
I laughed and made my escape, still laughing as I ran upstairs.
'A good idea!' I thought with glee. 'I see I have the means of fretting him out of his melancholy for some time to come.'
Very early the next morning I heard him up and astir, wandering fromone room to another. As soon as Mary came down I heard the question: 'IsMiss Eyre here?' Then: 'Which room did you put her into?
Was it dry? Is she up? Go and ask if she wants anything; and when she will come down.'
I came down as soon as I thought there was a prospect of breakfast.
Entering the room very softly, I had a view of him before hediscovered my presence. It was mournful, indeed, to witness thesubjugation of that vigorous spirit to a corporeal infirmity. He sat inhis chair- still, but not at rest: expectant evidently; the lines of nowhabitual sadness marking his strong features. His countenance remindedone of a lamp quenched, waiting to be re-lit- and alas! it was nothimself that could now kindle the lustre of animated expression: he wasdependent on another for that office! I had meant to be gay andcareless, but the powerlessness of the strong man touched my heart tothe quick: still I accosted him with what vivacity I could.
'It is a bright, sunny morning, sir,' I said. 'The rain is over andgone, and there is a tender shining after it: you shall have a walksoon.'
I had wakened the glow: his features beamed.
'Oh, you are indeed there, my skylark! Come to me. You are not gone:not vanished? I heard one of your kind an hour ago, singing high overthe wood: but its song had no music for me, any more than the rising sunhad rays. All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane's tongueto my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshineI can feel is in her presence.'
The water stood in my eyes to hear this avowal of his dependence;just as if a royal eagle, chained to a perch, should be forced toentreat a sparrow to become its purveyor. But I would not be lachrymose:I dashed off the salt drops, and busied myself with preparingbreakfast.
Most of the morning was spent in the open air. I led him out of thewet and wild wood into some cheerful fields: I described to him howbrilliantly green they were; how the flowers and hedges lookedrefreshed; how sparklingly blue was the sky. I sought a seat for him in ahidden and lovely spot, a dry stump of a tree; nor did I refuse to lethim, when seated, place me on his knee. Why should I, when both he and Iwere happier near than apart? Pilot lay beside us: all was quiet. Hebroke out suddenly while clasping me in his arms-
'Cruel, cruel deserter! Oh, Jane, what did I feel when I discoveredyou had fled from Thornfield, and when I could nowhere find you; and,after examining your apartment, ascertained that you had taken no money,nor anything which could serve as an equivalent! A pearl necklace I hadgiven you lay untouched in its little casket; your trunks were leftcorded and locked as they had been prepared for the bridal tour. Whatcould my darling do, I asked, left destitute and penniless? And what didshe do? Let me hear now.'
Thus urged, I began the narrative of my experience for the last year.I softened considerably what related to the three days of wandering andstarvation, because to have told him all would have been to inflictunnecessary pain: the little I did say lacerated his faithful heartdeeper than I wished.
I should not have left him thus, he said, without any means of makingmy way: I should have told him my intention. I should have confided inhim: he would never have forced me to be his mistress.
Violent as he had seemed in his despair, he, in truth, loved me fartoo well and too tenderly to constitute himself my tyrant: he would havegiven me half his fortune, without demanding so much as a kiss inreturn, rather than I should have flung myself friendless on the wideworld. I had endured, he was certain, more than I had confessed to him.
'Well, whatever my sufferings had been, they were very short,' Ianswered: and then I proceeded to tell him how I had been received atMoor House; how I had obtained the office of schoolmistress, etc.
The accession of fortune, the discovery of my relations, followed indue order. Of course, St. John Rivers' name came in frequently in theprogress of my tale. When I had done, that name was immediately takenup.
'This St. John, then, is your cousin?'
'Yes.'
'You have spoken of him often: do you like him?'
'He was a very good man, sir; I could not help liking him.'
'A good man. Does that mean a respectable well-conducted man of fifty? Or what does it mean?'
'St. John was only twenty-nine, sir.'
'"Jeune encore," as the French say. Is he a person of low stature,phlegmatic, and plain? A person whose goodness consists rather in hisguiltlessness of vice, than in his prowess in virtue?'
'He is untiringly active. Great and exalted deeds are what he lives to perform.'
'But his brain? That is probably rather soft? He means well: but you shrug your shoulders to hear him talk?'
'He talks little, sir: what he does say is ever to the point. Hisbrain is first-rate, I should think not impressible, but vigorous.'
'Is he an able man, then?'
'Truly able.'
'A thoroughly educated man?'
'St. John is an accomplished and profound scholar.'
'His manners, I think, you said are not to your taste?- priggish and parsonic?'
'I never mentioned his manners; but, unless I had a very bad taste,they must suit it; they are polished, calm, and gentlemanlike.'
'His appearance,- I forget what description you gave of hisappearance;- a sort of raw curate, half strangled with his whiteneckcloth, and stilted up on his thick-soled high-lows, eh?'
'St. John dresses well. He is a handsome man: tall, fair, with blue eyes, and a Grecian profile.'
(Aside.) 'Damn him!'- (To me.) 'Did you like him, Jane?'
'Yes, Mr. Rochester, I liked him: but you asked me that before.'
I perceived, of course, the drift of my interlocutor. Jealousy hadgot hold of him: she stung him; but the sting was salutary: it gave himrespite from the gnawing fang of melancholy. I would not, therefore,immediately charm the snake.
'Perhaps you would rather not sit any longer on my knee, Miss Eyre?' was the next somewhat unexpected observation.
'Why not, Mr. Rochester?'
'The picture you have just drawn is suggestive of a rather toooverwhelming contrast. Your words have delineated very prettily agraceful Apollo: he is present to your imagination,- tall, fair,blue-eyed, and with a Grecian profile. Your eyes dwell on a Vulcan,- areal blacksmith, brown, broad-shouldered: and blind and lame into thebargain.'
'I never thought of it, before; but you certainly are rather like Vulcan, sir.'
Well, you can leave me, ma'am: but before you go' (and he retained meby a firmer grasp than ever), 'you will be pleased just to answer me aquestion or two.' He paused.
'What questions, Mr. Rochester?'
Then followed this cross-examination.
'St. John made you schoolmistress of Morton before he knew you were his cousin?'
'Yes.'
'You would often see him? He would visit the school sometimes?'
'Daily.'
'He would approve of your plans, Jane? I know they would be clever, for you are a talented creature!'
'He approved of them- yes.'
'He would discover many things in you he could not have expected to find? Some of your accomplishments are not ordinary.'
'I don't know about that.'
'You had a little cottage near the school, you say: did he ever come there to see you?'
'Now and then.'
'Of an evening?'
'Once or twice.'
A pause.
'How long did you reside with him and his sisters after the cousinship was discovered?'
'Five months.'
'Did Rivers spend much time with the ladies of his family?'
'Yes; the back parlour was both his study and ours: he sat near the window, and we by the table.'
'Did he study much?'
'A good deal.'
'What?'
'Hindostanee.'
'And what did you do meantime?'
'I learnt German, at first.'
'Did he teach you?'
'He did not understand German.'
'Did he teach you nothing?'
'A little Hindostanee.'
'Rivers taught you Hindostanee?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And his sisters also?'
'No.'
'Only you?'
'Only me.'
'Did you ask to learn?'
'No.'
'He wished to teach you?'
'Yes.'
A second pause.
'Why did he wish it? Of what use could Hindostanee be to you?'
'He intended me to go with him to India.'
'Ah! here I reach the root of the matter. He wanted you to marry him?'
'He asked me to marry him.'
'That is a fiction- an impudent invention to vex me.'
'I beg your pardon, it is the literal truth: he asked me more thanonce, and was as stiff about urging his point as ever you could be.'
'Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say thesame thing? Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when Ihave given you notice to quit?'
'Because I am comfortable there.'
'No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is notwith me: it is with this cousin- this St. John. Oh, till this moment, Ithought my little Jane was all mine! I had a belief she loved me evenwhen she left me: that was an atom of sweet in much bitter. Long as wehave been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I neverthought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another! But it isuseless grieving. Jane, leave me: go and marry Rivers.'
'Shake me off, then, sir,- push me away, for I'll not leave you of my own accord.'
'Jane, I ever like your tone of voice: it still renews hope, itsounds so truthful. When I hear it, it carries me back a year. I forgetthat you have formed a new tie. But I am not a fool-'
'Where must I go, sir?'
'Your own way- with the husband you have chosen.'
'Who is that?'
'You know- this St. John Rivers.'
'He is not my husband, nor ever will be. He does not love me: I donot love him. He loves (as he can love, and that is not as you love) abeautiful young lady called Rosamond. He wanted to marry me only becausehe thought I should make a suitable missionary's wife, which she wouldnot have done. He is good and great, but severe; and, for me, cold as aniceberg. He is not like you, sir: I am not happy at his side, nor nearhim, nor with him. He has no indulgence for me- no fondness. He seesnothing attractive in me; not even youth- only a few useful mentalpoints- Then I must leave you, sir, to go to him?'
I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but beloved master. He smiled.
'What, Jane! Is this true? Is such really the state of matters between you and Rivers?'
'Absolutely, sir! Oh, you need not be jealous! I wanted to tease you alittle to make you less sad: I thought anger would be better thangrief. But if you wish me to love you, could you but see how much I dolove you, you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: itbelongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile therest of me from your presence for ever.'
Again, as he kissed me, painful thoughts darkened his aspect.
'My seared vision! My crippled strength!' he murmured regretfully.
I caressed, in order to soothe him. I knew of what he was thinking,and wanted to speak for him, but dared not. As he turned aside his face aminute, I saw a tear slide from under the sealed eyelid, and trickledown the manly cheek. My heart swelled.
'I am no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut-tree inThornfield orchard,' he remarked ere long. 'And what right would thatruin have to bid a budding woodbine cover its decay with freshness?'
'You are no ruin, sir- no lightning-struck tree: you are green andvigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them ornot, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as theygrow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because yourstrength offers them so safe a prop.'
Again he smiled: I gave him comfort.
'You speak of friends, Jane?' he asked.
'Yes, of friends,' I answered rather hesitatingly: for I knew I meantmore than friends, but could not tell what other word to employ.
He helped me.
'Ah! Jane. But I want a wife.'
'Do you, sir?'
'Yes: is it news to you?'
'Of course: you said nothing about it before.'
'Is it unwelcome news?'
'That depends on circumstances, sir- on your choice.'
'Which you shall make for me, Jane. I will abide by your decision.'
'Choose then, sir- her who loves you best.'
'I will at least choose- her I love best. Jane, will you marry me?'
'Yes, sir.'
'A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand?'
'Yes, sir.'
'A crippled man, twenty years older than you, whom you will have to
wait on?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Truly, Jane?'
'Most truly, sir.'
'Oh! my darling! God bless you and reward you!'
'Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life- if ever Ithought a good thought- if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer-if ever I wished a righteous wish,- I am rewarded now. To be your wifeis, for me, to be as happy as I can be on earth.'
'Because you delight in sacrifice.'
'Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation forcontent. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value- to press mylips to what I love- to repose on what I trust: is that to make asacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.'
'And to bear with my infirmities, Jane: to overlook my deficiencies.'
'Which are none, sir, to me. I love you better now, when I can reallybe useful to you, than I did in your state of proud independence, whenyou disdained every part but that of the giver and protector.'
'Hitherto I have hated to be helped- to be led: henceforth, I feel Ishall hate it no more. I did not like to put my hand into a hireling's,but it is pleasant to feel it circled by Jane's little fingers. Ipreferred utter loneliness to the constant attendance of servants; butJane's soft ministry will be a perpetual joy. Jane suits me: do I suither?'
'To the finest fibre of my nature, sir.'
'The case being so, we have nothing in the world to wait for: we must be married instantly.'
He looked and spoke with eagerness: his old impetuosity was rising.
'We must become one flesh without any delay, Jane: there is but the licence to get- then we marry.'
'Mr. Rochester, I have just discovered the sun is far declined fromits meridian, and Pilot is actually gone home to his dinner. Let me lookat your watch.'
'Fasten it into your girdle, Janet, and keep it henceforward: I have no use for it.'
'It is nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, sir. Don't you feel hungry?'
'The third day from this must be our wedding-day, Jane. Never mindfine clothes and jewels, now: all that is not worth a fillip.'
'The sun has dried up all the rain-drops, sir. The breeze is still: it is quite hot.'
'Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this momentfastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since theday I lost my only treasure, as a memento of her.'
'We will go home through the wood: that will be the shadiest way.'
He pursued his own thoughts without heeding me.
'Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heartswells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. Hesees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but farmore wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower-breathed guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, inmy stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead ofbending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course;disasters came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley ofthe shadow of death. His chastisements are mighty; and one smote mewhich has humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: butwhat is it now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a childdoes its weakness? Of late, Jane- only- only of late- I began to seeand acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experienceremorse, repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I begansometimes to pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.
'Some days since: nay, I can number them- four; it was last Mondaynight, a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced frenzy-sorrow, sullenness. I had long had the impression that since I couldnowhere find you, you must be dead. Late that night- perhaps it might bebetween eleven and twelve o'clock- ere I retired to my dreary rest, Isupplicated God, that, if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be takenfrom this life, and admitted to that world to come, where there wasstill hope of rejoining Jane.
'I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open: itsoothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars,and only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon. Ilonged for thee, Janet! Oh, I longed for thee both with soul and flesh! Iasked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if I had not been longenough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and might not soon taste blissand peace once more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged- that Icould scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of myheart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips in the words- "Jane!Jane! Jane!"'
'Did you speak these words aloud?'
'I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy.'
'And it was last Monday night, somewhere near midnight?'
'Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strangepoint. You will think me superstitious- some superstition I have in myblood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true- true at least it isthat I heard what I now relate.
'As I exclaimed "Jane! Jane! Jane!" a voice- I cannot tell whence thevoice came, but I know whose voice it was- replied, "I am coming: waitfor me;" and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words-"Where are you?"
'I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened tomy mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express.Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull,and dies unreverberating. "Where are you?" seemed spoken amongstmountains; for I heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler andfresher at the moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could havedeemed that in some wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. Inspirit, I believe we must have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, inunconscious sleep, Jane: perhaps your soul wandered from its cell tocomfort mine; for those were your accents-as certain as I live- theywere yours!'
Reader, it was on Monday night- near midnight- that I too hadreceived the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which Ireplied to it. I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made nodisclosure in return. The coincidence struck me as too awful andinexplicable to be communicated or discussed. If I told anything, mytale would be such as must necessarily make a profound impression on themind of my hearer: and that mind, yet from its sufferings too prone togloom, needed not the deeper shade of the supernatural. I kept thesethings then, and pondered them in my heart.
'You cannot now wonder,' continued my master, 'that when you roseupon me so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing youany other than a mere voice and vision, something that would melt tosilence and annihilation, as the midnight whisper and mountain echo hadmelted before. Now, I thank God! I know it to be otherwise.
Yes, I thank God!'
He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from hisbrow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in mutedevotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.
'I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has rememberedmercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to leadhenceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto!'Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand, heldit a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being somuch lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. Weentered the wood, and wended homeward.

芬丁庄园掩藏在林木之中，是一幢相当古老的大楼，面积中等，建筑朴实，我早有所闻。罗切斯特先生常常谈起它，有时还上那儿去。他的父亲为了狩猎购下了这份产业。他本想把它租出去，却因为地点不好，环境欠佳，而找不到租户。结果除了两三间房子装修了一下，供这位乡绅狩猎季节住宿用，整个庄园空关着，也没有布置。
天黑之前，我来到了这座花园。那是个阴霾满天，冷风呼呼，细雨霏霏的黄昏。我守信付了双倍的价钱，打发走了马车和马车夫，步行了最后一英里路。庄园周围的树林枝繁叶茂，郁郁葱葱，即使走得很近，也不见庄园的踪影。两根花岗石柱之间的铁门，才使我明白该从什么地方进去。进门之后，我便立即置身于密林的晦暗之中了。有一条杂草丛生的野径，沿着林荫小道而下，两旁是灰白多节的树干，顶上是枝桠交叉的拱门。我顺着这条路走去，以为很快就会到达住宅。谁知它不断往前延伸，逶迤盘桓，看不见住宅或庭园的痕迹。
我想自己搞错了方向，迷了路。夜色和密林的灰暗同时笼罩着我，我环顾左右，想另找出路。但没有找到，这里只有纵横交织的树枝、园柱形的树干和夏季浓密的树叶——没有哪儿有出口。
我继续往前走去。这条路终于有了出口，树林也稀疏些了。我立刻看到了一排栏杆。随后是房子——在暗洞洞的光线中，依稀能把它与树木分开。颓败的墙壁阴湿碧绿。我进了一扇只不过上了栓惦；你的身体十分强壮，不会发狂。”
“这位说话人在哪儿？难道只是个声音？呵！我看不见，不过我得摸一摸，不然我的心会停止跳动，我的脑袋要炸裂了。不管是什么——不管你是谁——要让我摸得着，不然我活不下去了！”
他摸了起来。我抓住了他那只摸来摸去的手，双手紧紧握住它。
“就是她的手指！”他叫道，“她纤细的手指！要是这样，一定还有其他部份。”
这只强壮的手从我握着的手里挣脱了。我的胳膊被抓住，还有屜肫鹗艿脚按?蜕硐萼蜞舻囊笆藁蚰窭啵?谀张?纯嘀?保?呓??呛芪Ｏ盏摹Ｒ恢涣?械挠ィ?徊锌岬馗钊チ私鹕?乃?郏?瓷先ヒ残砭拖裾馕皇?鞯牟嗡铩?br>
读者呀，你们认为，他那么又瞎又凶，我会怕他吗？——要是你认为我怕，那你太不了解我了。伴随着哀痛，我心头浮起了温存的希望，那就是很快就要胆大包天，吻一吻他岩石般的额头和额头下冷峻地封闭的眼睑。但时机未到，我还不想招呼他呢。
他下了那一级台阶，一路摸索着慢慢地朝那块草地走去。他原先大步流星的样子如今哪儿去了？随后他停了下来，仿佛不知道该走哪条路。他抬起头来，张开了眼睑，吃力地、空空地凝视着天空和树荫。你看得出来，对他来说一切都是黑洞洞的虚空。他伸出了右手（截了肢的左臂藏在胸前），似乎想通过触摸知道周围的东西。但他碰到的依然是虚空，因为树木离他站着的地方有几码远。他歇手了，抱着胳膊，静默地站在雨中，这会儿下大了的雨打在他无遮无盖的头上。正在这时，约翰不知从哪里出来，走近了他。
“拉住我的胳膊好吗，先生？”他说，“一阵大雨就要下来了，进屋好吗？”
“别打搅我，”他回答。
约翰走开了，没有瞧见我。这时罗切斯特先生试着想走动走动，却徒劳无功——对周围的一切太没有把握了。他摸回自己的屋子，进去后关了门。
这会儿我走上前去，敲起门来。约翰的妻子开了门。“玛丽，”我说，“你好！”
她吓了一大跳，仿佛见了一个鬼似的。我让她镇静了下来。她急忙问道：“当真是你吗，小姐，这么晚了还到这么偏僻的地方来？”我握着她的手回答了她。随后跟着她走进了厨房，这会儿约翰正坐在熊熊的炉火边。我三言二语向他们作了解释，告诉他们，我离开桑菲尔德后所发生的一切我都已经听说了。这回是来看望罗切斯特先生的。还请约翰到我打发了马车的大路上去一趟，把留在那儿的箱子去取回来。随后我一面脱去帽子和披肩，一面问玛丽能不能在庄园里过夜。后来我知道虽然不容易安排，但还能办到，便告诉她我打算留宿。正在这时客厅的门铃响了。
“你进去的时候，”我说，“告诉你主人，有人想同他谈谈。不过别提我的名字。”
“我想他不会见你，”她回答，“他谁都拒绝。”
她回来时，我问他说了什么。
“你得通报姓名，说明来意，”她回答。接着去倒了一杯水，拿了几根蜡烛，都放进托盘。
“他就为这个按铃？”我问。
“是的，虽然他眼睛看不见，但天黑后总是让人把蜡烛拿进去。”
“把托盘给我吧，我来拿进去。”
我从她手里接过托盘，她向我指了指客厅门。我手中的盘子抖动了一下，水从杯子里溢了出来，我的心砰砰撞击着肋骨。玛丽替我开了门，并随手关上。
客厅显得很阴暗。一小堆乏人照看的火在炉中微微燃着。房间里的瞎眼主人，头靠高高的老式壁炉架，俯身向着火炉。他的那条老狗派洛特躺在一边，离得远远的，卷曲着身子，仿佛担心被人不经意踩着似的。我一进门，派洛特便竖起了耳朵，随后汪汪汪，呜呜呜叫了一通，跳将起来，窜向了我，差一点掀翻我手中的托盘。我把盘子放在桌上，拍了拍它，柔声地说：“躺下！”罗切斯特先生机械地转过身来，想看看那骚动是怎么回事，但他什么也没看见，于是便回过头去，叹了口气。
“把水给我，玛丽，”他说。
我端着现在只剩了半杯的水，走近他，派洛特跟着我，依然兴奋不已。
“怎么回事？”他问。
“躺下，派洛特！”我又说。他没有把水端到嘴边就停了下来，似乎在细听。他喝了水，放下杯子。
“是你吗，玛丽？是不是？”
“玛丽在厨房里，”我回答。
他伸出手，很快挥动了一下，可是看不见我站在那儿，没有碰到我。“谁呀？谁呀？”他问，似乎要用那双失明的眼睛来看——无效而痛苦的尝试！“回答我——再说一遍？”他专横地大声命令道。
“你再要喝一点吗，先生？杯子里的水让我泼掉了一半，”我说。
“谁？什么？谁在说话？”
“派洛特认得我，约翰和玛丽知道我在这里，我今天晚上才来，”我回答。
“天哪！——我是在痴心梦想吗？什么甜蜜的疯狂迷住了我？”
“不是痴心梦想——不是疯狂。先生，你的头脑非常健康，不会陷入痴心梦想；你的身体十分强壮，不会发狂。”
“这位说话人在哪儿？难道只是个声音？呵！我看不见，不过我得摸一摸，不然我的心会停止跳动，我的脑袋要炸裂了。不管是什么——不管你是谁——要让我摸得着，不然我活不下去了！”
他摸了起来。我抓住了他那只摸来摸去的手，双手紧紧握住它。
“就是她的手指！”他叫道，“她纤细的手指！要是这样，一定还有其他部份。”
这只强壮的手从我握着的手里挣脱了。我的胳膊被抓住，还有我的肩膀——脖子——腰——我被搂住了，紧贴着他。
“是简吗？这是什么？她的体形——她的个子——”
“还有她的声音，”我补充说。“她整个儿在这里了，还有她的心。上帝祝福你，先生！我很高兴离你又那么近了。”
“简.爱！简.爱！”他光这么叫着。
“我亲爱的主人，”我回答，“我是简.爱。我找到了你——我回到你身边来了。”
“真的？是她本人？我鲜龙活跳的简.爱？”
“你碰着我，先生——你搂着我，搂得紧紧的。我并不是像尸体一样冷，像空气一般空，是不是？”
“我鲜龙活跳的宝贝！当然这些是她的四肢，那些是她的五官了。不过那番痛苦之后我可没有这福份了。这是一个梦。我夜里常常梦见我又象现在这样，再一次贴心按着她，吻她——觉得她爱我，相信她不会离开我。”
“从今天起，先生，我永远不会离开你了。”
“永远不会，这个影子是这么说的吗？可我一醒来，总发觉原来是白受嘲弄一场空。我凄凉孤独——我的生活黑暗、寂寞，无望——我的灵魂干渴，却不许喝水；我的心儿挨饿，却不给喂食，温存轻柔的梦呀，这会儿你偎依在我的怀里，但你也会飞走的，像早己逃之夭夭的姐妹们一样。可是，吻一下我再走吧——拥抱我一下吧，简。”
“那儿，先生——还有那儿呢！”
我把嘴唇紧贴着当初目光炯炯如今己黯然无光的眼睛上——我拨开了他额上的头发，也
吻了一下。他似乎突然醒悟，顿时相信这一切都是事实了。
“是你——是简吗，那么你回到我这儿来啦？”
“是的。”
“你没有死在沟里，淹死在溪水底下吗？你没有憔悴不堪，流落在异乡人中间吗？”“没有，先生。我现在完全独立了。”
“独立！这话怎么讲，简？”
“我马德拉的叔叔去世了，留给了我五千英镑。”
“呵，这可是实在的——是真的！”他喊道：“我决不会做这样的梦。而且，还是她独特的嗓子，那么活泼、调皮，又那么温柔，复活了那颗枯竭的心，给了它生命。什么，简，你成了独立的女人了？有钱的女人了？”
“很有钱了，先生。要是你不让我同你一起生活，我可以紧靠你的门建造一幢房子，晚上你要人作伴的时候，你可以过来，坐在我的客厅里。”
“可是你有钱了，简，不用说，如今你有朋友会照顾你，不会容许你忠实于一个像我这样的瞎眼瘸子？”
“我同你说过我独立了，先生，而且很有钱、我自己可以作主。”
“那你愿意同我呆在一起？”
“当然——除非你反对。我愿当你的邻居，你的护士，你的管家。我发觉你很孤独，我愿陪伴你——读书给你听，同你一起散步，同你坐在一起，侍候你，成为你的眼睛和双手。别再那么郁郁寡欢了，我的亲爱的主人，只要我还活着，你就不会孤寂了。”
他没有回答，似乎很严肃——散神了。他叹了口气，半张开嘴，仿佛想说话，但又闭上了。我觉得有点儿窘。也许我提议陪伴他，帮助他是自作多情；也许我太轻率了、超越了习俗。而他像圣.约翰一样。从我的粗疏中看到了我说话不得体。其实，我的建议是从这样的思想出发的，就是他希望，也会求我做他的妻子。一种虽然并没有说出口，却十分肯定的期待支持着我，认为他会立刻要求我成为他的人。但是他并没有吐出这一类暗示、他的面部表情越来越阴沉了。我猛地想到，也许自己全搞错了，或许无意中充当了傻瓜。我开始轻轻地从他的怀抱中抽出身来——但是他焦急地把我抓得更紧了。
“不——不——简。你一定不能走。不——我已触摸到你，听你说活，感受到了你在场对我的安慰——你甜蜜的抚慰。我不能放弃这些快乐，因为我身上已所剩无多——我得拥有你。世人会笑话我——会说我荒唐，自私——但这无伤大雅。我的心灵企求你，希望得到满足，不然它会对躯体进行致命的报复。”
“好吧，先生，我愿意与你呆在一起、我已经这么说了。”
“不错——不过，你理解的同我呆在一起是一回事，我理解的是另一回事。也许你可以下决心呆在我身边和椅子旁——像一个好心的小护士那样侍候我（你有一颗热诚的心，慷慨大度的灵魂，让你能为那些你所怜悯的人作出牺牲），对我来说，无疑那应当已经够了。我想我现在只能对你怀着父亲般的感情了，你是这么想的吗？来——告诉我吧。”
“你愿意我怎么想就怎么想吧，先生。我愿意只做你的护士，如果你认为这样更好的话。”
“可你不能老是做我的护士，珍妮特。你还年轻——将来你得结婚。”
“我不在乎结婚不结婚。”
“你应当在乎，珍妮特。如果我还是过去那个样子的话，我会努力使你在乎——可是——一个失去视力的赘物！”
他又沉下脸来一声不吭了。相反，我倒是更高兴了，一下子来了勇气。最后几个字使我窥见了内中的难处，因为困难不在我这边，所以我完全摆脱了刚才的窘态，更加活跃地同他
攀谈了起来。
“现在该是有人让你重新变成人的时候了，”我说着，扒开了他又粗又长没有理过的头发；“因为我知道你正蜕变成一头狮子，或是狮子一类的东西。你“fauxair”田野中的尼布甲尼撒。肯定是这样。你的头发使我想起了鹰的羽毛，不过你的手指甲是不是长得象鸟爪了，我可还没有注意到。”
“这只胳膊，既没有手也没有指甲，”他说着，从自己的胸前抽回截了肢的手，伸给我看。“只有那么一截了——看上去真可怕！你说是不是，简？”
“见了这真为你惋惜，见了你的眼睛也一样——还有额上火烫的伤疤。最糟糕的是，就因为这些，便有让人爱抚过份，照料过头把你惯坏的危险。”
“我想你看到我的胳膊和疤痕累累的面孔时会觉得厌恶的。”
“你这样想的吗？别同我说这话——不然我会对你的判断说出不恭的话来。好吧，让我走开一会儿，把火生得旺些，把壁炉清扫一下。火旺的时候，你能辨得出来吗？”
“能，右眼能看到红光——一阵红红的烟雾。”
“你看得见蜡烛光吗？”
“非常模糊——每根蜡烛只是一团发亮的雾。”
“你能看见我吗？”
“不行，我的天使。能够听见你，摸到你已经是够幸运了。”
“你什么时候吃晚饭？”
“我从来不吃晚饭。”
“不过今晚你得吃一点。我饿了，我想你也一样，不过是忘了罢了。”
我把玛丽叫了进来，让她很快把房间收拾得更加令人振奋，同时也为他准备了一顿舒心的晚宴。我的心情也激动起来，晚餐时及晚餐后同他愉快而自在地谈了很久。跟他在一起，不存在那种折磨人的自我克制，不需要把欢快活跃的情绪压下去。同他相处，我无拘无束，因为我知道自己与他很相称。我的一切言行似乎都抚慰着他，给他以新的生命。多么愉快的感觉呀！它唤醒了我全部天性，使它灼灼生辉。在他面前我才尽情地生活着，同样，在我面前，他才尽情地生活着。尽管他瞎了，他脸上还是浮起了笑容，额头映出了欢快，面部表情温柔而激动。
晚饭后他开始问我很多问题，我上哪儿去了呀，在干些什么呀，怎么找到他的呀。不过我回答得很简略，那夜已经太晚，无法细谈了。此外，我不想去拨动那剧烈震颤的心弦——不想在他的心田开掘情感的新泉。我眼下的唯一目的是使他高兴。而如我所说他已很高兴，但反复无常。要是说话间沉默了一会儿，他会坐立不安，碰碰我，随后说，“简。”
“你是十十足足的人吗，简？你肯定是这样的吗？”
“我诚恳地相信是这样。罗切斯特先生。”
“可是，在这样一个悲哀的黑夜，你怎么会突然出现在我冷落的炉边呢？我伸手从一个佣工那儿取一杯水，结果却是你端上来的。我问了个问题，期待着约翰的妻子回答我，我的耳边却响起了你的声音。”
“因为我替玛丽端着盘子进来了。”
“我现在与你一起度过的时刻，让人心驰神迷。谁能料到几个月来我挨过了黑暗、凄凉、无望的生活？什么也不干，什么也不盼，白天和黑夜不分。炉火熄了便感到冷；忘记吃饭便觉得饿。随后是无穷无尽的哀伤，有时就痴心妄想，希望再见见我的简。不错，我渴望再得到她，远胜过渴望恢复失去的视力。简跟我呆着，还说爱我，这怎么可能呢？她会不会突然地来，突然地走呢？我担心明天我再也看不到她了。”
在他这样的心境中，给他一个普普通通、实实在在的回答，同他烦乱的思绪毫无联系，是再好不过了，也最能让他放下心来。我用手指摸了摸他的眉毛，并说眉毛已被烧焦了，我可以敷上点什么，使它长得跟以往的一样粗、一样黑。
“随你怎么做好事对我有什么用处呢，慈善的精灵？反正在关键时刻，你又会抛弃我——像影子一般消失，上哪儿去而又怎么去，我一无所知，而且从此之后，我就再也找不到你了。”
“你身边有小梳子吗，先生？”
“干嘛，简？”
“把乱蓬蓬的黑色鬃毛梳理一下。我凑近你细细打量时，发现你有些可怕。你说我是个精灵，而我相信，你更像一个棕仙。”
“我可怕吗，简？”
“很可怕，先生。你知道，你向来如此。”
“哼！不管你上哪儿呆过一阵子，你还是改不掉那淘气的样子。”
“可是我同很好的人呆过，比你好得多，要好一百倍。这些人的想法和见解，你平生从来没有过。他们比你更文雅，更高尚。”
“你究竟跟谁呆过？”
“要是你那么扭动的话，你会弄得我把你的头发拔下来，那样我想你再也不会怀疑我是实实在在的人了吧。”
“你跟谁呆过一阵子？”
“今天晚上别想从我嘴里把话掏出来了，先生。你得等到明天。你知道，我把故事只讲一半，会保证我出现在你的早餐桌旁把其余的讲完。）顺便说一句，我得留意别只端一杯水来到你火炉边，至少得端进一个蛋，不用讲油煎火腿了。”
“你这个爱嘲弄人的丑仙童—一算你是仙女生，凡人养的！你让我尝到了一年来从未有过的滋味。要是扫罗能让你当他的大卫，那就不需要弹琴就能把恶魔赶走了。”
“瞧，先生，可把你收拾得整整齐齐，象象样样了。这会儿我得离开你了。最近三天我一直在旅途奔波，想来也够累的。晚安！”
“就说一句话，简，你前一阵子呆的地方光有女士吗？”
我大笑着抽身走掉了，跑上楼梯还笑个不停。“好主意！”我快活地想道。“我看以后的日子我有办法让他急得忘掉忧郁了。”
第二天一早，我听见他起来走动了，从一个房间摸到另一个房间。玛丽一下楼，我就听见他问：“爱小姐在这儿吗？”接着又问：“你把她安排在哪一间？里面干燥吗？她起来了吗？去问问是不是需要什么，什么时候下来？”
我一想到还有一顿早餐，便下楼去了。我轻手轻脚进了房间，他还没有发现我，我就已瞧见他了。说实在目睹那么生龙活虎的人沦为一个恹恹的弱者，真让人心酸。他坐在椅子上——虽然一动不动，却并不安分，显然在企盼着。如今，习惯性的愁容，己镌刻在他富有特色的脸庞上。他的面容令人想起一盏熄灭了的灯，等待着再度点亮——唉！现在他自己已无力恢复生气勃勃、光彩照人的表情了，不得不依赖他人来完成。我本想显得高高兴兴、无忧无虑，但是这个强者那么无能为力的样子，使我心碎了。不过我还是尽可能轻松愉快地跟他打了招呼：
“是个明亮晴朗的早晨呢，先生，”我说。“雨过天晴，你很快可以去走走了。”
我已唤醒了那道亮光，他顿时容光焕发了。
“呵，你真的还在，我的云雀！上我这儿来。你没有走，没有飞得无影无踪呀？一小时之前，我听见你的一个同类在高高的树林里歌唱，可是对我来说，它的歌声没有音乐，就像初升的太阳没有光芒。凡我能听到的世间美妙的音乐，都集中在简的舌头上，凡我能感开到的阳光，都全聚在她身上。”
听完他表示对别人的依赖，我不禁热泪盈眶。他仿佛是被链条锁在栖木上的一头巨鹰，竟不得不企求一只麻雀为它觅食。不过，我不喜欢哭哭啼啼，抹掉带咸味的眼泪，便忙着去准备早餐了。
大半个早上是在户外度过的。我领着他走出潮湿荒凉的林子，到了令人心旷怡艳的田野。我向他描绘田野多么苍翠耀眼，花朵和树篱多么生气盎然，天空又多么湛蓝闪亮。我在一个隐蔽可爱的地方，替他找了个座位，那是一个干枯的树桩。坐定以后，我没有拒绝他把我放到他膝头上。既然他和我都觉得紧挨着比分开更愉快，那我又何必要拒绝呢？派洛特躺在我们旁边，四周一片寂静。他正把我紧紧地楼在怀里时突然嚷道：
“狠心呀，狠心的逃跑者！呵，简，我发现你出走桑菲尔德，而又到处找不着你，细看了你的房间，断定你没有带钱，或者当钱派用处的东西，我心里是多么难受呀！我送你的一根珍珠项链，原封不动地留在小盒子里。你的箱子捆好了上了锁，像原先准备结婚旅行时一样。我自问，我的宝贝成了穷光蛋，身边一个子儿也没有，她该怎么办呢？她干了些什么呀？现在讲给我听听吧。”
于是在他的敦促之下，我开始叙述去年的经历了。我大大淡化了三天的流浪和挨饿的情景，因为把什么都告诉他，只会增加他不必要的痛苦。但是我确实告诉他的一丁点儿，也撕碎了他那颗忠实的心，其严重程度超出了我的预料。
他说，我不应该两手空空地离开他，我应该把我的想法跟他说说。我应当同他推心置腹，他决不会强迫我做他的情妇。尽管他绝望时性情暴烈，但事实上，他爱我至深至亲，绝不会变成我的暴君。与其让我把自己举目无亲地抛向茫茫人世，他宁愿送我一半财产，而连吻一下作为回报的要求都不提。他确信，我所忍受的比我说给他听的要严重得多。
“嗯，我受的苦再多，时间都不长。”我回答。随后我告诉他如何被接纳进沼泽居；如何得到教师的职位，以及获得财产，发现亲戚等，按时间顺序，——叙述。当然随着故事的进展，圣.约翰.里弗斯的名字频频出现。我一讲完自己的经历，这个名字便立即提出来了。
“那么，这位圣.约翰是你的表兄了？”
“是的，”
“你常常提到他，你喜欢他吗？”
“他是个大好人，先生，我不能不喜欢他。”
“一个好人？那意思是不是一个体面而品行好的五十岁男人？不然那是什么意思？”
“圣.约翰只有二十九岁，先生。”
“Jeune encore，”就像法国人说的。“他是个矮小、冷淡、平庸的人吗？是不是那种
长处在于没有过错，而不是德行出众的人？”
“他十分活跃，不知疲倦，他活着就是要成就伟大崇高的事业。”
“但他的头脑呢？大概比较软弱吧？他本意很好，但听他谈话你会耸肩。”
“他说话不多，先生。但一开口总是一语中的。我想他的头脑是一流的，不易打动，却十分活跃。”
“那么他很能干了？”
“确实很能干。”
“一个受过良好教育的人？”
“圣.约翰是一个造诣很深、学识渊博的学者。”
“他的风度，我想你说过，不合你的口味？”“——一正经，一付牧师腔调。”
“我从来没有提起过他的风度。但除非我的口味很差，不然是很合意的。他的风度优雅、沉着，一付绅士派头，”
“他的外表——我忘了你是怎么样描述他的外表的了——那种没有经验的副牧师，扎着白领巾，弄得气都透不过来；穿着厚底高帮靴，顶得像踏高跷似的，是吧？”
“圣.约翰衣冠楚楚，是个漂亮的男子，高个子，白皮肤，蓝眼晴，鼻梁笔挺。”
（旁白）“见他的鬼！——（转向我）“你喜欢他吗，简？”
“是的，罗切斯特先生，我喜欢他。不过你以前问过我了。”
当然，我觉察出了说话人的用意。妒嫉已经攫住了他，刺痛着他。这是有益于身心的，让他暂时免受忧郁的咬啮。因此我不想立刻降服嫉妒这条毒蛇。
“也许你不愿意在我膝头上坐下去了，爱小姐？”接着便是这有些出乎意料的话。
“为什么不愿意呢，罗切斯特先生，”
“你刚才所描绘的图画，暗视了一种过份强烈的对比。你的话已经巧妙地勾勒出了一个漂亮的阿波罗。他出现在你的想象之中，——‘高个子，白皮肤，蓝眼睛，笔挺的鼻梁。’而你眼下看到的是—个火神——一个道地的铁匠，褐色的皮肤，宽阔的肩膀，瞎了眼睛，又瘸了腿。”
“我以前可从来没有想到过这点，不过你确实象个火神，先生？”
“好吧——你可以离开我了，小姐。但你走之前（他把我搂得更紧了），请你回答我一两个问题，”他顿了一下。
“什么问题，罗切斯特先生？”
接踵而来的便是这番盘问：
“圣.约翰还不知道你是他表妹，就让你做莫尔顿学校的教师？”
“是的。”
“你常常见到他吗？他有时候来学校看看吗？”
“每天如此。”
“他赞同你的计划吗，简？——我知道这些计划很巧妙、因为你是一个有才干的家伙。”
“是的，——他赞同了。”
“他会在你身上发现很多预料不到的东西，是吗？你身上的某些才艺不同寻常。”
“这我不知道。”
“你说你的小屋靠近学校，他来看你过吗？”
“不时来。”
“晚上来吗？”
“来过一两次。”
他停顿了一下。
“你们彼此的表兄妹关系发现后，你同他和他妹妹们又住了多久？”
“五个月。”
“里弗斯同家里的女士们在一起的时候很多吗？”
“是的，后客厅既是他的书房，也是我们的书房。他坐在窗边，我们坐在桌旁。”
“他书读得很多吗？”
“很多。”
“读什么？”
“印度斯坦语。”
“那时候你干什么呢？”
“起初学德语。”
“他教你吗？”
“他不懂德语。”
“他什么也没有教你吗？”
“教了一点儿印度斯坦语。”
“里弗斯教你印度斯坦语？”
“是的，先生。”
“也教他妹妹们吗？”
“没有。”
“光教你？”
“光教我。”
“是你要求他教的吗？”
“没有。”
“他希望教你？”
“是的。”
他又停顿了一下。
“他为什么希望教你？印度斯坦语对你会有什么用处？”
“他要我同他一起去印度。”
“呵！这下我触到要害了。他要你嫁给他吗？”
“他求我嫁给他。”
“那是虚构的——胡编乱造来气气我。”
“请你原谅，这是千真万确的事实。他不止一次地求过我！?br> —”
“罗切斯特先生，我刚发现，日色西斜，太阳早过了子午线。派洛特实际上已经回家去吃饭了，让我看看你的手表。”
“把它别在你腰带上吧，珍妮特，今后你就留着，反正我用不上。”
“差不多下午四点了，先生。你不感到饿吗？”
“从今天算起第三天，该是我们举行婚礼的日子了，简。现在，别去管豪华衣装和金银首饰了，这些东西都一钱不值。”
“太阳已经晒干了雨露，先生。微风止了，气候很热。”
“你知道吗，简，此刻在领带下面青铜色的脖子上，我戴着你小小的珍珠项链。自从失
去仅有的宝贝那天起，我就戴上它了，作为对她的怀念。”
“我们穿过林子回家吧，这条路最荫凉。”
他顺着自己的思路去想，E??剿??阌只氐搅艘荒曛?啊Ｎ彝?四憬崾读诵碌墓叵怠２还?也皇巧倒稀??甙伞??！?br>
“我得上哪儿去呢，先生。”
“随你自己便吧——上你看中的丈夫那儿去。”
“谁呀？”
“你知道——这个圣.约翰.里弗斯。”
“他不是我丈夫，也永远不会是，他不爱我，我也不爱他。他爱（他可以爱，跟你的爱不同）一个名叫罗莎蒙德的年轻漂亮小姐。他要娶我只是由于以为我配当一个传教士的妻子，其实我是不行的。他不错，也很了不起，但十分冷峻，对我来说同冰山一般冷。他跟你不一样，先生。在他身边，接近他，或者同他在一起，我都不会愉快。他没有迷恋我——没有溺爱我。在我身上，他看不到吸引人的地方，连青春都看不到——他所看到的只不过心里上的几个有用之处罢了。那么，先生，我得离开你上他那儿去了？”
我不由自主地哆嗦了一下，本能地把我亲爱的瞎眼主人搂得更紧了。他微微一笑。
“什么，简！这是真的吗？这真是你与里弗斯之间的情况吗？”
“绝对如此，先生。呵，你不必嫉妒！我想逗你一下让你少伤心些。我认为愤怒比忧伤要好。不过要是你希望我爱你，你就只要瞧一瞧我确实多么爱你，你就会自豪和满足了。我的整个心儿是你的，先生，它属于你，即使命运让我身体的其余部份永远同你分离，我的心
也会依然跟你在一起。”
他吻我的时候，痛苦的想法使他的脸又变得阴沉了。
“我烧毁了的视力！我伤残了的体力！”他遗憾地咕哝着。
我抚摸着他给他以安慰。我知道他心里想些什么，并想替他说出来，但我又不敢。他的脸转开的一刹那，我看到一滴眼泪从封闭着的眼睑滑下来，流到了富有男子气的脸颊上。我的心膨胀起来了。
“我并不比桑菲尔德果园那棵遭雷击的老栗子树好多少，”没有过多久他说。“那些残枝，有什么权利吩咐一棵爆出新芽的忍冬花以自己的鲜艳来掩盖它的腐朽呢？”
“你不是残枝，先生——不是遭雷击的树。你碧绿而茁壮。不管你求不求，花草会在你根子周围长出来，因为它们乐于躲在你慷慨的树荫下。长大了它们会偎依着你，缠绕着你，因为你的力量给了它们可靠的支撑。”
他再次笑了起来，我又给了他安慰。
“你说的是朋友吗，简？”他问。
“是的，是朋友，”我迟迟疑疑地面答。我知道我的意思超出了朋友，但无法判断要用什么字。他帮了我忙。
“呵？简。可是我需要一个妻子。”
“是吗，先生？”
“是的，对你来说是桩新闻吗？”
“当然，先前你对此什么也没说。”
“是一桩不受欢迎的新闻？”
“那就要看情况了，先生——要看你的选择。”
“你替我选择吧，简。我会遵从你的决定。”
“先生，那就挑选最爱你的人。”
“我至少会选择我最爱的人，简。你肯嫁给我吗？”
“肯的，先生。”
“一个可怜的瞎子，你得牵着手领他走的人。”
“是的，先生。”
“一个比你大二十岁的瘸子，你得侍候他的人。”
“是的，先生。”
“当真，简？”
“完全当真，先生。”
“呵，我的宝贝？愿上帝祝福你，报答你！”
“罗切斯特先生，如果我平生做过一件好事——如果我有过一个好的想法——如果我做过一个真诚而没有过错的祷告——如果我曾有过一个正当的心愿——那么现在我得到了酬报。对我来说，做你的妻子是世上最愉快的事了。”
“因为你乐意作出牺牲。”
“牺牲！我牺牲了什么啦？牺牲饥饿而得到食品，牺牲期待而得到满足。享受特权搂抱我珍重的人——亲吻我热爱的人——寄希望于我信赖的人。那能叫牺牲吗？如果说这是牺牲，那当然乐于作出牺牲了。”
“还要忍受我的体弱，简，无视我的缺陷。”
“我毫不在乎，先生。现在我确实对你有所帮助了，所以比起当初你能自豪地独立自主，除了施主与保护人，把什么都不放在眼里时，要更爱你了。”
“我向来讨厌要人帮助——要人领着，但从今起我觉得我不再讨厌了。我不喜欢把手放在雇工的手里，但让简的小小的指头挽着，却很愉快。我不喜欢佣人不停地服侍我，而喜欢绝对孤独。但是简温柔体贴的照应却永远是一种享受。简适合我，而我适合她吗？”
“你与我的天性丝丝入扣。”
“既然如此，就根本没有什么好等的了，我们得马上结婚。”
他的神态和说话都很急切，他焦躁的老脾气又发作了。
“我们必须毫不迟疑地化为一体了，简。只剩下把证书拿到手——随后我们就结婚—
—”
“罗切斯特先生，我刚发现，日色西斜，太阳早过了子午线。派洛特实际上已经回家去吃饭了，让我看看你的手表。”
“把它别在你腰带上吧，珍妮特，今后你就留着，反正我用不上。”
“差不多下午四点了，先生。你不感到饿吗？”
“从今天算起第三天，该是我们举行婚礼的日子了，简。现在，别去管豪华衣装和金银首饰了，这些东西都一钱不值。”
“太阳已经晒干了雨露，先生。微风止了，气候很热。”
“你知道吗，简，此刻在领带下面青铜色的脖子上，我戴着你小小的珍珠项链。自从失
去仅有的宝贝那天起，我就戴上它了，作为对她的怀念。”
“我们穿过林子回家吧，这条路最荫凉。”
他顺着自己的思路去想，没有理会我。
“简！我想，你以为我是一条不敬神的狗吧，可是这会儿我对世间仁慈的上帝满怀感激之情。他看事物跟人不一样，要清楚得多；他判断事物跟人不一样，而要明智得多。我做错了，我会玷污清白的花朵——把罪孽带给无辜，要不是上帝把它从我这儿抢走的话。我倔强地对抗，险些儿咒骂这种处置方式，我不是俯首听命，而是全不放在眼里。神的审判照旧进行，大祸频频临头。我被迫走过死荫的幽谷，”他的惩罚十分严厉，其中一次惩罚是使我永远甘于谦卑。你知道我曾对自己的力量非常自傲，但如今它算得了什么呢？我不得不依靠他人的指引，就像孩子的孱弱一样。最近，简——只不过是最近——我在厄运中开始看到并承认上帝之手。我开始自责和忏悔，情愿听从造物主。有时我开始祈祷了，祷告很短，但很诚恳。
“已经有几天了，不，我能说出数字来——四天。那是上星期一晚上——我产生了一种奇怪的心情：忧伤，也就是悲哀和阴沉代替了狂乱。我早就想，既然到处找不着你，那你一定已经死了。那天深夜——也许在十一、二点之间——我闷闷不乐地去就寝之前，祈求上帝，要是他觉得这么做妥当的话，可以立刻把我从现世收去，准许我踏进未来的世界，那儿仍有希望与简相聚。”
“我在自己的房间，坐在敞开着的窗边，清香的夜风沁人心脾。尽管我看不见星星，只是凭着一团模糊发亮的雾气，才知道有月亮。我盼着你，珍妮特！呵，无论是肉体还是灵魂，我都盼着你。我既痛苦而又谦卑地问上帝，我那么凄凉、痛苦、备受折磨，是不是已经够久了，会不会很快就再能尝到幸福与平静。我承认我所忍受的一切是应该的——我恳求，我实在不堪忍受了。我内心的全部愿望不由自主地崩出了我的嘴巴，化作这样几个字——
“简！简！筒！”
“你大声说了这几个字吗？”
“我说了，简。谁要是听见了，一定会以为我在发疯，我疯也似地使劲叫着那几个字。”
“而那是星期一晚上，半夜时分！”
“不错，时间倒并不重要，随后发生的事儿才怪呢。你会认为我相信迷信吧——从气质来看，我是有些迷信，而且一直如此。不过，这回倒是真的——我现在说的都是我听到的，至少这一点是真的。”
“我大叫着‘筒！简！简！’的时候，不知道哪儿传来了一个声音，但听得出是谁的，这个声音回答道，‘我来了，请等一等我！’过了一会儿，清风送来了悄声细语——‘你在哪儿呀？”
“要是我能够，我会告诉你这些话在我的心灵中所展示的思想和画面，不过要表达自己的想法并不容易。你知道，芬丁庄园深藏在密林里，这儿的声音很沉闷，没有回荡便会消失。‘你在哪儿呀？’这声音似乎来自于大山中间，因为我听到了山林的回声重复着这几个字。这时空气凉爽清新，风似乎也朝我额头吹来。我会认为我与简在荒僻的野景中相会。我相信，在精神上我们一定已经相会了。毫无疑问，当时你睡得很熟，说不定你的灵魂脱离了它的躯壳来抚慰我的灵魂。因为那正是你的口音——千真万确——是你的！”
读者呀，正是星期一晚上——将近午夜——我也接到了神秘的召唤，而那些也正是我回答的活。我倾听着罗切斯特先生的叙述，却并没有向他吐露什么，我觉得这种巧合太令人畏惧，令人费解了，因而既难以言传，也无法议论。要是我说出什么来，我的经历也必定会在聆听者的心灵中留下深刻的印象，而这饱受痛苦的心灵上容易忧伤了，不需要再笼罩更深沉的超自然阴影了。于是我把这些纵情留在心里，反复思量。
“这会儿你不会奇怪了吧，”我主人继续说，“那天晚上你出乎意外地在我当前冒出来时。我难以相信你不只是一个声音和幻象，不只是某种会销声匿迹的东西，就像以前己经消失的夜半耳语和山间回声那样。现在我感谢上帝，我知道这回可不同了。是的，我感谢上帝！”
他把我从膝头上放下来。虔敬地从额头摘下帽子，向大地低下了没有视力的眼睛，虔诚地默默站立着，只有最后几句表示崇拜的话隐约可闻。
“我感谢造物主，在审判时还记着慈悲。我谦恭地恳求我的救世主赐予我力量，让我从今以后过一种比以往更纯洁的生活！”
随后他伸出手让我领着，我握住了那只亲爱的手，在我的嘴唇上放了一会儿，随后让它挽住我肩膀，我个子比他矮得多，所以既做立支撑，又当了向导。我们进了树林，朝家里走去。

伊墨君(热心会员)

38楼 2013-02-14

Chapter 36

THE daylight came. I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or twowith arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in theorder wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence.Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: Ifeared he would knock- no, but a slip of paper was passed under thedoor. I took it up. It bore these words-
'You left me too suddenlylast night. Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid yourhand on the Christian's cross and the angel's crown. I shall expectyour clear decision when I return this day fortnight. Meantime, watchand pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, iswilling, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly.-Yours, ST. JOHN.'
'My spirit,' I answered mentally, 'is willing to do what is right;and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven,when once that will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall bestrong enough to search- inquire- to grope an outlet from this cloud ofdoubt, and find the open day of certainty.'
It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly:rain beat fast on my casement. I heard the front-door open, and St. Johnpass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. Hetook the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross- therehe would meet the coach.
'In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin,'thought I: 'I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. I too have some tosee and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.'
It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. I filled the interval inwalking softly about my room, and pondering the visitation which hadgiven my plans their present bent. I recalled that inward sensation Ihad experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakablestrangeness. I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whenceit came, as vainly as before: it seemed in me- not in the externalworld. I asked was it a mere nervous impression- a delusion? I could notconceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration. The wondrousshock of feeling had come like the earthquake which shook thefoundations of Paul and Silas's prison; it had opened the doors of thesoul's cell and loosed its bands- it had wakened it out of its sleep,whence it sprang trembling, listening, aghast; then vibrated thrice acry on my startled ear, and in my quaking heart and through my spirit,which neither feared nor shook but exulted as if in joy over the successof one effort it had been privileged to make, independent of thecumbrous body.
'Ere many days,' I said, as I terminated my musings, 'I will knowsomething of him whose voice seemed last night to summon me. Lettershave proved of no avail- personal inquiry shall replace them.'
At breakfast I announced to Diana and Mary that I was going a journey, and should be absent at least four days.
'Alone, Jane?' they asked.
'Yes; it was to see or hear news of a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.'
They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they hadbelieved me to be without any friends save them: for, indeed, I hadoften said so; but, with their true natural delicacy, they abstainedfrom comment, except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enoughto travel. I looked very pale, she observed. I replied, that nothingailed me save anxiety of mind, which I hoped soon to alleviate.
It was easy to make my further arrangements; for I was troubled withno inquiries- no surmises. Having once explained to them that I couldnot now be explicit about my plans, they kindly and wisely acquiesced inthe silence with which I pursued them, according to me the privilege offree action I should under similar circumstances have accorded them.
I left Moor House at three o'clock P.M., and soon after four I stoodat the foot of the sign-post of Whitcross, waiting the arrival of thecoach which was to take me to distant Thornfield. Amidst the silence ofthose solitary roads and desert hills, I heard it approach from a greatdistance. It was the same vehicle whence, a year ago, I had alighted onesummer evening on this very spot- how desolate, and hopeless, andobjectless! It stopped as I beckoned. I entered- not now obliged to partwith my whole fortune as the price of its accommodation. Once more onthe road to Thornfield, I felt like the messenger-pigeon flying home.
It was a journey of six-and-thirty hours. I had set out fromWhitcross on a Tuesday afternoon, and early on the succeeding Thursdaymorning the coach stopped to water the horses at a wayside inn, situatedin the midst of scenery whose green hedges and large fields and lowpastoral hills (how mild of feature and verdant of hue compared with thestern North-Midland moors of Morton!) met my eye like the lineaments ofa once familiar face. Yes, I knew the character of this landscape: Iwas sure we were near my bourne.
'How far is Thornfield Hall from here?' I asked of the ostler.
'Just two miles, ma'am, across the fields.'
'My journey is closed,' I thought to myself. I got out of the coach,gave a box I had into the ostler's charge, to be kept till I called forit; paid my fare; satisfied the coachman, and was going: the brighteningday gleamed on the sign of the inn, and I read in gilt letters, 'TheRochester Arms.' My heart leapt up: I was already on my master's verylands. It fell again: the thought struck it:-
'Your master himself may be beyond the British Channel, for aught youknow: and then, if he is at Thornfield Hall, towards which you hasten,who besides him is there? His lunatic wife: and you have nothing to dowith him: you dare not speak to him or seek his presence. You have lostyour labour- you had better go no farther,' urged the monitor. 'Askinformation of the people at the inn; they can give you all you seek:they can solve your doubts at once. Go up to that man, and inquire ifMr. Rochester be at home.'
The suggestion was sensible, and yet I could not force self to act onit. I so dreaded a reply that would crush me with despair. To prolongdoubt was to prolong hope. I might yet once more see the Hall under theray of her star. There was the stile before me- the very fields throughwhich I had hurried, blind, deaf, distracted with a revengeful furytracking and scourging me, on the morning I fled from Thornfield: ere Iwell knew what course I had resolved to take, I was in the midst ofthem. How fast I walked! How I ran sometimes? How I looked forward tocatch the first view of the well-known woods! With what feelings Iwelcomed single trees I knew, and familiar glimpses of meadow and hillbetween them!
At last the woods rose; the rookery clustered dark; a loud cawingbroke the morning stillness. Strange delight inspired me: on I hastened.Another field crossed- a lane threaded- and there were the courtyardwalls- the back offices: the house itself, the rookery still hid. 'Myfirst view of it shall be in front,' I determined, 'where its boldbattlements will strike the eye nobly at once, and where I can singleout my master's very window: perhaps he will be standing at it- he risesearly: perhaps he is now walking in the orchard, or on the pavement infront. Could I but see him!- but a moment? Surely, in that case, Ishould not be so mad as to run to him? I cannot tell- I am not certain.And if I did- what then? God bless him! What then? Who would be hurt bymy once more tasting the life his glance can give me?
I rave: perhaps at this moment he is watching the sun rise over the Pyrenees, or on the tideless sea of the south.'
I had coasted along the lower wall of the orchard- turned its angle:there was a gate just there, opening into the meadow, between two stonepillars crowned by stone balls. From behind one pillar I could peepround quietly at the full front of the mansion. I advanced my head withprecaution, desirous to ascertain if any bedroom window-blinds were yetdrawn up: battlements, windows, long front- all from this shelteredstation were at my command.
The crows sailing overhead perhaps watched me while I took thissurvey. I wonder what they thought. They must have considered I was verycareful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold andreckless. A peep, and then a long stare; and then a departure from myniche and a straying out into the meadow; and a sudden stop full infront of the great mansion, and a protracted, hardy gaze towards it.
'What affectation of diffidence was this at first?' they might have demanded; 'what stupid regardlessness now?'
Hear an illustration, reader.
A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catcha glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals softly overthe grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses- fancying she hasstirred: he withdraws; not for worlds would he be seen. All is still: heagain advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features:he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty-warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. How hurried was their firstglance! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehementlyclasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch withhis finger! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazeson it wildly! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longerfears to waken by any sound he can utter- by any movement he can make.He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead.
I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house: I saw a blackened ruin.
No need to cower behind a gate-post, indeed!- to peep up at chamberlattices, fearing life was astir behind them! No need to listen fordoors opening- to fancy steps on the pavement or the gravel-walk!
The lawn, the grounds were trodden and waste: the portal yawned void.The front was, as I had once seen it in a dream, but a shell-like wall,very high and very fragile-looking, perforated with paneless windows:no roof, no battlements, no chimneys- all had crashed in.
And there was the silence of death about it: the solitude of alonesome wild. No wonder that letters addressed to people here had neverreceived an answer: as well despatch epistles to a vault in a churchaisle. The grim blackness of the stones told by what fate the Hall hadfallen- by conflagration: but how kindled? What story belonged to thisdisaster? What loss, besides mortar and marble and woodwork had followedupon it? Had life been wrecked as well as property? If so, whose?Dreadful question: there was no one here to answer it- not even dumbsign, mute token.
In wandering round the shattered walls and through the devastatedinterior, I gathered evidence that the calamity was not of lateoccurrence. Winter snows, I thought, had drifted through that void arch,winter rains beaten in at those hollow casements; for, amidst thedrenched piles of rubbish, spring had cherished vegetation: grass andweed grew here and there between the stones and fallen rafters. And oh!where meantime was the hapless owner of this wreck?
In what land? Under what auspices? My eye involuntarily wandered tothe grey church tower near the gates, and I asked, 'Is he with Damer deRochester, sharing the shelter of his narrow marble house?'
Some answer must be had to these questions. I could find it nowherebut at the inn, and thither, ere long, I returned. The host himselfbrought my breakfast into the parlour. I requested him to shut the doorand sit down: I had some questions to ask him. But when he complied, Iscarcely knew how to begin; such horror had I of the possible answers.And yet the spectacle of desolation I had just left prepared me in ameasure for a tale of misery. The host was a respectable-looking,middle-aged man.
'You know Thornfield Hall, of course?' I managed to say at last.
'Yes, ma'am; I lived there once.'
'Did you?' Not in my time, I thought: you are a stranger to me.
'I was the late Mr. Rochester's butler,' he added.
The late! I seem to have received, with full force, the blow I had been trying to evade.
'The late!' I gasped. 'Is he dead?'
'I mean the present gentleman, Mr. Edward's father,' he explained. Ibreathed again: my blood resumed its flow. Fully assured by these wordsthat Mr. Edward- my Mr. Rochester (God bless him, wherever he was!)- wasat least alive: was, in short, 'the present gentleman.' Gladdeningwords! It seemed I could hear all that was to come- whatever thedisclosures might be- with comparative tranquillity. Since he was not inthe grave, I could bear, I thought, to learn that he was at theAntipodes.
'Is Mr. Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?' I asked, knowing,of course, what the answer would be, but yet desirous of deferring thedirect question as to where he really was.
'No, ma'am- oh, no! No one is living there. I suppose you are astranger in these parts, or you would have heard what happened lastautumn,- Thornfield Hall is quite a ruin: it was burnt down just aboutharvest-time. A dreadful calamity! such an immense quantity of valuableproperty destroyed: hardly any of the furniture could be saved. The firebroke out at dead of night, and before the engines arrived fromMillcote, the building was one mass of flame. It was a terriblespectacle: I witnessed it myself.'
'At dead of night!' I muttered. Yes, that was ever the hour offatality at Thornfield. 'Was it known how it originated?' I demanded.
'They guessed, ma'am: they guessed. Indeed, I should say it wasascertained beyond a doubt. You are not perhaps aware,' he continued,edging his chair a little nearer the table, and speaking low, 'thatthere was a lady- a- a lunatic, kept in the house?'
'I have heard something of it.'
'She was kept in very close confinement, ma'am; people even for someyears was not absolutely certain of her existence. No one saw her: theyonly knew by rumour that such a person was at the Hall;
and who or what she was it was difficult to conjecture. They said Mr.Edward had brought her from abroad, and some believed she had been hismistress. But a queer thing happened a year since- a very queer thing.'
I feared now to hear my own story. I endeavoured to recall him to the main fact.
'And this lady?'
'This lady, ma'am,' he answered, 'turned out to be Mr. Rochester'swife! The discovery was brought about in the strangest way. There was ayoung lady, a governess at the Hall, that Mr. Rochester fell in-'
'But the fire,' I suggested.
'I'm coming to that, ma'am- that Mr. Edward fell in love with. Theservants say they never saw anybody so much in love as he was: he wasafter her continually. They used to watch him- servants will, you know,ma'am- and he set store on her past everything: for all, nobody but himthought her so very handsome. She was a little small thing, they say,almost like a child. I never saw her myself; but I've heard Leah, thehousemaid, tell of her. Leah liked her well enough.
Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and yousee, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are oftenlike as if they were bewitched. Well, he would marry her.'
'You shall tell me this part of the story another time,' I said; 'butnow I have a particular reason for wishing to hear all about the fire.Was it suspected that this lunatic, Mrs. Rochester, had any hand in it?'
'You've hit it, ma'am: it's quite certain that it was her, and nobodybut her, that set it going. She had a woman to take care of her calledMrs. Poole- an able woman in her line, and very trustworthy, but for onefault- a fault common to a deal of them nurses and matrons- she kept aprivate bottle of gin by her, and now and then took a drop over-much. Itis excusable, for she had a hard life of it: but still it wasdangerous; for when Mrs. Poole was fast asleep after the gin and water,the mad lady, who was as cunning as a witch, would take the keys out ofher pocket, let herself out of her chamber, and go roaming about thehouse, doing any wild mischief that came into her head. They say she hadnearly burnt her husband in his bed once: but I don't know about that.However, on this night, she set fire first to the hangings of the roomnext her own, and then she got down to a lower Storey, and made her wayto the chamber that had been the governess's- (she was like as if sheknew somehow how matters had gone on, and had a spite at her)- and shekindled the bed there; but there was nobody sleeping in it, fortunately.The governess had run away two months before; and for all Mr. Rochestersought her as if she had been the most precious thing he had in theworld, he never could hear a word of her; and he grew savage- quitesavage on his disappointment: he never was a wild man, but he gotdangerous after he lost her. He would be alone, too. He sent Mrs.Fairfax, the housekeeper, away to her friends at a distance; but he didit handsomely, for he settled an annuity on her for life: and shedeserved it- she was a very good woman. Miss Adele, a ward he had, wasput to school. He broke off acquaintance with all the gentry, and shuthimself up like a hermit at the Hall.'
'What! did he not leave England?'
'Leave England? Bless you, no! He would not cross the door-stones ofthe house, except at night, when he walked just like a ghost about thegrounds and in the orchard as if he had lost his senses- which it is myopinion he had; for a more spirited, bolder, keener gentleman than hewas before that midge of a governess crossed him, you never saw, ma'am.He was not a man given to wine, or cards, or racing, as some are, and hewas not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own,if ever man had. I knew him from a boy, you see: and for my part, I haveoften wished that Miss Eyre had been sunk in the sea before she came toThornfield Hall.'
'Then Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?'
'Yes, indeed was he; and he went up to the attics when all wasburning above and below, and got the servants out of their beds andhelped them down himself, and went back to get his mad wife out of hercell. And then they called out to him that she was on the roof, whereshe was standing, waving her arms, above the battlements, and shoutingout till they could hear her a mile off: I saw her and heard her with myown eyes. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see itstreaming against the flames as she stood. I witnessed, and severalmore witnessed, Mr. Rochester ascend through the skylight on to theroof; we heard him call "Bertha!" We saw him approach her; and then,ma'am, she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashedon the pavement.'
'Dead?'
'Dead! Ay, dead as the stones on which her brains and blood were scattered.'
'Good God!'
'You may well say so, ma'am: it was frightful!'
He shuddered.
'And afterwards?' I urged.
'Well, ma'am, afterwards the house was burnt to the ground: there are only some bits of walls standing now.'
'Were any other lives lost?'
'No- perhaps it would have been better if there had.'
'What do you mean?'
'Poor Mr. Edward!' he ejaculated, 'I little thought ever to have seenit? Some say it was a just judgment on him for keeping his firstmarriage secret, and wanting to take another wife while he had oneliving: but I pity him, for my part.'
'You said he was alive?' I exclaimed.
'Yes, yes: he is alive; but many think he had better be dead.'
'Why? How?' My blood was again running cold. 'Where is he?' I demanded. 'Is he in England?'
'Ay- ay- he's in England; he can't get out of England, I fancy- he's a fixture now.'
What agony was this! And the man seemed resolved to protract it.
'He is stone-blind,' he said at last. 'Yes, he is stone-blind, is Mr. Edward.'
I had dreaded worse. I had dreaded he was mad. I summoned strength to ask what had caused this calamity.
'It was all his own courage, and a body may say, his kindness, in away, ma'am: he wouldn't leave the house till every one else was outbefore him. As he came down the great staircase at last, after Mrs.
Rochester had flung herself from the battlements, there was a greatcrash- all fell. He was taken out from under the ruins, alive, but sadlyhurt: a beam had fallen in such a way as to protect him partly; but oneeye was knocked out, and one hand so crushed that Mr. Carter, thesurgeon, had to amputate it directly. The other eye inflamed: he lostthe sight of that also. He is now helpless, indeed- blind and acripple.'
'Where is he? Where does he now live?'
'At Ferndean, a manor-house on a farm he has, about thirty miles off: quite a desolate spot.'
'Who is with him?'
'Old John and his wife: he would have none else. He is quite broken down, they say.'
'Have you any sort of conveyance?'
'We have a chaise, ma'am, a very handsome chaise.''Let it be got ready instantly; and if your post-boy can drive me toFerndean before dark this day, I'll pay both you and him twice the hireyou usually demand.'

白昼来临，拂晓时我便起身了。我忙了一两个小时，根据短期外出的需要，把房间、抽屉和衣橱里的东西作了安排。与此同时，我听到圣.约翰离开了房间，在我房门外停了一下，我担心他会敲门——不，他没有敲，却从门底下塞进来一个纸条，我拿起来一看，只见上面写着：
“咋晚你离开我太突然了。要是你再呆一会儿，你就会把手放在基督的十字架和天使的皇冠上了。二周后的今天我回来时盼你已作出明确的决定。同时，你要留心并祈祷，愿自己不受诱惑。我相信，灵是愿意的；但我也看到，肉是软弱的。我会时时为你祈祷——你的，
圣.约翰。”
“我的灵，”我心里回答，“乐意做一切对的事情，我希望我的肉也很坚强，一旦明确上帝的意志、便有力量去实现它。无论如何，我的肉体是够坚强的，让我可以去探求——询问——摸索出路，驱散疑云，找到确然无疑的晴空。”
这是六月一日。早晨，满天阴云，凉气袭人，骤雨敲窗。我听见前门开了，圣.约翰走了出去。透过窗子，我看到他走过花园，踏上雾蒙蒙的荒原，朝惠特克劳斯方向走去，——那儿他将搭上马车。
“几小时之后我会循着你的足迹，表兄，”我想：“我也要去惠特克劳斯搭乘马车。在永远告别英国之前，我也有人要探望和问候。”
离早餐还有两个小时。这段时间我在房间里轻轻地走来走去，思忖着促成我眼前这番计划的奇事。我回忆着我所经历的内在感觉，我能回想起那种难以言说的怪异。我回想着我听到的声音，再次像以前那样徒劳地问，它究竟从何而来。这声音似乎来自我内心——而不是外部世界。我问道，难道这不过是一种神经质的印象——一种幻觉？我既无法想象，也并不相信。它更像是神灵的启示。这惊人的震感来势猛似地震，摇撼了保尔和西拉所在的监狱的地基，它打开了心灵的牢门，松开了锁链，——把心灵从沉睡中唤醒，它呆呆地颤栗着，倾听着。随后一声尖叫震动了三次，冲击着我受惊的耳朵，沉入我震颤的心田，穿透了我心灵。心灵既不害怕，也没有震惊，而是欢喜雀跃，仿佛因为有幸不受沉重的躯体支配，作了一次成功的努力而十分高兴似的。
“不要很多天，”我从沉思中回过神来后说。“我会了解到他的一些情况，昨晚他的声音已经召唤过我。信函问询已证明毫无结果——我要代之以亲自探访。”
早餐时，我向黛安娜和玛丽宣布，我要出门去，至少离开四天。
“一个人去吗，简？”她们问。
“是的，去看看，或者打听一下一个朋友的消息，我已为他担心了好久了。”
正如我明白她们在想的那样，她们本可以说，一直以为除了她们，我没有别的朋友，其实我也总是这么讲的。但出于天生真诚的体贴，她们没有发表任何议论，除了黛安娜问我身体是否确实不错，是否适宜旅行。她说我脸色苍白。我回答说没有什么不适，只不过内心有些不安，但相信不久就会好的。
于是接下来的安排就容易了，因为我不必为刨根究底和东猜西想而烦恼。我一向她们解释，现在还不能明确宣布我的计划，她们便聪明而善解人意地默许我悄然进行，给了我在同样情况下也会给予她们的自由行动的特权。
下午三点我离开了沼泽居，四点后不久，我便已站在惠特克劳斯的路牌下，等待着马车把我带到遥远的桑菲尔德去。在荒山野路的寂静之中，我很远就听到了马车靠近了。一年前的一个夏夜，我就是从这辆马车上走下来，就在这个地方——那么凄凉，那么无望，那么毫无目的！我一招手马车便停了下来。我上了车——现在已不必为一个座位而倾囊所有了。我再次踏上去桑菲尔德的路途，真有信鸽飞回家园之感。
这是一段三十六小时的旅程。星期二下午从惠特克劳斯出发，星期四一早，马车在路边的一家旅店停下，让马饮水。旅店座落在绿色的树篱、宽阔的田野和低矮的放牧小山之中（与中北部莫尔顿严峻的荒原相比，这里的地形多么柔和，颜色何等苍翠！），这番景色映入我眼帘，犹如一位一度熟悉的人的面容。不错，我了解这里景物的特点，我确信已接近目的地了。
“桑菲尔德离这儿有多远？”我问旅店侍马人。
“穿过田野走两英里就到了，小姐。”
“我的旅程结束了，”我暗自思忖。我跳下马车，把身边的一个盒子交给侍马人保管，回头再来提取，付了车钱，给足了马夫，便启程上路了。黎明的曙光照在旅店的招牌上，我看到了镀金的字母“罗切斯特纹章”，心便砰砰乱跳，原来我已来到我主人的地界。但转念一想，又心如止水了。
“也许你的主人在英吉利海峡彼岸。况且，就是他在你匆匆前往的桑菲尔德府，除了他还有谁也在那里呢？还有他发了疯的妻子，而你与他毫不相干。你不敢同他说话，或者前去找他。你劳而无功——你还是别再往前走吧，”冥冥中的监视者敦促道。“从旅店里的人那里探听一下消息吧，他们会提供你寻觅的一切情况，立刻解开你的疑团，走到那个人跟前去，问问罗切斯特先生在不在家。”
这个建议很明智，但我无法迫使自己去实施。我害怕得到一个让我绝望的回答。延长疑虑就是延长希望。我也许能再见一见星光照耀下的府第。我面前还是那道踏阶——还是那片田野，那天早晨我逃离桑菲尔德，急急忙忙穿过这片田野，不顾一切，漫无目的，心烦意乱，被一种复仇的愤怒跟踪着，痛苦地折磨着。呵，我还没决定走哪条路，就己置身于这片田野之中了。我走得好快呀！有时候我那么奔跑着！我多么希望一眼就看到熟悉的林子呵，我是带着怎样的感情来欢迎我所熟悉的一棵棵树木，以及树与树之间的草地和小山呵！
树林终于出现在眼前，白嘴鸦黑压压一片，呱呱的响亮叫声打破了清晨的寂静。一种奇怪的喜悦激励着我，使我急煎煎往前赶路，穿过另一片田野——走过一条小径——看到了院墙——但后屋的下房、府搂本身、以及白嘴鸦的巢穴，依然隐而不见。“我第一眼看到的应是府第的正面，”我心里很有把握，“那里雄伟醒目的城垛会立刻扑入眼帘；那里我能认出我主人的那扇窗子，也许他会伫立窗前——他起得很早。也许他这会儿正漫步在果园里，或音前面铺筑过的路上。要是我能见见他该多好！——就是一会儿也好！当然要是那样，我总不该发狂到向他直冲过去吧？我说不上来——我不敢肯定。要是我冲上去了——那又怎么样？上帝祝福他！那又怎么样？让我回味一下他的目光所给予我的生命，又会伤害了谁呢？——我在呓语。也许此刻他在比利牛斯山或者南部风平浪的的海面上规赏着日出呢。”
我信步朝果园的矮墙走去，在拐角处转了弯，这里有一扇门，开向草地，门两边有两根石柱，顶上有两个石球。从一根石柱后面我可以悄然四顾，看到府宅的全部正面。我小心地探出头去，很希望看个明白，是不是有的窗帘已经卷起。从这个隐蔽的地方望去，城垛、窗子和府楼长长的正面，尽收眼底。
我这么观察着的时候，在头顶滑翔的乌鸦们也许正俯视着我。我不知道它们在想什么，它们一定以为起初我十分小心和胆怯，但渐渐地我变得大胆而鲁莽了。我先是窥视一下，随后久久盯着，再后是离开我躲藏的角落，不经意走进了草地，突然在府宅正面停下脚步，久久地死盯着它。“起初为什么装模做样羞羞答答？”乌鸦们也许会问，“而这会儿又为什么傻里傻气，不顾一切了？”
读者呀，且听我解释。
一位情人发现他的爱人睡在长满青苔的河岸上，他希望看一眼她漂亮的面孔而不惊醒她。他悄悄地踏上草地，注意不发出一点声响，他停下脚步——想象她翻了个身。他往后退去，千方百计要不让她看到。四周万籁俱寂。他再次往前走去，向她低下头去。她的脸上盖着一块轻纱。他揭开面纱，身子弯得更低了。这会儿他的眼睛期待着看到这个美人儿——安睡中显得热情、年青和可爱。他的第一眼多么急不可耐！但他两眼发呆了：他多么吃惊！他又何等突然，何等激烈地紧紧抱住不久之前连碰都不敢碰的这个躯体，用手指去碰它！他大声呼叫着一个名字，放下了抱着的身躯，狂乱地直愣愣瞧着它。他于是紧抱着，呼叫着，凝视着，因为他不再担心他发出的任何声音，所做的任何动作会把她惊醒。他以为他的爱人睡得很甜。但此发现她早己死去了。
我带着怯生生的喜悦朝堂皇的府第看去，我看到了一片焦黑的废墟。
没有必要躲在门柱后面畏缩不前了，真的！——没有必要偷偷地眺望房间的格子窗，而担心窗后已有动静！没有必要倾听打开房门的声音——没有必要想象铺筑过的路和砂石小径上的脚步声了，草地，庭院已踏得稀烂，一片荒芜。入口的门空张着。府第的正门象我一次梦中所见的那样，剩下了贝壳似的一堵墙，高高耸立，却岌岌可危，布满了没有玻璃的窗孔。没有屋顶，没有城垛，没有烟囱——全都倒塌了。
这里笼罩着死一般的沉寂和旷野的凄凉。怪不得给这儿的人写信，仿佛是送信给教堂过道上的墓穴，从来得不到答复。黑森森的石头诉说着府宅遭了什么厄运，一火灾。但又是怎么烧起来的呢？这场灾难的经过加何？除了灰浆、大理石和木制品，还有什么其他损失呢，生命是不是象财产一样遭到了毁灭？如果是，谁丧失了生命？这个可怕的问题，眼前没有谁来回答——甚至连默默的迹象、无言的标记都无法回答。
我徘徊在断垣颓壁之间，穿行于残破的府宅内层之中，获得了迹象，表明这场灾难不是最近发生的。我想，冬雪曾经飘入空空的拱门，冬雨打在没有玻璃的窗户上。在一堆堆湿透了的垃圾中，春意催发了草木，乱石堆中和断梁之间，处处长出了野草。呵！这片废墟的主人又在哪里？他在哪个国度？在谁的保护之下？我的目光不由自主地飘向了大门边灰色的教堂塔楼，我问道，“难道他已随戴默尔.德.罗切斯特而去，共住在狭窄的大理石房子里？”
这些问题都得找到答案。而除了旅店，别处是找不到的。于是不久我便返回那里。老板亲自把早餐端到客厅里来，我请他关了门，坐下来。我有些问题要问他，但待他答应之后，我却不知道从何开始了。我对可能得到的回答怀着一种恐俱感，然而刚才看到的那番荒凉景象，为一个悲惨的故事作好了一定的准备。老板看上去是位体面的中年人。
“你当然知道桑菲尔德府了？”我终于启齿了。
“是的，小姐，我以前在那里住过。”
“是吗？”不是我在的时候，我想。我觉得他很陌生。
“我是已故的罗切斯特先生的管家，”他补充道。
已故的！我觉得我避之不迭的打击重重地落到我头上了。
“已故的！”我透不过气来了。“他死了？”
“我说的是现在的老爷，爱德华先生的父亲，”他解释说。我又喘过气来了，我的血液也继续流动。他的这番话使我确信，爱德华先生——我的罗切斯特先生（无论他在何方，愿上帝祝福他！）至少还活着，总之还是“现在的老爷”，（多让人高兴的话！）我似乎觉得，不管他会透露什么消息，我会比较平静地去倾听。我想，就是知道他在新西兰和澳大利亚，我都能忍受。
“罗切斯特先生如今还住在桑菲尔德府吗？”我问，当然知道他会怎样回答，但并不想马上就直截了当地问起他的确实住处。
“不，小姐——呵，不！那儿已没有人住了，我想你对附近地方很陌生，不然你会听到过去年秋天发生的事情。桑菲尔德府已经全毁了。大约秋收的时候烧掉的——一场可怕的灾难！那么多值钱的财产都毁掉了，几乎没有一件家具幸免。火灾是深夜发生的，从米尔科特来的救火车还没有开到，府宅已经是一片熊熊大火。这景象真可怕，我是亲眼见到的。”
“深夜！”我咕哝着。是呀，在桑菲尔德府那是致命的时刻。“知道是怎么引起的吗？”我问。
“他们猜想，小姐，他们是这么猜想的，其实，我该说那是确然无疑的。你也许不知道吧，”他往下说，把椅子往桌子稍稍挪了挪，声音放得很低，“有一位夫人——一个——一个疯子，关在屋子里？”
“我隐隐约约听到过。”
“她被严加看管着，小姐。好几年了，外人都不能完全确定有她这么个人在。没有人见过她。他们只不过凭谣传知道，府里有这样一个人。她究竟是谁，干什么的，却很难想象。他们说是爱德华先生从国外把她带回来的。有人相信，是他的情妇。但一年前发生了一件奇怪的事情——一件非常奇怪的事情。”
我担心这会儿要听我自己的故事了。我竭力把他拉回到正题上。
“这位太太呢？”
“这位太太，小姐，”他回答，“原来就是罗切斯特先生的妻子！发现的方式也是再奇怪不过的。府上有一位年青小姐，是位家庭教师，罗切斯特先生与她相爱了——”
“可是火灾呢？”我提醒。
“我就要谈到了，小姐——爱德华先生爱上了。佣人们说，他们从来没有见到有谁像他那么倾心过。他死死追求她。他们总是注意着他——你知道佣人们会这样的，小姐——他倾慕她，胜过了一切。所有的人，除了他，没有人认为她很漂亮。他们说，她是个小不点儿，几乎象个孩子。我从来没有见过她，不过听女仆莉娅说起过。莉娅也是够喜欢她的。罗切斯特先生四十岁左右，这个家庭女教师还不到二十岁。你瞧，他这种年纪的男人爱上了姑娘们，往往象是神魂颠倒似的。是呀，他要娶她。”
“这部份故事改日再谈吧，”我说，“而现在我特别想要听听你说说大火的事儿。是不是怀疑这个疯子，罗切斯特太太参与其中？”
“你说对了，小姐。肯定是她，除了她，没有谁会放火的。她有一个女人照应，名叫普尔太太——干那一行是很能干的，也很可靠。但有一个毛病——那些看护和主妇的通病——她私自留着—瓶杜松子酒，而且常常多喝那么一口。那也是可以原谅的，因为她活得太辛苦了，不过那很危险，酒和水一下肚，普尔太太睡得烂熟，那位像巫婆一般狡猾的疯女人，便会从她口袋里掏出钥匙，开了门溜出房间，在府宅游荡，心血来潮便什么荒唐的事都干得出来。他们说，有一回差一点把她的丈夫烧死在床上。不过我不知道那回事。但是，那天晚上，她先是放火点燃了隔壁房间的帷幔，随后下了一层楼，走到原来那位家庭女教师的房间（不知怎么搞的，她似乎知道事情的进展，而且对她怀恨在心）——给她的床放了把火，幸亏没有人睡在里面。两个月前，那个家庭女教师就出走了。尽管罗切斯特先生拼命找她，仿佛她是稀世珍宝，但她还是杳无音讯。他变得越来越粗暴了——因为失望而非常粗暴。他从来就不是一个性性情温和的人，而失去她以后，简直就危险了。他还喜欢孤身独处，把管家费尔法克斯太太送到她远方的朋友那儿去了。不过他做得很慷慨，付给她一笔终身年金，而她也是受之无愧的——她是一个很好的女人。他把他监护的阿黛勒小姐，送进了学校。与所有的绅士们断绝了往来，自己像隐士那样住在府上，闭门不出。”
“什么！他没有离开英国？”
“离开英国？哎哟，没有！他连门槛都不跨出去。除了夜里，他会像一个幽灵那样在庭院和果园里游荡——仿佛神经错乱似的——依我看是这么回事。他败在那位小个子女教师手里之前，小姐，你从来没见过哪位先生像他那么活跃，那么大胆、那么勇敢。他不是像有些人那样热衷于饮酒、玩牌和赛马，他也不怎么漂亮，但他有着男人特有的勇气和意志力。你瞧，他还是一个孩子的时候我就认识他了，至于我，但愿那位爱小姐，还没到桑菲尔德府就
给沉到海底去了。”
“那么起火时罗切斯特先生是在家里了？”
“不错，他确实在家。上上下下都烧起来的时候，他上了阁楼，把仆人们从床上叫醒，亲自帮他们下楼来——随后又返回去，要把发疯的妻子弄出房间。那时他们喊他，说她在屋顶。她站在城垛上、挥动着胳膊，大喊大叫，一英里外都听得见。我亲眼见了她，亲耳听到了她的声音。她个儿很大，头发又长又黑，站着时我们看到她的头发映着火光在飘动。我亲眼看到，还有好几个人也看到了罗切斯特先生穿过天窗爬上了屋顶。我们听他叫了声“佩莎！”我们见他朝她走去，随后，小姐，她大叫一声，纵身跳了下去，刹那之间，她已躺在路上，粉身碎骨了。”
“死了？”
“死了！呵，完全断气了，在石头上脑浆迸裂，鲜血四溅。”
“天哪！”
“你完全可以这么说，小姐，真吓人哪！”他打了个寒颤。
“那么后来呢？”我催促着，
“唉呀，小姐，后来整座房子都夷为平地了，眼下只有几截子墙还立着。”
“还死了其他人吗？”
“没有——要是有倒也许还好些？”
“你这话是什么意思？”
“可怜的爱德华，”他失声叫道，“我从来没有想到会见到这样的事情！有人说那不过是对他瞒了第一次婚姻，妻子活着还想再娶的报应。但拿我来讲，我是怜悯他的。”
“你说了他还活着？”我叫道。
“是呀，是呀，他还活着。但很多人认为他还是死了的好。”
“为什么？怎么会呢？”我的血又冰冷了。“他在哪儿？”我问。“在英国吗？”
“呵——呵——他是在英国，他没有办法走出英国，我想——现在他是寸步难行了。”那是什么病痛呀？这人似乎决意吞吞吐吐。
“他全瞎了，”他终于说。“是呀，他全瞎了——爱德华先生。”
我担心更坏的结局，担心他疯了。我鼓足勇气问他造成灾难的原因。
“全是因为他的胆量，你也可以说，因为他的善良，小姐。他要等所有的人在他之前逃出来了才肯离开房子。罗切斯特夫人跳下城垛后，他终于走下了那个大楼梯，就在这时，轰隆一声，全都塌了下来。他从废墟底下被拖了出来，虽然还活着，但伤势严重。一根大梁掉了下来，正好护住了他一些。不过他的一只眼睛被砸了出来，一只手被压烂了，因此医生卡特不得不将它立刻截了下来。另一只眼睛发炎了，也失去了视力。如今他又瞎又残，实在是束手无策了。”
“他在哪儿？他现在住在什么地方？”
“在芬丁，他的一个庄园里，离这里三十英里，是个很荒凉的地方。”
“谁跟他在一起？”
“老约翰和他的妻子。别人他都不要。他们说，他身体全垮了。”
“你有什么车辆吗？”
“我们有一辆轻便马车，小姐，很好看的一辆车。”
“马上把车准备好。要是你那位驿车送信人肯在天黑前把我送到芬丁，我会付给你和他双倍的价钱。”

伊墨君(热心会员)

37楼 2013-02-12

Chapter 35

HE did not leave for Cambridge the next day, as he had said he would.He deferred his departure a whole week, and during that time he made mefeel what severe punishment a good yet stern, a conscientious yetimplacable man can inflict on one who has offended him. Without oneovert act of hostility, one upbraiding word he contrived to impress memomently with the conviction that I was put beyond the pale of hisfavour.
Not that St. John harboured a spirit of unchristianvindictiveness- not that he would have injured a hair of my head, if ithad been fully in his power to do so. Both by nature and principle, hewas superior to the mean gratification of vengeance: he had forgiven mefor saying I scorned him and his love, but he had not forgotten thewords; and as long as he and I lived he never would forget them. I sawby his look, when he turned to me, that they were always written on theair between me and him; whenever I spoke, they sounded in my voice tohis ear, and their echo toned every answer he gave me.
He did not abstain from conversing with me: he even called me asusual each morning to join him at his desk; and I fear the corrupt manwithin him had a pleasure unimparted to, and unshared by, the pureChristian, in evincing with what skill he could, while acting andspeaking apparently just as usual, extract from every deed and everyphrase the spirit of interest and approval which had formerlycommunicated a certain austere charm to his language and manner. To me,he was in reality become no longer flesh, but marble; his eye was acold, bright, blue gem; his tongue a speaking instrument- nothing more.
All this was torture to me- refined, lingering torture. It kept up aslow fire of indignation and a trembling trouble of grief, whichharassed and crushed me altogether. I felt how- if I were his wife, thisgood man, pure as the deep sunless source, could soon kill me, withoutdrawing from my veins a single drop of blood, or receiving on his owncrystal conscience the faintest stain of crime.
Especially I felt this when I made any attempt to propitiate him. Noruth met my ruth. He experienced no suffering from estrangement- noyearning after reconciliation; and though, more than once, my fastfalling tears blistered the page over which we both bent, they producedno more effect on him than if his heart had been really a matter ofstone or metal. To his sisters, meantime, he was somewhat kinder thanusual: as if afraid that mere coldness would not sufficiently convinceme how completely I was banished and banned, he added the force ofcontrast; and this I am sure he did not by malice, but on principle.
The night before he left home, happening to see him walking in thegarden about sunset, and remembering, as I looked at him, that this man,alienated as he now was, had once saved my life, and that we were nearrelations, I was moved to make a last attempt to  regain his friendship.I went out and approached him as he stood leaning over the little gate;I spoke to the point at once.
'St. John, I am unhappy because you are still angry with me. Let us be friends.'
'I hope we are friends,' was the unmoved reply; while he stillwatched the rising of the moon, which he had been contemplating as Iapproached.
'No, St. John, we are not friends as we were. You know that.'
'Are we not? That is wrong. For my part, I wish you no ill and all good.'
'I believe you, St. John; for I am sure you are incapable of wishingany one ill; but, as I am your kinswoman, I should desire somewhat moreof affection than that sort of general philanthropy you extend to merestrangers.'
'Of course,' he said. 'Your wish is reasonable, and I am far from regarding you as a stranger.'
This, spoken in a cool, tranquil tone, was mortifying and bafflingenough. Had I attended to the suggestions of pride and ire, I shouldimmediately have left him; but something worked within me more stronglythan those feelings could. I deeply venerated my cousin's talent andprinciple. His friendship was of value to me: to lose it tried meseverely. I would not so soon relinquish the attempt to reconquer it.
'Must we part in this way, St. John? And when you go to India, willyou leave me so, without a kinder word than you have yet spoken?'
He now turned quite from the moon and faced me.
'When I go to India, Jane, will I leave you! What! do you not go to India?'
'You said I could not unless I married you.'
'And you will not marry me! You adhere to that resolution?'
Reader, do you know, as I do, what terror those cold people can putinto the ice of their questions? How much of the fall of the avalancheis in their anger? of the breaking up of the frozen sea in theirdispleasure?
'No, St. John, I will not marry you. I adhere to my resolution.'
The avalanche had shaken and slid a little forward, but it did not yet crash down.
'Once more, why this refusal?' he asked.
'Formerly,' I answered, 'because you did not love me; now, I reply,because you almost hate me. If I were to marry you, you would kill me.
You are killing me now.'
His lips and cheeks turned white- quite white.
'I should kill you- I am killing you? Your words are such as oughtnot to be used: violent, unfeminine, and untrue. They betray anunfortunate state of mind: they merit severe reproof: they would seeminexcusable, but that it is the duty of man to forgive his fellow evenuntil seventy-and-seven times.'
I had finished the business now. While earnestly wishing to erasefrom his mind the trace of my former offence, I had stamped on thattenacious surface another and far deeper impression: I had burnt it in.
'Now you will indeed hate me,' I said. 'It is useless to attempt to conciliate you: I see I have made an eternal enemy of you.'
A fresh wrong did these words inflict: the worse, because theytouched on the truth. That bloodless lip quivered to a temporary spasm. Iknew the steely ire I had whetted. I was heart-wrung.
'You utterly misinterpret my words,' I said, at once seizing hishand: 'I have no intention to grieve or pain you- indeed, I have not.'
Most bitterly he smiled- most decidedly he withdrew his hand frommine. 'And now you recall your promise, and will not go to India at all,I presume?' said he, after a considerable pause.
'Yes, I will, as your assistant,' I answered.
A very long silence succeeded. What struggle there was in him betweenNature and Grace in this interval, I cannot tell: only singular gleamsscintillated in his eyes, and strange shadows passed over his face. Hespoke at last.
'I before proved to you the absurdity of a single woman of your ageproposing to accompany abroad a single man of mine. I proved it to youin such terms as, I should have thought, would have prevented your everagain alluding to the plan. That you have done so, I regret- for yoursake.'
I interrupted him. Anything like a tangible reproach gave me courageat once. 'Keep to common sense, St. John: you are verging on nonsense.You pretend to be shocked by what I have said. You are not reallyshocked: for, with your superior mind, you cannot be either so dull orso conceited as to misunderstand my meaning. I say again, I will be yourcurate, if you like, but never your wife.'
Again he turned lividly pale; but, as before, controlled his passion perfectly. He answered emphatically but calmly-
'A female curate, who is not my wife, would never suit me. With me,then, it seems, you cannot go: but if you are sincere in your offer, Iwill, while in town, speak to a married missionary, whose wife needs acoadjutor. Your own fortune will make you independent of the Society'said; and thus you may still be spared the dishonour of breaking yourpromise and deserting the band you engaged to join.'
Now I never had, as the reader knows, either given any formal promiseor entered into any engagement; and this language was all much too hardand much too despotic for the occasion. I replied-
'There is no dishonour, no breach of promise, no desertion in thecase. I am not under the slightest obligation to go to India, especiallywith strangers. With you I would have ventured much, because I admire,confide in, and, as a sister, I love you; but I am convinced that, gowhen and with whom I would, I should not live long in that climate.'
'Ah! you are afraid of yourself,' he said, curling his lip.
'I am. God did not give me my life to throw away; and to do as youwish me would, I begin to think, be almost equivalent to committingsuicide. Moreover, before I definitely resolve on quitting England, Iwill know for certain whether I cannot be of greater use by remaining init than by leaving it.'
'What do you mean?'
'It would be fruitless to attempt to explain; but there is a point onwhich I have long endured painful doubt, and I can go nowhere till bysome means that doubt is removed.'
'I know where your heart turns and to what it clings. The interestyou cherish is lawless and unconsecrated. Long since you ought to havecrushed it: now you should blush to allude to it. You think of Mr.Rochester?'
It was true. I confessed it by silence.
'Are you going to seek Mr. Rochester?'
'I must find out what is become of him.'
'It remains for me, then,' he said, 'to remember you in my prayers,and to entreat God for you, in all earnestness, that you may not indeedbecome a castaway. I had thought I recognised in you one of the chosen.But God sees not as man sees: His will be done.'
He opened the gate, passed through it, and strayed away down the glen. He was soon out of sight.
On re-entering the parlour, I found Diana standing at the window,looking very thoughtful. Diana was a great deal taller than I:. she puther hand on my shoulder, and, stooping, examined my face.
'Jane,' she said, 'you are always agitated and pale now. I am surethere is something the matter. Tell me what business St. John and youhave on hands. I have watched you this half hour from the window; youmust forgive my being such a spy, but for a long time I have fancied Ihardly know what. St. John is a strange being-'
She paused- I did not speak: soon she resumed-
'That brother of mine cherishes peculiar views of some sortrespecting you, I am sure: he has long distinguished you by a notice andinterest he never showed to any one else- to what end? I wish he lovedyou- does he, Jane?'
I put her cool hand to my hot forehead; 'No, Die, not one whit.'
'Then why does he follow you so with his eyes, and get you sofrequently alone with him, and keep you so continually at his side?
Mary and I had both concluded he wished you to marry him.'
'He does- he has asked me to be his wife.'
Diana clapped her hands. 'That is just what we hoped and thought!
And you will marry him, Jane, won't you? And then he will stay in England.'
'Far from that, Diana; his sole idea in proposing to me is to procure a fitting fellow-labourer in his Indian toils.'
'What! He wishes you to go to India?'
'Yes.'
'Madness!' she exclaimed. 'You would not live three months there, Iam certain. You never shall go: you have not consented, have you, Jane?'
'I have refused to marry him-'
'And have consequently displeased him?' she suggested.
'Deeply: he will never forgive me, I fear: yet I offered to accompany him as his sister.'
'It was frantic folly to do so, Jane. Think of the task youundertook- one of incessant fatigue, where fatigue kills even thestrong, and you are weak. St. John- you know him- would urge you toimpossibilities: with him there would be no permission to rest duringthe hot hours; and unfortunately, I have noticed, whatever he exacts,you force yourself to perform. I am astonished you found courage torefuse his hand. You do not love him then, Jane?'
'Not as a husband.'
'Yet he is a handsome fellow.'
'And I am so plain, you see, Die. We should never suit.'
'Plain! You? Not at all. You are much too pretty, as well as toogood, to be grilled alive in Calcutta.' And again she earnestly conjuredme to give up all thoughts of going out with her brother.
'I must indeed,' I said; 'for when just now I repeated the offer ofserving him for a deacon, he expressed himself shocked at my want ofdecency. He seemed to think I had committed an impropriety in proposingto accompany him unmarried: as if I had not from the first hoped to findin him a brother, and habitually regarded him as such.'
'What makes you say he does not love you, Jane?'
'You should hear himself on the subject. He has again and againexplained that it is not himself, but his office he wishes to mate. Hehas told me I am formed for labour- not for love: which is true, nodoubt. But, in my opinion, if I am not formed for love, it follows that Iam not formed for marriage. Would it not be strange, Die, to be chainedfor life to a man who regarded one but as a useful tool?'
'Insupportable- unnatural- out of the question!'
'And then,' I continued, 'though I have only sisterly affection forhim now, yet, if forced to be his wife, I can imagine the possibility ofconceiving an inevitable, strange, torturing kind of love for him,because he is so talented; and there is often a certain heroic grandeurin his look, manner, and conversation. In that case, my lot would becomeunspeakably wretched. He would not want me to love him; and if I showedthe feeling, he would make me sensible that it was a superfluity,unrequired by him, unbecoming in me. I know he would.'
'And yet St. John is a good man,' said Diana.
'He is a good and a great man; but he forgets, pitilessly, thefeelings and claims of little people, in pursuing his own large views.
It is better, therefore, for the insignificant to keep out of hisway, lest, in his progress, he should trample them down. Here he comes! Iwill leave you, Diana.' And I hastened upstairs as I saw him enteringthe garden.
But I was forced to meet him again at supper. During that meal heappeared just as composed as usual. I had thought he would hardly speakto me, and I was certain he had given up the pursuit of his matrimonialscheme: the sequel showed I was mistaken on both points.
He addressed me precisely in his ordinary manner, or what had, oflate, been his ordinary manner- one scrupulously polite. No doubt he hadinvoked the help of the Holy Spirit to subdue the anger I had roused inhim, and now believed he had forgiven me once more.
For the evening reading before prayers, he selected the twenty-firstchapter of Revelation. It was at all times pleasant to listen while fromhis lips fell the words of the Bible: never did his fine voice sound atonce so sweet and full- never did his manner  become so impressive inits noble simplicity, as when he delivered the oracles of God: andto-night that voice took a more solemn tone-   that manner a morethrilling meaning- as he sat in the midst of his household circle (theMay moon shining in through the uncurtained window, and rendering almostunnecessary the light of the candle on  the table): as he sat there,bending over the great old Bible, and described from its page the visionof the new heaven and the new earth- told how God would come to dwellwith men, how He would wipe away all tears from their eyes, and promisedthat there should be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, nor anymore pain, because the former things were passed away.
The succeeding words thrilled me strangely as he spoke them:especially as I felt, by the slight, indescribable alteration in sound,that in uttering them, his eye had turned on me.
'He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God,and he shall be my son. But,' was slowly, distinctly read, 'the fearful,the unbelieving, etc., shall have their part in the lake which burnethwith fire and brimstone, which is the second death.'
Henceforward, I knew what fate St. John feared for me. A calm,subdued triumph, blent with a longing earnestness, marked hisenunciation of the last glorious verses of that chapter. The readerbelieved his name was already written in the Lamb's book of life, and heyearned after the hour which should admit him to the city to which thekings of the earth bring their glory and honour; which has no need ofsun or moon to shine in it, because the glory of God lightens it, andthe Lamb is the light thereof.
In the prayer following the chapter, all his energy gathered- all hisstern zeal woke: he was in deep earnest, wrestling with God, andresolved on a conquest. He supplicated strength for the weak-hearted;guidance for wanderers from the fold: a return, even at the eleventhhour, for those whom the temptations of the world and the flesh wereluring from the narrow path. He asked, he urged, he claimed the boon of abrand snatched from the burning. Earnestness is ever deeply solemn:first, as I listened to that prayer, I wondered
at his; then, when it continued and rose, I was touched by it, and atlast awed. He felt the greatness and goodness of his purpose sosincerely: others who heard him plead for it, could not but feel it too.
The prayer over, we took leave of him: he was to go at a very earlyhour in the morning. Diana and Mary having kissed him, left the room- incompliance, I think, with a whispered hint from him: I tendered myhand, and wished him a pleasant journey.
'Thank you, Jane. As I said, I shall return from Cambridge in afortnight: that space, then, is yet left you for reflection. If Ilistened to human pride, I should say no more to you of marriage withme; but I listen to my duty, and keep steadily in view my first aim- todo all things to the glory of God. My Master was long-suffering: so willI be. I cannot give you up to perdition as a vessel of wrath: repent-resolve, while there is yet time. Remember, we are bid to work while itis day- warned that "the night cometh when no man shall work." Rememberthe fate of Dives, who had his good things in this life. God give youstrength to choose that better part which shall not be taken from you!'
He laid his hand on my head as he uttered the last words. He hadspoken earnestly, mildly: his look was not, indeed, that of a loverbeholding his mistress, but it was that of a pastor recalling hiswandering sheep- or better, of a guardian angel watching the soul forwhich he is responsible. All men of talent, whether they be men offeeling or not; whether they be zealots, or aspirants, or despots-provided only they be sincere- have their sublime moments, when theysubdue and rule. I felt veneration for St. John- veneration so strongthat its impetus thrust me at once to the point I had so long shunned. Iwas tempted to cease struggling with him- to rush down the torrent ofhis will into the gulf of his existence, and there lose my own. I wasalmost as hard beset by him now as I had been once before, in adifferent way, by another. I was a fool both times. To have yielded thenwould have been an error of principle; to have yielded now would havebeen an error of judgment. So I think at this hour, when I look back tothe crisis through the quiet medium of time:  I was unconscious of follyat the instant.
I stood motionless under my hierophant's touch. My refusals wereforgotten- my fears overcome- my wrestlings paralysed. The Impossible-i.e., my marriage with St. John- was fast becoming the Possible. All waschanging utterly with a sudden sweep. Religion called- Angels beckoned-God commanded- life rolled together like a scroll- death's gatesopening, showed eternity beyond: it seemed, that for safety and blissthere, all here might be sacrificed in a second. The dim room was fullof visions.
'Could you decide now?' asked the missionary. The inquiry was put ingentle tones: he drew me to him as gently. Oh, that gentleness! how farmore potent is it than force! I could resist St. John's wrath: I grewpliant as a reed under his kindness. Yet I knew all the time, if Iyielded now, I should not the less be made to repent, some day, of myformer rebellion. His nature was not changed by one hour of solemnprayer: it was only elevated.
'I could decide if I were but certain,' I answered: 'were I butconvinced that it is God's will I should marry you, I could vow to marryyou here and now- come afterwards what would!'
'My prayers are heard!' ejaculated St. John. He pressed his handfirmer on my head, as if he claimed me: he surrounded me with his arm,almost as if he loved me (I say almost- I knew the difference- for I hadfelt what it was to be loved; but, like him, I had now put love  out ofthe question, and thought only of duty). I contended with my inwarddimness of vision, before which clouds yet rolled. I sincerely, deeply,fervently longed to do what was right; and only that. 'Show me, show methe path!' I entreated of Heaven. I was excited more than I had everbeen; and whether what followed was the effect of excitement the readershall judge.
All the house was still; for I believe all, except St. John andmyself, were now retired to rest. The one candle was dying out: the roomwas full of moonlight. My heart beat fast and thick: I heard its throb.Suddenly it stood still to an inexpressible feeling that thrilled itthrough, and passed at once to my head and extremities.
The feeling was not like an electric shock, but it was quite assharp, as strange, as startling: it acted on my senses as if theirutmost activity hitherto had been but torpor, from which they were nowsummoned and forced to wake. They rose expectant: eye and ear waitedwhile the flesh quivered on my bones.
'What have you heard? What do you see?' asked St. John. I saw nothing, but I heard a voice somewhere cry-
'Jane! Jane! Jane!'- nothing more.
'O God! what is it?' I gasped.
I might have said, 'Where is it?' for it did not seem in the room-nor in the house- nor in the garden; it did not come out of the air- norfrom under the earth- nor from overhead. I had heard it- where, orwhence, for ever impossible to know! And it was the voice of a humanbeing- a known, loved, well-remembered voice- that of Edward FairfaxRochester; and it spoke in pain and woe, wildly, eerily, urgently.
'I am coming!' I cried. 'Wait for me! Oh, I will come!' I flew to thedoor and looked into the passage: it was dark. I ran out into thegarden: it was void.
'Where are you?' I exclaimed.
The hills beyond Marsh Glen sent the answer faintly back- 'Where areyou?' I listened. The wind sighed low in the firs: all was moorlandloneliness and midnight hush.
'Down superstition!' I commented, as that spectre rose up black bythe black yew at the gate. 'This is not thy deception, nor thywitchcraft: it is the work of nature. She was roused, and did- nomiracle- but her best.'I broke from St. John, who had followed, and would have detained me.It was my time to assume ascendency. My powers were in play and inforce. I told him to forbear question or remark; I desired him to leaveme: I must and would be alone. He obeyed at once. Where there is energyto command well enough, obedience never fails. I mounted to my chamber;locked myself in; fell on my knees; and prayed in my way- a differentway to St. John's, but effective in its own fashion. I seemed topenetrate very near a Mighty Spirit; and my soul rushed out in gratitudeat His feet. I rose from the thanksgiving- took a resolve- and laydown, unscared, enlightened- eager but for the daylight.

第二天他并没有像他说的那样去剑桥。他把动身的日子推迟了整整一周。在这段时间内，他让我感觉到了一个善良却苛刻、真诚却不宽容的人，能给予得罪了他的人多么严厉的惩罚。他没有公开的敌视行为，没有一句责备的话，却使我能立刻相信，我已得不到他的欢心。
不是说圣.约翰怀着跟基督教不相容的报复心——也不是说要是他有这份能耐，就会伤着我一根头发怎么的。以本性和原则而言，他超越了满足于卑鄙的报复。他原谅我说了蔑视他和他的爱情的话，但他并没有忘记这些话本身。只要他和我还活着，他就永远不会忘掉。我从他转向我时的神态中看到，这些话总是写在我与他之间的空气中，无论什么时候我一开口，在他听来，我的嗓音里总有着这些话的味道，他给我的每个回答也回响着这些话的余音。
他并没有避免同我交谈，他甚至还像往常那样每天早晨把我叫到他书桌旁。我担心他心中的堕落者有一种秘而不宜，也不为纯洁的基督徒所欣赏的乐趣，表明他能多么巧妙地在一如既往的言论举动中，从每个行动和每句话里，抽掉某种曾使他的言语和风度产生严肃魅力的关心和赞许心情。对我来说，他实际上已不再是有血有肉的活体，而是一块大理石。他的眼睛是一块又冷又亮的蓝宝石，他的舌头是说话的工具——如此而已。
这一切对我是一种折磨——细细的慢悠悠的折磨。它不断激起微弱的怒火和令人颤抖的烦恼，弄得我心烦意乱，神衰力竭。假如我是他的妻子，我觉得这位纯洁如没有阳光的深渊的好人，不必从我的血管里抽取一滴血，也不会在清白的良心上留下一丝罪恶的痕迹，就能很快杀死我。我想抚慰他时尤其感到这点，我的同情得不到呼应。他并不因为疏远而感到痛苦——他没有和解的愿望。尽管我一串串落下的眼泪在我们一起埋头阅读的书页上泛起了水泡，他丝毫不为所动，就仿佛他的心确实是一块石头或金属。与此同时，他对妹妹们似乎比平常更好些了，唯恐单单冷淡还不足以使我相信，我已那么彻底被逐出教门，他又加上了反差的力量。我确信他这么做不是因为恶意，而是出于对原则的维护。
他离家前夕，我偶然见他日落时在园子里散步。瞧着他的身影，我想起这个眼下虽然与我有些隔膜的人，曾经救过我的性命，又是我的近亲，心里便感动得打算作最后一次努力，来恢复友谊。我出了门，向他走去，他倚着小门站着，我立刻开门见山地说：
“圣.约翰，我不大高兴，因为你还在生我的气，让我们成为朋友吧。”
“但愿我们是朋友，”他一面无动于衷地回答，一面仍然仰望着冉冉上升的月亮，我走近他时他就早已那么凝视着了。
“不，圣.约翰。我们并不像过去那样是朋友了。这你知道。”
“难道我们不是吗？这话可错了。就我来说，我并没希望你倒霉，而是愿你一切都好。”
“我相信你，圣.约翰，因为我深信你不会希望别人倒霉，不过既然我是你的亲戚，我就希望多得到一分爱，超过你施予一般陌路人的博爱。”
“当然，”他说，“你的愿望是合理的，我决没有把你当作陌路人。”
这话说得沉着镇静，但也是够折磨人令人丧气的。要是我迁就自尊和恼怒的苗头，我会立刻走掉。但是我内心有某种比那些感情更强烈的东西在活动。我十分敬佩我表兄的才能和为人，他的友谊对我来说很宝贵，失掉它会使我心里非常难受。我不会那么很快就放弃重新征服的念头。
“难道我们就得这样分别了吗？圣.约翰？你就这么离开我去印度，不说一句更好听的话吗？”
他这会儿已完全不看月亮，把面孔转向了我。
“我去印度就是离开你吗，简？什么！你不去印度？”
“你说我不能去，除非嫁给你。”
“你将不同我结婚！你坚持这个决定？”
读者呀，你可像我一样知道，这些冷酷的人能赋予他们冰一般的问题什么样的恐怖吗？知道他们一动怒多么像雪崩吗？一不高兴多么像冰海暴裂吗？
“不，圣，约翰，我不嫁你，并坚持自己的决定。”
崩裂的冰雪抖动着往前滑了一下，但还没有塌下来。
“再说一遍，为什么拒绝？”他问。
“以前我回答过了，因为你不爱我。现在我回答。因为你差不多恨我。要是我跟你结婚，你会要我的命，现在就要我的命了。”
他的嘴唇和脸硕顿时刷白——很白很白。
“我会要你的命——我现在就在要你的命？你这些话很凶也不真实，不象女人说的。你根本就不应该这么说。这些话暴露了心灵的一种不幸状态，应当严受责备，而且是不可宽恕的。但是人的职责是宽恕他的同胞，即使是宽恕他七十七次。”
这下可完蛋了。我原是希望从他的脑海里抹去以前的伤痕，却不料在它坚韧的表面上打上了更深的印记，我已经把它烙到里面去了。
“现在你真的恨我了，”我说，“再要同你和解也没有用了。我知道我已把你变成了永久的敌人。”
这些话好似雪上加霜，因为触及事实而更加伤人。没有血色的嘴唇抖动着一下子抽搐起来。我知道我己煽起了钢刀一般的愤怒。我心里痛苦不堪。
“你完全误解了我的话，”我立刻抓住他的手说，“我无意让你难受或痛苦——真的，我没有这个意思。”
他苦笑着——非常坚决地把手抽了回去。“我想，现在你收回你的允诺，根本不去印度了，是吗？”一阵相当长的静默之后他说。
“不，我要去的，当你的助手，”我回答。
接着是一阵很长的沉默。在这间隙，天性与情理之间究竟如何搏斗着，我说不上来，他的眼睛闪着奇异的光芒，奇怪的阴影掠过他的面孔。他终于开口了。
“我以前曾向你证明，像你这般年纪的单身女人，陪伴像我这样的男人是荒唐的。我已把话说到这样的地步，我想你不会再提起这个打算了。很遗憾你居然还是提了——为你感到遗憾。”
我打断了他。类似这种具体的责备反而立刻给了我勇气。“你要通情理，圣.约翰！你近乎胡言乱语了。你假装对我所说的感到震惊，其实你并没有，因为像你这样出色的脑袋，不可能那么迟钝，或者自负，以致于误解我的意思。我再说一次，要是你高兴，我可以当你的副牧师，而不是你妻子。”
我打断了他。类似这种具体的责备反而立刻给了我勇气。“你要通情理，圣.约翰！你近乎胡言乱语了。你假装对我所说的感到震惊，其实你并没有，因为像你这样出色的脑袋，不可能那么迟钝，或者自负，以致于误解我的意思。我再说一次，要是你高兴，我可以当你的副牧师，而不是你妻子。”
他再次脸色刷白，但像以前一样还是完全控制住了自己的感情。他的回答很有力却也很镇静：
“一个不做我妻子的女副牧师，对我绝不合适。那么看来，你是不能同我去了。但要是你的建议很诚心，那我去镇上的时候可以同一个已婚的教士说说，他的妻子需要一个助手。你有自己的财产，不必依赖教会的赞助，这样，你就不会因为失信和毁约而感到耻辱。”
读者们明白，我从来没有作过一本正经的许诺，也没有跟谁订下过约定。在这种场合，他的话说得太狠，太专横了。我回答：
“在这件事情上，并无耻辱可言，也不存在着失信和毁约。我丝毫没有去印度的义务，尤其是同陌生人。同你，我愿意冒很大的险，因为我佩服你，信任你。作为一个妹妹，我爱你。但我相信，不管什么时候去，跟谁去，在那种气候条件下我活不长久。”
“呵，你怕你自己，”他噘起嘴唇说。
“我是害怕。上帝给了我生命不是让我虚掷的，而按你的意愿去做，我想无异于自杀。况且，我在决心离开英国之前，还要确实弄明白，留在这儿是不是比离开更有价值。”
“你这是什么意思？”
“解释也是徒劳的，在这一点上我长期忍受着痛苦的疑虑，不通过某种办法来解除疑团，我什么地方也不能去。”
“我知道你的心向着哪里，依恋着什么。你所怀的兴趣是非法的，不神圣的。你早该将它抛弃了。这会儿你应当为提起它来而感到害臊。你是不是想着罗切斯特先生？”
确实如此，我默认了。
“你要去找罗切斯特先生吗？”
“我得弄清楚他怎么样了。”
“那么，”他说，“就让我在祷告中记住你，真诚地祈求上帝不让你真的成为弃儿。我想我已认为你是主的选民了。不过上帝的眼光跟人的不一样，他的才真正起作用。”
他打开了栅门，走了出去，溜达着行下峡谷，很快就不见了。
我再次进入客厅的时候，发觉黛安娜伫立窗边，看上去若有所思，她个子比我高得多。她把手搭在我肩上，俯身端详起我的脸来。
“简，”她说，“现在你总是脸色苍白，焦躁不安。肯定是出了什么事了。告诉我，圣.约翰同你在闹什么别扭。我从这扇窗看了半个小时了。你得原谅我那么暗中监视你，但过了好久我还不知道自己是怎么回事。圣.约翰是个怪人——”
她顿了一下一一我没有吱声、她立刻接着说——：
“我这位哥哥对你的看法非同一般，我敢肯定。他早就对你特别注意和关心了，对别人可从来没有这样——什么目的呢？但愿他爱上了你——他爱你吗，简？”
我把她冷冰冰的手放在我发烫的额头上：“不，黛，没有那回事儿。”
“那他干嘛眼睛老盯着你——老是要你同他单独在一起，而且一直把你留在他身边？玛丽和我都断定他希望你嫁给他。”
“他确实是这样——他求我做他的妻自鸬娜恕３媚慊估吹眉暗氖焙蜮慊诎伞??戮鲂陌伞＜亲。?颐鞘艿椒愿溃??冒滋旃ぷ鳌??颐腔故艿骄?妫??谝菇?剑?兔挥腥四茏鞴ち恕！?亲∧切┙袷老砀５牟浦鞯拿?恕Ｉ系凼鼓阌辛α垦≡窈玫母７荩?飧７菔遣荒艽幽隳嵌?嶙叩摹！?br>
他说最后几个字时把手放在我头上，话说得很诚恳，也很委婉。说真的，他用的不是一个情人看女友的眼神，而是牧师召回迷途羔羊的目光——或许更好些，是一个守护神注视着他所监护的灵魂的目光，一切有才能的人，无论有无感情，无论是狂热者、还是追求者，抑或暴君——只要是诚恳的——在征服和统治期间都有令人崇敬的时刻。我崇敬圣.约翰——那么五体投地，结果所产生的冲击力一下子把我推到了我久久回避的那一点上。我很想停止同他搏斗——很想让他意志的洪流急速注入他生活的海峡，与我的水乳交融。现在我被他所困扰，几乎就象当初我受到另一个人的不同方式的困扰一样，两次我都做了傻瓜，在当时让步会是原则上的错误；而现在让步就会犯判断的错误。所以此时此刻我想，当我透过时间的平静中介，回头去看那危机时，当初我并没有意识到自己的愚蠢。
我一秙?啵”
“不过他是个漂亮的家伙。”
“而我又长得那么平庸，你知道，黛。我们决不般配。”
“平庸！你？绝对不是。你太漂亮，也太好了，不值得那么活活地放到加尔各答去烤。”她再次真诚地恳求我放弃同她兄长一起出国的一切念头。
“说真的我得这样，”我说，“因为刚才我再次提出愿意做他的副牧师时，他对我的不恭表示惊奇。他好像认为提议不结婚陪他去是有失体统，仿佛我一开始就不希望把他当成兄长，而且一直这么看他似的。”
“你怎么会说他不爱你呢，简？”
“你应该听听他自己谈谈对这个问题的看法。他口口声声解释说他要结婚，不是为了他自己，而是为了他的圣职。他还告诉我，我生来就是为了劳作，而不是为了爱情。无疑这话也有道理。但在我看来，如果我生来不是为了爱情，那么随之而来，也生来不是为了婚配。这岂不是咄咄怪事，黛，一生跟一个男人拴在一起，而他只把我当作一样有用的工具？”
“不能容忍——不通人情——办不到的！”
“还有，”我继续说，“虽然我现在对他有兄妹之情，但要是我被迫做了他妻子，我能想象，我对他的爱很可能会无可奈何，奇怪反常，备受折磨。因为他那么有才能，神态、举动和谈吐无不诱出一种英雄气概。那样，我的命运就会悲惨得难以形容。他会不要我爱他，要是我依然有所表露，他会让我感到，那是多余的，他既不需要，对我也不合适。我知道他会这样。”
“而圣.约翰是个好人，”黛安娜说。
“他是一个好人，也是个伟人。可惜他在追求大目标时，忘掉了小人物的情感和要求。因此，微不足道的人还是离他远一点好，免得他在前进时把他们踩倒了。他来了，我得走了，黛安娜。”我见他进了园子，便匆匆上楼去了。
但是吃晚饭时我不得不再次与他相遇。用餐时他完全像平常那样显得很平静，我本以为他不会同我说话了，而且确信他已经放弃了自己的婚姻计划，但后来的情况表明，在这两点上我都错了。他完全以平常的态度，或者说最近已习以为常的态度同我说话。无疑他求助于圣灵来克制我在他心里所激起的愤怒，现在他相信已再次宽恕了我。
祷告前的晚读，他选了《启示录》的第二十一章。倾听《圣经》中的话从他嘴里吐出来始终是一种享受。他在发表上帝的圣谕时，他优美的嗓子是最洪亮又最动听的，他的态度之高尚纯朴也最令人难忘。而今天晚上，他的语调更加严肃——他的态度更富有令人震颤的含义——他坐在围成一圈的家人中间（五月的月亮透过没有拉上窗帘的窗子，泻进室内，使桌上的烛光显得几乎是多余的了）。他坐在那里，低头看着伟大而古老的圣经，描绘着书页中的新天堂和新世界的幻境——告诉大家上帝如何会来到世间与人同住，如何会抹去人们的眼泪，并允诺不会再有死亡，也不会有忧愁或者哭泣，不会有痛苦，因为这些往事都已一去不复回了。
接着的一番话，他讲得让我出奇地激动不已，尤其是从他声音的难以描述的细小变化中，我感觉到，他在说这些话的时候，目光已经转向了我。
“得胜的，必承受这些为业，我要作他的上帝，他要作我的儿子。”这段话读得又慢又清楚，“唯有胆怯的，不信的……他们的份，就在烧着硫磺的火湖里，这是第二次的死。”
从此。我知道圣.约翰担心什么命运会落在我头上。
他在朗读那一章最后几句壮丽的诗句时，露出一种平静而克制的得意之情，混杂着竭诚的渴望。这位朗读者相信，他的名字已经写在羔羊生命册上了，他盼望着允许他进城的时刻，地上的君王已将自己的荣耀光照，又有羔羊为城的灯。
在这章之后的祈祷中，他调动了全身的活力——他那一本正经的热情又复苏了，他虔诚地向上帝祈祷，决心要取胜。他祈求给弱者以力量；给脱离羊栏的迷路人以方向；让那些受世俗生活和情欲诱惑而离开正道者，关键时刻迷途而知返。他请求，他敦促，他要求上天开恩，让他们免于火烙。真诚永远是庄严的。开始，我听着祈祷的时候，对他的真诚心存疑惑；接着，祈祷继续进行并声音越来越响时，我被它所打动，最后终于不胜敬畏了。他真诚地感到他目的之伟大和高尚；那些听他为此祈祷的人也不能不产生同感。
祈祷之后，我们向他告别，因为第二天一早他就要出门。黛安娜和玛丽吻了他以后离开了房间，想必是听从他的悄声暗示的缘故。我伸出手去，祝他旅途愉快。
“谢谢你，简。我说过，两周后我会从剑桥返回，那么这段时间留着供你思考。要是我听从人的尊严，我应当不再说起你同我结婚的事儿，但我听从职责，一直注视着我的第一个目标——为上帝的荣誉而竭尽全力。我的主长期受苦受难，我也会这样。我不能让你永坠地狱，变成受上天谴责的人。趁你还来得及的时候忏悔吧——下决心吧。记住，我们受到吩咐，要趁白天工作——我们还受到警告，‘黑夜将到，就没有人能作工了。’记住那些今世享福的财主的命运。上帝使你有力量选择好的福份，这福份是不能从你那儿夺走的。”
他说最后几个字时把手放在我头上，话说得很诚恳，也很委婉。说真的，他用的不是一个情人看女友的眼神，而是牧师召回迷途羔羊的目光——或许更好些，是一个守护神注视着他所监护的灵魂的目光，一切有才能的人，无论有无感情，无论是狂热者、还是追求者，抑或暴君——只要是诚恳的——在征服和统治期间都有令人崇敬的时刻。我崇敬圣.约翰——那么五体投地，结果所产生的冲击力一下子把我推到了我久久回避的那一点上。我很想停止同他搏斗——很想让他意志的洪流急速注入他生活的海峡，与我的水乳交融。现在我被他所困扰，几乎就象当初我受到另一个人的不同方式的困扰一样，两次我都做了傻瓜，在当时让步会是原则上的错误；而现在让步就会犯判断的错误。所以此时此刻我想，当我透过时间的平静中介，回头去看那危机时，当初我并没有意识到自己的愚蠢。
我一动不动地站着，受着我的圣师的触摸。我忘却了拒绝——克服了恐惧——停止了搏斗。不可能的事——也就是我与圣.约翰的婚姻——很快要成为可能了。猛地一阵风过，全都变了样。宗教在呼唤——天使在招手——上帝在指挥——生命被卷起，好像书卷——死亡之门打开了，露出了彼岸的永恒。后来，为了那里的安全和幸福，顷刻之间这里什么都可以牺牲。阴暗的房间里充满了幻象。
“你现在就能决定吗？”传教士问。这问活的语调很温柔，他同样温柔地把我拉向他。呵，那么温柔！它比强迫要有力得多！我能抵御圣.约翰的愤怒，但面对他的和善，我便像芦苇一般柔顺了。但我始终很清楚，要是我现在让步，有一天我照样会对我以前的叛逆感到懊悔。他的本性并不因为一小时的庄严析祷而改变，只不过升华了而已。
“只要有把握，我就能决定，”我回答：“只要能说服我嫁给你确实是上帝的意志，那我此时此刻就可以发誓嫁给你——不管以后会发生什么？”
“我的祈祷应验了！”圣.约翰失声叫道。他的手在我头上压得更紧了，仿佛他己经把我要去了。他用胳膊搂住我，几乎像是爱着我（我说“几乎”——我知道这中间的差别——因为我曾感受过被爱的滋味。但是像他一样，我已把爱置之度外，想的只是职守了）。我在疑云翻滚的内心同不明朗的态度斗争着。我诚恳地、深深地、热切地期望去做对的事情，也只做对的事情。“给我指点一下——给我指点一下道路吧？”我祈求上苍。我从来没有像现在那么激动过。至于后来发生的事情是不是激动的结果，读者自可判断。
整座房子寂静无声。因为我相信，除了圣.约翰和我自己，所有的人都安息了。那一根蜡烛幽幽将灭，室内洒满了月光。我的心砰砰乱跳，我听见了它的搏动声。突然一种难以言表的感觉使我的心为之震颤，并立即涌向我的头脑和四肢，我的心随之停止了跳动。这种感觉不象一阵电击，但它一样地尖锐，一样地古怪，一样地惊人。它作用于我的感官，仿佛它们在这之前的最活跃时刻也只不过处于麻木状态。而现在它们受到了召唤，被弄醒了。它们起来了，充满了期待，眼睛和耳朵等候着，而肌肉在骨头上哆嗦。
整座房子寂静无声。因为我相信，除了圣.约翰和我自己，所有的人都安息了。那一根蜡烛幽幽将灭，室内洒满了月光。我的心砰砰乱跳，我听见了它的搏动声。突然一种难以言表的感觉使我的心为之震颤，并立即涌向我的头脑和四肢，我的心随之停止了跳动。这种感觉不象一阵电击，但它一样地尖锐，一样地古怪，一样地惊人。它作用于我的感官，仿佛它们在这之前的最活跃时刻也只不过处于麻木状态。而现在它们受到了召唤，被弄醒了。它们起来了，充满了期待，眼睛和耳朵等候着，而肌肉在骨头上哆嗦。
“你听到了什么啦？你看见什么了吗？”圣.约翰问。我什么也没有看到，可是我听见一个声音在什么地方叫唤着——
“简！简！简！”随后什么也听不到了。
“呵，上帝呀！那是什么声音？”我喘息着。
我本该说“这声音是从哪里来的？”因为它似乎不在房间里——也不在屋子里——也不在花园里。它不是来自空中——也不是来自地下——也不是来自头顶。我已经听到了这声音——从何而来，或者为何而来，那是永远无法知道的！而这是一个声音——一个熟悉、亲切、记忆犹新的声音——爱德华.费尔法克斯.罗切斯特的声音。这声音痛苦而悲哀——显得狂乱、怪异和急切。
“我来了！”我叫道。“等我一下！呵，我会来的！”我飞也似地走到门边，向走廊里窥视着，那时一灯漆黑，我冲进花园，里边空空如也。
“你在哪儿？”我喊道。
沼泽谷另一边的山峦隐隐约约地把回答传了过来——“你在哪儿？”我倾听着。风在冷杉中低吟着，一切只有荒原的孤独和午夜的沉寂。
“去你的迷信！”那幽灵黑魈魈地在门外紫杉木旁边出现时我说道。“这不是你的骗局，也不是你的巫术，而是大自然的功劳。她苏醒了，虽然没有创造奇迹，却尽了最大的努力。”
我挣脱了跟着我并想留住我的圣.约翰。该轮到我处于支配地位了。我的力量在起作用，在发挥威力了。我告诉他不要再提问题，或是再发议论了。我希望他离开我。我必须而且也宁愿一个人呆着。他立刻听从了。只要有魄力下命令，别人总是听话的。我上楼回卧室，把自己锁在房里，跪了下来，以我的方式祈祷着——不同于圣.约翰的方式，他自有其效果，我似乎已进入了一颗伟大的心灵，我的灵魂感激地冲出去来到他脚边。我从感恩中站起来——下了决心——随后躺了下来，并不觉得害怕，却受到了启发——急切地盼着白昼的来临。

伊墨君(热心会员)

36楼 2013-02-12

Chapter 34

IT was near Christmas by the time all was settled: the season ofgeneral holiday approached. I now closed Morton school, taking care thatthe parting should not be barren on my side. Good fortune opens thehand as well as the heart wonderfully; and to give somewhat when we havelargely received, is but to afford a vent to the unusual ebullition ofthe sensations. I had long felt with pleasure that many of my rusticscholars liked me, and when we parted, that consciousness was confirmed:they manifested their affection plainly and strongly. Deep was mygratification to find I had really a place in their unsophisticatedhearts: I promised them that never a week should pass in future that Idid not visit them, and give them an hour's teaching in their school.
Mr.Rivers came up as, having seen the classes, now numbering sixty girls,file out before me, and locked the door, I stood with the key in myhand, exchanging a few words of special farewell with some half-dozen ofmy best scholars: as decent, respectable, modest, and well-informedyoung women as could be found in the ranks of the British peasantry. Andthat is saying a great deal; for after all, the British peasantry arethe best taught, best mannered, most self-respecting of any in Europe:since those days I have seen paysannes and Bauerinnen; and the best ofthem seemed to me ignorant, coarse, and besotted, compared with myMorton girls.
'Do you consider you have got your reward for a season of exertion?'asked Mr. Rivers, when they were gone. 'Does not the consciousness ofhaving done some real good in your day and generation give pleasure?'
'Doubtless.'
'And you have only toiled a few months! Would not a life devoted to the task of regenerating your race be well spent?'
'Yes,' I said; 'but I could not go on for ever so: I want to enjoy myown faculties as well as to cultivate those of other people. I mustenjoy them now; don't recall either my mind or body to the school; I amout of it and disposed for full holiday.'
He looked grave. 'What now? What sudden eagerness is this you evince? What are you going to do?'
'To be active: as active as I can. And first I must beg you to set Hannah at liberty, and get somebody else to wait on you.'
'Do you want her?'
'Yes, to go with me to Moor House. Diana and Mary will be at home in aweek, and I want to have everything in order against their arrival.'
'I understand. I thought you were for flying off on some excursion.
It is better so: Hannah shall go with you.'
'Tell her to be ready by to-morrow then; and here is the schoolroom key: I will give you the key of my cottage in the morning.'
He took it. 'You give it up very gleefully,' said he; 'I don't quiteunderstand your light-heartedness, because I cannot tell what employmentyou propose to yourself as a substitute for the one you arerelinquishing. What aim, what purpose, what ambition in life have younow?'
'My first aim will be to clean down (do you comprehend the full forceof the expression?)- to clean down Moor House from chamber to cellar;my next to rub it up with bees-wax, oil, and an indefinite number ofcloths, till it glitters again; my third, to arrange every chair, table,bed, carpet, with mathematical precision; afterwards I shall go near toruin you in coals and peat to keep up good fires in every room; andlastly, the two days preceding that on which your sisters are expectedwill be devoted by Hannah and me to such a beating of eggs, sorting ofcurrants, grating of spices, compounding of Christmas cakes, chopping upof materials for mince-pies, and solemnising of other culinary rites,as words can convey but an inadequate notion of to the uninitiated likeyou. My purpose, in short, is to have all things in an absolutelyperfect state of readiness for Diana and Mary before next Thursday; andmy ambition is to give them a beau-ideal of a welcome when they come.'St. John smiled slightly: still he was dissatisfied.
'It is all very well for the present,' said he; 'but seriously, Itrust that when the first flush of vivacity is over, you will look alittle higher than domestic endearments and household joys.'
'I mean, on the contrary, to be busy.'
'Jane, I excuse you for the present: two months' grace I allow youfor the full enjoyment of your new position, and for pleasing yourselfwith this late-found charm of relationship; but then, I hope you willbegin to look beyond Moor House and Morton, and sisterly society, andthe selfish calm and sensual comfort of civilised affluence. I hope yourenergies will then once more trouble you with their strength.'
I looked at him with surprise. 'St. John,' I said, 'I think you arealmost wicked to talk so. I am disposed to be as content as a queen, andyou try to stir me up to restlessness! To what end?'
'To the end of turning to profit the talents which God has committedto your keeping; and of which He will surely one day demand a strictaccount. Jane, I shall watch you closely and anxiously- I warn you ofthat. And try to restrain the disproportionate fervour with which youthrow yourself into commonplace home pleasures. Don't cling sotenaciously to ties of the flesh; save your constancy and ardour for anadequate cause; forbear to waste them on trite transient objects. Do youhear, Jane?'
'Yes; just as if you were speaking Greek. I feel I have adequate cause to be happy, and I will be happy. Good-bye!'
Happy at Moor House I was, and hard I worked; and so did Hannah: shewas charmed to see how jovial I could be amidst the bustle of a houseturned topsy-turvy- how I could brush, and dust, and clean, and cook.And really, after a day or two of confusion worse confounded, it wasdelightful by degrees to invoke order from the to purchase some newfurniture: my cousins having given me carte blanche to effect whatalterations I pleased, and a sum having been set aside for that purpose.The ordinary sitting-room and bedrooms I left much as they were: for Iknew Diana and Mary would derive more pleasure from seeing again the oldhomely tables, and chairs, and beds, than from the spectacle of thesmartest innovations. Still some novelty was necessary, to give to theirreturn the piquancy with which I wished it to be invested. Darkhandsome new carpets and curtains, an arrangement of some carefullyselected antique ornaments in porcelain and bronze, new coverings, andmirrors, and dressing-cases, for the toilet-tables, answered the end:they looked fresh without being glaring. A spare parlour and bedroom Irefurnished entirely, with old mahogany and crimson upholstery: I laidcanvas on the passage, and carpets on the stairs. When all was finished,I thought Moor House as complete a model of bright modest snugnesswithin, as it was, at this season, a specimen of wintry waste and desertdreariness without.
The eventful Thursday at length came. They were expected about dark,and ere dusk fires were lit upstairs and below; the kitchen was inperfect trim; Hannah and I were dressed, and all was in readiness.
St. John arrived first. I had entreated him to keep quite clear ofthe house till everything was arranged: and, indeed, the bare idea ofthe commotion, at once sordid and trivial, going on within its wallssufficed to scare him to estrangement. He found me in the kitchen,watching the progress of certain cakes for tea, then baking. Approachingthe hearth, he asked, 'If I was at last satisfied with housemaid'swork?' I answered by inviting him to accompany me on a generalinspection of the result of my labours. With some difficulty, I got himto make the tour of the house. He just looked in at the doors I opened;and when he had wandered upstairs and downstairs, he said I must havegone through a great deal of fatigue and trouble to have effected suchconsiderable changes in so short a time: but not a syllable did he utterindicating pleasure in the improved aspect of his abode.
This silence damped me. I thought perhaps the alterations haddisturbed some old associations he valued. I inquired whether this wasthe case: no doubt in a somewhat crestfallen tone.
'Not at all; he had, on the contrary, remarked that I hadscrupulously respected every association: he feared, indeed, I must havebestowed more thought on the matter than it was worth. How manyminutes, for instance, had I devoted to studying the arrangement of thisvery room?- By the bye, could I tell him where such a book was?'
I showed him the volume on the shelf: he took it down, and withdrawing to his accustomed window recess, he began to read it.
Now, I did not like this, reader. St. John was a good man; but Ibegan to feel he had spoken truth of himself when he said he was hardand cold. The humanities and amenities of life had no attraction forhim- its peaceful enjoyments no charm. Literally, he lived only toaspire- after what was good and great, certainly; but still he wouldnever rest, nor approve of others resting round him. As I looked at hislofty forehead, still and pale as a white stone- at his fine lineamentsfixed in study- I comprehended all at once that he would hardly make agood husband: that it would be a trying thing to be his wife. Iunderstood, as by inspiration, the nature of his love for Miss Oliver; Iagreed with him that it was but a love of the senses. I comprehendedhow he should despise himself for the feverish influence it exercisedover him; how he should wish to stifle and destroy it; how he shouldmistrust its ever conducing permanently to his happiness or hers. I sawhe was of the material from which nature hews her heroes- Christian andPagan- her lawgivers, her statesmen, her conquerors: a steadfast bulwarkfor great interests to rest upon; but, at the fireside, too often acold cumbrous column, gloomy and out of place.
'This parlour is not his sphere,' I reflected: 'the Himalayan ridgeor Caffre bush, even the plague-cursed Guinea Coast swamp would suit himbetter. Well may he eschew the calm of domestic life; it is not hiselement: there his faculties stagnate- they cannot develop or appear toadvantage. It is in scenes of strife and danger- where courage isproved, and energy exercised, and fortitude tasked- that he will speakand move, the leader and superior. A merry child would have theadvantage of him on this hearth. He is right to choose a missionary'scareer- I see it now.'
'They are coming! they are coming!' cried Hannah, throwing open theparlour door. At the same moment old Carlo barked joyfully. Out I ran.
It was now dark; but a rumbling of wheels was audible. Hannah soonhad a lantern lit. The vehicle had stopped at the wicket; the driveropened the door: first one well-known form, then another, stepped out.
In a minute I had my face under their bonnets, in contact first withMary's soft cheek, then with Diana's flowing curls. They laughed- kissedme- then Hannah: patted Carlo, who was half wild with delight; askedeagerly if all was well; and being assured in the affirmative, hastenedinto the house.
They were stiff with their long and jolting drive from Whitcross, andchilled with the frosty night air; but their pleasant countenancesexpanded to the cheerful firelight. While the driver and Hannah broughtin the boxes, they demanded St. John. At this moment he advanced fromthe parlour. They both threw their arms round his neck at once. He gaveeach one quiet kiss, said in a low tone a few words of welcome, stood awhile to be talked to, and then, intimating that he supposed they wouldsoon rejoin him in the parlour, withdrew there as to a place of refuge.
I had lit their candles to go upstairs, but Diana had first to givehospitable orders respecting the driver; this done, both followed me.They were delighted with the renovation and decorations of their rooms;with the new drapery, and fresh carpets, and rich tinted china vases:they expressed their gratification ungrudgingly. I had the pleasure offeeling that my arrangements met their wishes exactly, and that what Ihad done added a vivid charm to their joyous return home.
Sweet was that evening. My cousins, full of exhilaration, were soeloquent in narrative and comment, that their fluency covered St. John'staciturnity: he was sincerely glad to see his sisters; but in theirglow of fervour and flow of joy he could not sympathise. The event ofthe day- that is, the return of Diana and Mary- pleased him; but theaccompaniments of that event, the glad tumult, the garrulous glee ofreception irked him: I saw he wished the calmer morrow was come. In thevery meridian of the night's enjoyment, about an hour after tea, a rapwas heard at the door. Hannah entered with the intimation that 'a poorlad was come, at that unlikely time, to fetch Mr. Rivers to see hismother, who was drawing away.'
'Where does she live, Hannah?'
'Clear up at Whitcross Brow, almost four miles off, and moor and moss all the way.'
'Tell him I will go.'
'I'm sure, sir, you had better not. It's the worst road to travelafter dark that can be: there's no track at all over the bog. And thenit is such a bitter night- the keenest wind you ever felt. You hadbetter send word, sir, that you will be there in the morning.'
But he was already in the passage, putting on his cloak; and withoutone objection, one murmur, he departed. It was then nine o'clock: he didnot return till midnight. Starved and tired enough he was: but helooked happier than when he set out. He had performed an act of duty;made an exertion; felt his own strength to do and deny, and was onbetter terms with himself.
I am afraid the whole of the ensuing week tried his patience. It wasChristmas week: we took to no settled employment, but spent it in a sortof merry domestic dissipation. The air of the moors, the freedom ofhome, the dawn of prosperity, acted on Diana and Mary's spirits likesome life-giving elixir: they were gay from morning till noon, and fromnoon till night. They could always talk; and their discourse, witty,pithy, original, had such charms for me, that I preferred listening to,and sharing in it, to doing anything else. St. John did not rebuke ourvivacity; but he escaped from it: he was seldom in the house; his parishwas large, the population scattered, and he found daily business invisiting the sick and poor in its different districts.
One morning at breakfast, Diana, after looking a little pensive for some minutes, asked him, 'If his plans were yet unchanged.'
'Unchanged and unchangeable,' was the reply. And he proceeded toinform us that his departure from England was now definitely fixed forthe ensuing year.
'And Rosamond Oliver?' suggested Mary, the words seeming to escapeher lips involuntarily: for no sooner had she uttered them, than shemade a gesture as if wishing to recall them. St. John had a book in hishand- it was his unsocial custom to read at meals- he closed it, andlooked up.
'Rosamond Oliver,' said he, 'is about to be married to Mr. Granby,one of the best connected and most estimable residents in from herfather yesterday.'
His sisters looked at each other and at me; we all three looked at him: he was serene as glass.
'The match must have been got up hastily,' said Diana: 'they cannot have known each other long.'
But where there are no obstacles to a union, as in the present case,where the connection is in every point desirable, delays are Fredericgives up to them, can be refitted for their reception.'
The first time I found St. John alone after this communication, Ifelt tempted to inquire if the event distressed him: but he seemed solittle to need sympathy, that, so far from venturing to offer him more, Iexperienced some shame at the recollection of what I had alreadyhazarded. Besides, I was out of practice in talking to him: his reservewas again frozen over, and my frankness was congealed beneath it. He hadnot kept his promise of treating me like his sisters; he continuallymade little, chilling differences between us, which did not at all tendto the development of cordiality: in short, now that I was acknowledgedhis kinswoman, and lived under the same roof with him, I felt thedistance between us to be far greater than when he had known me only asthe village schoolmistress. When I remembered how far I had once beenadmitted to his confidence, I could hardly comprehend his presentfrigidity.
Such being the case, I felt not a little surprised when he raised hishead suddenly from the desk over which he was stooping, and said- 'Yousee, Jane, the battle is fought and the victory won.'
Startled at being thus addressed, I did not immediately reply: after a moment's hesitation I answered-
'But are you sure you are not in the position of those conquerorswhose triumphs have cost them too dear? Would not such another ruinyou?'
'I think not; and if I were, it does not much signify; I shall neverbe called upon to contend for such another. The event of the conflict isdecisive: my way is now clear; I thank God for it!' So saying, hereturned to his papers and his silence.
As our mutual happiness (i.e., Diana's, Mary's, and mine) settledinto a quieter character, and we resumed our usual habits and regularstudies, St. John stayed more at home: he sat with us in the same room,sometimes for hours together. While Mary drew, Diana pursued a course ofencyclopaedic reading she had (to my awe and amazement) undertaken, andI fagged away at German, he pondered a mystic lore of his own: that ofsome Eastern tongue, the acquisition of which he thought necessary tohis plans.
Thus engaged, he appeared, sitting in his own recess, quiet andabsorbed enough; but that blue eye of his had a habit of leaving theoutlandish-looking grammar, and wandering over, and sometimes fixingupon us, his fellow-students, with a curious intensity of observation:if caught, it would be instantly withdrawn; yet ever and anon, itreturned searchingly to our table. I wondered what it meant: I wondered,too, at the punctual satisfaction he never failed to exhibit on anoccasion that seemed to me of small moment, namely, my weekly visit toMorton school; and still more was I puzzled when, if the day wasunfavourable, if there was snow, or rain, or high wind, and his sistersurged me not to go, he would invariably make light of their solicitude,and encourage me to accomplish the task without regard to the elements.
'Jane is not such a weakling as you would make her,' he would say:'she can bear a mountain blast, or a shower, or a few flakes of snow, aswell as any of us. Her constitution is both sound and elastic;- bettercalculated to endure variations of climate than many more robust.'
And when I returned, sometimes a good deal tired, and not a littleweather-beaten, I never dared complain, because I saw that to murmurwould be to vex him: on all occasions fortitude pleased him; the reversewas a special annoyance.
One afternoon, however, I got leave to stay at home, because I reallyhad a cold. His sisters were gone to Morton in my stead: I sat readingSchiller; he, deciphering his crabbed Oriental scrolls. As I exchanged atranslation for an exercise, I happened to look his way: there I foundmyself under the influence of the ever-watchful blue eye. How long ithad been searching me through and through, and over and over, I cannottell: so keen was it, and yet so cold, I felt for the momentsuperstitious- as if I were sitting in the room with something uncanny.
'Jane, what are you doing?'
'Learning German.'
'I want you to give up German and learn Hindostanee.'
'You are not in earnest?'
'In such earnest that I must have it so: and I will tell you why.'
He then went on to explain that Hindostanee was the language he washimself at present studying; that, as he advanced, he was apt to forgetthe commencement; that it would assist him greatly to have a pupil withwhom he might again and again go over the elements, and so fix themthoroughly in his mind; that his choice had hovered for some timebetween me and his sisters; but that he had fixed on me because he saw Icould sit at a task the longest of the three. Would I do him thisfavour? I should not, perhaps, have to make the sacrifice long, as itwanted now barely three months to his departure.
St. John was not a man to be lightly refused: you felt that everyimpression made on him, either for pain or pleasure, was deep-graved andpermanent. I consented. When Diana and Mary returned, the former foundher scholar transferred from her to her brother: she laughed, and bothshe and Mary agreed that St. John should never have persuaded them tosuch a step. He answered quietly-
'I know it.'
I found him a very patient, very forbearing, and yet an exactingmaster: he expected me to do a great deal; and when I fulfilled hisexpectations, he, in his own way, fully testified his approbation.
By degrees, he acquired a certain influence over me that took away myliberty of mind: his praise and notice were more restraining than hisindifference. I could no longer talk or laugh freely when he was by,because a tiresomely importunate instinct reminded me that vivacity (atleast in me) was distasteful to him. I was so fully aware that onlyserious moods and occupations were acceptable, that in his presenceevery effort to sustain or follow any other became vain: I fell under afreezing spell. When he said 'go,' I went; 'come,' I came; 'do this,' Idid it. But I did not love my servitude: I wished, many a time, he hadcontinued to neglect me.
One evening when, at bedtime, his sisters and I stood round him,bidding him good-night, he kissed each of them, as was his custom; and,as was equally his custom, he gave me his hand. Diana, who chanced to bein a frolicsome humour (she was not painfully controlled by his will;for hers, in another way, was as strong), exclaimed- 'St. John! you usedto call Jane your third sister, but you don't treat her as such: youshould kiss her too.'
She pushed me towards him. I thought Diana very provoking, and feltuncomfortably confused; and while I was thus thinking and feeling, St.John bent his head; his Greek face was brought to a level with mine, hiseyes questioned my eyes piercingly- he kissed me. There are no suchthings as marble kisses or ice kisses, or I should say my ecclesiasticalcousin's salute belonged to one of these classes; but there may beexperiment kisses, and his was an experiment kiss. When given, he viewedme to learn the result; it was not striking: I am sure I did not blush;perhaps I might have turned a little pale, for I felt as if this kisswere a seal affixed to my fetters. He never omitted the ceremonyafterwards, and the gravity and quiescence with which I underwent it,seemed to invest it for him with a certain charm.
As for me, I daily wished more to please him; but to do so, I feltdaily more and more that I must disown half my nature, stifle half myfaculties, wrest my tastes from their original bent, force myself to theadoption of pursuits for which I had no natural vocation. He wanted totrain me to an elevation I could never reach; it racked me hourly toaspire to the standard he uplifted. The thing was as impossible as tomould my irregular features to his correct and classic pattern, to giveto my changeable green eyes the sea-blue tint and solemn lustre of hisown.
Not his ascendancy alone, however, held me in thrall at present. Oflate it had been easy enough for me to look sad: a cankering evil sat inmy heart and drained my happiness at its source- the evil of suspense.
Perhaps you think I had forgotten Mr. Rochester, reader, amidst thesechanges of place and fortune. Not for a moment. His idea was still withme, because it was not a vapour sunshine could disperse, nor asand-traced effigy storms could wash away; it was a name graven on atablet, fated to last as long as the marble it inscribed. The craving toknow what had become of him followed me everywhere; when I was atMorton, I re-entered my cottage every evening to think of that; and nowat Moor House, I sought my bedroom each night to brood over it.
In the course of my necessary correspondence with Mr. Briggs aboutthe will, I had inquired if he knew anything of Mr. Rochester's presentresidence and state of health; but, as St. John had conjectured, he wasquite ignorant of all concerning him. I then wrote to Mrs. Fairfax,entreating information on the subject. I had calculated with certaintyon this step answering my end: I felt sure it would elicit an earlyanswer. I was astonished when a fortnight passed without reply; but whentwo months wore away, and day after day the post arrived and broughtnothing for me, I fell a prey to the keenest anxiety.
I wrote again: there was a chance of my first letter having missed.
Renewed hope followed renewed effort: it shone like the former forsome weeks, then, like it, it faded, flickered: not a line, not a wordreached me. When half a year wasted in vain expectancy, my hope diedout, and then I felt dark indeed.
A fine spring shone round me, which I could not enjoy. Summerapproached; Diana tried to cheer me: she said I looked ill, and wishedto accompany me to the sea-side. This St. John opposed; he said I didnot want dissipation, I wanted employment; my present life was toopurposeless, I required an aim; and, I suppose, by way of supplyingdeficiencies, he prolonged still further my lessons in Hindostanee, andgrew more urgent in requiring their accomplishment: and I, like a fool,never thought of resisting him- I could not resist him.
One day I had come to my studies in lower spirits than usual; the ebbwas occasioned by a poignantly felt disappointment. Hannah had told mein the morning there was a letter for me, and when I went down to takeit, almost certain that the long-looked-for tidings were vouchsafed meat last, I found only an unimportant note from Mr. Briggs on business.The bitter check had wrung from me some tears; and now, as I sat poringover the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an Indian scribe,my eyes filled again.
St. John called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this myvoice failed me: words were lost in sobs. He and I were the onlyoccupants of the parlour: Diana was practising her music in thedrawing-room, Mary was gardening- it was a very fine May day, clear,sunny, and breezy. My companion expressed no surprise at this emotion,nor did he question me as to its cause; he only said-
'We will wait a few minutes, Jane, till you are more composed.' Andwhile I smothered the paroxysm with all haste, he sat calm and patient,leaning on his desk, and looking like a physician watching with the eyeof science an expected and fully understood crisis in a patient'smalady. Having stifled my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered somethingabout not being very well that morning, I resumed my task, and succeededin completing it. St. John put away my books and his, locked his desk,and said-
'Now, Jane, you shall take a walk; and with me.'
'I will call Diana and Mary.'
'No; I want only one companion this morning, and that must be you.Put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towardsthe head of Marsh Glen: I will join you in a moment.'
I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in mydealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, betweenabsolute submission and determined revolt. I have always faithfullyobserved the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes withvolcanic vehemence, into the other; and as neither present circumstanceswarranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observedcareful obedience to St. John's directions; and in ten minutes I wastreading the wild track of the glen, side by side with him.
The breeze was from the west: it came over the hills, sweet withscents of heath and rush; the sky was of stainless blue; the streamdescending the ravine, swelled with past spring rains, poured alongplentiful and clear, catching golden gleams from the sun, and sapphiretints from the firmament. As we advanced and left the track, we trod asoft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled with a tinywhite flower, and spangled with a star-like yellow blossom: the hills,meantime, shut us quite in; for the glen, towards its head, wound totheir very core.
'Let us rest here,' said St. John, as we reached the first stragglersof a battalion of rocks, guarding a sort of pass, beyond which the beckrushed down a waterfall; and where, still a little farther, themountain shook off turf and flower, had only heath for raiment and cragfor gem- where it exaggerated the wild to the savage, and exchanged thefresh for the frowning- where it guarded the forlorn hope of solitude,and a last refuge for silence.
I took a seat: St. John stood near me. He looked up the pass and downthe hollow; his glance wandered away with the stream, and returned totraverse the unclouded heaven which coloured it: he removed his hat, letthe breeze stir his hair and kiss his brow. He seemed in communion withthe genius of the haunt: with his eye he bade farewell to something.
'And I shall see it again,' he said aloud, 'in dreams when I sleep bythe Ganges: and again in a more remote hour- when another slumberovercomes me- on the shore of a darker stream!'
Strange words of a strange love! An austere patriot's passion for hisfatherland! He sat down; for half an hour we never spoke; neither he tome nor I to him: that interval past, he recommenced-
'Jane, I go in six weeks; I have taken my berth in an East Indiaman which sails on the 20th of June.'
'God will protect you; for you have undertaken His work,' I answered.
'Yes,' said he, 'there is my glory and joy. I am the servant of aninfallible Master. I am not going out under human guidance, subject tothe defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: myking, my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect. It seems strange tome that all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner,- tojoin in the same enterprise.'
'All have not Your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong.'
'I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it.'
'Those are few in number, and difficult to discover.'
'You say truly; but when found, it is right to stir them up- to urgeand exhort them to the effort- to show them what their gifts are, andwhy they were given- to speak Heaven's message in their ear,- to offerthem, direct from God, a place in the ranks of His chosen.'
'If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?'
I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: Itrembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare andrivet the spell.
'And what does your heart say?' demanded St. John.
'My heart is mute- my heart is mute,' I answered, struck and thrilled.
'Then I must speak for it,' continued the deep, relentless voice.
'Jane, come with me to India: come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer.'
The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved! It was as if I hadheard a summons from Heaven- as if a visionary messenger, like him ofMacedonia, had enounced, 'Come over and help us!' But I was no apostle,-I could not behold the herald,- I could not receive his call.
'Oh, St. John!' I cried, 'have some mercy!'
I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty, knew neither mercy nor remorse. He continued-
'God and nature intended you for a missionary's wife. It is notpersonal, but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed forlabour, not for love. A missionary's wife you must- shall be.
You shall be mine: I claim you- not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service.'
'I am not fit for it: I have no vocation,' I said.
He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated bythem. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded hisarms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for along and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience tolast him to its close- resolved, however, that that close should beconquest for him.
'Humility, Jane,' said he, 'is the groundwork of Christian virtues:you say right that you are not fit for the work. Who is fit for it? Orwho, that ever was truly called, believed himself worthy of the summons?I, for instance, am but dust and ashes. With St. Paul, I acknowledgemyself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of mypersonal vileness to daunt me. I know my Leader: that He is just as wellas mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform agreat task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence, supplythe inadequacy of the means to the end. Think like me, Jane- trust likeme. It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but itwill bear the weight of your human weakness.'
'I do not understand a missionary life: I have never studied missionary labours.'
'There I, humble as I am, can give you the aid you want: I can setyou your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you frommoment to moment. This I could do in the beginning: soon (for I knowyour powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself, and would notrequire my help.'
'But my powers- where are they for this undertaking? I do not feelthem. Nothing speaks or stirs in me while you talk. I am sensible of nolight kindling- no life quickening- no voice counselling or cheering.Oh, I wish I could make you see how much my mind is at this moment like arayless dungeon, with one shrinking fear fettered in its depths- thefear of being persuaded by you to attempt what I cannot accomplish!'
'I have an answer for you- hear it. I have watched you ever since wefirst met: I have made you my study for ten months. I have proved you inthat time by sundry tests: and what have I seen and elicited?
In the village school I found you could perform well, punctually,uprightly, labour uncongenial to your habits and inclinations; I saw youcould perform it with capacity and tact: you could win while youcontrolled. In the calm with which you learnt you had become suddenlyrich, I read a mind clear of the vice of Demas:- lucre had no unduepower over you. In the resolute readiness with which you cut your wealthinto four shares, keeping but one to yourself, and relinquishing thethree others to the claim of abstract justice, I recognised a soul thatrevelled in the flame and excitement of sacrifice. In the tractabilitywith which, at my wish, you forsook a study in which you wereinterested, and adopted another because it interested me; in theuntiring assiduity with which you have since persevered in it- in theunflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met itsdifficulties- I acknowledge the complement of the qualities I seek.Jane, you are docile, diligent, disinterested, faithful, constant, andcourageous; very gentle, and very heroic: cease to mistrust yourself- Ican trust you unreservedly. As a conductress of Indian schools, and ahelper amongst Indian women, your assistance will be to me invaluable.'
My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow,sure step. Shut my eyes as I would, these last words of his succeeded inmaking the way, which had seemed blocked up, comparatively clear. Mywork, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly diffuse, condenseditself as he proceeded, and assumed a definite form under his shapinghand. He waited for an answer. I demanded a quarter of an hour to think,before I again hazarded a reply.
'Very willingly,' he rejoined; and rising, he strode a littledistance up the pass, threw himself down on a swell of heath, and therelay still.
'I can do what he wants me to do: I am forced to see and acknowledgethat,' I meditated,- 'that is, if life be spared me. But I feel mine isnot the existence to be long protracted under an Indian sun. What then?He does not care for that: when my time came to die, he would resign me,in all serenity and sanctity, to the God who gave me. The case is veryplain before me. In leaving England, I should leave a loved but emptyland- Mr. Rochester is not there; and if he were, what is, what can thatever be to me? My business is to live without him now: nothing soabsurd, so weak as to drag on from day to day, as if I were waiting someimpossible change in circumstances, which might reunite me to him. Ofcourse (as St. John once said) I must seek another interest in life toreplace the one lost: is not the occupation he now offers me truly themost glorious man can adopt or God assign? Is it not, by its noble caresand sublime results, the one best calculated to fill the void left byuptorn affections and demolished hopes? I believe I must say, Yes- andyet I shudder. Alas! If I join St. John, I abandon half myself: if I goto India, I go to premature death. And how will the interval betweenleaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? Oh, Iknow well! That, too, is very clear to my vision. By straining tosatisfy St. John till my sinews ache, I shall satisfy him- to the finestcentral point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. If I dogo with him- if I do make the sacrifice he urges, I will make itabsolutely: I will throw all on the altar- heart, vitals, the entirevictim. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show himenergies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. Yes, Ican work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging.
'Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item- onedreadful item. It is- that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more ofa husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down whichthe stream is foaming in yonder gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would agood weapon, and that is all. Unmarried to him, this would never grieveme; but can I let him complete his calculations- coolly put intopractice 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 thespirit was quite absent? Can I bear the consciousness that everyendearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? No: such amartyrdom would be monstrous. I will never undergo it. As his sister, Imight accompany him- not as his wife: I will tell him so.'
I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostratecolumn; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. Hestarted 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. Ifyou were my real sister it would be different: I should take you, andseek no wife. But as it is, either our union must be consecrated andsealed by marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles opposethemselves to any other plan. Do you not see it, Jane? Consider amoment- your strong sense will guide you.'
I did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me onlyto the fact that we did not love each other as man and wife should: andtherefore it inferred we ought not to marry. I said so.
'St. John,' I returned, 'I regard you as a brother- you, me as a sister: so let us continue.'
'We cannot- we cannot,' he answered, with short, sharp determination:'it would not do. You have said you will go with me to India: remember-you have said that.'
'Conditionally.'
'Well- well. To the main point- the departure with me from England,the co-operation with me in my future labours- you do not object.
You have already as good as put your hand to the plough: you are tooconsistent to withdraw it. You have but one end to keep in view- how thework you have undertaken can best be done. Simplify your complicatedinterests, feelings, thoughts, wishes, aims; merge all considerations inone purpose: that of fulfilling with effect- with power- the mission ofyour great Master. To do so, you must have a coadjutor: not a brother-that is a loose tie- but a husband. I, too, do not want a sister: asister might any day be taken from me.
I want a wife: the sole helpmeet I can influence efficiently in life, and retain absolutely till death.'
I shuddered as he spoke: I felt his influence in my marrow- his hold on my limbs.
'Seek one elsewhere than in me, St. John: seek one fitted to you.'
'One fitted to my purpose, you mean- fitted to my vocation. Again Itell you it is not the insignificant private individual- the mere man,with the man's selfish senses- I wish to mate: it is the missionary.'
'And I will give the missionary my energies- it is all he wants- butnot myself: that would be only adding the husk and shell to the kernel.For them he has no use: I retain them.'
'You cannot- you ought not. Do you think God will be satisfied withhalf an oblation? Will He accept a mutilated sacrifice? It is the causeof God I advocate: it is under His standard I enlist you. I cannotaccept on His behalf a divided allegiance: it must be entire.'
'Oh! I will give my heart to God,' I said. 'You do not want it.'
I will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressedsarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence, and in thefeeling that accompanied it. I had silently feared St. John till now,because I had not understood him. He had held me in awe, because he hadheld me in doubt. How much of him was saint, how much mortal, I couldnot heretofore tell: but revelations were being made in this conference:the analysis of his nature was proceeding before my eyes. I saw hisfallibilities: I comprehended them. I understood that, sitting therewhere I did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form beforeme, I sat at the feet of a man, erring as I. The veil fell from hishardness and despotism. Having felt in him the presence of thesequalities, I felt his imperfection and took courage. I was with anequal- one with whom I might argue- one whom, if I saw good, I mightresist.
He was silent after I had uttered the last sentence, and I presentlyrisked an upward glance at his countenance. His eye, bent on me,expressed at once stern surprise and keen inquiry. 'Is she sarcastic,and sarcastic to me!' it seemed to say. 'What does this signify?'
'Do not let us forget that this is a solemn matter,' he said erelong; 'one of which we may neither think nor talk lightly without sin.
I trust, Jane, you are in earnest when you say you will give yourheart to God: it is all I want. Once wrench your heart from man, and fixit on your Maker, the advancement of that Maker's spiritual kingdom onearth will be your chief delight and endeavour; you will be ready to doat once whatever furthers that end. You will see what impetus would begiven to your efforts and mine by our physical and mental union inmarriage: the only union that gives a character of permanent conformityto the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over allminor caprices- all trivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling- allscruple about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personalinclination- you will hasten to enter into that union at once.'
'Shall I?' I said briefly; and I looked at his features, beautifulin their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; athis brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep andsearching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure; and fanciedmyself in idea his wife. Oh! it would never do! As his curate, hiscomrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him in thatcapacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him in thatoffice; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and vigour;accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at hisineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man:profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. I should sufferoften, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body wouldbe under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be free. Ishould still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslavedfeelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. There wouldbe recesses in my mind which would be only mine, to which he nevercame, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which hisausterity could never blight, nor his measured warrior-march trampledown: but as his wife- at his side always, and always restrained, andalways checked- forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, tocompel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisonedflame consumed vital after vital- this would be unendurable.
'St. John!' I exclaimed, when I had got so far in my meditation.
'Well?' he answered icily.
'I repeat I freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary,but not as your wife; I cannot marry you and become part of you.'
'A part of me you must become,' he answered steadily: 'otherwise thewhole bargain is void. How can I, a man not yet thirty, take out with meto India a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me?
How can we be for ever together- sometimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes- and unwed?'
'Very well,' I said shortly; 'under the circumstances, quite as wellas if I were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman likeyourself.'
'It is known that you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you assuch: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both.And for the rest, though you have a man's vigorous brain, you have awoman's heart and- it would not do.'
'It would do,' I affirmed with some disdain, 'perfectly well. I have awoman's heart, but not where you are concerned; for you I have only acomrade's constancy; a fellow-soldier's frankness, fidelity, fraternity,if you like; a neophyte's respect and submission to his hierophant:nothing more- don't fear.'
'It is what I want,' he said, speaking to himself; 'it is just what Iwant. And there are obstacles in the way: they must be hewn down.
Jane, you would not repent marrying me- be certain of that; we mustbe married. I repeat it: there is no other way; and undoubtedly enoughof love would follow upon marriage to render the union right even inyour eyes.'
'I scorn your idea of love,' I could not help saying, as I rose upand stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. 'I scorn thecounterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. John, and I scorn you when youoffer it.'
He looked at me fixedly, compressing his well-cut lips while he didso. Whether he was incensed or surprised, or what, it was not easy totell: he could command his countenance thoroughly.
'I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you,' he said: 'I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn.'
I was touched by his gentle tone, and overawed by his high, calm mien.
'Forgive me the words, St. John; but it is your own fault that I havebeen roused to speak so unguardedly. You have introduced a topic onwhich our natures are at variance- a topic we should never discuss: thevery name of love is an apple of discord between us. If the reality wererequired, what should we do? How should we feel? My dear cousin,abandon your scheme of marriage- forget it.'
'No,' said he; 'it is a long-cherished scheme, and the only one whichcan secure my great end: but I shall urge you no further at present.To-morrow, I leave home for Cambridge: I have many friends there to whomI should wish to say farewell. I shall be absent a fortnight- take thatspace of time to consider my offer: and do not forget that if youreject it, it is not me you deny, but God.
Through my means, He opens to you a noble career; as my wife only canyou enter upon it. Refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself forever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. Tremble lest inthat case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith,and are worse than infidels!'
He had done. Turning from me, he once more 'Looked to river, looked to hill.'
But this time his feelings were all pent in his heart: I was notworthy to hear them uttered. As I walked by his side homeward, I readwell in his iron silence all he felt towards me: the disappointment ofan austere and despotic nature, which has met resistance where itexpected submission- the disapprobation of a cool, inflexible judgment,which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has nopower to sympathise: in short, as a man, he would have wished to coerceme into obedience: it was only as a sincere Christian he bore sopatiently with my perversity, and allowed so long a space for reflectionand repentance.
That night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper toforget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. I-who, though I had no love, had much friendship for him- was hurt by themarked omission: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes.
'I see you and St. John have been quarrelling, Jane,' said Diana,'during your walk on the moor. But go after him; he is now lingering inthe passage expecting you- he will make it up.'
I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always ratherbe happy than dignified; and I ran after him- he stood at the foot ofthe stairs.
'Good-night, St. John,' said I.
'Good-night, Jane,' he replied calmly.
'Then shake hands,' I added.
What a cold, loose touch he impressed on my fingers! He was deeplydispleased by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm, nortears move him. No happy reconciliation was to be had with him- nocheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient andplacid; and when I asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he wasnot in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he hadnothing to forgive, not having been offended.And with that answer he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.

一切都办妥的时候已临近圣诞节了，普天下人的假日季节就要到来。于是我关闭了莫尔顿学校，并注意自己不空着手告别。交上好运不但使人心境愉快，而且出手也格外大方了。我们把大宗所得分些给别人，是为自己不平常的激动之情提供一个渲泄的机会。我早就愉快地感到，我的很多农村学生都喜欢我。离别时，这种感觉得到了证实。她们的感情很强烈，也很外露。我发现自己确实已在她们纯扑的心灵中占据了一个位置，我深为满意。我答应以后每周都去看她们，在学校中给她们上一小时课。
里弗斯先生来了——看到现在这些班级的六十个学生，在我前面鱼贯而出，看我锁上了门——这时我手拿钥匙站着，跟五六个最好的学生，特意交换几句告别的话。这些年轻姑娘之正派、可敬、谦逊和有知识，堪与英国农民阶层中的任何人媲美。这话很有份量，因为英国农民同欧洲的任何农民相比较，毕竟是最有教养、最有礼貌、最为自尊的。打从那时以来，我见过一些paysannes和Bauerinnen，比之莫尔顿的姑娘，就是最出色的也显得无
知、粗俗和糊涂。
“你认为自己这一时期的努力已经得到报偿了吗？”她们走掉后里弗斯先生问。“你觉得在自己风华正茂的岁月，做些真正的好事是一种愉快吗？”
“毫无疑问。”
“而你还只辛苦了几个月，如果你的一生致力于提高自己的民族岂不是很值得吗？”“是呀，”我说，“但我不能永远这么干下去。我不但要培养别人的能力，而且也要发挥自己的能力。现在就得发挥。别让我再把身心都投进学校，我已经摆脱，一心只想度假了。”
他神情很严肃。“怎么啦？你突然显得那么急切，这是什么意思？你打算干什么呢？”
“要活跃起来，要尽我所能活跃起来，首先我得求你让汉娜走，另找别人服侍你。”
“你要她吗？”
“是的。让她同我一起去沼泽居。黛安娜和玛丽一周之后就回家，我要把一切都拾掇得整整齐齐，迎接她们到来。”
“我理解。我还以为你要去远游呢。不过这样也好，汉娜跟你走。”
“那么通知她明天以前作好准备。这是教室钥匙。明天早上我会把小屋的钥匙交给你。”
他拿了钥匙。“你高高兴兴地歇手了，”他说，“我并不十分理解你轻松的心情，因为我不知道你放弃这项工作后，要找什么工作来代替。现在你生活中的目标、目的和雄心是什么？”
“我的第一个目标是清理（你理解这个词的全部力量吗？），把沼泽居从房间到地窖清理一遍；第二个目标是用蜂蜡、油和数不清的布头把房子擦得锃亮；第三个目标是按数学的精密度来安排每一件椅子、桌子、床和地毯，再后我要差不多耗尽你的煤和泥炭，把每个房间都生起熊熊的炉火来。最后，你妹妹们预计到达之前的两天，汉娜和我要大打其鸡蛋，细拣葡萄干，研磨调料，做圣诞饼，剁肉馅饼料子，隆重操持其他烹饪习俗。对你这样的门外汉，连语言也难以充分表达这番忙碌。总之，我的目的是下星期四黛安娜和玛丽到家之前，使一切都安排得妥妥贴贴。我的雄心就是她们到时给予最理想的欢迎。”
圣.约翰微微一笑，仍不满意。
“眼下说来这都不错，”他说，“不过认真地说，我相信第一阵快活的冲动过后，你的眼界不会局限于家人的亲热和家庭的欢乐。”
“人世间最好的东西，”我打断了他说。
“不，简，这个世界不是享乐的天地，别去想把它变成这样，或者变成休憩的乐园，不要懈怠懒惰。”
“恰恰相反，我的意思是要大忙一番。”
“简，我暂时谅解你，给你两个月的宽限，充分享受你新职位的乐趣，也为最近找到亲戚而陶醉一番。但以后，我希望你开始把眼光放远些，不要光盯着沼泽居和莫尔顿，盯着姐妹圈子，盯着自己的宁静，盯着文明富裕所带来的肉体享受。我希望到那时你的充沛精力会再次让你不安。”
我惊讶地看着他。“圣.约翰，”我说，“我认为你这样说是近乎恶毒了。我本希望象女皇那样称心如意，而你却要弄得我不得安宁！你安的什么心？”
“我的用心是要使上帝赋予你的才能发挥作用，有一天他肯定会对此严加盘问的。简，我会密切而焦急地注意你——我提醒你——要竭力抑制你对庸俗的家庭乐趣所过分流露的热情。不要那么苦苦依恋肉体的关系，把你的坚毅和热诚留给一项适当的事业，不要将它浪费在平凡而短暂的事情上。听见了吗，简？”
“听见了，就仿佛你在说希腊文。我觉得我有充分理由感到愉快，我一定会愉快的。再见！”
我在沼泽居很愉快，也干得很起劲，汉娜也一样，她看着我在一片混乱的房子里会忙得乐不可支，看着我会那么扫呀，摔呀，清理呀，烧呀，忙个不停，简直看得入了迷。真的，过了那么一两天最乱的日子后，我们很高兴地从自己所制造的混乱中，逐步恢复了秩序。在此之前我上了Ｓ城，购买了一些新家具，我的表兄表姐们全权委托我，随我高兴对房间的布置作什么改动，并且拿出一笔钱来派这个用处。普通的起居室和寝室我大体保持原样，因为我知道，黛安娜和玛丽又一次看到朴实的桌子、椅子和床，会比看到最时髦的整修更愉快。不过赋予某些新意还是必要的，使她们回家的时候有一种我所希望的生气。添上黑色漂亮的新地毯、新窗帘、几件经过精心挑选的、古色古香的瓷器和铜器摆设，还有新床罩、镜子和化妆台上的化妆盒等等，便达到了这一目的。它们看上去鲜艳而不耀眼。一间空余的客厅和寝室，用旧红木家具和大红套子重新布置了一下。我在过道上铺了帆布，楼梯上铺了地毯。一切都完成以后，我想在这个季节里沼泽居既是室内光亮舒适的典范，又是室外寒冬枯叶、
荒芜凄凉的标本。
不平凡的星期四终于到来了。估计她们约摸天黑时到。黄昏前楼上楼下都生了火，厨房里清清爽爽。汉娜和我都穿戴好了，一切都已收拾停当。
圣.约翰先到。我求他等全都布置好了再进房子。说真的，光想想四壁之内又肮脏又琐碎乱哄哄的样子，足以吓得他躲得远远的。他看见我在厨房里，照管着正在烘烤的茶点用饼，便走近炉子问道，“你是不是终于对女仆的活儿感到满意了？”作为回答，我邀请他陪我全面察看一下我劳动的成果。我好不容易说动他到房子里去走一走，他也不过是往我替他打开的门里瞧了一瞧。他楼上楼下转了一圈后说，准是费了很大一番劳累和麻烦，才能在那
么短时间内带来如此可观的变化。但他只字未提住处面貌改变后给他带来了什么愉快。
他的沉默很使我扫兴。我想也许这些更动扰乱了他所珍惜的某些往事的联想。我问他是不是这么回事，当然语气有点儿灰心丧气。
“一点也没有。相反，我认为你悉心考虑了每种联想。说真的，我担心你在这上面花的心思太多了，不值得。譬如说吧，你花了多少时间来考虑布置这间房间？——随便问一下，你知道某本书在哪儿吗？”
我把书架上的那本书指给他看。他取了下来，像往常一样躲到窗子凹陷处，读了起来。
此刻，我不大喜欢这种举动，读者。圣.约翰是个好人，但我开始觉得他说自己冷酷无情时，他说的是真话。人的美德和人生的欢乐对他没有吸引力——平静的享受也不具魅力。他活着纯粹是为了向往——当然是向往优秀伟大的东西。但他永远不会休息，也不赞成周围的人休息。当我瞧着他白石一般苍白平静的高耸额头——瞧着他陷入沉思的漂亮面容时，我立刻明白他很难成为一个好丈夫，做他的妻子是件够折磨人的事。我恍然领悟到他对奥利弗小姐之爱的实质是什么。我同意他的看法，这不过是一种感官的爱。我理解他怎么会因为这种爱给他带来的狂热影响而鄙视自己，怎么会希望抑杀和毁灭它，而不相信爱会永远有助于他或她的幸福。我明白他是一块大自然可以从中雕刻出英雄来的材料——基督教徒和异教徒英雄——法典制定者、政治家、征服者。他是可以寄托巨大利益的坚强堡垒，但是在火炉旁边，却总是一根冰冷笨重的柱子，阴郁沉闷，格格不入。
“这间客厅不是他的天地，”我沉思道：“喜马拉雅山谷或者南非丛林，甚至瘟疫流行的几内亚海岸的沼泽，才是他用武之地。他满可以放弃宁静的家庭生活。家庭不是他活动的环境，在这里他的官能会变得迟钝，难以施展或显露。在充满斗争和危险的环境中——显示勇气，发挥能力，考验韧性的地方，——他才会像一个首领和长官那样说活和行动。而在火炉边，一个快乐的孩子也会比他强。他选择传教士的经历是正确的——现在我明白了”。
“她们来啦！她们来啦！”汉娜砰地打开客厅门嚷道。与此同时，老卡罗高兴地吠叫起来。我跑了出去，此刻天已经黑了，但听得见嘎嘎的车轮声。汉娜立刻点上了提灯。车子在小门边停了下来，车夫开了门，一位熟悉的身躯走了出来，接着又出来了另一位。刹那之间我的面孔便埋进了她的帽子底下，先是触碰了玛丽柔软的脸，随后是黛安娜飘洒的卷发。她们大笑着——吻了吻我——随后吻了汉娜，拍了拍卡罗，卡罗乐得差点发了疯。她们急着问是否一切都好，得到肯定的回答后，便匆匆进了屋。
他们被惠特克劳斯到这里的长途颠簸弄得四肢僵硬，被夜间的寒气冻坏了。但是见了令人振奋的火光便绽开了愉快的笑靥。车夫和汉娜忙着把箱子拿进屋的时候，她们问起了圣.约翰。这时圣.约翰从客厅里走了出来。她们俩立刻搂住了他的脖子，他静静地给了各人一个吻，低声地说了几句欢迎的话，站了一会儿让她们同他交谈，随后便说估计她们很快会同他在客厅会面，像躲进避难所一样钻进了客厅。
我点了蜡烛好让她们上楼去，但黛安娜得先周到地叮嘱车夫，随后两人在我后面跟着。她们对房间的整修和装饰，对新的帷幔、新的地毯和色泽鲜艳的瓷花瓶都很满意，慷慨地表示了感激。我感到很高兴，我的安排完全符合她们的愿望，我所做的为她们愉快的家园之行增添了生动的魅力。
那是个可爱的夜晚。兴高彩烈的表姐们，又是叙述又是议论，滔滔不绝，她们的畅谈掩盖了圣.约翰的沉默。看到妹妹们，他由衷地感到高兴，但是她们闪烁的热情，流动的喜悦都无法引起他的共鸣。那天的大事——就是黛安娜和玛丽的归来——谈他感到很愉快，但伴随而来快乐的喧哗，喋喋不休、欣喜万分的接待，使他感到厌倦。我明白他希望宁静的第二天快点到来。用完茶点后一个小时，那晚的欢乐到达了极致，这时却响起来了一阵敲门声，汉娜进来报告说，“一个可怜的少年来得真不是时候，要请里弗斯先生去看看她的母亲，她快要死了。”
“她住在哪儿，汉娜？”
“一直要到惠特克劳斯坡呢，差不多有四英里路，一路都是沼泽和青苔。”
“告诉他我就去。”
“先生，我想你还是别去好。天黑以后走这样的路是最糟糕的，整个沼泽地都没有路，而且又碰上了天气这么恶劣的晚上——风从来没有刮得那么大，你还是传个话，先生，明天上那儿去。”
但他已经在过道上了，披上了斗篷，没有反对，没有怨言，便出发了，那时候已经九点。他到了半夜才回来，尽管四肢冻僵，身子疲乏，却显得比出发时还愉快。他完成了一项职责，作了一次努力，感到自己有克己献身的魄力，自我感觉好了不少。
我担心接下来的一整周使他很不耐烦。那是圣诞周，我们不干正经事儿，却沉浸在家庭的欢闹之中。荒原的空气，家里的自由自在的气氛，生活富裕的曙光，对黛安娜和玛丽的心灵，犹如起死回生的长生不老药。从上午到下午，从下午到晚上，她们都寻欢作乐。她们总能谈个不休，她们的交谈机智、精辟、富有独创，对我的吸引力很大。我喜欢倾听，喜欢参与，甚过干一切别的事情。圣.约翰对我们的说笑并无非议，但避之不迭。他很少在家，他的教区大，人口分散，访问不同地区的贫苦人家，便成了每天的例行公事。
一天早晨吃早饭的时候，黛安娜闷闷不乐了一阵子后问道，“你的计划没有改变吗？”“没有改变，也不可改变”便是对方的回答。他接着告诉我们，他离开英国的时间确定在明年。
“那么罗莎蒙德.奥利弗呢？”玛丽问。这句话似乎是脱口而出的，因为她说完不久便做了个手势，仿佛要把它收回去。圣.约翰手里捧着一本书——吃饭时看书是他不合群的习惯——他合上书，抬起头来。
“罗莎蒙德.奥利弗，”他说“要跟格兰比先生结婚了。他是弗雷德里克.格兰比爵士的孙子和继承人，是Ｓ城家庭背景最好、最受尊敬的居民之一我是昨天从他父亲那儿得到这个消息的。”
他的妹妹们相互看看，又看了看我。我们三个人都看着他，他像一块玻璃那样安详。
“这门婚事准是定得很匆忙，”黛安娜说，“他们彼此不可能认识很久的。”
“但有两个月了。他们十月份在Ｓ城的一个乡间舞会上见的面。可是，眼下这种情况，从各方面看来这门亲事都是称心合意的，没有什么障碍，也就没的必要拖延了。一等弗雷德里克爵士出让给他们的Ｓ城那个地方整修好，可以接待他们了，他们就结婚。”
这次谈话后我第一回见圣.约翰独自呆着的时候，很想问问他，这件事是不是很使他伤心。但他似乎不需要什么同情，因此，我不但没有冒昧地再有所表示，反而想起自己以前的冒失而感到羞愧。此外，我已疏于同他交谈，他的冷漠态度再次结冻，我的坦率便在底下凝固了。他并没有信守诺言，对我以妹妹相待，而是不断地显出那种小小的令人寒心的区别，丝毫没有要慢慢亲热起来的意思。总之，自从我被认作他的亲人，并同住一屋后，我觉得我们间的距离，远比当初我不过是乡村女教师时大得多。当我记起我曾深得他的信任时，我很难理解他现在的冷淡态度。
在这种情况下，他突然从趴着的书桌上抬起头来说话时，我不免有些惊讶了。
“你瞧，简，仗己经打过了，而且获得了胜利。”
我被这样的说话方式吓了一跳，没有立即回答。但犹豫了一阵子后，说道：
“可是你确信自己不是那种为胜利付出了重大代价的征服者吗？如果再来一仗岂不会把你毁掉？”
“我想不会。要是会，也并没有多大关系。我永远也不会应召去参加另一次这样的争斗了。争斗的结局是决定性的，现在我的道路已经扫清，我为此而感谢上帝！”说完，他回到了自己的文件和沉默中去了。
我们彼此间的欢乐（即黛安娜的、玛丽的和我的）渐渐地趋于安静了。我们恢复了平时的习惯和正常的学习，圣.约翰呆在家里的时间更多了，与我们一起坐在同一个房间里，有时一坐几小时。这时候玛丽绘画；黛安娜继续她的《百科全书》阅读课程（使我不胜惊讶和敬畏）；我苦读德文；他则思索着自己神秘的学问，就是某种东方语言，他认为要实现自己的计划很需要把它掌握。
他似乎就这么忙着，坐在自己的角落里，安静而投入。不过他的蓝眼睛惯于离开看上去稀奇古怪的语法，转来转去，有时会出奇地紧盯着我们这些同学，一与别人的目光相通就会立即收敛，但不时又回过来搜索我们的桌子。我感到纳闷，不明白内中的含义。我也觉得奇怪，虽然在我看来每周一次上莫尔顿学校是件小事，但他每次必定要不失时机地表示满意。更使我不解的是，要是某一天天气不好，落雪下雨，或者风很大，她的妹妹们会劝我不要去，而他必定会无视她们的关心，鼓动我不顾恶劣天气去完成使命。
“简可不是那种你们要把她说成的弱者，”他会说，“她会顶着山风，暴雨，或是几片飞雪，比我们准都不差。她体格健康富有适应性——比很多身强力壮的人更能忍受天气的变化。”
我回到家里，虽然有时风吹雨淋，疲惫不堪，但从不敢抱怨，因为我明白一嘀咕就会惹他生气。无论何时，你坚忍不拔，他会为之高兴，反之，则特别恼火。
一天下午，我却告假呆在家里，因为我确实感冒了。他妹妹们代我去了莫尔顿，我坐着读起席勒的作品来。他在破译鸡爪一样的东方涡卷形字体。我换成练习翻译时，碰巧朝他的方向看了下下，发觉自己正处于那双蓝眼睛的监视之下。它彻彻底底，一遍遍地扫视了多久，我无从知道。他的目光锐利而冷漠，刹那之间我有些迷信了——仿佛同某种不可思议的东西坐在一个屋子里。
“简，你在干嘛？”
“学习德语。”
“我要你放弃德语，改学印度斯坦语。”
“你不是当真的吧？”
“完全当真，我会告诉你为什么。”
随后他继续解释说，印度斯坦语是他眼下正在学习的语言，学了后面容易忘记前面。要是有个学生，对他会有很大帮助，他可以向他一遍遍重复那些基本知识，以便牢记在自己的脑子里。究竟选我还是他的妹妹们，他犹豫了好久。但选中了我，因为他看到我比任何一位都能坐得住。我愿意帮他忙吗？也许我不必作太久的牺牲，因为离他远行的日子只有三个月了。
圣.约翰这个人不是轻易就能拒绝的。让你觉得，他的每个想法，不管是痛苦的，还是愉快的，都是刻骨铭心，永不磨灭的。我同意了。黛安娜和玛丽回到家里，前一位发现自己的学生转到了她哥哥那里，便大笑不已。她和玛丽都认为，圣.约翰绝对说服不了她们走这一步。他平静地答道：
“我知道。”
我发现他是位耐心、克制而又很严格的老师。他期望我做得很多，而一旦我满足了他的期望，他又会以自己的方式表示赞许。渐渐地他产生了某种左右我的力量，使我的头脑失去了自由。他的赞扬和注意比他的冷淡更有抑制作用。只要他在，我就再也不能谈笑自如了，因为一种纠缠不休的直觉，提醒我他讨厌轻松活泼（至少表现在我身上时）。我完全意识到只有态度严肃，干着一本正经的事儿才合他的心意，因此凡他在场的时候，就不可能有别的想头了。我觉得自己被置于一种使人结冻的魔力之下。他说“去”，我就去，他说“来”，我就来；他说“干这个”，我就去干。但是我不喜欢受奴役，很多次都希望他像以前那样忽视我。
一天夜里，到了就寝时间，他的妹妹和我都围他而立，同他说声晚安。他照例吻了吻两个妹妹，又照例把手伸给我。黛安娜正好在开玩笑的兴头上（她并没有痛苦地被他的意志控制着，因为从另一个意义上说她的意志力也很强），便大叫道。
“圣.约翰！你过去总把简叫作你的第三个妹妹，不过你并没有这么待她，你应当也吻她。”
她把我推向他。我想黛安娜也是够惹人恼火的，一时心里乱糟糟的很不舒服。我正这么心有所想并有所感时，圣.约翰低下了头，他那希腊式的面孔，同我的摆到了一个平面上，他的眼睛穿心透肺般地探究着我的眼睛——他吻了我。世上没有大理石吻或冰吻一类的东西，不然我应当说，我的牧师表哥的致意，属于这种性质。可是也许有实验性的吻，他的就是这样一种吻。他吻了我后，还打量了我一下，看看有什么结果。结果并不明显，我肯定没
有脸红，也许有点儿苍白，因为我觉得这个吻仿佛是贴在镣铐上的封条。从此以后他再也没有忽略这一礼节，每次我都严肃庄重，默默无言地忍受着，在他看来似乎又为这吻增加了魅力。
至于我，每天都更希望讨他喜欢。但是这么一来，我越来越觉得我必须抛却一半的个性，窒息一半的官能，强行改变原有的情趣，强迫去从事自己缺乏禀性来完成的事业。他要把我提携到我永远无法企及的高度。每时每刻我都为渴求达到他的标准而受着折磨。这是不可能付诸实现的，就像要把我那不规则的面容，塑造成他标准的古典模式，也象要把他的海蓝色泽和庄重的光彩，放进我那不可改变的青色眼睛里。
然而，使我目前动弹不得的不全是他的支配意识。最近我很容易显出伤心来，一个腐朽的恶魔端坐在我的心坎上，吸干了我幸福的甘泉—一这就是忧心恶魔。
读者，你也许以为在地点和命运的变迁中，我已经忘掉了罗切斯特先生。说真的，一刻都没有忘记。我仍旧思念着他，因为这不是阳光就能驱散的雾气，也不是风暴便可吹没的沙造人像。这是刻在碑文上的一个名字，注定要像刻着它的大理石那样长存。无论我走到哪里，我都渴望知道他的情况。在莫尔顿的时候，我每晚一踏进那间小屋便惦记起他来；这会儿在沼泽居，每夜一走进自己的卧室，便因为他而心潮起伏。
为了遗嘱的事我不得不写信给布里格斯先生时，问他是不是知道罗切斯先生目前的地址和健康状况。但就像圣.约翰猜想的那样，他对他的情况一无所知。我随后写信给费尔法克斯太太，求她谈谈有关情况。我原以为这一步肯定能达到我的目的，确信会早早地得到她的回音。二个星期过去了，还是没有收到回信，我万分惊讶。而两个月逝去，日复一日邮件到来，却没有我的信，我便深为忧虑了。
我再次写了信，因为第一封有可能是丢失的。新的希望伴随着新的努力而来，象上次一样闪了一下光，随后也一样摇曳着淡去了。我没有收到一行字，一句话。在徒劳的企盼中半年已经过去，我的希望幻灭了，随后便觉得真的堕入了黑暗。
风和日丽的春天，我无意消受。夏天就要到了，黛安娜竭力要使我振作起来，说是我脸有病容，希望陪我上海边去。圣.约翰表示反对，他说我并不需要散漫，却缺些事儿干干。我眼下的生活太无所用心，需要有个目标。我想大概是为了补缺，他进一步延长了我的印度斯坦语课，并更迫切地要我去完成。我象一个傻瓜，从来没有想到要反抗——我无法反抗他。
一天，我开始了我的功课，情绪比往常要低。我的无精打采是一种强烈感受到的失望所引起的。早上汉娜告诉我有我的一封信，我下楼去取的时候，心里几乎十拿九稳，该是久盼的消息终于来了。但我发现不过是一封无关紧要的短简，是布里格斯先生的公务信。我痛苦地克制自己，但眼泪夺眶而出。而我坐着细读印度文字难辨的字母和华丽的比喻时，泪水又涌了上来。
圣.约翰把我叫到他旁边去读书，但我的嗓子不争气，要读的词语被啜泣淹没了。客厅里只有他和我两人，黛安娜在休憩室练习弹唱，玛丽在整园子——这是个晴朗的五月天，天清气爽，阳光明丽，微风阵阵。我的同伴对我这种情绪并未表示惊奇，也没有问我是什么缘故，他只是说：
“我们停几分钟吧，简，等你镇静下来再说。”我赶紧忍住不再发作，而他镇定而耐心地坐着，靠在书桌上，看上去像个医生，用科学的眼光，观察着病人的险情，这种险情既在意料之中又是再明白不过的。我止住了哽咽，擦去了眼泪，嘟哝着说是早上身体不好，又继续我的功课，并终于完成了，圣.约翰把我的书和他的书放在一边，锁了书桌，说：——
“好吧，简，你得去散散步，同我一起去。”
“我来叫黛安娜和玛丽。”
“不，今天早上我只要一个人陪伴，一定得是你。穿上衣服，从厨房门出去，顺着通往沼泽谷源头的路走，我马上会赶来的。”
我不知道有折中的办法。在与同我自己的性格相左的那种自信冷酷的个性打交道时，我不知道在绝对屈服和坚决反抗之间，生活中还有什么中间道路。我往往忠实执行一种方法，有时终于到了似火山喷涌，一触即发的地步，接着便转变成执行另一种方法了。既然眼前的情况不能保证我起来反抗，而我此刻的心境又无意反抗，我便审慎地服从了圣.约翰的指令，十分钟后。我与他并肩踩在幽谷的野径上了。
微风从四面吹来，飘过山峦，带来了欧石南和灯心草的芳香。天空湛蓝湛蓝，小溪因为下过春雨而上涨，溪水流下山谷，充盈清沏，从太阳那儿借得了金光，从天空中吸取了蓝宝石的色泽。我们往前走着离开了小径，踏上了一块细如苔藓、青如绿宝石的柔软草地，草地上精细地点缀着一种白色的小花，并闪耀着一种星星似的黄花。山峦包围着我们，因为溪谷在靠近源头的地方蜿蜒伸到了山峦之中。
“让我们在这儿歇一下吧，”圣.约翰说，这时我们已来到了一个岩石群的第一批散乱的石头跟前。这个岩石群守卫着隘口，一条小溪从隘口的另一头飞流直下，形成了瀑布。再远一点的地方，山峦抖落了身上的草地和花朵，只剩下欧石南蔽体，岩石作珠宝——在这里山把荒凉夸大成了蛮荒，用愁眉苦脸来代替精神饱满——在这里，山为孤寂守护着无望的希望，为静穆守护着最后的避难所。
我坐了下来，圣.约翰坐在我旁边。他抬头仰望山隘，又低头俯视空谷。他的目光随着溪流飘移，随后又回过来扫过给溪流上了彩的明净的天空。他脱去帽子，让微风吹动头发，吻他的额头。他似乎在与这个他常到之处的守护神在交流，他的眼睛在向某种东西告别。
“我会再看到它的，”他大声说，“在梦中，当我睡在恒河旁边的时候。再有，在更遥远的时刻——当我又一次沉沉睡去的时候——在一条更暗淡的小溪的岸边。”
离奇的话表达了一种离奇的爱：一个严峻的爱国者对自己祖国的激情！他坐了下来，我们足足有半小时没有说话，他没有开口，我也没有吱声。这段沉默之后，他开始说了：“简，六周以后我要走了，我已在‘东印度人’号船里订好了舱位，六月二十日开航。”
“上帝一定会保护你，因为你做着他的工作，”我回答。
“不错，”他说，“那是我的光荣，也是我的欢乐。我是永不出错的主的一个奴仆。我出门远游不是在凡人的指引之下，不受有缺陷的法规的制约，不受软弱无力的同类可怜虫的错误控制。我的国王，我的立法者，我的首领是尽善尽美的主。我觉得奇怪，我周围的人为什么不热血沸腾，投到同一面旗帜下来——参加同一项事业。”
“并不是所有的人都具有你那样的毅力。弱者希望同强者并驾齐驱是愚蠢的。”
“我说的不是弱者，想到的也不是他们。我只同那些与那工作相配，并能胜任的人说
话。”
“那些人为数不多，而且很难发现。”
“你说得很对，但一经发现，就要把他们鼓动起来——敦促和激励他们去作出努力——告诉他们自己的才能何在，又是怎么被赋予的——向他们耳朵传递上天的信息——直接代表上帝，在选民的队伍中给他们一个位置。”
“要是他们确实能胜任那工作，那么他们的心灵岂不第一个得到感应？”
我仿佛觉得一种可怕的魔力在我周围和头顶积聚起来。我颤栗着，唯恐听到某些会立即召来释放能力的致命的话。
“那么你的心怎么说呀？”圣.约翰问。
“我的心没有说——我的心没有说，”我回答，直吓得手骨悚然。
“那我得替它说了，”他继续说，语调深沉冷酷。“简，跟我一起去印度吧，做个伴侣和同事。”
溪谷和天空顿时旋转起来，群山也翻腾起伏：我仿佛听到了上天的召唤——仿佛像马其顿那样的一位幻觉使者已经宣布：“过来帮助我们，”但我不是使徒——我看不见那位使者——我接受不到他的召唤。
“呵，圣.约翰！”我叫道，“怜悯怜悯吧！”
我在向一个自以为在履行职责，不知道怜悯和同情的人请求。他继续说：
“上帝和大自然要你做一个传教士的妻子，他们给予你的不是肉体上的能力，而是精神上的票赋。你生来是为了操劳，而不是为了爱情。你得做传教士的妻子——一定得做。你将属于我的，我要你——不是为了取乐，而是为了对主的奉献。”
“我不适合，我没有意志力，”我说。
他估计到一开始我会反对，所以并没有被我的话所激怒。说真的他倚在背后的一块岩石上，双臂抱着放在胸前，脸色镇定沉着。我明白他早己准备好对付长久恼人的反抗，而且蓄足了耐心坚持到底——决心以他对别人的征服而告终。
“谦卑，简，”他说，“是基督美德的基础。你说得很对，你不适合这一工作。可谁适合呢？或者，那些真正受召唤的人，谁相信自己是配受召唤的呢？以我来说，不过是尘灰草芥而己，跟圣.保尔相比，我承认自己是最大的罪人。但我不允许这种个人的罪恶感使自己畏缩不前。我知道我的领路人。他公正而伟大，在选择一个微弱的工具来成就一项大事业时，他会借助上帝无穷的贮藏，为实现目标而弥补手段上不足。你我一样去想吧，简——像
我一样去相信吧。我要你倚靠的是永久的磐石，不要怀疑，它会承受住你人性缺陷的负荷。”
“我不了解传教士生活，从来没有研究过传教士的劳动。”
“听着，尽管我也很卑微，但我可以给予你所需要的帮助，可以把工作一小时一小时布置给你，常常支持你，时时帮助你。开始的时候我可以这么做，不久之后（因为我知道你的能力）你会像我一样强，一样合适，不需要我的帮助。”
“可是我的能力呢，——要承担这一工作，又从何谈起？我感觉不到灯火在燃烧起——感觉不到生命在加剧搏动——感觉不到有个声音在劝戒和鼓励我。呵，但愿我能让你看到，这会儿我的心象一个没有光线的牢房，它的角落里铐着一种畏畏缩缩的忧虑——那就是担心自己被你说服，去做我无法完成的事情。”
“我给你找到了一个答案——你，听着。自从同你初次接触以后，我就已经在注意你了。我已经研究了你十个月。那时我在你身上做了各种实验，我看到了什么，得出了什么启示呢？在乡村学校里，我发现你按时而诚实地完成了不合你习惯和心意的工作。我看到你能发挥自己的能力和机智去完成它。你能自控时，就能取胜。你知道自己突然发了财时非常镇静，从这里我看到了一个毫无底马罪过的心灵——钱财对你并没有过份的吸引力。你十分坚定地愿把财富分成四份，自己只留一份，把其余的让给了空有公道理由的其他三个人。从这里，我看到了一个为牺牲而狂喜拣起我所感兴趣的东西那种驯服性格中，从你一直坚持的孜孜不倦刻苦勤奋的精神中，从你对待困难那永不衰竭的活力和不可动摇的个性中，我看到了你具备我所寻求的一切品格。简，你温顺、勤奋、无私、忠心、坚定、勇敢。你很文雅而又很英勇。别再不信任你自己了——我可以毫无保留地信任你。你可以掌管印度学校，帮助印度女人，你的协助对我是无价之宝。”
罩在我头上的铁幕紧缩了起来。说服在稳健地步步进逼。我闭上眼睛，最后的几句话终于扫清了原先似乎已堵塞的道路。我所做的工作本来只是那么模模糊糊，零零碎碎，经他一说便显得简明扼要，经他亲手塑造便变得形态毕现了。他等候着回答。我要求他给我一刻钟思考，才能再冒昧地答复他。
“非常愿意，”他回答道。一边站了起来，快步朝隘口走了一小段路，猛地躺倒在一块隆起的欧石南地上，静静地躺着。
“我不得不看到并承认，我可以做他要我做的事，”我沉思起来，“如果能让我活命的话。但我觉得，在印度的太阳照射下，我活不了太久——那又怎么样呢？他又不在乎。我的死期来临时，他会平静而神圣地把我交付给创造了我的上帝。我面前的情况非常明白。离开英国，就是离开一块亲切而空荡的土地——罗切斯特先生不在这里。而即使他在，同我又有什么关系呢？现在我就是要没有他而活下去。没有比这么日复一日地苟延残喘更荒唐更软弱了，仿佛我在等待不可能发生的情况变化，从而把我和他连结在一起。当然（如圣.约翰曾说过的那样）我得在生活中寻找新的乐趣，来替代己经失去的。而他现在所建议的工作，岂不正是人所能接受，上帝所能赐予的最好的工作？从其高尚的目的和崇高的结果来看，岂不是最适合来填补撕裂的情感和毁灭的希望所留下的空白？我相信我必须说，是的——然而我浑身发抖了。哎呀！要是我跟着他，我就抛弃了我的一半。我去印度就是走向过早的死亡。而离开英国到印度和离开印度到坟墓之间的空隙，又是如何填补呢？我也看得清清楚楚。为了使圣.约翰满意，我会忙个不停，直弄得肌肉酸痛。我会使他满意——做得丝毫不辜负他的希望。要是我真的跟他去了——要是我真的作出他所怂恿的牺牲，那我会做得很彻底。我会把一切心灵和肉体——都扔到圣坛上，作出全部牺牲。他决不会爱我，但他会赞许我的做法。我会向他显示他尚未见过的能力和他从不表示怀疑的才智。不错，我会像他那样奋力工作，像他那样毫无怨言。”
“那么有可能同意他的要求了，除了一条，可怕的一条。也就是他要我做他的妻子，而他那颗为丈夫的心，并不比那边峡谷中小溪泛起泡沫流过的阴沉的巨岩强多少。他珍视我就象士兵珍视一个好的武器，仅此而已。不同他结婚，这决不会使我担忧。可是我能使他如愿以偿——冷静地将计划付诸实践——举行婚礼吗？我能从他那儿得到婚戒，受到爱的一切礼遇（我不怀疑他会审慎地做到）而心里却明白完全缺乏心灵的交流？我能忍受他所给予的每份爱是对原则的一次牺牲这种意识吗？不，这样的殉道太可怕了。我决不能承受。我可以作为他的妹妹，而不是他的妻子来陪伴他，我一定要这么告诉他。”
我朝土墩望去，他躺在那里，一动不动，像根倒地的柱子。他的脸朝着我，眼睛闪着警觉锐利的光芒。他猛地立起向我走来。
“我准备去印度，要是我可以自由自在地去。”
“你的回答需要解释一下，”他说，“不清楚。”
“你至今一直是我的义兄，而我是你的义妹。让我们这么过下去吧，你我还是不要结婚好。”
他摇了摇头。“在这种情况下义兄义妹是行不通的。如果你是我的亲妹妹，那便是另外一回事了，我会带着你，而不另找妻子。而现在的情况是，我们的结合要么非得以婚姻来奉献和保证，要么这种结合就不能存在。现实的障碍不允许有其他打算。你难道没有看到这一点吗，简？考虑一下吧——你的坚强的理智会引导你。”
我的确考虑了。我的理智虽然平庸，却替我指出了这样的事实：我们并没有象夫妻那么彼此相爱，因而断言我们不应当结婚。于是我这么说。“圣，约翰，”我回答，“我把你当作哥哥——你把我当作妹妹，就让我们这么继续下去吧。”
“我们不能——我们不能，”他毅然决然地回答，“这不行。你已经说过要同我一起去印度。记住——你说过这话。”
“有条件的。”
“行呵——行呵。在关键的问题上——同我一起离开英国，在未来的工作中同我合作——你没有反对。你已经等于把你的手放在犁轭下了，你说话算数，不会缩回去。你面前只有一个目标——如何把你做的工作出色地做好，把你复杂的兴趣、情感、想法、愿望、目标弄得更单纯一点吧，把一切考虑汇成一个目的：全力以赴，有效地完成伟大的主的使命。要这么做，你得有个帮手——不是一个兄长，那样的关系太松散，而是一个丈夫。我也不需要一个妹妹。妹妹任何时候都可以从我身边带走。我要的是妻子，我生活中能施予有效影响的唯一伴侣，一直维持到死亡。”
他说话的时候我颤抖着。我感觉到他的影响透入我骨髓——他捆住了我的手脚。
“别在我身上动脑筋了，到别的地方找一个吧，圣.约翰。找一个适合你的。”
“你的意思是一个适合我目标的——适合我天职的。我再次告诉你，我不是作为微不足道的个人——一个带着自私自利观念的男人，而希望结婚的，却是作为一个传教士。”
“我会把我的精力献给传教士——他所需要的就是这个——而不是我本人。我对于他来说，无非等于是把果壳加到果仁上，而他并不需要果壳一类的东西：我要把它们保留着。”
“你不能——也不应该。你想上帝会对半心半意的献身表示满意吗？他会接受部份的牺牲吗？我所拥护的是上帝的事业，我是把你招募到他的旗帜下的。我不能代表上帝接受三心二意的忠诚，非得死心塌地不可。”
“呵！我会把我的心交给上帝，”我说，“你并不需要它。”
读者呵，我不能保证我说这句话的语气和伴随着的感情里，有没有一种克制的嘲弄。我向来默默地惧怕圣.约翰，因为我不了解他。他使我感到敬畏，因为总能让我吃不准。他身上有多少属于圣人，有多少属于凡人，我一直难以分辨。但这次谈话却给了我启示，在我眼皮底下展开着对他本性的剖析。我看到了他的错误，并有所理解。我明白，我坐在欧石南岸边那个漂亮的身躯后面时，我是坐在一个同我一样有错的男人跟前。面罩从他冷酷和专横的面孔上落下。我一旦觉得他身上存在着这些品质，便感到他并非完美无缺了，因而也就鼓起了勇气。我与一位同等的人在一起——我可以与他争辩——如果认为妥当，还可以抗拒。
我说了最后一句话后，他沉默了。我立刻大胆地抬头去看他的面容。他的目光对着我，既表示子惊讶，又露出了急切的探询之情。“她可在嘲弄？是嘲弄我吗？”这目光仿佛说。“那是什么意思呢？”
“别让我们忘记这是一件严肃的事情，”过了一会儿他说。“这是一件我们无论轻率地想，还是轻率地谈都不免有罪的事。简，我相信你说把心交给上帝的时候，你是真诚的。我就只要你这样。一旦你把心从人那儿掏出来，交给了上帝，那么在世上推进上帝的精神王国会成为你的乐趣和事业。凡能推动这一目标的一切，你都准备立即去做。你就会看到我们肉体和精神上的结合，将会对你我的努力有多大的促进！只有这种结合才能给人类的命运和设想以一种永久一致的特性。而且只要你摆脱一切琐细的任性——克服感情上的一切细小障碍和娇气——放弃考虑个人爱好的程度、种类、力量或是柔情——你就会立刻急于要达成这种结合。”
“我会吗？”我简短地说。我瞧着他的五官，它们漂亮匀称，但呆板严肃，出奇地可怕；我瞧着他的额头，它威严却并不舒展；我瞧着他的眼睛，它们明亮、深沉、锐利，却从不温柔；我瞧着他那高高的、威严的身子，设想我自己是他的妻子！呵！这绝对不行！作他的副牧师，他的同事，那一切都没有问题。我要以那样的身份同他一起漂洋过海，在东方的日头下劳作；以那样的职责与他同赴亚洲的沙漠，钦佩和仿效他的勇气、忠诚和活力；默默地听任他的控制；自由自在地笑他根深蒂固的雄心；区别基督教徒和一般人，对其中一个深为敬重，对另一个随意宽恕。毫无疑问，仅以这样的身份依附他，我常常会感到痛苦。我的肉体将会置于紧紧的枷琐之中，不过我的心灵和思想却是自由的。我仍然还可以转向没有枯萎的自我，也就是那未受奴役的自然的感情，在孤独的时刻我还可以与这种感情交流。在我的心田里有着一个只属于我的角落，他永远到不了那里，情感在那里发展，新鲜而又隐蔽。他的严酷无法使它枯竭，他那勇士般的整齐步伐，也无法将它踏倒。但是做他的妻子，永远在他身边，永远受到束缚，永远需要克制——不得不将天性之火压得很小，迫使它只在内心燃烧，永远不喊出声来，尽管被禁锢的火焰销蚀了一个又一个器官——这简直难以忍受。
“圣.约翰！”我想得那么远时叫了出来。
“嗯？”他冷冷地回答。
“我重复一遍，我欣然同意作为你的传教士伙伴跟你去，但不作为你的妻子。我不能嫁你，成为你的一部分。”
“你必须成为我的一部分，”他沉着地回答，“不然整个事儿只是一句空话。除非你跟我结婚，要不我这样一个不到三十岁的男人怎么能带一个十九岁的站娘去印度呢？我们怎么能没有结婚却始终呆在一起呢——有时与外界隔绝，有时与野蛮种族相处？”
“很好，”我唐突地说，“既然这样，那还不如把我当成你的亲妹妹，或者像你一样一个男人，一个牧师。”
“谁都知道你不是我的妹妹。我不能那样把你介绍给别人，不然会给我们两人招来嫌疑和中伤。至于其他，尽管你有着男子活跃的头脑，却有一颗女人的心——这就不行了。”“这行”，我有些不屑地肯定说，“完全行。我有一颗女人的心，但这颗心与你说的无关。对你，我只抱着同伴的坚贞，兄弟战士的坦率、忠诚和友情，如果还有别的，那就是新教士对圣师的尊敬和服从。没有别的了——请放心。”
“这就是我所需要的，”他自言自语地说，“我正需要这个。道路上障碍重重，必须一一排除。简，跟我结婚你不会后悔的。肯定是这样，我们一定得结婚，我再说一句，没有别的路可走了。毫无疑问，结婚以后，爱情会随之而生，足以使这样的婚姻在你看来也是正确的。”
“我瞧不起你的爱情观，”我不由自主地说，一面立起来，背靠岩石站在他面前。“我瞧不起你所献的虚情假意，是的，圣.约翰，你那么做的时候，我就瞧不起你了。”
他眼睛盯着我，一面紧抿着有棱角的嘴唇。他究竟是被激怒了，还是感到吃惊，或是其他等等，很不容易判断。他完全能驾驭自己的面部表情。
我几乎没有料到会从你那儿听到这样的话，”他说，“我认为我并没有做过和说过让你瞧不起的事情。”
我被他温和的语调所打动，也被他傲慢镇定的神态所震慑。
“原谅我的话吧，圣.约翰。不过这是你自己的过错，把我激得说话毫无顾忌了。你谈起了一个我们两个水火不容的话题——一个我们决不应该讨论的话题。爱情这两个字本身就会挑起我们之间的争端——要是从实际出发，我们该怎么办呢？我们该怎么感觉？我的亲爱的表兄，放弃你那套结婚计划吧——忘掉它。”
“不，”他说，“这是一个久经酝酿的计划，而且是唯一能使我实现我伟大目标的计划。不过现在我不想再劝你了。明天我要离家上剑桥去，那里我有很多朋友，我想同他们告别一下。我要外出两周——利用这段时间考虑一下我的建议吧。别忘了，要是你拒绝，你舍弃的不是我，而是上帝。通过我，上帝为你提供了高尚的职业，而只有做我的妻子，你才能从事这项职业。拒绝做我的妻子，你就永远把自己局限在自私闲适、一无所获、默默无闻的小道上。你簌簌发抖，担心自己被归入放弃信仰、比异教徒还糟糕的一类人！”
他说完从我那儿走开，再次——
“眺望小溪，眺望山坡。”
但这时候他把自己的感情全都闷在心里。我不配听它渲泄。我跟着他往家走的时候，从他铁板一样的沉默中，我清楚地知道他对我的态度。那是一种严厉、专制的个性，在预料对方能俯首贴耳的情形下，遭到了反抗——对一种冷静和不可改变的裁决表示了非难之后，以及在另一个人身上发现了自己无力打动的情感与观点之后所感到的失望。总之，作为一个男人，他本希望逼迫我就范。而只是因为他是一个虔诚的基督教徒，才这么耐心地忍住了我的执拗，给我那么长时间思考和忏悔。
那天晚上，他吻了妹妹们以后，认为忘掉同我握手比较妥当，便默默地离开了房间，我尽管对他没有爱情，却有深厚的友谊，被他这种明显的冷落刺伤了心，我心里难受得连泪水都涌上了眼睛。
“我看得出来，你们在荒原上散步时，你和圣.约翰吵过了，简，”黛安娜说，“可是，跟上他吧，他在过道里走来走去，盼着你呢——他会和好的。”
这种情况下我没有多大的自尊。与其保持尊严，总还不如保持心境愉快，我跟在他后面跑过去——他在楼梯跟前站住了。
“晚安，圣.约翰，”我说。
“晚安，简，”他镇定地回答。
“那么握握手吧，”我加了一句。
他的手触碰我的手指时是多么冷，多么松弛呀！他对那天发生的事情很不高兴。热诚已无法使他温暖，眼泪也不能打动他了。同他已不可能达成愉快的和解——他没有激励人的笑容，也没有慷慨大度的话语。可是这位基督徒依然耐心而平静。我问他是否原谅我时，他说没有记恨的习惯，也没有什么需要原谅，因为压根儿就没有被冒犯过。
他那么回答了以后，便离开了我。我宁愿被他打倒在地。

伊墨君(热心会员)

35楼 2013-02-12

Chapter 33

WHEN Mr. St. John went, it was beginning to snow; the whirling stormcontinued all night. The next day a keen wind brought fresh and blindingfalls; by twilight the valley was drifted up and almost impassable. Ihad closed my shutter, laid a mat to the door to prevent the snow fromblowing in under it, trimmed my fire, and after sitting nearly an houron the hearth listening to the muffled fury of the tempest, I lit acandle, took down Marmion, and beginning-
'Day set on Norham's castled steep,
And Tweed's fair river broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone;
The massive towers, the donjon keep,
The flanking walls that round them sweep,
In yellow lustre shone'-
I soon forgot storm in music.
I heard a noise: the wind, I thought, shook the door. No; it was St.John Rivers, who, lifting the latch, came in out of the frozenhurricane- the howling darkness- and stood before me: the cloak thatcovered his tall figure all white as a glacier. I was almost inconsternation, so little had I expected any guest from the blocked-upvale that night.
'Any ill news?' I demanded. 'Has anything happened?'
'No. How very easily alarmed you are!' he answered, removing hiscloak and hanging it up against the door, towards which he again coollypushed the mat which his entrance had deranged. He stamped the snow fromhis boots.
'I shall sully the purity of your floor,' said he, 'but you mustexcuse me for once.' Then he approached the fire. 'I have had hard workto get here, I assure you,' he observed, as he warmed his hands over theflame. 'One drift took me up to the waist; happily the snow is quitesoft yet.'
'But why are you come?' I could not forbear saying.
'Rather an inhospitable question to put to a visitor; but since youask it, I answer simply to have a little talk with you; I got tired ofmy mute books and empty rooms. Besides, since yesterday I haveexperienced the excitement of a person to whom a tale has beenhalf-told, and who is impatient to hear the sequel.'
He sat down. I recalled his singular conduct of yesterday, and reallyI began to fear his wits were touched. If he were insane, however, hiswas a very cool and collected insanity: I had never seen thathandsome-featured face of his look more like chiselled marble than itdid just now, as he put aside his snow-wet hair from his forehead andlet the firelight shine free on his pale brow and cheek as pale, whereit grieved me to discover the hollow trace of care or sorrow now soplainly graved. I waited, expecting he would say something I could atleast comprehend; but his hand was now at his chin, his finger on hislip: he was thinking. It struck me that his hand looked wasted like hisface. A perhaps uncalled-for gush of pity came over my heart: I wasmoved to say-
'I wish Diana or Mary would come and live with you: it is too badthat you should be quite alone; and you are recklessly rash about yourown health.'
'Not at all,' said he: 'I care for myself when necessary. I am well now. What do you see amiss in me?'
This was said with a careless, abstracted indifference, which showedthat my solicitude was, at least in his opinion, wholly superfluous. Iwas silenced.
He still slowly moved his finger over his upper lip, and still hiseye dwelt dreamily on the glowing grate; thinking it urgent to saysomething, I asked him presently if he felt any cold draught from thedoor, which was behind him.
'No, no!' he responded shortly and somewhat testily.
'Well,' I reflected, 'if you won't talk, you may be still; I'll let you alone now, and return to my book.'
So I snuffed the candle and resumed the perusal of Marmion. He soonstirred; my eye was instantly drawn to his movements; he only took out amorocco pocket-book, thence produced a letter, which he read insilence, folded it, put it back, relapsed into meditation. It was vainto try to read with such an inscrutable fixture before me; nor could I,in my impatience, consent to be dumb; he might rebuff me if he liked,but talk I would.
'Have you heard from Diana and Mary lately?'
'Not since the letter I showed you a week ago.'
'There has not been any change made about your own arrangements?
You will not be summoned to leave England sooner than you expected?'
'I fear not, indeed: such chance is too good to befall me.' Baffledso far, I changed my ground. I bethought myself to talk about the schooland my scholars.
'Mary Garrett's mother is better, and Mary came back to the schoolthis morning, and I shall have four new girls next week from the FoundryClose- they would have come to-day but for the snow.'
'Indeed!'
'Mr. Oliver pays for two.'
'Does he?'
'He means to give the whole school a treat at Christmas.'
'I know.'
'Was it your suggestion?'
'No.'
'Whose, then?'
'His daughter's, I think.'
'It is like her: she is so good-natured.'
'Yes.'
Again came the blank of a pause: the clock struck eight strokes. It aroused him; he uncrossed his legs, sat erect, turned to me.
'Leave your book a moment, and come a little nearer the fire,' he said.
Wondering, and of my wonder finding no end, I complied.
'Half an hour ago,' he pursued, 'I spoke of my impatience to hear thesequel of a tale: on reflection, I find the matter will be bettermanaged by my assuming the narrator's part, and converting you into alistener. Before commencing, it is but fair to warn you that the storywill sound somewhat hackneyed in your ears; but stale details oftenregain a degree of freshness when they pass through new lips. For therest, whether trite or novel, it is short.
'Twenty years ago, a poor curate- never mind his name at this moment-fell in love with a rich man's daughter; she fell in love with him, andmarried him, against the advice of all her friends, who consequentlydisowned her immediately after the wedding. Before two years passed, therash pair were both dead, and laid quietly side by side under one slab.(I have seen their grave; it formed part of the pavement of a hugechurchyard surrounding the grim, soot-black old daughter, which, at itsvery birth, Charity received in her lap- cold as that of the snow-drift Ialmost stuck fast in to-night.
Charity carried the friendless thing to the house of its richmaternal relations; it was reared by an aunt-in-law, called (I come tonames now) Mrs. Reed of Gateshead. You start- did you hear a noise? Idaresay it is only a rat scrambling along the rafters of the adjoiningschoolroom: it was a barn before I had it repaired and altered, andbarns are generally haunted by rats.- To proceed. Mrs. Reed kept theorphan ten years: whether it was happy or not with her, I cannot say,never having been told; but at the end of that time she transferred itto a place you know- being no other than Lowood School, where you solong resided yourself. It seems her career there was very honourable:from a pupil, she became a teacher, like yourself- really it strikes methere are parallel points in her history and yours- she left it to be agoverness: there, again, your fates were analogous; she undertook theeducation of the ward of a certain Mr. Rochester.'
'Mr. Rivers!' I interrupted.
'I can guess your feelings,' he said, 'but restrain them for a while:I have nearly finished; hear me to the end. Of Mr. Rochester'scharacter I know nothing, but the one fact that he professed to offerhonourable marriage to this young girl, and that at the very altar shediscovered he had a wife yet alive, though a lunatic. What hissubsequent conduct and proposals were is a matter of pure conjecture;but when an event transpired which rendered inquiry after the governessnecessary, it was discovered she was gone- no one could tell when,where, or how. She had left Thornfield Hall in the night; every researchafter her course had been vain: the country had been scoured far andwide; no vestige of information could be gathered respecting her. Yetthat she should be found is become a matter of serious urgency:advertisements have been put in all the papers; I myself have received aletter from one Mr. Briggs, a solicitor, communicating the details Ihave just imparted. Is it not an odd tale?'
'Just tell me this,' said I, 'and since you know so much, you surelycan tell it me- what of Mr. Rochester? How and where is he? What is hedoing? Is he well?'
'I am ignorant of all concerning Mr. Rochester: the letter nevermentions him but to narrate the fraudulent and illegal attempt I haveadverted to. You should rather ask the name of the governess- the natureof the event which requires her appearance.'
'Did no one go to Thornfield Hall, then? Did no one see Mr. Rochester?'
'I suppose not.'
'But they wrote to him?'
'Of course.'
'And what did he say? Who has his letters?'
'Mr. Briggs intimates that the answer to his application was not fromMr. Rochester, but from a lady: it is signed "Alice Fairfax."'
I felt cold and dismayed: my worst fears then were probably true: hehad in all probability left England and rushed in reckless desperationto some former haunt on the Continent. And what opiate for his severesufferings- what object for his strong passions- had he sought there? Idared not answer the question. Oh, my poor master- once almost myhusband- whom I had often called 'my dear Edward!'
'He must have been a bad man,' observed Mr. Rivers.
'You don't know him- don't pronounce an opinion upon him,' I said, with warmth.
'Very well,' he answered quietly: 'and indeed my head is otherwiseoccupied than with him: I have my tale to finish. Since you won't askthe governess's name, I must tell it of my own accord.
Stay! I have it here- it is always more satisfactory to see important points written down, fairly committed to black and white.'
And the pocket-book was again deliberately produced, opened, soughtthrough; from one of its compartments was extracted a shabby slip ofpaper, hastily torn off: I recognised in its texture and its stains ofultra-marine, and lake, and vermilion, the ravished margin of theportrait-cover. He got up, held it close to my eyes: and I read, tracedin Indian ink, in my own handwriting, the words 'JANE EYRE'- the workdoubtless of some moment of abstraction.
'Briggs wrote to me of a Jane Eyre:' he said, 'the advertisementsdemanded a Jane Eyre: I knew a Jane Elliott.- I confess I had mysuspicions, but it was only yesterday afternoon they were at onceresolved into certainty. You own the name and renounce the alias?'
'Yes- yes; but where is Mr. Briggs? He perhaps knows more of Mr. Rochester than you do.'
'Briggs is in London. I should doubt his knowing anything at allabout Mr. Rochester; it is not in Mr. Rochester he is interested.
Meantime, you forget essential points in pursuing trifles: you do notinquire why Mr. Briggs sought after you- what he wanted with you.'
'Well, what did he want?'
'Merely to tell you that your uncle, Mr. Eyre of Madeira, is dead;that he has left you all his property, and that you are now rich- merelythat- nothing more.'
'I!- rich?'
'Yes, you, rich- quite an heiress.'
Silence succeeded.
'You must prove your identity of course,' resumed St. John presently:'a step which will offer no difficulties; you can then enter onimmediate possession. Your fortune is vested in the English funds;Briggs has the will and the necessary documents.'
Here was a new card turned up! It is a fine thing, reader, to belifted in a moment from indigence to wealth- a very fine thing; but not amatter one can comprehend or consequently enjoy, all at once.
And then there are other chances in life far more thrilling andrapture-giving: this is solid, an affair of the actual world, nothingideal about it: all its associations are solid and sober, and itsmanifestations are the same. One does not jump, and spring, and shouthurrah! at hearing one has got a fortune; one begins to considerresponsibilities, and to ponder business; on a base of steadysatisfaction rise certain grave cares, and we contain ourselves, andbrood over our bliss with a solemn brow.
Besides, the words Legacy, Bequest, go side by side with the words,Death, Funeral. My uncle I had heard was dead- my only relative; eversince being made aware of his existence, I had cherished the hope of oneday seeing him: now, I never should. And then this money came only tome: not to me and a rejoicing family, but to my isolated self.
It was a grand boon doubtless; and independence would be glorious- yes, I felt that- that thought swelled my heart.
'You unbend your forehead at last,' said Mr. Rivers. 'I thought Medusa had looked at you, and that you were turning to stone.
Perhaps now you will ask how much you are worth?'
'How much am I worth?'
'Oh, a trifle! Nothing of course to speak of- twenty thousand pounds, I think they say- but what is that?'
'Twenty thousand pounds?'
Here was a new stunner- I had been calculating on four or fivethousand. This news actually took my breath for a moment: Mr. St. John,whom I had never heard laugh before, laughed now.
'Well,' said he, 'if you had committed a murder, and I had told youyour crime was discovered, you could scarcely look more aghast.'
'It is a large sum- don't you think there is a mistake?'
'No mistake at all.'
'Perhaps you have read the figures wrong- it may be two thousand!'
'It is written in letters, not figures,- twenty thousand.'
I again felt rather like an individual of but average gastronomicalpowers sitting down to feast alone at a table spread with provisions fora hundred. Mr. Rivers rose now and put his cloak on.
'If it were not such a very wild night,' he said, 'I would sendHannah down to keep you company: you look too desperately miserable tobe left alone. But Hannah, poor woman! could not stride the drifts sowell as I: her legs are not quite so long: so I must e'en leave you toyour sorrows. Good-night.'
He was lifting the latch: a sudden thought occurred to me.
'Stop one minute!' I cried.
'Well?'
'It puzzles me to know why Mr. Briggs wrote to you about me; or howhe knew you, or could fancy that you, living in such an out-of-the-wayplace, had the power to aid in my discovery.'
'Oh! I am a clergyman,' he said; 'and the clergy are often appealed to about odd matters.' Again the latch rattled.
'No; that does not satisfy me!' I exclaimed: and indeed there wassomething in the hasty and unexplanatory reply which, instead ofallaying, piqued my curiosity more than ever.
'It is a very strange piece of business,' I added; 'I must know more about it.'
'Another time.'
'No; to-night!- to-night!' and as he turned from the door, I placed myself between it and him. He looked rather embarrassed.
'You certainly shall not go till you have told me all,' I said.
'I would rather not just now.'
'You shall!- you must!'
'I would rather Diana or Mary informed you.'
Of course these objections wrought my eagerness to a climax: gratified it must be, and that without delay; and I told him so.
'But I apprised you that I was a hard man,' said he, 'difficult to persuade.'
'And I am a hard woman,- impossible to put off.'
'And then,' he pursued, 'I am cold: no fervour infects me.'
'Whereas I am hot, and fire dissolves ice. The blaze there has thawedall the snow from your cloak; by the same token, it has streamed on tomy floor, and made it like a trampled street. As you hope ever to beforgiven, Mr. Rivers, the high crime and misdemeanour of spoiling asanded kitchen, tell me what I wish to know.'
'Well, then,' he said, 'I yield; if not to your earnestness, to yourperseverance: as stone is worn by continual dropping. Besides, you mustknow some day,- as well now as later. Your name is Jane Eyre?'
'Of course: that was all settled before.'
'You are not, perhaps, aware that I am your namesake?- that I was christened St. John Eyre Rivers?'
'No, indeed! I remember now seeing the letter E. comprised in yourinitials written in books you have at different times lent me; but Inever asked for what name it stood. But what then? Surely-'
I stopped: I could not trust myself to entertain, much less toexpress, the thought that rushed upon me- that embodied itself,- that,in a second, stood out a strong, solid probability. Circumstances knitthemselves, fitted themselves, shot into order: the chain that had beenlying hitherto a formless lump of links was drawn out straight,- everyring was perfect, the connection complete. I knew, by instinct, how thematter stood, before St. John had said another word; but I cannot expectthe reader to have the same intuitive perception, so I must repeat hisexplanation.
'My mother's name was Eyre; she had two brothers; one a clergyman,who married Miss Jane Reed, of Gateshead; the other, John Eyre, Esq.,merchant, late of Funchal, Madeira. Mr. Briggs, being Mr. Eyre'ssolicitor, wrote to us last August to inform us of our uncle's death,and to say that he had left his property to his brother the clergyman'sorphan daughter, overlooking us, in consequence of a quarrel, neverforgiven, between him and my father. He wrote again a few weeks since,to intimate that the heiress was lost, and asking if we knew anything ofher. A name casually written on a slip of paper has enabled me to findher out. You know the rest.' Again he was going, but I set my backagainst the door.
'Do let me speak,' I said; 'let me have one moment to draw breath andreflect.' I paused- he stood before me, hat in hand, looking composedenough. I resumed-
'Your mother was my father's sister?'
'Yes.'
'My aunt, consequently?'
He bowed.
'My uncle John was your uncle John? You, Diana, and Mary are his sister's children, as I am his brother's child?'
'Undeniably.'
'You three, then, are my cousins; half our blood on each side flows from the same source?'
'We are cousins; yes.'
I surveyed him. It seemed I had found a brother: one I could be proudof,- one I could love; and two sisters, whose qualities were such,that, when I knew them but as mere strangers, they had inspired me withgenuine affection and admiration. The two girls, on whom, kneeling downon the wet ground, and looking through the low, latticed window of MoorHouse kitchen, I had gazed with so bitter a mixture of interest anddespair, were my near kinswomen; and the young and stately gentleman whohad found me almost dying at his threshold was my blood relation.Glorious discovery to a lonely wretch! This was wealth indeed!- wealthto the heart!- a mine of pure, genial affections. This was a blessing,bright, vivid, and exhilarating;- not like the ponderous gift of gold:rich and welcome enough in its way, but sobering from its weight. I nowclapped my hands in sudden joy- my pulse bounded, my veins thrilled.
'Oh, I am glad!- I am glad!' I exclaimed.
St. John smiled. 'Did I not say you neglected essential points topursue trifles?' he asked. 'You were serious when I told you you had gota fortune; and now, for a matter of no moment, you are excited.'
'What can you mean? It may be of no moment to you; you have sistersand don't care for a cousin; but I had nobody; and now three relations,-or two, if you don't choose to be counted,- are born into my worldfull-grown. I say again, I am glad!'
I walked fast through the room: I stopped, half suffocated with thethoughts that rose faster than I could receive, comprehend, settlethem:- thoughts of what might, could, would, and should be, and that erelong. I looked at the blank wall: it seemed a sky thick with ascendingstars,- every one lit me to a purpose or delight. Those who had saved mylife, whom, till this hour, I had loved barrenly, I could now benefit.They were under a yoke,- I could free them: they were scattered,- Icould reunite them: the independence, the affluence which was mine,might be theirs too. Were we not four? Twenty thousand pounds sharedequally, would be five thousand each,- enough and to spare: justicewould be done,- mutual happiness secured. Now the wealth did not weighon me: now it was not a mere bequest of coin,- it was a legacy of life,hope, enjoyment.
How I looked while these ideas were taking my spirit by storm, Icannot tell; but I perceived soon that Mr. Rivers had placed a chairbehind me, and was gently attempting to make me sit down on it. He alsoadvised me to be composed; I scorned the insinuation of helplessness anddistraction, shook off his hand, and began to walk about again.
'Write to Diana and Mary to-morrow,' I said, 'and tell them to comehome directly. Diana said they would both consider themselves rich with athousand pounds, so with five thousand they will do very well.'
'Tell me where I can get you a glass of water,' said St. John; 'you must really make an effort to tranquillise your feelings.'
'Nonsense! and what sort of an effect will the bequest have on you?Will it keep you in England, induce you to marry Miss Oliver, and settledown like an ordinary mortal?'
'You wander: your head becomes confused. I have been too abrupt incommunicating the news; it has excited you beyond your strength.'
'Mr. Rivers! you quite put me out of patience: I am rational enough;it is you who misunderstand, or rather who affect to misunderstand.'
'Perhaps, if you explained yourself a little more fully, I should comprehend better.'
'Explain! What is there to explain? You cannot fail to see thattwenty thousand pounds, the sum in question, divided equally between thenephew and three nieces of our uncle, will give five thousand to each?What I want is, that you should write to your sisters and tell them ofthe fortune that has accrued to them.'
'To you, you mean.'
'I have intimated my view of the case: I am incapable of taking anyother. I am not brutally selfish, blindly unjust, or fiendishlyungrateful. Besides, I am resolved I will have a home and connections.
I like Moor House, and I will live at Moor House; I like Diana andMary, and I will attach myself for life to Diana and Mary. It wouldplease and benefit me to have five thousand pounds; it would torment andoppress me to have twenty thousand; which, moreover, could never bemine in justice, though it might in law. I abandon to you, then, what isabsolutely superfluous to me. Let there be no opposition, and nodiscussion about it; let us agree amongst each other, and decide thepoint at once.'
'This is acting on first impulses; you must take days to consider such a matter, ere your word can be regarded as valid.'
'Oh! if all you doubt is my sincerity, I am easy: you see the justice of the case?'
'I do see a certain justice; but it is contrary to all custom.
Besides, the entire fortune is your right: my uncle gained it by hisown efforts; he was free to leave it to whom he would: he left it toyou. After all, justice permits you to keep it: you may, with a clearconscience, consider it absolutely your own.'
'With me,' said I, 'it is fully as much a matter of feeling as ofconscience: I must indulge my feelings; I so seldom have had anopportunity of doing so. Were you to argue, object, and annoy me for ayear, I could not forego the delicious pleasure of which I have caught aglimpse- that of repaying, in part, a mighty obligation, and winning tomyself life-long friends.'
'You think so now,' rejoined St. John, 'because you do not know whatit is to possess, nor consequently to enjoy wealth: you cannot form anotion of the importance twenty thousand pounds would give you; of theplace it would enable you to take in society; of the prospects it wouldopen to you: you cannot-'
'And you,' I interrupted, 'cannot at all imagine the craving I havefor fraternal and sisterly love. I never had a home, I never hadbrothers or sisters; I must and will have them now: you are notreluctant to admit me and own me, are you?'
'Jane, I will be your brother- my sisters will be your sisters- without stipulating for this sacrifice of your just rights.'
'Brother? Yes; at the distance of a thousand leagues! Sisters? Yes; slaving amongst strangers! I, wealthy- gorged with gold I never earnedand do not merit! You, penniless! Famous equality and fraternisation!Close union! Intimate attachment!'
'But, Jane, your aspirations after family ties and domestic happinessmay be realised otherwise than by the means you contemplate: you maymarry.'
'Nonsense, again! Marry! I don't want to marry, and never shall marry.'
'That is saying too much: such hazardous affirmations are a proof of the excitement under which you labour.'
'It is not saying too much: I know what I feel, and how averse are myinclinations to the bare thought of marriage. No one would take me forlove; and I will not be regarded in the light of a mere moneyspeculation. And I do not want a stranger- unsympathising, alien,different from me; I want my kindred: those with whom I have fullfellow-feeling. Say again you will be my brother: when you uttered thewords I was satisfied, happy; repeat them, if you can, repeat themsincerely.'
'I think I can. I know I have always loved my own sisters; and I knowon what my affection for them is grounded,- respect for their worth andadmiration of their talents. You too have principle and mind: yourtastes and habits resemble Diana's and Mary's; your presence is alwaysagreeable to me; in your conversation I have already for some time founda salutary solace. I feel I can easily and naturally make room in myheart for you, as my third and youngest sister.'
'Thank you: that contents me for to-night. Now you had better go; forif you stay longer, you will perhaps irritate me afresh by somemistrustful scruple.'
'And the school, Miss Eyre? It must now be shut up, I suppose?'
'No. I will retain my post of mistress till you get a substitute.' He smiled approbation: we shook hands, and he took leave. I need notnarrate in detail the further struggles I had, and arguments I used, toget matters regarding the legacy settled as I wished. My task was avery hard one; but, as I was absolutely resolved- as my cousins saw atlength that my mind was really and immutably fixed on making a justdivision of the property- as they must in their own hearts have felt theequity of the intention; and must, besides, have been innatelyconscious that in my place they would have done precisely what I wishedto do- they yielded at length so far as to consent to put the affair toarbitration. The judges chosen were Mr. Oliver and an able lawyer: bothcoincided in my opinion: I carried my point. The instruments of transferwere drawn out: St. John, Diana, Mary, and I, each became possessed of acompetency.

圣.约翰先生走掉后，天开始下雪了。暴风雷刮了整整一夜。第二天刺骨的风又带来茫茫大雪，到了黄昏，雪积山谷，道路几乎不通。我关了窗，把一个垫子挂在门上，免得雪从门底下吹进来，整了整火，在炉边坐了近一个小时，倾听着暴风雪低沉的怒吼，我点了根蜡烛，取来了《玛米昂》，开始读了起来——
残阳照着诺汉那城堡峭立的陡壁，
美丽的特威德河又宽又深，
契维奥特山孑然独立；
气势雄伟的塔楼和城堡的主垒，
两侧那绵延不绝的围墙，
都在落日余辉中闪动着金光。
我立刻沉浸在音乐之中，忘掉了暴风雪。
我听见了一声响动，心想一定是风摇动着门的声音。不，是圣.约翰.里弗斯先生，从天寒地冻的暴风雪中，从怒吼着的黑暗中走出来，拉开门栓，站有我面前。遮盖着他高高身躯的斗篷，像冰川一样一片雪白，我几乎有些惊慌了，在这样的夜晚我不曾料到会有穿过积雪封冻的山谷，前来造访的客人。
“有什么坏消息吧？”我问。“出了什么事吗？”
“没有，你那么容易受惊！”他回答，一边脱下斗篷，挂在门上。他冷冷地推了推进来时被他弄歪了的垫子，跺了跺脚，把靴子上的雪抖掉。
“我会把你干净的地板弄脏的，”他说，“不过你得原谅我一回。”随后他走近火炉。“说真的，我好不容易到了这儿，”他一面在火焰上烘着手，一面说，“有一堆积雪让我陷到了腰部、幸亏雪很软。”
“可是你干嘛要来呢，”我忍不住说。
“这么问客人是不大客气的。不过既然你问了，我就回答，纯粹是想要同你聊一会儿。不会出声的书，空空荡荡的房间，我都厌倦了。此外，从昨天起我便有些激动不安，像是一个人听了半截故事，急不可耐地要听下去一样。”
他坐了下来。我回想起他昨天奇怪的举动，真的开始担心他的理智受到了影响。然而要是他神经错乱了，那他的错乱还是比较冷静和镇定的。当他把被雪弄湿的头发从额头撸到旁边，让火光任意照在苍白的额角和脸颊上时，我从来没有看到过他那漂亮的脸容，像现在这样酷似大理石雕像了。我悲哀地发现这张脸上清晰地刻下了辛劳和忧伤的凹陷痕迹。我等待着，盼着他会说一些我至少能够理解的事，但这会儿他的手托着下巴，手指放在嘴唇上，他在沉思默想。我的印象是，他的手跟他的脸一样消瘦。我心里涌起了—阵也许是不必要的怜悯之情，感动得说话了：
“但愿黛安娜或玛丽会来跟你住在一起，你那么孤零零一个人，实在太糟糕了，而你对自己的健康又那么草率。”
“—点也没有，”他说，“必要时我会照顾自己的，我现在很好，你看见我什么地方不好啦？”
他说这话的时候心不在焉，神情漠然。表明我的关切，至少在他看来是多余的。我闭上了嘴。
他依然慢悠悠地把手指移到上嘴唇，依然那么睡眼朦胧地看着闪烁的炉格，像是有什么要紧的事儿要说。我立刻问他是不是感到有一阵冷风从他背后的门吹来。
没有，没有，”他有些恼火，回答得很简捷，
“好吧，”我沉思起来，“要是你不愿谈、你可以保持沉默，我就不打扰你了，我看我的书去。”
于是我剪了烛芯，继续细读起《玛米昂》来。不久他开始动弹了，我的眼睛立刻被他的动作所吸引。他只不过取出了一个山羊鞣皮面皮夹子，从里面拿出一封信来，默默地看着，又把它折起来，放回原处，再次陷入了沉思。面前站着这么一个不可思议的固定物，想要看书也看不进去。而在这种不耐烦的时刻，我也不愿当哑巴。他要是不高兴，尽可拒绝我，但我要同他交谈。
“最近接到过黛安娜和玛丽的信吗？”
“自从一周前我给你看的那封信后，没有收到过。”
“你自己的安排没有什么更动吧？该不会叫你比你估计更早离开英国吧？”
“说实在恐怕不会。这样的机会太好了，不会落到我头上。”我至此毫无进展，于是便掉转熗头——决定谈学校和学生了。
“玛丽．加勒特的母亲好些了，玛丽今天早上到校里来了，下星期我有四个从铸造场来的新同学——要不是这场雪今天该到了。”
“真的？”
“奥利弗先生支付其中两个的学费。”
“是吗？”
“他打算在圣诞节请全校的客人。”
“我知道了。”
“是你的建议吗，”
“不是。”
“那么是谁的？”
“他女儿的，我想。”
“是像她建议的，她心地善良。”
“是呀。”
谈话停顿了下来，再次出现了空隙。时钟敲了八下。钟声把他惊醒了，他分开交叉的腿，站直了身子，转向我。
“把你的书放—会儿吧，过来靠近点火炉”他说。
我有些纳闷，而且是无止境地纳闷，于是也就答应了。
“半小时之前，”他接着说，“我曾说起急于听一个故事的续篇。后来想了一下，还是让我扮演叙述者的角色，让你转化为听众比较好办。开场之前，我有言在先，这个故事在你的耳朵听来恐怕有些陈腐，但是过时的细节从另一张嘴里吐出来，常常又会获得某种程度的新鲜感。至于别的就不管了，陈腐也好，新鲜也好，反正很短。”
“二十年前，一个穷苦的牧师——这会儿且不去管他叫什么名字——与一个有钱人的女儿相爱。她爱上了他，而且不听她所有朋友的劝告，嫁给了他。结果婚礼一结束他们就同她断绝了关系。两年未到，这一对草率的夫妇双双故去。静静地躺在同一块石板底下（我见过他们的坟墓，它在××郡的一个人口稠密的工业城市，那里有一个煤烟一般黑、面目狰狞的老教堂，四周被一大片墓地包围着，那两人的坟墓已成了墓地人行道的一部份）。他们留下了一个女儿，她一生下来就落入了慈善事业的膝头——那膝头像我今晚陷进去几乎不能自拔的积雪一样冰冷。慈善把这个没有朋友的小东西，送到母亲的一位有钱亲戚那里。被孩子的舅妈，一个叫做（这会儿我要提名字了）盖茨黑德的里德太太收养着。——你吓了一跳——听见什么响动了？我猜想不过是一个老鼠，爬过毗邻着的教室的大梁。这里原先是个谷仓，后来我整修改建了一下，谷仓向来是老鼠出没的地方。说下去吧。里德太太把这个孤儿养了十年，她跟这孩子处得愉快还是不愉快，我说不上，因为从来没听人谈起过。不过十年之后，她把孩子转送到了一个你知道的地方——恰恰就是罗沃德学校，那儿你自己也住了很久。她在那儿的经历似乎很光荣，象你一样，从学生变成了教师——说实在我总觉得你的身世和她的很有相似之处——她离开那里去当家庭教师，在那里，你们的命运又再次靠拢，她担当起教育某个罗切斯特先生的被监护人的职责。”
“里弗斯先生！”
“我能猜得出你的情感，”他说，“但是克制一会儿吧，我差不多要结束了。听我把话讲完吧。关于罗切斯特先生的为人，除了一件事情，我一无所知。那就是他宣布要同这位年轻姑娘体面地结成夫妇。就在圣坛上她发觉他有一个妻子，虽然疯了，但还活着。他以后的举动和建议纯粹只能凭想象了。后来有一件事必得问问这位家庭女教师时，才发现她已经走了——谁也不知道什么时候走的，去了什么地方，怎么去的。她是夜间从桑菲尔德出走的。她可能会走的每一条路都去查看过了，但一无所获。这个郡到处都搜索过，但没有得到一丁点她的消急。可是要把她找到已成了刻不容缓的大事，各报都登了广告，连我自己也从一个名叫布里格斯先生的律师那儿收到了一封信，通报了我刚才说的这些细节，难道这不是一个希奇古怪的故事吗？”
“你就是告诉我这点吧，”我说，“既然你知道得那么多，你当然能够告诉我——一罗切斯特先生的情况怎么样？他怎样了？他在哪儿？在干什么？他好吗？”
“我对罗切斯特先生茫无所知，这封信除了说起我所提及的诈骗和非法的意图，从没有谈到他。你还是该问一问那个家庭女教师的名字。——问问非她不可的那件事本身属于什么性质。”
“那么没有人去过桑菲尔德府吗？难道没有人见过罗切斯特先生？”
“我想没有。”
“可是他们给他写信过吗？”
“那当然。”
“他说什么啦？谁有他的信？”
“布里格斯先生说，他的请求不是由罗切斯特先生，而是由一位女士回复的，上面签着‘艾丽斯.费尔法克斯。’”
我觉得一时心灰意冷，最怕发生的事很可能已成事实。他完全可能已经离开英国，走投无路之中，轻率地冲到欧洲大陆上以前常去的地方。他在那些地方能为他巨大的痛苔找到什么麻醉剂呢？为他如火的热情找到发泄对象吗？我不敢回答这个问题。呵，我可怜的主人——曾经差一点成为我的丈夫——我经常称他“我亲爱的爱德华！”
“他准是个坏人，”里弗斯先生说。
“你不了解他——别对他说三道四。”我激动地说。
“行呵，”他平心静气地答道，“其实我心里想的倒不是他。我要结束我的故事。既然你没有问起家庭女教师的名字，那我得自己说了——慢着——我这儿有——看到要紧的事儿，完完全全白纸黑字写下来，往往会更使人满意。”
他再次不慌不忙地拿出那个皮夹子，把它打开，仔细翻寻起来，从一个夹层抽出一张原先匆忙撕下的破破烂烂的纸条。我从纸条的质地和蓝一块、青一块、红一块的污渍认出来，这是被他抢去、原先盖在画上那张纸的边沿。他过它代表什么。不过那又怎么样？当然——”
我打住了。我不能相信自己会产生这样的想法，更说不上加以表达。但是这想法闯入了我脑海——它开始具体化——顷刻之间，变成了确确实实可能的事情。种种情况凑合起来了，各就各位，变成了一个有条有理的整体，一根链条。以前一直是一堆没有形状的链环，现在被一节节拉直了——每一个链都完好无缺，链与链之间的联结也很完整。圣.约翰还没有再开口，我凭直觉就已经知道是怎么回事了。不过我不能期望读者也有同样的直觉，因此我得重复一下他的说明。
“我母亲的名字叫爱，她有两个兄弟，一个是位牧师，他娶了盖茨黑德的简.里德小姐；另一个叫约翰.爱先生，生前在马德拉群岛的沙韦尔经商。布里格斯先生是爱先生的律师，去年八月写信通知我们舅父已经去世，说是已把他的财产留给那个当牧师的兄弟的孤女。由于我父亲同他之间一次永远无法宽恕的争吵，他忽视了我们。几周前，布里格斯又写信来，说是那位女继承人失踪了，问我是否知道她的情况。一个随意写在纸条上的名字使我把她找到了。其余的你都知道了。”他又要走，我将背顶住门。
?9 啵?罢庖徊讲换嵊惺裁蠢?选Ｋ婧竽憧梢粤⒓椿竦盟?腥ǎ?愕牟撇?蹲试谟⒐???希?祭锔袼拐乒茏乓胖龊捅匾?奈募?！?br>
这里偏偏又翻出一张新牌来了！读者呀，刹那之间从贫困升迁到富裕，总归是件好事——好是很好，但不是一下子就能理解，或者因此就能欣赏的。此外，生活中还有比这更惊心动魄，更让人销魂的东西。现在这件事很实在，很具体，丝毫没有理想的成份。它所联系着的一切实实在在，朴朴素素，它所体现的也完全一样。你一听到自己得到一笔财产，不会一跃而起，高呼万岁！而是开始考虑自己的责任，谋划正经事儿。称心满意之余倒生出某种重重的心事来了——我们克制自己，皱起眉头为幸福陷入了沉思。
此外，遗产、遗赠这类字眼伴随着死亡、葬礼一类词。我听到我的叔父，我唯一一位亲戚故去了。打从知道他存在的一天起，我便怀着有朝一日要见他的希望，而现在，是永远别想见他了。而且这笔钱只留给我。不是给我和一个高高兴兴的家庭，而是我孤孤单单的本人。当然这笔钱很有用，而且独立自主是件大好事——，是的，我已经感觉到了——那种想法涌上了我心头。
“你终于抬起头来了，”里弗斯先生说，“我以为美杜莎已经瞧过你，而你正变成石头——也许这会儿你会问你的身价有多少？”
“我的身价多少？”
“呵，小得可怜！当然不值一提—一我想他们说二万英镑——但那又怎么样？”
“二万英镑！”
又是一件惊人的事情——我原来估计四、五干。这个消息让我目瞪口呆了好一会儿。我从没有听到过圣.约翰先生的笑声，这时他却大笑起来。
“嗯，”他说，“就是你杀了人，而我告诉你你的罪行已经被发现了，也不会比你刚才更惊呆了。”
“这是一笔很大的款子——你不会弄错了吧？”
“一点也没有弄错。”
“也许你把数字看错了——可能是二千？”
“它不是用数字，而是用字母写的——二万。”
我再次感觉到颇象一个中等胃口的人，独自坐在可供一百个人吃的盛宴面前。这会儿里弗斯先生站起来，穿上了斗篷。
“要不是这么个风雪弥漫的夜晚，”他说，“我会叫汉娜来同你作伴。你看上去太可怜了，不能让你一个儿呆着。不过汉娜这位可怜的女人，不像我这样善于走积雪的路，腿又不够长。因此我只好让你独自哀伤了。晚安。”
他提起门栓时，一个念头蓦地闪过我脑际。
“再呆一分钟！”我叫道。
“怎么？”
“我不明白为什么布里格斯先生会为我的事写信给你，或者他怎么知道你，或者设想你住在这么个偏僻的地方，会有能力帮助他找到我呢。”
“呵，我是个牧师，”他说，“而奇奇怪怪的事往往求牧师解决。”门栓又一次格格响了起来。
“不，那不能使我满意！”我嚷道，其实他那么匆忙而不作解释的回答，不但没有消除我的好奇心，反而更刺激了它。
“这件事非常奇怪，”我补充说，“我得再了解一些。”
“改天再谈吧。”，
“不行，今天晚上！——今天晚上！”他从门边转过身来时，我站到了他与门之间，弄得他有些尴尬。
“你不统统告诉我就别想走？”我说。
“现在我还是不讲为好。”
“你要讲！——一定得讲：”
“我情愿让黛安娜和玛丽告诉你。”
当然，他的反复拒绝把我的焦急之情推向了高潮：我必须得到满足，而且不容拖延。我把这告诉了他。
“不过我告诉过你，我是个铁石心肠的男人，”他说，“很难说服。”
“而我是个铁石心肠的女人—一无法拖延。”
“那么，”他继续说，“我很冷漠，对任何热情都无动于衷。”
“而我很热，火要把冰融化。那边的火已经化掉了你斗篷上的所有的雪，由于同样原因，雪水淌到了我地板上，弄得像踩踏过的衔道。里弗斯先生，正因为你希望我宽恕你毁我砂石厨房的弥天大罪和不端行为，那你就把我想知道的告诉我吧。”
“那么好吧，”他说，“我让步了，要不是向你的真诚屈服，就是向你滴水穿石的恒心投降。另外，有一天你还得知道，早知晚知都一样。你的名字是叫简.爱吗？”
“当然，这以前已全解决了。”
“你也许没有意识到我跟你同姓？我施洗礼时被命名为圣.约翰.爱.里弗斯？”
“确实没有！现在可记起来了，我曾在你不同时间借给我的书里，看到你名字开头的几个字母中有一个Ｅ，但我从来没有问过它代表什么。不过那又怎么样？当然——”
我打住了。我不能相信自己会产生这样的想法，更说不上加以表达。但是这想法闯入了我脑海——它开始具体化——顷刻之间，变成了确确实实可能的事情。种种情况凑合起来了，各就各位，变成了一个有条有理的整体，一根链条。以前一直是一堆没有形状的链环，现在被一节节拉直了——每一个链都完好无缺，链与链之间的联结也很完整。圣.约翰还没有再开口，我凭直觉就已经知道是怎么回事了。不过我不能期望读者也有同样的直觉，因此我得重复一下他的说明。
“我母亲的名字叫爱，她有两个兄弟，一个是位牧师，他娶了盖茨黑德的简.里德小姐；另一个叫约翰.爱先生，生前在马德拉群岛的沙韦尔经商。布里格斯先生是爱先生的律师，去年八月写信通知我们舅父已经去世，说是已把他的财产留给那个当牧师的兄弟的孤女。由于我父亲同他之间一次永远无法宽恕的争吵，他忽视了我们。几周前，布里格斯又写信来，说是那位女继承人失踪了，问我是否知道她的情况。一个随意写在纸条上的名字使我把她找到了。其余的你都知道了。”他又要走，我将背顶住门。
“请务必让我也说一说，”我说，“让我喘口气，好好想一想。”我停住了——他站在我面前，手里拿着帽子，看上去够镇静的。我接着说：
“你的母亲是我父亲的姐妹？”
“是的。”
“那么是我的姑妈了？”
他点了点头。
“我的约翰叔父是你的约翰舅舅了？你，黛安娜和玛丽是他姐妹的孩子，而我是他兄弟的孩子了？”
“没有错。”
“你们三位是我的表兄表姐了。我们身上一半的血都流自同一个源泉？”
“我们是表兄妹，不错。”
我细细打量着他。我似乎发现了一个哥哥，一个值得我骄傲的人，一个我可以爱的人。还有两个姐姐，她们的品质在即使同我是陌路人的时候，也激起了我的真情和羡慕。那天我跪在湿淋淋的地上，透过沼泽居低矮的格子窗，带着既感兴趣而又绝望的痛苦复杂的心情，凝视着这两位姑娘，原来她们竟是我的近亲。而这位发现我险些死在他门槛边的年轻庄重的绅士，就是我的血肉之亲。对孤苦伶丁的可怜人儿来说，这是个何等重大的发现！其实这就是财富！——心灵的财富！——一个纯洁温暖的感情矿藏。这是一种幸福，光辉灿烂，生气勃勃，令人振奋！——不像沉重的金礼物：其本身值钱而受人欢迎，但它的份量又让人感到压抑。这会儿我突然兴奋得拍起手来一—我的脉搏跳动着，我的血管震颤了。
“呵，我真高兴——我真高兴！”我叫道。
圣.约翰笑了笑。“我不是说过你拣了芝麻丢了西瓜吗？”他问。“我告诉你有一笔财产时，你非常严肃，而现在，为了一件不重要的事，你却那么兴奋。”
“你这话究竟什么意思呢？对你可能无足轻重，你己经有妹妹，不在乎一个表妹。但我没有亲人，而这会儿三个亲戚——如果你不愿算在内，那就是两个——降生到我的世界来，已完全长大成人。我再说一遍，我很高兴！”
我快步穿过房间，又停了下来，被接二连三涌进脑子，快得我无法接受、理解和梳理的想法，弄得差点喘不过气来——那就是我可以做什么，能够做什么，会做什么和应当做什么，以及要赶快做。我瞧着空空的墙，它仿佛是天空，密布着冉冉升起的星星——每一颗都照耀着我奔向一个目标或者一种欢乐。那些救了我性命的人，直到如今我还毫无表示地爱着，现在我可以报答了。身披枷锁的，我可以使他们获得自由；东分西散的，我可以让他们欢聚一堂。我的独立和富裕也可以变成是他们的，我们不是一共四个吗？二万英镑平分，每人可得五千——不但足够，而且还有余。公平对待，彼此的幸福也就有了保障。此刻财富已不再是我的一种负担，不再只是钱币的遗赠——而是生命、希望和欢乐的遗产了。
这些想法突然向我的灵魂袭来时，我的神态加何，我无从知道。但我很快觉察到里弗斯先生已在我背后放了一把椅子，和和气气地要我坐在上面。他还建议我要镇静。我对暗示我束手无策、神经错乱的做法嗤之以鼻，把他的手推开，又开始走动起来，
“明天就写信给黛安娜和玛丽，”我说，“叫她们马上回家来，黛安娜说要是有一千英镑，她们俩就会认为自己有钱了，那么有了五千英镑，就很有钱了。”
“告诉我哪儿可以给你弄杯水来，”圣.约翰说，“你真的得努力一下，使你的感情平静下来。”
“胡说！这笔遗赠对你会有什么影响呢？会使你留在英国，诱使你娶奥利弗小姐，像一个普通人那样安顿下来吗？”
“你神经错乱，头脑胡涂了。我把这个消息告诉得太突然，让你兴奋得失去了自制。”
“里弗斯先生！你弄得我很有些不耐烦了。我十分清醒。而正是你误解了我的意思，或者不如说假装误解我的意思。”
“也许要是你解释得再详细一点，我就更明白了。”
“解释！有什么需要解释？你不会不知道，二万英镑，也就是提到的这笔钱，在一个外甥，三个外甥女和侄女之间平分，各得五千？我所要求的是，你应当写信给你的妹妹们，告诉她们所得的财产。”
“你的意思是你所得的财产。”
“我已经谈了我对这件事的想法，我不可能有别的想法。我不是一个极端自私、盲目不公和完全忘恩负义的人。此外，我决心有一个家，有亲戚。我喜欢沼泽居，想住在沼泽居，我喜欢黛安娜和玛丽，要与她们相依为命。五千英镑对我有用，也使我高兴；二万英镑会折磨我，压抑我。何况尽管在法律上属于我，在道义上不该属于我。那么我就把完全多余的东西留给你们。不要再反对，再讨论了，让我们彼此同意，立刻把它决定下来吧。”
“这种做法是出于一时的冲动，你得花几天考虑这样的事情，你的话才可算数。”
“呵，要是你怀疑我的诚意，那很容易，你看这样的处理公平不公平？”
“我确实看到了某种公平，但这违背习惯。此外，整笔财产的权利属于你，我舅舅通过自己的努力挣得这份财产，他爱留给谁就可以留给谁。最后他留给了你。公道毕竟允许你留着，你可以心安理得地认为它完全属于你自己。”
“对我来说，”我说，“这既是一个十足的良心问题，也是个情感问题。我得迁就我的情感。我难得有机会这么做。即使你争辩、反对、惹恼我一年，我也不能放弃已经见了一眼的无上欢乐——那就是部份报答大恩大德，为我自己赢得终身的朋友。”
“你现在是这样想的，”圣.约翰回答，“因为你不知道拥有财富或者因此而享受财富是什么滋味；你还不能想象二万英镑会使你怎样变得举足轻重，会使你在社会中获得怎样高的地位，以及会为你开辟怎样广阔的前景。你不能——”
“而你，”我打断了他，“绝对无法想象我多么渴望兄弟姐妹之情。我从来没有家，从来没有兄弟或姐妹。我现在必须，也不一定要有，你不会不愿接受我承认我，是吗？”
“简，我会成为你的哥哥——我的妹妹会成为你的姐姐——而不必把牺牲自己的正当权利作为条件。”
“哥哥？不错，相距一千里路之遥！姐姐们？不错，为陌生人当牛做马！我，家财万贯——装满了我从未挣过，也不配有的金子。而你，身无分文！这就是赫赫有名的平等和友爱！多么紧密的团聚：何等亲切的依恋！”
“可是，简，你渴望的亲属关系和家庭幸福，可以不通过你所设想的方法来实现。你可以嫁人。”
“又胡说八道啦！嫁人！我不想嫁人，永远不嫁。”
“那说得有些过分了，这种鲁莽的断言证实了你鼓动起来的过度兴奋。”
“我说得并不过分，我知道自己的心情。结婚这种事儿我连想都不愿去想。没有人会出于爱而娶我，我又不愿意当作金钱买卖来考虑。我不要陌路人——与我没有共同语言，格格不入，截然不同。我需要亲情，那些我对他们怀有充分的同胞之情的人。请再说一遍你愿做我的哥哥。你一说这话，我就很满意很高兴，请你重复一下，要是你能够真诚地重复的话。”
“我想我能够。我明白我总是爱着我的妹妹们，我也明白我的爱是建立在什么基础上的——对她们价值的尊重，对她们才能的钦佩。你也有原则和思想。你的趣味和习惯同黛安娜与玛丽的相近。有你在场我总感到很愉快。在与你交谈中，我早已发现了一种有益的安慰。我觉得可以自然而轻易地在我心里留出位置给你，把你看作我的第三个和最小一个妹妹。”
“谢谢你，这使我今晚很满意。现在你还是走吧，因为要是你再呆下去，你也许会用某种不信任的顾虑再惹我生气。”
“那么学校呢，爱小姐？现在我想得关掉了吧。”
“不，我会一直保留女教师的职位，直到你找接替的人。”
他满意地笑了笑。我们握了手，他告辞了。
我不必再细述为了按我的意愿解决遗产问题所作的斗争和进行的争辨。我的任务很艰巨，但是因为我下定了决心——我的表兄妹们最后看到，我要公平地平分财产的想法已经真的不可改变地定了下来——还因为他们在内心一定感到这种想法是公平的，此外，也一定本来就意识到他们如处在我的地位，也一样会做我希望做的事——最后他们让步了，同意把事情交付公断。被选中的仲裁人是奥利弗先生和一位能干的律师。两位都与我的意见不谋而合。我实现了自己的主张，转让的文书也已草成：圣.约翰、黛安娜、玛丽和我，各自都拥有一份富裕的收入。

伊墨君(热心会员)

34楼 2013-02-12

Chapter 32

I CONTINUED the labours of the village-school as actively andfaithfully as I could. It was truly hard work at first. Some timeelapsed before, with all my efforts, I could comprehend my scholars andtheir nature. Wholly untaught, with faculties quite torpid, they seemedto me hopelessly dull; and, at first sight, all dull alike: but I soonfound I was mistaken. There was a difference amongst them as amongst theeducated; and when I got to know them, and they me, this differencerapidly developed itself. Their amazement at me, my language, my rules,and ways, once subsided, I found some of these heavy-looking, gapingrustics wake up into sharp-witted girls enough. Many showed themselvesobliging, and amiable too; and I discovered amongst them not a fewexamples of natural politeness, and innate self-respect, as well as ofexcellent capacity, that won both my good-will and my admiration. Thesesoon took a pleasure in doing their work well, in keeping their personsneat, in learning their tasks regularly, in acquiring quiet and orderlymanners. The rapidity of their progress, in some instances, was evensurprising; and an honest and happy pride I took in it: besides, Ibegan personally to like some of the best girls; and they liked me. Ihad amongst my scholars several farmers' daughters: young women grown,almost. These could already read, write, and sew; and to them I taughtthe elements of grammar, geography, history, and the finer kinds ofneedlework. I found estimable characters amongst them- charactersdesirous of information and disposed for improvement- with whom I passedmany a pleasant evening hour in their own homes. Their parents then(the farmer and his wife) loaded me with attentions.
There was anenjoyment in accepting their simple kindness, and in repaying it by aconsideration- a scrupulous regard to their feelings- to which they werenot, perhaps, at all times accustomed, and which both charmed andbenefited them; because, while it elevated them in their own eyes, itmade them emulous to merit the deferential treatment they received.
I felt I became a favourite in the neighbourhood. Whenever I wentout, I heard on all sides cordial salutations, and was welcomed withfriendly smiles. To live amidst general regard, though it be but theregard of working people, is like 'sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet';serene inward feelings bud and bloom under the ray. At this period ofmy life, my heart far oftener swelled with thankfulness than sank withdejection: and yet, reader, to tell you all, in the midst of this calm,this useful existence- after a day passed in honourable exertion amongstmy scholars, an evening spent in drawing or reading contentedly alone- Iused to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured,agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy- dreams where,amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk andromantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always atsome exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearinghis voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him,being loved by him- the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would berenewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then Irecalled where I was, and how situated.
Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; andthen the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, andheard the burst of passion. By nine o'clock the next morning I waspunctually opening the school; tranquil, settled, prepared for thesteady duties of the day.
Rosamond Oliver kept her word in coming to visit me. Her call at theschool was generally made in the course of her morning ride. She wouldcanter up to the door on her pony, followed by a mounted livery servant.Anything more exquisite than her appearance, in her purple habit, withher Amazon's cap of black velvet placed gracefully above the long curlsthat kissed her cheek and floated to her shoulders, can scarcely beimagined: and it was thus she would enter the rustic building, and glidethrough the dazzled ranks of the village children. She generally cameat the hour when Mr. Rivers was engaged in giving his daily catechisinglesson. Keenly, I fear, did the eye of the visitress pierce the youngpastor's heart. A sort of instinct seemed to warn him of her entrance,even when he did not see it; and when he was looking quite away from thedoor, if she appeared at it, his cheek would glow, and hismarble-seeming features, though they refused to relax, changedindescribably, and in their very quiescence became expressive of arepressed fervour, stronger than working muscle or darting glance couldindicate.
Of course, she knew her power: indeed, he did not, because he couldnot, conceal it from her. In spite of his Christian stoicism, when shewent up and addressed him, and smiled gaily, encouragingly, even fondlyin his face, his hand would tremble and his eye burn. He seemed to say,with his sad and resolute look, if he did not say it with his lips, 'Ilove you, and I know you prefer me. It is not despair of success thatkeeps me dumb. If I offered my heart, I believe you would accept it. Butthat heart is already laid on a sacred altar: the fire is arrangedround it. It will soon be no more than a sacrifice consumed.'
And then she would pout like a disappointed child; a pensive cloudwould soften her radiant vivacity; she would withdraw her hand hastilyfrom his, and turn in transient petulance from his aspect, at once soheroic and so martyr-like. St. John, no doubt, would have given theworld to follow, recall, retain her, when she thus left him; but hewould not give one chance of heaven, nor relinquish, for the elysium ofher love, one hope of the true, eternal Paradise.
Besides, he could not bind all that he had in his nature- the rover,the aspirant, the poet, the priest- in the limits of a single passion.
He could not- he would not- renounce his wild field of missionwarfare for the parlours and the peace of Vale Hall. I learnt so muchfrom himself in an inroad I once, despite his reserve, had the daring tomake on his confidence.
Miss Oliver already honoured me with frequent visits to my cottage.
I had learnt her whole character, which was without mystery ordisguise: she was coquettish, but not heartless; exacting, but notworthlessly selfish. She had been indulged from her birth, but was notabsolutely spoilt. She was hasty, but good-humoured; vain (she could nothelp it, when every glance in the glass showed her such a flush ofloveliness), but not affected; liberal-handed; innocent of the pride ofwealth; ingenuous; sufficiently intelligent; gay, lively, andunthinking: she was very charming, in short, even to a cool observer ofher own sex like me; but she was not profoundly interesting orthoroughly impressive. A very different sort of mind was hers from that,for instance, of the sisters of St. John. Still, I liked her almost as Iliked my pupil Adele; except that, for a child whom we have watchedover and taught, a closer affection is engendered than we can give anequally attractive adult acquaintance.
She had taken an amiable caprice to me. She said I was like Mr.Rivers, only, certainly, she allowed, 'not one-tenth so handsome, thoughI was a nice neat little soul enough, but he was an angel.' I was,however, good, clever, composed, and firm, like him. I was a lususnaturae, she affirmed, as a village schoolmistress: she was sure myprevious history, if known, would make a delightful romance.
One evening, while, with her usual child-like activity, andthoughtless yet not offensive inquisitiveness, she was rummaging thecupboard and the table-drawer of my little kitchen, she discovered firsttwo French books, a volume of Schiller, a German grammar anddictionary, and then my drawing-materials and some sketches, including apencil-head of a pretty little cherub-like girl, one of my scholars,and sundry views from nature, taken in the Vale of Morton and on thesurrounding moors. She was first transfixed with surprise, and thenelectrified with delight.
'Had I done these pictures? Did I know French and German? What alove- what a miracle I was! I drew better than her master in the first'With pleasure,' I replied; and I felt a thrill of artist-delight at theidea of copying from so perfect and radiant a model. She had then on adark-blue silk dress; her arms and her neck were bare; her only ornamentwas her chestnut tresses, which waved over her shoulders with all thewild grace of natural curls. I took a sheet of fine card-board, and drewa careful outline. I promised myself the pleasure of colouring it; and,as it was getting late then, I told her she must come and sit anotherday.
She made such a report of me to her father, that Mr. Oliver himselfaccompanied her next evening- a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged, andgrey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a brightflower near a hoary turret. He appeared a taciturn, and perhaps a proudpersonage; but he was very kind to me. The sketch of Rosamond'sportrait pleased him highly: he said I must make a finished picture ofit. He insisted, too, on my coming the next day to spend the evening atVale Hall.
I went. I found it a large, handsome residence, showing abundantevidences of wealth in the proprietor. Rosamond was full of glee andpleasure all the time I stayed. Her father was affable; and when heentered into conversation with me after tea, he expressed in strongterms his approbation of what I had done in Morton school, and said heonly feared, from what he saw and heard, I was too good for the place,and would soon quit it for one more suitable.
'Indeed,' cried Rosamond, 'she is clever enough to be a governess in a high family, papa.'
I thought I would far rather be where I am than in any high family inthe land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers- of the Rivers family- withgreat respect. He said it was a very old name in that neighbourhood;that the ancestors of the house were wealthy; that all Morton had oncebelonged to them; that even now he considered the representative of thathouse might, if he liked, make an alliance with the best. He accountedit a pity that so fine and talented a young man should have formed thedesign of going out as a missionary; it was quite throwing a valuablelife away. It appeared, then, that her father would throw no obstacle inthe way of Rosamond's union with St. John. Mr. Oliver evidentlyregarded the young clergyman's good birth, old name, and sacredprofession as sufficient compensation for the want of fortune.
It was the 5th of November, and a holiday. My little servant, afterhelping me to clean my house, was gone, well satisfied with the fee of apenny for her aid. All about me was spotless and bright- scoured floor,polished grate, and well-rubbed chairs. I had also made myself neat,and had now the afternoon before me to spend as I would.
The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I gotmy palette and pencils, and fell to the more soothing, because easieroccupation, of completing Rosamond Oliver's miniature. The head wasfinished already: there was but the background to tint and the draperyto shade off; a touch of carmine, too, to add to the ripe lips- a softcurl here and there to the tresses- a deeper tinge to the shadow of thelash under the azured eyelid. I was absorbed in the execution of thesenice details, when, after one rapid tap, my door unclosed, admitting St.John Rivers.
'I am come to see how you are spending your holiday,' he said.
'Not, I hope, in thought? No, that is well: while you draw you willnot feel lonely. You see, I mistrust you still, though you have borne upwonderfully so far. I have brought you a book for evening solace,' andhe laid on the table a new publication- a poem: one of those genuineproductions so often vouchsafed to the fortunate public of those days-the golden age of modern literature. Alas! the readers of our era areless favoured. But courage! I will not pause either to accuse or repine.I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained powerover either, to bind or slay: they will both assert their existence,their presence, their liberty and strength again one day. Powerfulangels, safe in heaven! they smile when sordid souls triumph, and feebleones weep over their destruction. Poetry destroyed? Genius banished?No! Mediocrity, no: do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No; theynot only live, but reign and redeem: and without their divine influencespread everywhere, you would be in hell- the hell of your own meanness.
While I was eagerly glancing at the bright pages of Marmion (forMarmion it was), St. John stooped to examine my drawing. His tall figuresprang erect again with a start: he said nothing. I looked up at him:he shunned my eye. I knew his thoughts well, and could read his heartplainly; at the moment I felt calmer and cooler than he: I had thentemporarily the advantage of him, and I conceived an inclination to dohim some good, if I could.
'With all his firmness and self-control,' thought I, 'he taskshimself too far: locks every feeling and pang within- expresses,confesses, imparts nothing. I am sure it would benefit him to talk alittle about this sweet Rosamond, whom he thinks he ought not to marry: Iwill make him talk.'
I said first, 'Take a chair, Mr. Rivers.' But he answered, as healways did, that he could not stay. 'Very well,' I responded, mentally,'stand if you like; but you shall not go just yet, I am determined:solitude is at least as bad for you as it is for me.
I'll try if I cannot discover the secret spring of your confidence,and find an aperture in that marble breast through which I can shed onedrop of the balm of sympathy.'
'Is this portrait like?' I asked bluntly.
'Like! Like whom? I did not observe it closely.'
'You did, Mr. Rivers.'
He almost started at my sudden and strange abruptness: he looked atme astonished. 'Oh, that is nothing yet,' I muttered within. 'I don'tmean to be baffled by a little stiffness on your part; I'm prepared togo to considerable lengths.' I continued, 'You observed it closely anddistinctly; but I have no objection to your looking at it again,' and Irose and placed it in his hand.
'A well-executed picture,' he said; 'very soft, clear colouring; very graceful and correct drawing.'
'Yes, yes; I know all that. But what of the resemblance? Who is it like?'
Mastering some hesitation, he answered, 'Miss Oliver, I presume.'
'Of course. And now, sir, to reward you for the accurate guess, Iwill promise to paint you a careful and faithful duplicate of this verypicture, provided you admit that the gift would be acceptable to you. Idon't wish to throw away my time and trouble on an offering you woulddeem worthless.'
He continued to gaze at the picture: the longer he looked, the firmerhe held it, the more he seemed to covet it. 'It is like!' he murmured;'the eye is well managed: the colour, light, expression, are perfect. Itsmiles!'
'Would it comfort, or would it wound you to have a similar painting?Tell me that. When you are at Madagascar, or at the Cape, or in India,would it be a consolation to have that memento in your possession? orwould the sight of it bring recollections calculated to enervate anddistress?'
He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me, irresolute, disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.
'That I should like to have it is certain: whether it would be judicious or wise is another question.'
Since I had ascertained that Rosamond really preferred him, and thather father was not likely to oppose the match, I- less exalted in myviews than St. John- had been strongly disposed in my own heart toadvocate their union. It seemed to me that, should he become thepossessor of Mr. Oliver's large fortune, he might do as much good with it as if he went and laid his genius out to wither, and his strength towaste, under a tropical sun. With this persuasion I now answered-
'As far as I can see, it would be wiser and more judicious if you were to take to yourself the original at once.'
By this time he had sat down: he had laid the picture on the tablebefore him, and with his brow supported on both hands, hung fondly overit. I discerned he was now neither angry nor shocked at my audacity. Isaw even that to be thus frankly addressed on a subject he had deemedunapproachable- to hear it thus freely handled- was beginning to be feltby him as a new pleasure- an unhoped-for relief. Reserved people oftenreally need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs morethan the expansive. The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all; andto 'burst' with boldness and good-will into 'the silent sea' of theirsouls is often to confer on them the first of obligations.
'She likes you, I am sure,' said I, as I stood behind his chair, 'andher father respects you. Moreover, she is a sweet girl- ratherthoughtless; but you would have sufficient thought for both yourself andher. You ought to marry her.'
'Does she like me?' he asked.
'Certainly; better than she likes any one else. She talks of youcontinually: there is no subject she enjoys so much or touches upon sooften.'
'It is very pleasant to hear this,' he said- 'very: go on for anotherquarter of an hour.' And he actually took out his watch and laid itupon the table to measure the time.
'But where is the use of going on,' I asked, 'when you are probablypreparing some iron blow of contradiction, or forging a fresh chain tofetter your heart?'
'Don't imagine such hard things. Fancy me yielding and melting, as Iam doing: human love rising like a freshly opened fountain in my mindand overflowing with sweet inundation all the field I have so carefullyand with such labour prepared- so assiduously sown with the seeds ofgood intentions, of self-denying plans. And now it is deluged with anectarous flood- the young germs swamped- delicious poison cankeringthem: now I see myself stretched on an ottoman in the drawing-room atVale Hall at my bride Rosamond Oliver's feet: she is talking to me withher sweet voice- gazing down on me with those eyes your skilful hand hascopied so well- smiling at me with these coral lips. She is mine- I amhers- this present life and passing world suffice to me. Hush! saynothing- my heart is full of delight- my senses are entranced- let thetime I marked pass in peace.'
I humoured him: the watch ticked on: he breathed fast and low: Istood silent. Amidst this hush the quarter sped; he replaced the watch,laid the picture down, rose, and stood on the hearth.
'Now,' said he, 'that little space was given to delirium anddelusion. I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put myneck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers; I tasted her cup. The pillowwas burning: there is an asp in the garland: the wine has a bittertaste: her promises are hollow- her offers false: I see and know allthis.'
I gazed at him in wonder.
'It is strange,' pursued he, 'that while I love Rosamond Oliver sowildly- with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the objectof which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating- Iexperience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that shewould not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me;that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that totwelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know.'
'Strange indeed!' I could not help ejaculating.
'While something in me,' he went on, 'is acutely sensible to hercharms, something else is as deeply impressed with her defects: they aresuch that she could sympathise in nothing I aspired to- co-operate innothing I undertook. Rosamond a sufferer, a labourer, a female apostle?Rosamond a missionary's wife? No!'
'But you need not be a missionary. You might relinquish that scheme.'
'Relinquish! What! my vocation? My great work? My foundation laid onearth for a mansion in heaven? My hopes of being numbered in the bandwho have merged all ambitions in the glorious one of bettering theirrace- of carrying knowledge into the realms of ignorance- ofsubstituting peace for war- freedom for bondage- religion forsuperstition- the hope of heaven for the fear of hell? Must I relinquishthat? It is dearer than the blood in my veins. It is what I have tolook forward to, and to live for.'
After a considerable pause, I said- 'And Miss Oliver? Are her disappointment and sorrow of no interest to you?'
'Miss Oliver is ever surrounded by suitors and flatterers: in lessthan a month, my image will be effaced from her heart. She will forgetme; and will marry, probably, some one who will make her far happierthan I should do.'
'You speak coolly enough; but you suffer in the conflict. You are wasting away.'
'No. If I get a little thin, it is with anxiety about my prospects,yet unsettled- my departure, continually procrastinated. Only thismorning, I received intelligence that the successor, whose arrival Ihave been so long expecting, cannot be ready to replace me for threemonths to come yet; and perhaps the three months may extend to six.'
'You tremble and become flushed whenever Miss Oliver enters the schoolroom.'
Again the surprised expression crossed his face. He had not imaginedthat a woman would dare to speak so to a man. For me, I felt at home inthis sort of discourse. I could never rest in communication with strong,discreet, and refined minds, whether male or female, till I had passedthe outworks of conventional reserve, and crossed the threshold ofconfidence, and won a place by their heart's very hearthstone.
'You are original,' said he, 'and not timid. There is something bravein your spirit, as well as penetrating in your eye; but allow me toassure you that you partially misinterpret my emotions. You think themmore profound and potent than they are. You give me a larger allowanceof sympathy than I have a just claim to. When I colour, and when I shakebefore Miss Oliver, I do not pity myself. I scorn the weakness. I knowit is ignoble: a mere fever of the flesh: not, I declare, the convulsionof the soul. That is just as fixed as a rock, firm set in the depths ofa restless sea. Know me to be what I am- a cold, hard man.'
I smiled incredulously.
'You have taken my confidence by storm,' he continued, 'and now it is much at your service. I am simply, in my original state-
stripped of that blood-bleached robe with which Christianity covershuman deformity- a cold, hard, ambitious man. Natural affection only, ofall the sentiments, has permanent power over me. Reason, and notfeeling, is my guide; my ambition is unlimited: my desire to risehigher, to do more than others, insatiable. I honour endurance,perseverance, industry, talent; because these are the means by which menachieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence. I watch your careerwith interest, because I consider you a specimen of a diligent,orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply compassionate what youhave gone through, or what you still suffer.'
'You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher,' I said.
'No. There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers: Ibelieve; and I believe the Gospel. You missed your epithet. I am not apagan, but a Christian philosopher- a follower of the sect of Jesus. AsHis disciple I adopt His pure, His merciful, His benignant doctrines. Iadvocate them: I am sworn to spread them. Won in youth to religion, shehas cultivated my original qualities thus:- From the minute germ,natural affection, she has developed the overshadowing tree,philanthropy. From the wild stringy root of human uprightness, she hasreared a due sense of the Divine justice. Of the ambition to win powerand renown for my wretched self, she has formed the ambition to spreadmy Master's kingdom; to achieve victories for the standard of the cross.So much has religion done for me; turning the original materials to thebest account; pruning and training nature. But she could not eradicatenature: nor will it be eradicated "till this mortal shall put onimmortality."'
Having said this, he took his hat, which lay on the table beside my palette. Once more he looked at the portrait.
'She is lovely,' he murmured. 'She is well named the Rose of the World, indeed!'
'And may I not paint one like it for you?'
'Cui bono? No.'
He drew over the picture the sheet of thin paper on which I wasaccustomed to rest my hand in painting, to prevent the card-board frombeing sullied. What he suddenly saw on this blank paper, it wasimpossible for me to tell; but something had caught his eye. He took itup with a snatch; he looked at the edge; then shot a glance at me,inexpressibly peculiar, and quite incomprehensible: a glance that seemedto take and make note of every point in my shape, face, and dress; forit traversed all, quick, keen as lightning. His lips parted, as if tospeak: but he checked the coming sentence, whatever it was.
'What is the matter?' I asked.
'Nothing in the world,' was the reply; and, replacing the paper, Isaw him dexterously tear a narrow slip from the margin. It disappearedin his glove; and, with one hasty nod and 'good-afternoon,' he vanished.
'Well!' I exclaimed, using an expression of the district, 'that caps the globe, however!'I, in my turn, scrutinised the paper; but saw nothing on it save afew dingy stains of paint where I had tried the tint in my pencil. Ipondered the mystery a minute or two; but finding it insolvable, andbeing certain it could not be of much moment, I dismissed, and soonforgot it.

我继续为积极办好乡村学校尽心尽力。起初确实困难重重。尽管我使出浑身解数，还是过了一段时间才了解我的学生和她们的天性。她们完全没有受过教育，官能都很迟钝，使我觉得这些人笨得无可救药。粗粗一看，个个都是呆头呆脑的，但不久我便发现自己错了。就像受过教育的人之间是有区别的一样，她们之间也有区别。我了解她们，她们也了解我之后，这种区别很快便不知不觉地扩大了。一旦她们对我的语言、习惯和生活方式不再感到惊讶，我便发现一些神态呆滞、目光迟钝的乡巴佬，蜕变成了头脑机灵的姑娘。很多人亲切可爱很有礼貌。我发现她们中间不少人天性就懂礼貌，自尊自爱，很有能力，赢得了我的好感和敬佩。这些人不久便很乐意把工作做好，保持自身整洁，按时做功课，养成斯斯文文有条有理的习惯。在某些方面，她们进步之快甚至令人吃惊，我真诚愉快地为此感到骄傲。另外，我本人也开始喜欢上几位最好的姑娘，她们也喜欢我。学生中有几个农夫的女儿，差不多已经长成了少女。她们已经会读，会写，会缝，于是我就教她们语法、地理和历史的基本知识，以及更精细的针线活。我还在她们中间发现了几位可贵的人物一一这些人渴求知识，希望上进——我在她们家里一起度过了不少愉快的夜晚。而她们的父母（农夫和妻子）对我很殷勤。我乐于接受他们纯朴的善意，并以尊重他们的情感来作为回报一—对此他们不一定会随时都感到习惯，但这既让她们着迷，也对他们有益，因为他们眼看自己提高了地位，并渴望无愧于所受到的厚待。
我觉得自己成了附近地区的宠儿。无论什么时候出门，我都会处处听到亲切的招呼，受到满脸笑容的欢迎。生活在众人的关心之，即便是劳动者的关心，也如同“坐在阳光下，既宁静又舒心”。内心的恬静感觉开始萌芽，并在阳光下开放出花朵。在这段时间的生活中，我的心常常涌起感激之情，而没有颓唐沮丧。可是，读者呀，让我全都告诉你吧，在平静而充实的生活中——白天为学生作出了高尚的努力，晚上心满意足地独自作画和读书——之后我常常匆匆忙忙地进入了夜间奇异的梦境，多姿多彩的梦，有骚动不安的、充满理想的、激动人心的，也有急风骤雨式的——这些梦有着千奇百怪的场景，充满冒险的经历，揪心的险情和浪漫的机遇。梦中我依旧一次次遇见罗切斯特先生，往往是在激动人心的关键时刻。随后我感到投入了他的怀抱，听见了他的声音，遇见了他的目光，碰到了他的手和脸颊，爱他而又被他所爱。于是重又燃起在他身边度过一生的希望，像当初那么强烈，那么火热，随后我醒了过来。于是我想起了自己身在何处，处境如何。接着我颤颤巍巍地从没有帐幔的床上爬起来。沉沉黑夜目睹了我绝望的痉挛，听见了我怒火的爆发。到了第二天早上九点，我按时开学，平心静气地为一天的例行公事作好准备。
罗莎蒙德．奥利弗守信来看我。她一般是在早上遛马时到学校里来的，骑着她的小马慢跑到门口，后面跟了一位骑马的随从。她穿了一套紫色的骑装，戴一顶亚马逊式黑丝绒帽，很有风度地戴在从脸颊一直披到肩的卷发上，很难想象世上还有比她的外貌更标致的东西了。于是她会走进土里土气的房子，穿过被弄得眼花缭乱的乡村孩子的队伍。她总是在里弗斯先主上教义回答课时到。我猜想这位女来访者的目光，锐利地穿透了年青牧师的心。一种直觉向他提醒她已经进来了，即使他没有看到，或者视线正好从门口转开时也是如此。而要是她出现在门口，他的脸会灼灼生光，他那大理石一般的五官尽管拒不松弛，但难以形容地变了形。恬静中流露出一种受压抑的热情，要比肌肉的活动和目光的顾盼所显现的强烈得多。
当然她知道自己的魅力。其实他倒没有在她面前掩饰自己所感受到的魅力，因为他无法掩饰。虽然他信奉基督教禁欲主义，但她走近他，同他说话，对着他兴高彩烈、满含鼓励乃至多情地笑起来时，他的手会颤抖起来，他的眼睛会燃烧起来。他似乎不是用嘴巴，而是用哀伤而坚定的目光在说：“我爱你，我知道你也喜欢我。我不是因为毫无成功的希望而保持缄默。要是我献出这颗心来，我相信你会接受它，但是这颗心已经摆到了神圣的祭坛上了，周围燃起了火，很快它会成为耗尽的供品。”
而随后她会像失望的孩子那样板着脸，一片阴沉的乌云会掩去她光芒四射的活力。她会急忙从他那里抽出手来，使一会儿性子，从他既像英雄又像殉道者的面孔转开。她离开他时，圣.约翰无疑愿意不顾一切地跟随着，叫唤她，留她下来、但是他不愿放弃进入天国的机会，也不愿为了她爱情的一片乐土，而放弃踏进真正的、永久的天堂的希望。此外，他无法把他的一切集于自己的个性之中，——流浪汉、追求者、诗人和牧师——集中于一种情感的局限之内。他不能——也不会——放弃布道的战场，而要溪谷庄的客厅和宁静。尽管他守口如瓶，但我有一次还是大胆地闯进他内心的密室，因此从他本人那儿了解到了如许秘密。
奥利弗小姐经常造访我的小屋，使我不胜荣幸。我已了解她的全部性格，它既无秘密，也没有遮掩。她爱卖弄风情，但并不冷酷；她苛刻，但并非自私得一钱不值；她从小受到宠爱，但并没有被完全惯坏；她性子急，但脾气好；爱慕虚荣（在她也难怪，镜子里随便瞟一眼都照出了她的可爱），但并不装腔作势；她出手大方。却并不因为有钱而自鸣得意；她头脑机灵，相当聪明，快乐活泼而无所用心。总之她很迷人，即使是对象我这样同性别的冷眼旁观者，也是如此。但她并不能使人深感兴趣，或者留下难以磨灭的印象。譬如同圣.约翰的妹妹们相比，属于一种截然不同的头脑。但我仍象喜欢我的学生阿黛勒那样喜欢她，所不同的是，我们会对自己看护和教育的孩子，产生一种比对同祥可爱的成年朋友亲近的感情。
她心血来潮，对我产生了好感。她说我像里弗斯先生（当然只不过她宣布“没有他的十分之一漂亮，尽管你是个整洁可爱的小个子，但他是个天使”）。然而我象他那样为人很好，聪明、冷静、坚定。她断言，作为一个乡村女教师，我天性是个怪人。她确信，要是我以前的历史给透露出来，一定会成为一部有趣的传奇。
一天晚上，她照例像孩子一样好动，粗心却并不冒犯地问这问那，一面翻着我小厨房里的碗橱和桌子的抽屉。她看到了两本法文书，一卷席勒的作品，一本德文语法和词典。随后又看到了我的绘画材料，几张速写，其中包括用铅笔画的一个小天使般的小姑娘、我的一个学生的头像和取自莫尔顿溪谷及周围荒原的不同自然景色。她先是惊讶得发呆，随后是高兴得激动不已。
“是你画的吗？你懂法文和德文？你真可爱—一真是个奇迹！你比Ｓ城第一所学校的教师还画得好。你愿意为我画一张让我爸爸看看吗？”
“很乐意，”我回答。一想到要照着这样一个如此完美、如此容光焕发的模特儿画，我便感到了艺术家喜悦的颤栗。那时她穿了深蓝色的丝绸衣服；裸露着胳膊和脖子，唯一的装饰是她栗色的头发，以一种天然卷曲所有的不加修饰的雅致，波浪似地从肩上披下来。我拿了一张精致的卡纸，仔细地画了轮廓，并打算享受将它上彩的乐趣。由于当时天色已晚，我告诉她得改天再坐下来让我画了。
她把我的情况向她父亲作了详尽的报告，结果第二天晚上奥利弗先生居然亲自陪着她来了。他高个子，五官粗大，中等年纪，头发灰白。身边那位可爱的的女儿看上去象一座古塔旁的一朵鲜花。他似乎是个沉默寡言，或许还很自负的人，但对我很客气。罗莎蒙德的那张速写画很使他高兴。他嘱我千万要把它完成，还坚持要我第二天去溪谷庄度过一个夜晚。
我去了，发现这是一所宽敞漂亮的住宅，充分显出主人的富有。我呆在那里时罗莎蒙德一直非常高兴。她父亲和蔼可亲，茶点以后开始同我们交谈时，用很强烈的字眼，对我在莫尔顿学校所做的，表示十分满意。还说就他所见所闻，他担心我在这个地方大材小用，会很快离去干一项更合适的工作。
“真的!”罗莎蒙德嚷道，“她那么聪明，做一个名门家庭的女教师绰绰有余，爸爸。”
我想——与其到国内哪个名门家庭，远不如在这里。奥利弗先生说起了里弗斯先生——说起了里弗斯的家庭——肃然起敬。他说在附近地区，这是一个古老的名字，这家的祖宗都很有钱，整个莫尔顿一度属于他们。甚至现在，他认为这家的代表要是乐意，满可以同最好的家庭联姻。他觉得这么好、这么有才能的一个年青人竟然决定出家当传教士，实在可惜。那等于抛弃了一种很有价值的生活。那么看来罗莎蒙德的父亲不会在她与圣.约翰结合的道路上设置任何障碍。奥利弗先生显然认为青年牧师的良好出身、古老的名字和神圣的职业是对他缺乏家财的足够补偿。
那天是十一月五日，一个假日。我的小佣人帮我清扫了房子后走掉了，对一个便士的酬劳十分满意。我周围窗明几净，一尘不染——擦洗过的地板，磨得锃亮的炉格和擦得干干净净的椅子。我把自己也弄得整整齐齐，这会儿整个下午就随我度过了。
翻译几页德文占去了我一个小时。随后我拿了画板和画笔，开始了更为容易因而也更加惬意的工作，完成罗莎蒙德．奥利弗的小画像。头部已经画好，剩下的只是给背景着色，给服饰画上阴影，再在成熟的嘴唇上添一抹胭脂红，——头发这儿那儿再画上一点柔软的卷发——把天蓝的眼盖下睫毛的阴影加深一些。我正全神贯注地画着这些有趣的细节，一阵急促的敲门声响了起来，我那扇门开了，圣.约翰.里弗斯先生走了进来。
“我来看看你怎么过假日，”他说。“但愿没有动什么脑筋？没有，那很好，你一画画就不感到寂莫了。你瞧，我还是不大相信，尽管你到目前为止还是很好地挺过来了，我给你带来了一本书供你晚上消遣，”他把一本新出版的书放在桌上——一部诗：是那个时代——现代文学的黄金时代常常赐予幸运的公众一本货真价实的出版物。哎呀！我们这个时代的读者却没有那份福气。不过拿出勇气来！我不会停下来控诉或者发牢骚。我知道诗歌并没有死亡，天才并未销声匿迹，财神爷也没有把两者征服，把他们捆绑起来或者杀掉，总有一天两者都会表明自己的存在、风采、自由和力量。强大的天使，稳坐天堂吧！当肮脏的灵魂获得胜利，弱者为自己的毁灭恸哭时，他们微笑着。诗歌被毁灭了吗？天才遭到了驱逐吗？没有！中不溜儿的人们，不，别让嫉妒激起你这种想法。不，他们不仅还活着，而且统治着，拯救着。没有它们无处不在的神圣影响，你会进地狱——你自己的卑微所造成的地狱。
我急不可耐地浏览着《玛米昂》辉煌的篇章（因为《玛米昂》确实如此）时，圣.约翰俯身细看起我的画来。他蓦地惊跳起来，拉直了高高的身子。他什么也没有说，我抬头看他，他避开了我的目光，我很明白他的想法，能直截了当地看出他的心思来。这时候我觉得比他镇定和冷静。随后我暂时占了优势，产生了在可能情况下帮他做些好事的想法。
“他那么坚定不移和一味自我控制，”我想，“实在太苛刻自己了。他把每种情感和痛苦都锁在内心——什么也不表白，不流露，不告诉。我深信，谈一点他认为不应当娶的可爱的罗莎蒙德，会对他有好处。我要使他开口。”
我先是说：“坐一下，里弗斯先生，”可是他照例又回答说，不能逗留。“很好，”我心里回答，“要是你高兴，你就站着吧，但你还不能走，我的决心已下。寂寞对你和对我至少是一样不好，我倒要试试，看我能不能发现你内心的秘密，在你大理石般的胸膛找到一个孔，从那里我可以灌进一滴同情的香油。”
“这幅画像不像？”我直截了当地问。
“像！像谁呀？我没细看。”
“你看了，里弗斯先生。”
他被我直率得有些突然和奇怪的发问弄得几乎跳了起来，惊异地看着我。“呵，那还算不了什么，”我心里嘟哝着。“我不想因为你一点点生硬态度而罢休。我准备付出巨大的努力。”我继续想道，“你看得很仔细很清楚，但我不反对你再看一遍。”我站起来把画放在他手里。
“一张画得很好的画，”他说，“色彩柔和清晰，是一张很优美、很恰当的画。”
“是呀，是呀，这我都知道。不过像不像呢？这像谁？”
他打消了某种犹豫，回答说：“我想是奥利弗小姐。”
“当然。而现在，先生，为了奖励你猜得准，我答应给我创作一幅精细准确的复制品，要是你答应这个礼物是可以接受的。我不想把时间和精力化在一件你认为毫无价值的东西上。”
他继续凝视着这张画。他看得越久就把画捧得越紧，同时也似乎越想看它。“是很像！”他喃喃地说。“眼睛画得很好。颜色、光线、表情都很完美。它微笑着！”
“保存一张复制品会使你感到安慰呢，还是会伤你的心？请你告诉我。当你在马达加斯加，或者好望角，或者印度，在你的行囊中有这样的纪念品，对你是一种安慰呢，还是一看见就激起你令人丧气和难受的回忆？”
这时他偷偷地抬起眼来。他犹犹豫豫忐忑不安地看了我一眼，再次细看起这幅画来。
“我是肯定要的，不过这样做是不是审慎或明智，那就是另外一回事了。”
既然我已弄明白罗莎蒙德真的喜欢他，她的父亲也不大可能反对这门亲事，我——我对自己的观点并不像圣.约翰那样得意扬扬——我心里完全倾向于主张他们的结合。我觉得要是他能获得奥利弗先生的大宗财产，他可以用这笔钱做很多事情，强似在热带的太阳下让才能枯竭，让力气白费。想着可以这么劝说他，我此刻回答说：
“依我看来，立刻把画中的本人要走，倒是更明智和更有识见的。”
这时候他已坐了下来，把画放在面前的桌子上，双手支撑着额头，多情地反复看着这张画。我发觉他对我的大胆放肆既不发火也不感到震惊。我甚至还看到，那么坦率地谈论一个他认为不可接触的话题——听这个话题任意处理——开始被他感到是一种新的乐趣——一种出乎意外的宽慰。沉默寡言的人常常要比性格爽朗的人更需要直率地讨论他们的感情和不幸，看似最严酷的禁欲主义者毕竟也是人。大胆和好心“闯入”他们灵魂的“沉寂大海”，常常等于是赋予他们最好的恩惠。
“她喜欢你，我敢肯定，”我站在他椅子背后说，“她的父亲尊重你，此外，她是个可爱的姑娘——不大有想法。但你会有够你们两个管用的想法。你应当娶她。”
“难道她喜欢我？”他问。
“当然，胜过爱任何其他人。她不断谈起你，没有比这个更使她喜欢或者触及得更多的话题了。”
“很高兴听你这样说，”他说——“很高兴，再淡一刻钟吧。”他真的取出手表，放在桌上掌握时间。
“可是继续谈有什么用？”我问，“既然你也许正在浇铸反抗的铁拳，或者锻造新的链条把自己的心束缚起来。”
“别想这些严酷无情的东西了。要想象我让步了，被感化了，就像我正在做的那样。人类的爱像是我心田里新开辟的喷泉，不断上涨，甜蜜的洪水四溢，流淌到了我仔细而辛劳地开垦出来的田野——这里辛勤地播种着善意和自我克制的种子。现在这里泛滥着甜美的洪水——稚嫩的萌芽已被淹没——可口的毒药腐蚀着它们。此刻我看到自己躺在溪谷庄休息室的睡榻上，在我的新娘罗莎蒙德．奥利弗的脚跟前。她用那甜甜的嗓音同我在说话——用被你灵巧的手画得那么逼真的眼睛俯视着我——她那珊瑚色的嘴唇朝我微笑着——她是我的——我是她的——眼前的生活和过眼烟云般的世界对我已经足够了。嘘！别张嘴！一—我欣喜万分——我神魂颠倒—让我平静地度过我所规定的时间。”
我满足了他。手表嘀嗒嘀嗒响着，他的呼吸时紧时慢，我默默地站着。在一片静谧中一
刻钟过去了。他拿起手表，放下画，立起来，站在壁炉边。
“行啦，”他说，“在那一小段时间中我己沉溺于痴心妄想了。我把脑袋靠在诱惑的胸口，心甘情愿地把脖子伸向她花一般的枷锁。我尝了她的酒杯，枕头还燃着火，花环里有一条毒蛇，酒有苦味，她的允诺是空的——建议是假的。这一切我都明白。”
我惊诧不己地瞪着他。
“事情也怪，”他说下去，“我那么狂热地爱着罗莎蒙德．奥利弗——说真的怀着初恋的全部热情，而恋上的对象绝对漂亮、优雅、迷人——与此同时我又有一种宁静而不偏不倚的感悟，觉得她不会当个好妻子，不是适合我的伴侣，婚后一年之内我便会发现。十二个月销魂似的日子之后，接踵而来的是终身遗憾。这我知道。”
“奇怪，真奇怪！”我禁不住叫了起来。
“我内心的某一方面，”他说下去，对她的魅力深为敏感，但另一方面对她的缺陷，印象也很深。那就是她无法对我所追求的产生共鸣——不能为我所做的事业携手合作。难道罗莎蒙德是一个吃得起苦的人，一个劳作者，一个女使徒吗？难道罗莎蒙德是一个传教士的妻子？不！”
“不过你不必当传教士？你可以放弃那个打算。”
“放弃！什么——我的职业？我的伟大的工作？我为天堂里的大厦在世间所打的基础？我要成为那一小群人的希望？这群人把自己的一切雄心壮志同那桩光荣的事业合而为一，那就是提高他们的种族——把知识传播到无知的领域——用和平代替战争——用自由代替束缚——宗教代替迷信——上天堂的愿望代替入地狱的恐俱。难道连这也得放弃？它比我血管里流的血还可贵。这正是我所向往的，是我活着的目的。”
他沉默了好长一会儿后，我说——“那么奥利弗小姐呢，难道你就不关心她的失望和哀伤了？”
“奥利弗小姐向来有一大群求婚者和献殷勤的人围着她转，不到一个月，我的形象会从她心坎里抹去，她会忘掉我，很可能会跟一个比我更能使她幸福的人结婚。”
“你说得倒够冷静的，不过你内心很矛盾，很痛苦。你日见消瘦。”
“不，要是我有点儿瘦，那是我为悬而未决的前景担忧的缘故——我的离别日期一拖再拖。就是今大早上我还接到了消息，我一直盼着的后继者，三个月之内无法接替我，也许这三个月又会延长到六个月。”
“无论什么时候，奥利弗小姐一走进教室你就颤抖起来、脸涨得通红。”
他脸上再次浮起惊讶的表情。他想象不到一个女人居然敢于这么同一个男人说话。至于我，这—类交谈我非常习惯。我与很有头脑、言语谨慎、富有教养的人交际的时候，不管是男人还是女人，我非要绕过缄默的传统防卫工事，踏进奥秘的门槛，在心坎的火炉边上找到一个位置才肯罢休。
“你确实见解独到，”他说，“胆子也不小。你的精神中有一种勇气，你的眼睛有一种穿透力，可是请允许我向你保证，你部份误解了我的情感。你把这些情感想象得比实际的要深沉，要强烈。你给了我甚于我正当要求的同情。我在奥利弗小姐面前脸红，颤抖时，我不是怜悯自己，而是蔑视我的弱点。我知道这并不光彩，它不过是肉体的狂热，我宣布，不是灵魂的抽搐。那灵魂坚加磐石，牢牢扎在骚动不安的大海深处。你知道我是怎么个人——一个冷酷无情的人。”
我怀疑地笑了笑。
“你用突然袭击的办法掏出了我的心里话，”他继续说，“现在就听任你摆布了，剥去用基督教义来掩盖人性缺陷、漂净了血污的袍子，我本是个冷酷无情雄心勃勃的人。只有各种天生的情感会对我产生永久的力量。我的向导是理智而并非情感，我的雄心没有止境，我要比别人爬得高干得多的欲望永不能满足。我尊崇忍耐、坚持、勤勉和才能，因为这是人要干大事业，出大名的必要条件。我兴趣十足地观察了你的经历，因为我认为你是勤勤恳恳、有条有理、精力充沛的女人的典范，倒并不是因为我对你所经历的或正在受的苦深表同情。”
“你会把自己描述成不过是位异教徒哲学家的。”我说。
“不，我与自然神论的哲学家之间是有区别的：我有信仰，我信奉福音。你用错了修饰语。我不是异教徒哲学家，正是基督教哲学家——一个耶稣教派的信徒，作为他的信徒，我信仰他纯洁、宽厚、仁慈的教义。我主张这样的教义、发誓要为之传播，我年轻时就信仰宗教，于是宗教培养了我最初的品格——它已从小小的幼芽，自然的情感，长成浓荫蔽日的大树，变成了慈善主义，从人类真诚品质的粗糙野生的根子上，相应长出了神圣的公正感。把我为可怜的自我谋求权力和名声的雄心，变成扩大主的天地、为十字架旗帜获得胜利的大志。宗教已为我做了很多，把原始的天性变成最好的品质、修剪和培育了天性。但是无法根除天性，天性也不可能根除，直到“这必死的变成不死的’时候。”
说完，他拿起放在桌上我画板旁的帽子，再一次看了看画像。
“她的确可爱，”他喃喃地说。“她不愧为世界上最好的玫瑰，真的。”
“我可不可以画一张像这样的给你呢？”
“干嘛？不必了。”
他拉过一张薄薄的纸盖在画上，这张纸是我平常作画时怕弄脏纸板常作为垫手用的。他突然在这张空白纸上究竟看到了什么，我无法判断。但某种东西引起了他的注意。他猛地拣起来，看了看纸边，随后瞟了我一眼，那目光奇怪得难以形容，而旦不可理解，似乎摄取并记下了我的体态、面容和服饰的每个细节。它一扫而过，犹如闪电般迅速和锐利。他张开嘴唇，似乎想说话，但把到了嘴边的什么话咽了下去。
“怎么回事？”我问。
“什么事也没有”对方回答，一面又把纸放下。我见他利索地从边上撕下一小条，放进
了手套，匆勿忙忙点了点头。“下午好，”就消失得无影无踪了。
“嗨！”我用那个地区的一个短语嚷道：“这可绝了！”
我呢，仔细看了看那张纸，但除了我试画笔色泽所留下的几滴暗淡的污渍，我什么也没有看到。我把这个谜琢磨了一两分钟，但无法解开。我相信这也无关紧要，便不再去想它，不久也就忘了。

伊墨君(热心会员)

33楼 2013-02-12

Chapter 31

MY home, then,- when I at last find a home,- is a cottage; a littleroom with whitewashed walls and a sanded floor, containing four paintedchairs and a table, a clock, a cupboard, with two or three plates anddishes, and a set of tea-things in delf. Above, a chamber of the samedimensions as the kitchen, with a deal bedstead and chest of drawers;small, yet too large to be filled with my scanty wardrobe: though thekindness of my gentle and generous friends has increased that, by amodest stock of such things as are necessary.
It is evening. I havedismissed, with the fee of an orange, the little orphan who serves me asa handmaid. I am sitting alone on the hearth. This morning, the villageschool opened. I had twenty scholars. But three of the number can read:none write or cipher.
Several knit, and a few sew a little. They speak with the broadestaccent of the district. At present, they and I have a difficulty inunderstanding each other's language. Some of them are unmannered, rough,intractable, as well as ignorant; but others are docile, have a wish tolearn, and evince a disposition that pleases me. I must not forget thatthese coarsely-clad little peasants are of flesh and blood as good asthe scions of gentlest genealogy; and that the germs of nativeexcellence, refinement, intelligence, kind feeling, are as likely toexist in their hearts as in those of the best-born. My duty will be todevelop these germs: surely I shall find some happiness in dischargingthat office. Much enjoyment I do not expect in the life opening beforeme: yet it will, doubtless, if I regulate my mind, and exert my powersas I ought, yield me enough to live on from day to day.
Was I very gleeful, settled, content, during the hours I passed inyonder bare, humble schoolroom this morning and afternoon? Not todeceive myself, I must reply- No: I felt desolate to a degree. I felt-yes, idiot that I am- I felt degraded. I doubted I had taken a stepwhich sank instead of raising me in the scale of social existence. I wasweakly dismayed at the ignorance, the poverty, the coarseness of all Iheard and saw round me. But let me not hate and despise myself too muchfor these feelings; I know them to be wrong- that is a great stepgained; I shall strive to overcome them. To-morrow, I trust, I shall getthe better of them partially; and in a few weeks, perhaps, they will bequite subdued. In a few months, it is possible, the happiness of seeingprogress, and a change for the better in my scholars may substitutegratification for disgust.
Meantime, let me ask myself one question- Which is better?- To havesurrendered to temptation; listened to passion; made no painful effort-no struggle;- but to have sunk down in the silken snare; fallen asleepon the flowers covering it; wakened in a southern clime, amongst theluxuries of a pleasure villa: to have been now living in France, Mr.Rochester's mistress; delirious with his love half my time- for hewould- oh, yes, he would have loved me well for a while. He did love me-no one will ever love me so again. I shall never more know the sweethomage given to beauty, youth, and grace- for never to any one elseshall I seem to possess these charms. He was fond and proud of me- it iswhat no man besides will ever be.- But where am I wandering, and whatam I saying, and above all, feeling?
Whether is it better, I ask, to be a slave in a fool's paradise atMarseilles- fevered with delusive bliss one hour- suffocating with thebitterest tears of remorse and shame the next- or to be avillage-schoolmistress, free and honest, in a breezy mountain nook inthe healthy heart of England?
Yes; I feel now that I was right when I adhered to principle and law,and scorned and crushed the insane promptings of a frenzied moment. Goddirected me to a correct choice: I thank His providence for theguidance!
Having brought my eventide musings to this point, I rose, went to mydoor, and looked at the sunset of the harvest-day, and at the quietfields before my cottage, which, with the school, was distant half amile from the village. The birds were singing their last strains- 'Theair was mild, the dew was balm.'
While I looked, I thought myself happy, and was surprised to findmyself ere long weeping- and why? For the doom which had reft me fromadhesion to my master: for him I was no more to see; for the desperategrief and fatal fury- consequences of my departure- which might now,perhaps, be dragging him from the path of right, too far to leave hopeof ultimate restoration thither. At this thought, I turned my face asidefrom the lovely sky of eve and lonely vale of Morton- I say lonely, forin that bend of it visible to me there was no building apparent savethe church and the parsonage, half-hid in trees, and, quite at theextremity, the roof of Vale Hall, where the rich Mr. Oliver and hisdaughter lived. I hid my eyes, and leant my head against the stone frameof my door; but soon a slight noise near the wicket which shut in mytiny garden from the meadow beyond it made me look up. A dog- old Carlo,Mr. Rivers' pointer, as I saw in a moment- was pushing the gate withhis nose, and St. John himself leant upon it with folded arms; his browknit, his gaze, grave almost to displeasure, fixed on me. I asked him tocome in.
'No, I cannot stay; I have only brought you a little parcel Mysisters left for you. I think it contains a colour-box, pencils, andpaper.'
I approached to take it: a welcome gift it was. He examined my face, Ithought, with austerity, as I came near: the traces of tears weredoubtless very visible upon it.
'Have you found your first day's work harder than you expected?' he asked.
'Oh, no! On the contrary, I think in time I shall get on with my scholars very well.'
'But perhaps your accommodations- your cottage- your furniture- havedisappointed your expectations? They are, in truth, scanty enough; but-'I interrupted-
'My cottage is clean and weather-proof; my furniture sufficient andcommodious. All I see has made me thankful, not despondent. I am notabsolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret the absence of acarpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeks ago I had nothing-I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now I have acquaintance, a home,a business. I wonder at the goodness of God; the generosity of myfriends; the bounty of my lot. I do not repine.'
'But you feel solitude an oppression? The little house there behind you is dark and empty.'
'I have hardly had time yet to enjoy a sense of tranquillity, much less to grow impatient under one of loneliness.'
'Very well; I hope you feel the content you express: at any rate,your good sense will tell you that it is too soon yet to yield to thevacillating fears of Lot's wife. What you had left before I saw you, ofcourse I do not know; but I counsel you to resist firmly everytemptation which would incline you to look back: pursue your presentcareer steadily, for some months at least.'
'It is what I mean to do,' I answered. St. John continued-
'It is hard work to control the workings of inclination and turn thebent of nature; but that it may be done, I know from experience.
God has given us, in a measure, the power to make our own fate; andwhen our energies seem to demand a sustenance they cannot get- when ourwill strains after a path we may not follow- we need neither starve frominanition, nor stand still in despair: we have but to seek anothernourishment for the mind, as strong as the forbidden food it longed totaste- and perhaps purer; and to hew out for the adventurous foot a roadas direct and broad as the one Fortune has blocked up against us, ifrougher than it.
'A year ago I was myself intensely miserable, because I thought I hadmade a mistake in entering the ministry: its uniform duties wearied meto death. I burnt for the more active life of the world- for the moreexciting toils of a literary career- for the destiny of an artist,author, orator; anything rather than that of a priest: yes, the heart ofa politician, of a soldier, of a votary of glory, a lover of renown, aluster after power, beat under my curate's surplice. I considered; mylife was so wretched, it must be changed, or I must die. After a seasonof darkness and struggling, light broke and relief fell: my crampedexistence all at once spread out to a plain without bounds- my powersheard a call from heaven to rise, gather their full strength, spreadtheir wings, and mount beyond ken. God had an errand for me; to bearwhich afar, to deliver it well, skill and strength, courage andeloquence, the best qualifications of soldier, statesman, and orator,were all needed: for these all centre in the good missionary.
'A missionary I resolved to be. From that moment my state of mindchanged; the fetters dissolved and dropped from every faculty, leavingnothing of bondage but its galling soreness- which time only can heal.
My father, indeed, opposed the determination, but since his death, Ihave not a legitimate obstacle to contend with; some affairs settled, asuccessor for Morton provided, an entanglement or two of the feelingsbroken through or cut asunder- a last conflict with human weakness, inwhich I know I shall overcome, because I have vowed that I willovercome- and I leave Europe for the East.'
He said this, in his peculiar, subdued, yet emphatic voice; looking,when he had ceased speaking, not at me, but at the setting sun, at whichI looked too. Both he and I had our backs towards the path leading upthe field to the wicket. We had heard no step on the grass-grown track;the water running in the vale was the one lulling sound of the hour andscene; we might well then start when a gay voice, sweet as a silverbell, exclaimed-
'Good evening, Mr. Rivers. And good evening, old Carlo. Your dog isquicker to recognise his friends than you are, sir; he pricked his earsand wagged his tail when I was at the bottom of the field, and you haveyour back towards me now.'
It was true. Though Mr. Rivers had started at the first of thosemusical accents, as if a thunderbolt had split a cloud over his head, hestood yet, at the close of the sentence, in the same attitude in whichthe speaker had surprised him- his arm resting on the gate, his facedirected towards the west. He turned at last, with measureddeliberation. A vision, as it seemed to me, had risen at his side.
There appeared, within three feet of him, a form clad in pure white-ayouthful, graceful form: full, yet fine in contour; and when, afterbending to caress Carlo, it lifted up its head, and threw back a longveil, there bloomed under his glance a face of perfect beauty. Perfectbeauty is a strong expression; but I do not retrace or qualify it: assweet features as ever the temperate clime of Albion moulded; as purehues of rose and lily as ever her humid gales and vapoury skiesgenerated and screened, justified, in this instance, the term. No charmwas wanting, no defect was perceptible; the young girl had regular anddelicate lineaments; eyes shaped and coloured as we see them in lovelypictures, large, and dark, and full; the long and shadowy eyelash whichencircles a fine eye with so soft a fascination; the pencilled browwhich gives such clearness; the white smooth forehead, which adds suchrepose to the livelier beauties of tint and ray; the cheek oval, fresh,and smooth; the lips, fresh too, ruddy, healthy, sweetly formed; theeven and gleaming teeth without flaw; the small dimpled chin; theornament of rich, plenteous tresses- all advantages, in short, which,combined, realise the ideal of beauty, were fully hers. I wondered, as Ilooked at this fair creature: I admired her with my whole heart.
Nature had surely formed her in a partial mood; and, forgetting herusual stinted step-mother dole of gifts, had endowed this, her darling,with a grand-dame's bounty.
What did St. John Rivers think of this earthly angel? I naturallyasked myself that question as I saw him turn to her and look at her;and, as naturally, I sought the answer to the inquiry in hiscountenance. He had already withdrawn his eye from the Peri, and waslooking at a humble tuft of daisies which grew by the wicket.
'A lovely evening, but late for you to be out alone,' he said, as hecrushed the snowy heads of the closed flowers with his foot.
town some twenty miles distant) 'this afternoon. Papa told me you hadopened your school, and that the new mistress was come; and so I put onmy bonnet after tea, and ran up the valley to see her: this is she?'pointing to me.
'It is,' said St. John.
'Do you think you shall like Morton?' she asked of me, with a directand naive simplicity of tone and manner, pleasing, if child-like.
'I hope I shall. I have many inducements to do so.'
'Did you find your scholars as attentive as you expected?'
'Quite.'
'Do you like your house?'
'Very much.'
'Have I furnished it nicely?'
'Very nicely, indeed.'
'And made a good choice of an attendant for you in Alice Wood?'
'You have indeed. She is teachable and handy.' (This then, I thought,is Miss Oliver, the heiress; favoured, it seems, in the gifts offortune, as well as in those of nature! What happy combination of theplanets presided over her birth, I wonder?)
'I shall come up and help you to teach sometimes,' she added. 'Itwill be a change for me to visit you now and then; and I like a night,or rather this morning, I was dancing till two o'clock. The are the mostagreeable men in the world: they put all our young knife-grinders andscissor merchants to shame.'
It seemed to me that Mr. St. John's under lip protruded, and hisupper lip curled a moment. His mouth certainly looked a good dealcompressed, and the lower part of his face unusually stern and square,as the laughing girl gave him this information. He lifted his gaze, too,from the daisies, and turned it on her. An unsmiling, a searching, ameaning gaze it was. She answered it with a second laugh, and laughterwell became her youth, her roses, her dimples, her bright eyes.
As he stood, mute and grave, she again fell to caressing Carlo.
'Poor Carlo loves me,' said she. 'He is not stern and distant to his friends; and if he could speak, he would not be silent.'
As she patted the dog's head, bending with native grace before hisyoung and austere master, I saw a glow rise to that master's face.
I saw his solemn eye melt with sudden fire, and flicker withresistless emotion. Flushed and kindled thus, he looked nearly asbeautiful for a man as she for a woman. His chest heaved once, as if hislarge heart, weary of despotic constriction, had expanded, despite thewill, and made a vigorous bound for the attainment of liberty. But hecurbed it, I think, as a resolute rider would curb a rearing steed.
He responded neither by word nor movement to the gentle advances made him.
'Papa says you never come to see us now,' continued Mis Oliver,looking up. 'You are quite a stranger at Vale Hall. He is alone thisevening, and not very well: will you return with me and visit him?'
'It is not a seasonable hour to intrude on Mr. Oliver,' answered St. John.
'Not a seasonable hour! But I declare it is. It is just the hour whenpapa most wants company: when the works are closed and he has nobusiness to occupy him. Now, Mr. Rivers, do come. Why are you so veryshy, and so very sombre?' She filled up the hiatus his silence left by areply of her own.
'I forgot!' she exclaimed, shaking her beautiful curled head, as ifshocked at herself. 'I am so giddy and thoughtless! Do excuse me. It hadslipped my memory that you have good reasons to be indisposed forjoining in my chatter. Diana and Mary have left you, and Moor House isshut up, and you are so lonely. I am sure I pity you. Do come and seepapa.'
'Not to-night, Miss Rosamond, not to-night.'
Mr. St. John spoke almost like an automaton: himself only knew the effort it cost him thus to refuse.
'Well, if you are so obstinate, I will leave you; for I dare not stayany longer: the dew begins to fall. Good evening!' She held out herhand. He just touched it. 'Good evening!' he repeated, in a voice lowand hollow as an echo. She turned, but in a moment returned.
'Are you well?' she asked. Well might she put the question: his face was blanched as her gown.
'Quite well,' he enunciated; and, with a bow, he left the gate. Shewent one way; he another. She turned twice to gaze after him as shetripped fairy-like down the field; he, as he strode firmly across, neverturned at all.This spectacle of another's suffering and sacrifice rapt my thoughtsfrom exclusive meditation on my own. Diana Rivers had designated herbrother 'inexorable as death.' She had not exaggerated.

我的家呀——我终干找到了一个家——是一间小屋。小房间里墙壁已粉刷过，地面是用沙铺成的。房间内有四把漆过的椅子，一张桌子，一个钟，一个碗橱。橱里有两三个盘子和碟子，还有一套荷兰白釉蓝彩陶器茶具。楼上有一个面积跟厨房一般大小的房间，里面有一个松木床架和一个衣柜，虽然很小，盛放我为数不多的衣物绰绰有余，尽管我的和蔼可亲、慷慨大方的朋友，已经为我增添了一些必要的衣服。
这会儿正是傍晚时分，我给了当我女仆的小孤女一个桔子，打发她走了。我独自坐在火炉旁。今天早上，村校开学了。我有二十个学生，但只有三个能读，没有人会写会算，有几个能编织，少数几个会一点缝纫，她们说起话来地方口音很重。眼下我和她们彼此难以听懂对方的语言。其中有几个没有礼貌，十分粗野。难以驾驭，同时又很无知。但其余的却容易管教，愿意学习，显露出一种令人愉快的气质。我决不能忘记，这些衣衫粗陋的小农民，像最高贵血统的后裔一样有血有肉的；跟出身最好的人一样，天生的美德、雅致，智慧、善良的的情感，都可能在她们的心田里发芽，我的职责是帮助这些萌芽成长，当然在尽责时我能获得某种愉快。但我并不期望从展现在我面前的生活中尝到多大乐趣。不过无疑要是我调节自己的心态，尽力去做，它也会给我以足够的酬报，让我一天天生活下去。
今天上午和下午我在那边四壁空空、简陋不堪的教室里度过的几小时，难道自己就快乐、安心、知足吗，为了不自欺欺人，我得回答——没有。我觉得有些孤寂，我感到——是呀．自己真愚蠢——我感到有失身份。我怀疑我所跨出的一步不是提高而是降低了自己的社会地位。我对周围见到和听到的无知、贫穷和粗俗略微有点失望。但别让我因为这些情感而痛恨和蔑视自己。我知道这些情感是不对的——这是一大进步。我要努力驱除这些情感。我相信明天我将部分地战胜它们；几周之后或许完全征服它们；几个月后，我会高兴地看到进步，看到学生们大有进展，于是满意就会取代厌恶了。
同时，也让我问自己一个问题——何者为好？——经不住诱惑听凭欲念摆布，不作痛苦的努力——没有搏斗——落入温柔的陷阱，在覆盖着陷阱的花丛中沉沉睡去。在南方的气候中一觉醒来，置身于享乐别墅的奢华之中，原来已住在法国，做了罗切斯特先生的情妇，一半的时间因为他的爱而发狂——因为他会——呵，不错，他暂时会很爱我。他确实爱我——再也没有谁会这么爱我了。我永远也看不到有谁会对美丽、青春、优雅如此虔敬了——因为我不会对任何其他人产生这样的魅力。他非常喜欢我，为我感到自豪——而其他人是谁也做不到的——可是我会在哪儿漫游，我会说什么，尤其是我会有什么感觉呢？我问，在马赛愚人的天堂做一个奴隶——一会儿开心得浑身发烧，头脑发昏——一会儿因为羞愧和悔恨而痛苦流涕，是这样好呢，还是——在健康的英国中部一个山风吹拂的角落，做一个无忧无虑老老实实的乡村女教师好呢？
是的，我现在感到，自己坚持原则和法规，蔑视和控制狂乱时刻缺乏理智的冲动是对的。上帝指引我作了正确的选择，我感谢上苍的指导！
薄暮时分，我想到这里便站了起来，走向门边，看看收获日子的夕阳，看看小屋前面静悄悄的田野，田野与学校离村庄有半英里。鸟儿们正唱着它们最后的一曲。
“微风和煦，露水芬芳。”
这么瞧着感到很愉快，而且惊异地发觉自己不久哭起来了——为什么？因为厄运硬是把两情依依的我与主人拆开；因为我再也见不到他了；因为绝望的忧伤和极度的愤怒一一我离开的后果——这些也许正拉着他远远离开正道，失去了最后改邪归正的希望。一想到这里我从黄昏可爱的天空和莫尔顿孤独的溪谷转过脸来——我说孤独，那是因为在山弯里，除了掩映在树从中的教堂和牧师住宅，以及另一头顶端住着有钱的奥利弗先生和他的女儿的溪谷庄园，再也看不见其他建筑了。我蒙住眼睛，把头靠在房子的石门框上。但不久那扇把我的小花园与外边草地分开的小门附近，传来了轻轻的响动，我便抬起头来。一条狗——不一会儿我看到是里弗斯先生的猎狗卡罗一—正用鼻子推着门。圣.约翰自己抱臂靠在门上，他双眉紧锁，严肃得近乎不快的目光盯着我，我把他请进了屋。
“不，我不能久呆，我不过给你捎来了一个小包裹，是我妹妹们留给你的。我想里面有一个颜色盒，一些铅笔和纸张。”
走过去收了下来，这是一件值得欢迎的礼品。我走近他时，我想他用严厉的目光审视着我。毫无疑问，我脸上明显有泪痕。
“你发觉第一天的工作比你预料的要难吗？”他问。
“呵，没有！相反，我想到时候我会跟学生们处得很好。”
“可是也许你的居住条件——你的房子——你的家具一—使你大失所望？说真的是够寒碜的，不过——”我打断了他：
“我的小屋很干净，也经得住风雨。我的家具很充足，使用起来也方便。我所看到的只能使我感到幸运，而不是沮丧。我绝不是这样一个傻瓜和享乐主义者，居然对缺少地毯、沙发、银盘而懊悔不已。更何况五周前我一无所有——我当时是一个弃儿、一个乞丐、一个流浪者。现在我有了熟人，有了家，有了工作。我惊异于上帝的仁慈，朋友的慷慨，命运的恩惠。我并不感到烦恼。”
“可是你不觉得孤独是一种压抑吗？你身后的小房子黑咕隆咚，空空荡荡，”
“我几乎还没有时间来欣赏一种宁静感，更没有时间为孤独感而显得不耐烦了。”
“很好。我希望你体会到了你自己所说的满足，不管怎么说，你健全的理智会告诉你，像罗得的妻子那样犹犹豫豫，畏首畏尾，还为时过早。我见到你之前你遇到了什么，我无从知道，但我劝你要坚决抵制回头看的诱惑，坚守你现在的事业，至少干它几个月。”
“那正是我想做的，”我回答。圣.约翰继续说：
“要控制意愿，改变天性并不容易，但从经验来看是可以做到的。上帝给了我们一定力量来创造自己的命运。我们的精力需要补充而又难以如愿的时候——我们的意志一意孤行，要走不该走的路的时候一—我们不必因食物不足而挨饿，或者因为绝望而止步。我们只要为心灵寻找另一种养料，它像渴望一尝的禁果那样滋养，也许还更为清醇。要为敢于冒险的双脚开辟出一条路来，虽然更加坎坷，却同命运将我们堵塞的路一样直，一样宽。”
“一年之前，我也极其痛苦，觉得当牧师是一大错误。它千篇一律的职责乏味得要死。我热烈向往世间更活跃的生活—一向往文学经历更激动人心的劳作一—向往艺术家、作家、演说家的命运，只要不当牧师，随便当什么都可以。是的，一个政治家、一个士兵、一个光荣事业的献身者、一个沽名钓誉者、一个权力欲很强的人的一颗心，在牧师的法衣下跳动。我认为我的生活是悲惨的，必须加以改变，否则我得死去。经过一段黑暗和挣扎的时期，光明到来，宽慰降临。我那原先狭窄的生活，突然间扩展到一望无垠的平原—一我的能力听到了上天的召唤，起来，全力以赴，张开翅膀，任意飞翔。上帝赐予我一项使命，要做到底做得好，技巧和力量、勇气和雄辩等士兵、政治家、演说家的最好质都是必不可少的，因为一个出色的传教士都集这些于一身。
“我决心当个传教士。从那一刻起我的心态起了变化，镣铐熔化了，纷纷脱离我的官能，留下的不是羁绊而是擦伤的疼痛—一那只有时间才能治愈。其实我父亲反对我的决定，但自他去世以后，我已没有合法的障碍需要排除。一些事务已经妥善处理，莫尔顿的后继者也已经找到。一两桩感情纠葛已经冲破或者割断——这是与人类弱点的最后斗争，我知道我能克服，因为我发誓我一定要克服它——我离开欧洲去东方。”
他说这话的时候用的是奇怪、克制却又强调的口吻。说完了抬起头来，不是看我，而是看着落日，我也看了起来。他和我都背朝着从田野通向小门的小径。在杂草丛生的小径上，我们没有听到脚步声，此时此刻此情此景中，唯一让人陶醉的声音是潺潺的溪流声。因此当一个银铃似的欢快甜蜜的嗓音叫起来时，我们很吃了一惊：
“晚上好，里弗斯先生，晚上好，老卡罗。你的狗比你先认出了你的朋友来呢，我还在底下田野上，他已经竖起耳朵，摇起尾巴来了，而你到现在还把背向着我。”
确实如此。尽管里弗斯先生刚听到音乐般的声调时吃了一惊，仿佛一个霹雳在他头上撕裂了云层似的。但就是对方把话说完了，他还是保持着说话人惊吓了他时的姿势，胳膊靠在门上，脸朝西。最后他从容地转过头来，我似乎觉得他旁边出现了一个幻影。离他三尺的地方，有一个穿着纯白衣服的形体一一年青而优美的形体，丰满而线条很美。这人弯下腰下去抚摸卡罗时，抬起了头，把长长的面纱扔到后头，于是一张花也似的美妙绝伦的面孔，映入了他的眼帘。美妙绝伦是说重了一点，但我不愿收回这个词，或者另加修饰。英格兰温和的气候所能塑造的最可爱的面容，英格兰湿润的风和雾蒙蒙的天空所能催生，所能庇护的最纯正的玫瑰色和百合色这种描绘，在眼前这个例子中证明是恰到好处的。不缺一丝妩媚，不见任何缺陷。这位年轻姑娘面部匀称娇嫩，眼睛的形状和颜色就跟我们在可爱的图画上看到的无异，又大又黑又圆，眼睫毛又长又浓，以一种柔和的魅力围着一对美丽的眼睛。画过的眉毛异常清晰。白皙光滑的额头给色泽与光彩所形成的活泼美增添了一种宁静。脸颊呈椭圆形，鲜嫩而滑润。嘴唇也一样鲜嫩，红通通十分健康，外形非常可爱。整齐而闪光的牙齿，没有缺点，下巴有一个小小的酒窝。头发浓密成了一个很好的装饰。总之，合在一起构成理想美的一切优点都是属于她的，我瞧着这个漂亮的家伙，不胜惊讶，对她一心为之赞叹。大自然显然出于偏爱创造了她，忘记给予她通常吝啬的后母会给的小礼，而授予了她外祖母会给的慷慨恩赐。
沖?熐樯涎罢艺飧鑫侍獾拇鸢浮Ｋ?寻涯抗獯诱馕幌膳?砩弦瓶???谱懦ぴ诿疟叩囊淮夭黄鹧鄣某?铡?br>
“是个可爱的傍晚，不过你一个人外出就有些太晚了，”他一面说，一面用脚把没有开的雪白的花头踩烂了。
“呵，我下午刚从Ｓ市回来（她提了一下相距大约二十英里的一个城市）。爸爸告诉我你己经开办了一所学校，新的女教师已经来了，所以我用完茶后戴上草帽跑到山谷来看她了。就是她吗？”她指着我。
“是的，”圣.约翰说。
“你觉得会喜欢莫尔顿吗？”她问我，语调和举止里带着一种直率而幼稚的单纯，虽然有些孩子气，但讨人喜欢。
“我希望我会这样。我很想这么做。”
“你发现学生像你预料的那么专心么？”
“十分专心。”
“你喜欢你的房子吗？”
“很喜欢。”
“我布置得好吗？”
“真的很好。”
“而且选了爱丽丝．伍德来服侍你，不错吧？”
“确实这样。她可以管教，也很派用处。（那么我想这位就是继承人奥利弗小姐了。她似乎既在家产上又在那些天生丽质上得到了偏爱！我不知道她的出生碰上了什么行星的幸运组合呢？）”
“有时我会上来帮你教书，”她补充说。“这么时时来看看你，对我也可以换换口味，而我喜欢换口味。里弗斯先生，我呆在Ｓ市的时候非常愉快。昨天晚上，或者说今天早晨，我跳舞一直跳到两点。那，那个，——自从骚乱以后，那个团一直驻扎在那里，而军官们是世上最讨人喜欢的人，他们使我们所有年青的磨刀制剪商相形见绌。
我好像觉得圣.约翰先生的下唇突了出来，上唇卷起了一会儿。这位哈哈笑着的姑娘告诉他这些情况时，他的嘴看上去紧抿着，下半个脸异乎寻常地严肃和古板。他还从雏菊那儿抬起眼来凝视着她。这是一种没有笑容、搜索探寻、意味深长的目光。她再次一笑，算是对他的回答。笑声很适合她的青春年华，她那玫瑰色的面容，她的酒窝，她那晶莹的眸子。
圣.约翰默不作声十分严肃地站着时，她又开始抚摸起卡罗来。“可怜的，卡罗喜欢我，”她说，“它对朋友不严肃，不疏远。而且要是它能说话，它是不会不吭声的。”
她以天生的优美姿态，在年青而严峻的狗主人面前弯下腰，拍拍狗头时，我看见主人的脸上升起了红晕，看见他严肃的目光，已被突如其来的火花所融化，闪烁着难以克制的激情，因此他的脸烧得通红。作为一个男子，他看上去几乎象她作为一个女人那么漂亮。他的胸部一度起伏着，仿佛那颗巨大的心对专横的约束感到厌倦，已经违背意志扩展起来，强劲有力地跳动了一下，希望获得自由。但他把它控制住了，我想就像一位坚定的骑手勒住了腾起的马一样。对她那种饱含温情的友好表示，他既没用语言也没通过动作来回答。
“爸爸说你现在从不来看我们了，”奥利弗小姐抬起头来继续说。“你简直成了溪谷庄园的陌生人了。今天晚上他只有一个人，而且不大舒服。你愿意同我一起回去看看他吗？”
“现在这个时候去打扰奥利弗先生是不合时宜的，”圣.约翰回答。
“不会不合时宜的！但我宣布现在恰是时候，这是爸爸最需要有人陪伴的时刻。工厂一关，他便没事可干了。好吧，里弗斯先生，你可—定得来。你干嘛这么怕羞，这么忧郁？”她自己作了回答，填补了他的沉默所留下的空隙。
“我倒忘了，”她大叫起来，摇着美丽的、头发卷曲的脑袋，仿佛对自己感到震惊。“我实在是昏头昏脑，太粗心大意了！—定得原谅我。我倒是忘了你有充分理由不愿跟我闲聊。黛安娜和玛丽已经离开了你，沼泽居已经关闭，你那么孤独。我确实很同情你，一定要来看看爸爸呀。”
“今晚不去了，罗莎蒙德小姐，今晚不去了。”
圣.约翰先生几乎像一台机器那样说着话。只有他自己知道要拒绝对方所要付出的力气。
“好吧，要是你那么固执，我就离开你了，可不敢再这么呆下去，露水已开始落下来了，晚安！”
她伸出手来。他只碰了一碰。“晚安！”他重复道，音调低沉，而且像回音那么沉闷。她转过身去，但过了一会儿又回过身来。
“你身体好吗？”她问。她难怪会提出这个问题来，因为他的脸色像她的衣服那么苍白。
“很好，”他宣称，随后点了点头离开了大门。她走一条路，他走的是另一条路。她像仙女一样轻快地走下田野时，两次回头盯着他；而他坚定地大步走过，从没回头。
别人受苦和作出牺牲的情景，使我不再只耽于对自己的受苦和牺牲的沉思了。黛安娜．里弗斯曾说她的哥哥“象死一般的冷酷，”她并没有夸张。

伊墨君(热心会员)

32楼 2013-02-11

Chapter 30

THE more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I likedthem. In a few days I had so far recovered my health that I could sit upall day, and walk out sometimes. I could join with Diana and Mary inall their occupations; converse with them as much as they wished, andaid them when and where they would allow me. There was a revivingpleasure in this intercourse, of a kind now tasted by me for the firsttime- the pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes,sentiments, and principles.
I liked to read what they liked to read:what they enjoyed, delighted me; what they approved, I reverenced. Theyloved their sequestered home. I, too, in the grey, small, antiquestructure, with its low roof, its latticed casements, its moulderingwalls, its avenue of aged firs- all grown aslant under the stress ofmountain winds; its garden, dark with yew and holly- and where noflowers but of the hardiest species would bloom- found a charm bothpotent and permanent. They clung to the purple moors behind and aroundtheir dwelling- to the hollow vale into which the pebbly bridle-pathleading from their gate descended, and which wound between fern-banksfirst, and then amongst a few of the wildest little pasture-fields thatever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock ofgrey moorland sheep, with their little mossy-faced lambs:- they clung tothis scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. I couldcomprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. I saw thefascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its loneliness:my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep- on the wild colouringcommunicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, byflower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag.These details were just to me what they were to them- so many pure andsweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft breeze; therough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and sunset; themoonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in these regions, thesame attraction as for them- wound round my faculties the same spellthat entranced theirs.
Indoors we agreed equally well. They were both more accomplished andbetter read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the path ofknowledge they had trodden before me. I devoured the books they lent me:then it was full satisfaction to discuss with them in the evening what Ihad perused during the day. Thought fitted thought; opinion metopinion: we coincided, in short, perfectly.
If in our trio there was a superior and a leader, it was Diana.
Physically, she far excelled me: she was handsome; she was vigorous.
In her animal spirits there was an affluence of life and certainty offlow, such as excited my wonder, while it baffled my comprehension.
I could talk a while when the evening commenced, but the first gushof vivacity and fluency gone, I was fain to sit on a stool at Diana'sfeet, to rest my head on her knee, and listen alternately to her andMary, while they sounded thoroughly the topic on which I had buttouched. Diana offered to teach me German. I liked to learn of her:
I saw the part of instructress pleased and suited her; that ofscholar pleased and suited me no less. Our natures dovetailed: mutualaffection- of the strongest kind- was the result. They discovered Icould draw: their pencils and colour-boxes were immediately at myservice. My skill, greater in this one point than theirs, surprised andcharmed them. Mary would sit and watch me by the hour together: then shewould take lessons; and a docile, intelligent, assiduous pupil shemade. Thus occupied, and mutually entertained, days passed like hours,and weeks like days.
As to Mr. St. John, the intimacy which had arisen so naturally andrapidly between me and his sisters did not extend to him. One reason ofthe distance yet observed between us was, that he was comparativelyseldom at home: a large proportion of his time appeared devoted tovisiting the sick and poor among the scattered population of his parish.
No weather seemed to hinder him in these pastoral excursions: rain orfair, he would, when his hours of morning study were over, take hishat, and, followed by his father's old pointer, Carlo, go out on hismission of love or duty- I scarcely know in which light he regarded it.Sometimes, when the day was very unfavourable, his sisters wouldexpostulate. He would then say, with a peculiar smile, more solemn thancheerful-
'And if I let a gust of wind or a sprinkling of rain turn me asidefrom these easy tasks, what preparation would such sloth be for thefuture I propose to myself?'
Diana and Mary's general answer to this question was a sigh, and some minutes of apparently mournful meditation.
But besides his frequent absences, there was another barrier tofriendship with him: he seemed of a reserved, an abstracted, and even ofa brooding nature. Zealous in his ministerial labours, blameless in hislife and habits, he yet did not appear to enjoy that mental serenity,that inward content, which should be the reward of every sincereChristian and practical philanthropist. Often, of an evening, when hesat at the window, his desk and papers before him, he would ceasereading or writing, rest his chin on his hand, and deliver himself up toI know not what course of thought; but that it was perturbed andexciting might be seen in the frequent flash and changeful dilation ofhis eye.
I think, moreover, that Nature was not to him that treasury ofdelight it was to his sisters. He expressed once, and but once in myhearing, a strong sense of the rugged charm of the hills, and an inbornaffection for the dark roof and hoary walls he called his home; butthere was more of gloom than pleasure in the tone and words in which thesentiment was manifested; and never did he seem to roam the moors forthe sake of their soothing silence- never seek out or dwell upon thethousand peaceful delights they could yield.
Incommunicative as he was, some time elapsed before I had anopportunity of gauging his mind. I first got an idea of its calibre whenI heard him preach in his own church at Morton. I wish I could describethat sermon: but it is past my power. I cannot even render faithfullythe effect it produced on me.
It began calm- and indeed, as far as delivery and pitch of voicewent, it was calm to the end: an earnestly felt, yet strictly restrainedzeal breathed soon in the distinct accents, and prompted the nervouslanguage. This grew to force- compressed, condensed, controlled. Theheart was thrilled, the mind astonished, by the power of the preacher:neither were softened. Throughout there was a strange bitterness; anabsence of consolatory gentleness; stern allusions to Calvinisticdoctrines- election, predestination, reprobation- were frequent; andeach reference to these points sounded like a sentence pronounced fordoom. When he had done, instead of feeling better, calmer, moreenlightened by his discourse, I experienced an expressible sadness; forit seemed to me- I know not whether equally so to others- that theeloquence to which I had been listening had sprung from a depth wherelay turbid dregs of disappointment- where moved troubling impulses ofinsatiate yearnings and disquieting aspirations. I was sure St. JohnRivers- pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was- had not yet foundthat peace of God which passeth all understanding; he had no more foundit, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for mybroken idol and lost elysium- regrets to which I have latterly avoidedreferring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly.
Meantime a month was gone. Diana and Mary were soon to leave MoorHouse, and return to the far different life and scene which awaitedthem, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of-England city,where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughtymembers they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neitherknew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only theiracquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook orthe taste of their waiting-woman. Mr. St. John had said nothing to meyet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it becameurgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. One morning, beingleft alone with him a few minutes in the parlour, I ventured to approachthe window-recess- which his table, chair, and desk consecrated as akind of study- and I was going to speak, though not very well knowing inwhat words to frame my inquiry- for it is at all times difficult tobreak the ice of reserve glassing over such natures as his- when hesaved me the trouble by being the first to commence a dialogue.
Looking up as I drew near- 'You have a question to ask of me?' he said.
'Yes; I wish to know whether you have heard of any service I can offer myself to undertake?'
'I found or devised something for you three weeks ago; but as youseemed both useful and happy here- as my sisters had evidently becomeattached to you, and your society gave them unusual pleasure- I deemedit inexpedient to break in on your mutual comfort till their approachingdeparture from Marsh End should render yours necessary.'
'And they will go in three days now?' I said.
'Yes; and when they go, I shall return to the parsonage at Morton:Hannah will accompany me; and this old house will be shut up.'
I waited a few moments, expecting he would go on with the subjectfirst broached: but he seemed to have entered another train ofreflection: his look denoted abstraction from me and my business. I wasobliged to recall him to a theme which was of necessity one of close andanxious interest to me.
'What is the employment you had in view, Mr. Rivers? I hope this delay will not have increased the difficulty of securing it.'
'Oh, no; since it is an employment which depends only on me to give, and you to accept.'
He again paused: there seemed a reluctance to continue. I grewimpatient: a restless movement or two, and an eager and exacting glancefastened on his face, conveyed the feeling to him as effectually aswords could have done, and with less trouble.
'You need be in no hurry to hear,' he said: 'let me frankly tell you,I have nothing eligible or profitable to suggest. Before I explain,recall, if you please, my notice, clearly given, that if I helped you,it must be as the blind man would help the lame. I am poor; for I findthat, when I have paid my father's debts, all the patrimony remaining tome will be this crumbling grange, the row of scathed firs behind, andthe patch of moorish soil, with the yew-trees and holly-bushes in front.I am obscure: Rivers is an old name; but of the three sole descendantsof the race, two earn the dependant's crust among strangers, and thethird considers himself an alien from his native country- not only forlife, but in death. Yes, and deems, and is bound to deem, himselfhonoured by the lot, and aspires but after the day when the cross ofseparation from fleshly ties shall be laid on his shoulders, and whenthe Head of that church-militant of whose humblest members he is one,shall give the word, "Rise, follow Me!"'
St. John said these words as he pronounced his sermons, with a quiet,deep voice; with an unflushed cheek, and a coruscating radiance ofglance. He resumed-
'And since I am myself poor and obscure, I can offer you but aservice of poverty and obscurity. You may even think it degrading- for Isee now your habits have been what the world calls refined: your tasteslean to the ideal, and your society has at least been amongst theeducated; but I consider that no service degrades which can better ourrace. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where theChristian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him- the scantier themeed his toil brings- the higher the honour. His, under suchcircumstances, is the destiny of the pioneer; and the first pioneers ofthe Gospel were the Apostles- their captain was Jesus, the Redeemer,Himself.'
'Well?' I said, as he again paused- 'proceed.'
He looked at me before he proceeded: indeed, he seemed leisurely toread my face, as if its features and lines were characters on a page.The conclusions drawn from this scrutiny he partially expressed in hissucceeding observations.
'I believe you will accept the post I offer you,' said he, 'and holdit for a while: not permanently, though: any more than I couldpermanently keep the narrow and narrowing- the tranquil, hidden officeof English country incumbent; for in your nature is an alloy asdetrimental to repose as that in mine, though of a different kind.'
'Do explain,' I urged, when he halted once more.
'I will; and you shall hear how poor the proposal is,- how trivial-how cramping. I shall not stay long at Morton, now that my father isdead, and that I am my own master. I shall leave the place probably inthe course of a twelvemonth; but while I do stay, I will exert myself tothe utmost for its improvement. Morton, when I came to it two yearsago, had no school: the children of the poor were excluded from everyhope of progress. I established one for boys: I mean now to open asecond school for girls. I have hired a building for the purpose, with acottage of two rooms attached to it for the mistress's house. Hersalary will be thirty pounds a year: her house is already furnished,very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady, Miss Oliver;the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish-
Mr. Oliver, the proprietor of a needle-factory and iron-foundry inthe valley. The same lady pays for the education and clothing of anorphan from the workhouse, on condition that she shall aid the mistressin such menial offices connected with her own house and the school asher occupation of teaching will prevent her having time to discharge inperson. Will you be this mistress?'
He put the question rather hurriedly; he seemed half to expect anindignant, or at least a disdainful rejection of the offer: not knowingall my thoughts and feelings, though guessing some, he could not tell inwhat light the lot would appear to me. In truth it was humble- but thenit was sheltered, and I wanted a safe asylum: it was plodding- butthen, compared with that of a governess in a rich house, it wasindependent; and the fear of servitude with strangers entered my soullike iron: it was not ignoble- not unworthy- not mentally degrading. Imade my decision.
'I thank you for the proposal, Mr. Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart.'
'But you comprehend me?' he said. 'It is a village school: yourscholars will be only poor girls- cottagers' children- at the best,farmers' daughters. Knitting, sewing, reading, writing, ciphering, willbe all you will have to teach. What will you do with youraccomplishments? What, with the largest portion of your mind-sentiments- tastes?'
'Save them till they are wanted. They will keep.'
'You know what you undertake, then?'
'I do.'
He now smiled: and not a bitter or a sad smile, but one well pleased and deeply gratified.
'And when will you commence the exercise of your function?'
'I will go to my house to-morrow, and open the school, if you like, next week.'
'Very well: so be it.'
He rose and walked through the room. Standing still, he again looked at me. He shook his head.
'What do you disapprove of, Mr. Rivers?' I asked.
'You will not stay at Morton long: no, no!'
'Why? What is your reason for saying so?'
'I read it in your eye; it is not of that description which promises the maintenance of an even tenor in life.'
'I am not ambitious.'
He started at the word 'ambitious.' He repeated, 'No. What made youthink of ambition? Who is ambitious? I know I am: but how did you findit out?'
'I was speaking of myself.'
'Well, if you are not ambitious, you are-' He paused.
'What?'
'I was going to say, impassioned: but perhaps you would havemisunderstood the word, and been displeased. I mean, that humanaffections and sympathies have a most powerful hold on you. I am sureyou cannot long be content to pass your leisure in solitude, and todevote your working hours to a monotonous labour wholly void ofstimulus: any more than I can be content,' he added, with emphasis, 'tolive here buried in morass, pent in with mountains- my nature, that Godgave me, contravened; my faculties, heaven-bestowed, paralysed- madeuseless. You hear now how I contradict myself. I, who preachedcontentment with a humble lot, and justified the vocation even of hewersof wood and drawers of water in God's service- I, His ordainedminister, almost rave in my restlessness. Well, propensities andprinciples must be reconciled by some means.'
He left the room. In this brief hour I had learnt more of him than in the whole previous month: yet still he puzzled me.
Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the dayapproached for leaving their brother and their home. They both tried toappear as usual; but the sorrow they had to struggle against was onethat could not be entirely conquered or concealed. Diana intimated thatthis would be a different parting from any they had ever yet known. Itwould probably, as far as St. John was concerned, be a parting foryears: it might be a parting for life.
'He will sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves,' she said:'natural affection and feelings more potent still. St. John looks quiet,Jane; but he hides a fever in his vitals. You would think him gentle,yet in some things he is inexorable as death; and the worst of it is, myconscience will hardly permit me to dissuade him from his severedecision: certainly, I cannot for a moment blame him for it. It isright, noble, Christian: yet it breaks my heart!' And the tears gushedto her fine eyes. Mary bent her head low over her work.
'We are now without father: we shall soon be without home and brother,' she murmured.
At that moment a little accident supervened, which seemed decreed byfate purposely to prove the truth of the adage, that 'misfortunes nevercome singly,' and to add to their distresses the vexing one of the slipbetween the cup and the lip. St. John passed the window reading aletter. He entered.
'Our uncle John is dead,' said he.
Both the sisters seemed struck: not shocked or appalled; the tidings appeared in their eyes rather momentous than afflicting.
'Dead?' repeated Diana.
'Yes.'
She riveted a searching gaze on her brother's face. 'And what then?' she demanded, in a low voice.
'What then, Die?' he replied, maintaining a marble immobility of feature. 'What then? Why- nothing. Read.'
He threw the letter into her lap. She glanced over it, and handed itto Mary. Mary perused it in silence, and returned it to her brother. Allthree looked at each other, and all three smiled- a dreary, pensivesmile enough.
'Amen! We can yet live,' said Diana at last.
'At any rate, it makes us no worse off than we were before,' remarked Mary.
'Only it forces rather strongly on the mind the picture of what mighthave been; said Mr. Rivers, 'and contrasts it somewhat too vividly withwhat is.'
He folded the letter, locked it in his desk, and again went out.
For some minutes no one spoke. Diana then turned to me.
'Jane, you will wonder at us and our mysteries,' she said, 'and thinkus hard-hearted beings not to be more moved at the death of so near arelation as an uncle; but we have never seen him or known him. He was mymother's brother. My father and he quarrelled long ago.
It was by his advice that my father risked most of his property inthe speculation that ruined him. Mutual recrimination passed betweenthem: they parted in anger, and were never reconciled. My uncle engagedafterwards in more prosperous undertakings: it appears he realised afortune of twenty thousand pounds. He was never married, and had no nearkindred but ourselves and one other person, not more closely relatedthan we. My father always cherished the idea that he would atone for hiserror by leaving his possessions to us; that letter informs us that hehas bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception ofthirty guineas, to be divided between St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers,for the purchase of three mourning rings. He had a right, of course, todo as he pleased: and yet a momentary damp is cast on the spirits by thereceipt of such news.
Mary and I would have esteemed ourselves rich with a thousand poundseach; and to St. John such a sum would have been valuable, for the goodit would have enabled him to do.'This explanation given, the subject was dropped, and no furtherreference made to it by either Mr. Rivers or his sisters. The next day Ileft Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary quitted theparsonage: and so the old grange was abandoned.

我越了解沼泽居的人就越是喜欢他们。不到几天工夫，我的身体便很快地恢复，已经可以整天坐着，有时还能出去走走。我已能参加黛安娜和玛丽的一切活动，她们爱谈多久就谈多久，什么时候，什么地方，只要她们允许，就去帮忙。在这些交往中，有一种令人振奋的愉悦—一在我还是第一次体会到—一这种愉悦产生于趣味、情调和原则的融洽。
我爱读她们喜欢读的书，她们所欣赏的使我感到愉快，她们所赞同的我也尊重。她们喜欢这个与世隔绝的家，我也在灰色、古老、小巧的建筑中找到了巨大而永久的魅力。这里有低矮的屋顶、带格子的窗户、消蚀的小径和古杉夹道的大路——强劲的山风使这些古杉都已倾斜。还有长着紫杉和冬青而呈黑色的花园一—这里除了顽强的花种，什么花都不开放。她们眷恋住宅后面和周围紫色的荒原一—眷恋凹陷的溪谷。一条鹅卵石筑成的马道，从大门口由高而低通向那里，先在蔽树丛生的两岸之间蜿蜒着，随后又经过与欧石南荒原交界的几个最荒芜的小牧场。一群灰色的荒原羊和苔藓般面孔的羊羔，都靠这些牧场来维持生命——嗨，她们热情满怀地眷恋着这番景色。我能理解她们的感情，同她们一样感受这个地方的力量与真谛，我看到了这—带诱人的魅力，体会到它所奉献的孤寂。我的眼目尽情地享受着起伏的荒原，享受着山脊上与山谷中由青苔、灰色欧石南、小花点点的草地、鲜艳夺目的欧洲蕨和颜色柔和的花岗岩所形成的荒野色彩。这些点滴景物之于我如同之于她们一—都是无数纯洁可爱的快乐源泉。猛烈的狂风和柔和的微风、凄风苦雨的天气和平平静静的日子、日出时分和日落时刻、月光皎洁的夜晚和乌云密布的黑夜，都使我同他们一样深为这个地区所吸引，都对我如同对他们一样，产生了一种魔力。
在家里我们一样相处得很融洽。她们比我更有造诣，读的书也更多。但是我急切地走着她们在我前面踩踏出来的知识之路。我狼吞虎咽地读着他们借给我的书，而夜晚与她们切磋我白天读过的书是—种极大的满足。我们想法一致，观点相合，总之大家意气相投。
如果我们三人中有一位更出色者和领袖，那就是黛安娜。体态上她远胜于我，漂亮而精力过人，活泼而有生气，流动着一种使我为之惊异又难以理解的丰富的生命力，夜晚的最初时刻，我还能谈一会儿，但第一阵子轻松自如的谈话之后，我便只好坐在黛安娜脚边的矮凳上，把头靠在她膝头上，轮流听着她和玛丽深谈着我只触及了皮毛的话题。黛安娜愿意教我德语，我喜欢跟她学。我发觉教师的角色很适合她，使她高兴，而同样学生的角色也适合我，使我高兴。我们的个性十分吻合，结果彼此之间感情深厚。她们知道我能作画，就立刻把铅笔和颜料盒供我使用。这项唯一胜过她们的技能，使她们感到惊奇，也让她们着了迷。我绘画时玛丽会坐着看我作画，随后也学了起来，而且是位聪明、听话、用功的学生。就这样忙这忙那，彼此都得到了乐趣，一周的日子像一天，一天的时间像一小时那么过去了。
至于圣.约翰先生，我与他妹妹之间自然而迅速形成的亲密无间的感情，与他无缘。我们之间显得疏远的一个原因，是他难得在家，一大部份时间都奔忙于他教区分散的居民之间，走访病人和穷人。
任何天气似乎都阻挡不住牧师的短途行程。不管晴天还是雨天，每天早晨的学习时间一结束，他会戴上帽子，带着他父亲的老猎狗卡罗，出门开始了出于爱好或是职责的使命——我几乎不知道他怎样看待它。天气很糟的时候妹妹们会劝他别去，但他脸上浮起了庄严甚于愉快的笑容说：
“要是一阵风和几滴雨就弄得我放弃这些轻而易举的工作，那么这样懒懒散散，又怎么能为我设想的未来作准备呢？”
黛安娜和玛丽对这个问题的回答，往往是一声叹息和几分钟明显伤心的沉默。
但是除了因为他频繁外出之外，还有另一大障碍使我无法与他建立友情。他似乎是个生性寡言少语、心不在焉、沉思默想的人，尽管他对牧师工作非常热情，生活习惯上也无可指摘，但他好像并没有享受到每个虔诚的基督徒和脚踏实地的慈善家应得的酬报：内心的宁静和满足。晚上，他常常坐在窗前，对着面前的书桌和纸张会停止阅读和写作，把下巴靠在手上，任自己的思绪不知向什么方向飘忽，但显得局促不安，从他眼睛频繁的闪烁和变幻莫测的张合中，可以看到兴奋与激动。
此外，我认为大自然对于他并不像对于她妹妹那样是快乐的源泉。我听到过一次，也只有—次，他表示自己被崎岖的小山深深地迷住了，同时对被他称之为自己家的黑色屋顶和灰白的墙壁，怀着一种眷恋之情。但是在表达这种情感的音调和语言中，隐含的忧郁甚于愉快。而且他从来没有因为要感受一下荒原舒心的字静而漫步其中，—一从来没有去发现或谈及荒原给人千百种平静的乐趣。
由于他不爱交际，我过了一些时候才有机会探究他的思想。我听了他在莫尔顿自己的教堂讲道后，对他的能力有了初步的了解。我希望能描绘一下他那次讲道，但无能为力，我甚至无法确切表达它给我的印象。
开头很平静一—其实，以讲演的风格和语调而言，那是自始至终很平静的。一种发自肺腑而严加控制的热情，很快注进了清晰的语调，激发起了生动的语言，话渐渐地变得有力起来——简练、浓缩而有分寸。牧师的力量使人内心为之震颤，头脑为之惊异，但两者都没有被感化。他的讲演自始至终有着一种奇怪的痛苦，缺乏一种抚慰人的温柔。他不断严厉地提到加尔文主义——上帝的选拔、命定和天罚，每次的提醒听起来仿佛是在宣布末日的来临。布道结束以后，我不是受到他讲演的启发，感觉更好更平静了，而是体会到了一种难以言喻的哀伤。因为我似乎觉得——我不知道别人是不是有同样感觉——我所倾听的雄辩，出自于充满混浊的失望之渣的心灵深处—一那里躁动着无法满足的愿望和不安的憧憬。我确信圣.约翰.里弗斯尽管生活单纯，又真诚热情，却并没有找到不可理解的上帝的安宁。我想他与我一样，都没有找到。我是因为打碎了偶像，失去了天堂而产生了隐蔽而焦躁不安的悔恨一—这些悔恨我虽然最近已避而不谈，但仍无情地纠缠着、威压着我。
与此同时，一个月过去了。黛安娜和玛丽不久就离开沼泽居，回到等待着的截然不同的生活环境中去，在英国南部一个时髦的城市当家庭教师。她们各自在别人家里谋职，被富有而高傲的家庭成员们视为低下的附庸。这些人既不了解也不去发现她们内在的美德，而只赏识她们已经获得的技艺，如同赏识他们厨师的手艺和侍女的情趣。圣.约翰先生一句也没有说起答应帮我找的工作，而对我来说谋个职业已是迫在眉睫的事了。一天早晨，我与他单独在客厅里呆了几分钟，我冒昧地走近窗子的凹陷处——他的桌子、椅子和书桌已使这里成了个书房——我正要开口，尽管还不十分明白该用怎样的措词把问题提出来——因为无论何时要打破包裹着他这种性格的拘谨外壳，都是十分困难的一—他省了我麻烦，先开口了。
我走近时他抬起头来，“你有问题要问我吗，”他说。
“是的，我想知道一下你是否听到过什么我能够做的工作。”
“三个星期前我找到了或是替你设计了某个工作，但你在这里似乎既很有用处，自己又很愉快——我的妹妹们显然同你形影不离，有你作伴她们格外开心一—我觉得妨碍你们彼此所感到的快慰是不适宜的，还是等她们快要离开沼泽居因而你也有必要离开时再说。”
“现在她们三天后就要走了：”我说。
“是呀，她们一走我就要回到莫尔顿的牧师住所去，汉娜随我走，这所老房子要关闭。”
我等了一会儿，以为他会继续他首次提出的话题，但他似乎已另有所思。他明显走了神，忘了我和我的事儿。我不得不把他拉回出于需要已成为我最迫切最关心的话题。
“你想到了什么工作，里弗斯先生？我希望这次拖延不至于增加谋职的难度。”
“呵，不会。既然这项工作只决定于我来提供，你来接受。”
他又不吱声了，仿佛不愿再继续说下去。我有些耐不住了，——两个不安的动作以及一个急切而严厉的眼神落在他脸上，向他表达了同语言一样有效，但省却了不少麻烦的情感。
“你不必急于听到，”他说，“坦率告诉你吧，我没有什么合适的或是挣钱的工作可以建议。我解释之前，请回忆一下，我明明白白地向你打过招呼，要是我帮你，那得是瞎子帮助跛子。我很穷，因为我发现偿付了父亲的债务后，父亲留给我的全部遗产就只有这个摇摇欲坠的田庄，庄后一排枯萎的杉树，一片前面长着紫杉和冬青灌木的荒土。我出身卑微，里弗斯是个古老的名字。但这个族的三个仅存的后裔，两个在陌生人中间依赖他人为生，第三个认为自己是远离故土的异乡人——活着和死了都是如此。是的，他认为，必然认为这样的命运是他的光荣，他盼望有朝一日摆脱尘世束缚的十字架会放在他肩上，那位自己也是最卑微一员的教会斗士的首领会传下号令：起来，跟着我？”
圣.约翰像布道一样说着这些话，语调平静而深沉，脸不发红，目光炯炯。他继续说：
“既然我自己也贫穷卑微，我只能向你提供贫穷卑微的工作，你甚至可能认为这很低俗——因为我现在知道你的举止属于世人所说的高雅；你的情趣倾向于理想化；你所交往的至少是受过教育的人，——但我认为凡是有益于人类进步的工作都不能说低俗。越是贫瘠和没有开垦的土地，基督教徒越是要承担去那儿开垦的使命一一他的劳动所挣得的报酬越少，他的荣誉就越高。在这种情况下，他的命运就是先驱者的命运，传播福音的第一批先驱者就是使徒们——他们的首领就是耶稣，他本人就是救世主。”
“嗯？”他再次停下时我说一—“说下去。”
他还没有说下去便又瞧了瞧我，似乎悠闲地读着我的面孔，仿佛它的五官和线条是一页书上的人物。他仔细打量后所得出的结论，部份地表露在后来的谈话中。
“我相信你会接受我提供的职位，”他说，“而且会干一会儿，尽管不会永久干下去，就像我不会永久担任英国乡村牧师这狭隘，使人越来越狭隘——平静而神秘的职位。因为你的性格也像我的一样，有一种不安分的东西，尽管本质上有所区别。”
“请务必解释一下，”他再次停下来时我催促道。
“一定。你会听到这工作多么可怜——多么琐碎——多么束缚人。我父亲已去世，我自己也就独立了，所以我不会在莫尔顿久待。我很可能在一年之内离开这个地方，但我还在时，我要竭尽全力使它有所改进。两年前我来到时，莫尔顿没有学校，穷人的孩子都被排除在一切渴求上进的希望之外，我为男孩子们建立了一所学校。现在我有意为女孩子开设第二所学校。我已租了一幢楼用于这个目的，附带两间破屋作为女教师的住房。她的工资为三十镑一年，她的房子已安上家具，虽然简陋，但已够用，那是奥利弗小姐做的好事，她是我教区内唯一的一位富人奥利弗先生的独生女，奥利弗先生是山谷中制针厂和铁铸厂的业主。这位女士还为一个从济贫院来的孤儿付教育费和服装费，条件是这位孤儿得协助教师，干些跟她住所和学校有关的琐碎事务，因为教学工作不允许女教师亲自来过问。你愿意做这样一位教师吗？”
他的问题问得有些匆忙。他似乎估计这个建议多半会遭到愤怒的，或者至少轻蔑的拒绝。他虽然可以作些猜测，但不完全了解我的思想和感情，无法判断我会怎样看待自己的命运。说实在，这工作很低下——但提供了住所，而我需要一个安全的避难所。这工作沉闷乏味—一但比之富人家庭的女教师，它却是无拘无束的。而替陌生人操劳的恐惧象铁钳一样夹住了我的心。这个工作并不丢脸——不是不值得一一精神上也并不低下，我下定了决心。
“谢谢你的建议，里弗斯先生。我欣然接受这份工作。”
“可是你理解我的意思吗？”他说。“这是一所乡村学校。你的学生都只是穷苦女孩——茅屋里的孩子——至多是农夫的女儿。编织、缝纫和读、写、算你都得教。你自己的技艺派什么用处呢？你大部份的思想——感情——情趣又有什么用呢？”
“留着它们等有用时再说。它们可以保存下来。”
“那你知道你要干的事了。”
“我知道。”
这时他笑了，不是苦笑，也不是伤心的笑，而是十分满意并深为感激的笑容。
“你什么时候开始履行职务？”
“我明天就到自己的房子去，要是你高兴，下周就开学。”
“很好，就这样吧。”
他立起身来，穿过房间，一动不动地站着再次看着我。他摇了摇头。
“你有什么不赞成呢，里弗斯先生？”我问。
“你不会在莫尔顿呆得很久，不，不会的：”
“为什么？你这么说的理由是什么？”
“我从你的眼睛里看到了。不是那种预示着要安度一生的表情。”
“我没有雄心。”
他听了“雄心”两个字吃了一惊，便重复说：“不，你怎么会想到雄心？谁雄心勃勃呢？我知道自己是这样。但你怎么发现的？”
“我在说我自己。”
“嗯，要是你并不雄心勃勃，那你是——”他打住了。
“是什么呢？”
“我正要说多情，但也许你会误解这个字，而会不高兴。我的意思是，人类的爱心和同情心在你的身上表现得很强烈。我确信你不会长期满足于在孤寂中度过闲暇，把你的工作时间用于一项完全没有刺激的单调劳动，”他又强调着补充说，“就象我不会满足于住在这里，埋没在沼泽地里，封闭在大山之中—一上帝赐予我的天性与此格格不入，上天所赋予的才能会被断送——会弄得．一无用处。这会儿你听见了我如何自相矛盾了吧。我自己讲道时说要安于自己卑贱的命运，只要为上帝效劳，即使当砍柴工和汲水人也心甘情愿一一而我，上帝所任命的牧师，几乎是焦躁不安地咆哮着。哎呀，爱好与原则总得想个办法统一起来。”
他走出了房间。短短的一小时之内，我对他的了解胜过于以前的一个月。不过他仍使我无法理解。
随着同哥哥和家园告别的日子越来越近，黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯也越来越伤心，越来越沉默了。她们都想装得同往常一样，但是她们所要驱除的忧愁是无法完全克制或是掩饰的。黛娜说，这次离别与以往所经历的完全不同。就圣.约翰来说，那可能是一去几年，也可能是一辈子。
“他会为他长期形成的决定而牺牲一切，”她说：“但天性的爱恋与感情却更加强烈。圣.约翰看上去文文静静，简，但是他的躯体里隐藏着一种热情。你可能认为他很温顺，但在某些事情上，他可以像死一般冷酷。最糟糕的是，我的良心几乎不容我说服他放弃自己苛刻的决定。当然我也绝不能为此而责备他。这是正当、高尚、符合基督教精神的，但使我心碎。”说完，眼泪一下子涌上了她漂亮的眼睛。玛丽低着头干着自己的活儿。
“如今我们已没有父亲，很快就要没有家，没有哥哥了，”她喃喃地说。
这时候发生了一个小小的插曲，仿佛也是天意，要证实“祸不单行”的格言，伤心之中因眼看到手的东西又失掉而更添恼怒。圣.约翰走过窗前，读着一封信，他走进房间。
“我们的舅舅去世了，”他说。
两位姐妹都似乎一怔，既不感到震惊也不表示惊讶。在她们的眼睛里这消息显得很重要，但并不令人痛苦。
“死了？”黛安娜重复说。
“是的。”
她带着搜索的目光紧盯着她哥哥的脸庞。“那又怎样呢？”她低声问。
“那又怎样，死了？”他回答，面部象大理石一样毫无表情。“那又怎样？哎呀—一没有怎样。自己看吧。”
他把信扔到她膝头。她眼睛粗略地扫了一下，把它交给了玛丽。玛丽默默地细读着，后来又把信还给了她哥哥。三人彼此你看我，我看你，都笑了起来——那是一种凄凉、忧郁的笑容。
“阿门！我们还能活着，”黛安娜终于说。
“不管怎么说，这并没有弄得我们比以前更糟，”玛丽说。
“只不过它强行使人想起本来可能会出现的景象，”里弗斯先生说，“而同实际的景象形成有些过份鲜明的对照。”
他折好信，锁进抽屉，又走了出去。
几分钟内没有人开腔。黛安娜转向我。
“简，你会对我们和我们的秘密感到奇怪，”她说，“而且会认为我们心肠太狠，居然象舅舅这样一位近亲去世了却并不那么动情。但是我们从来没有见过他，也不知道他。他是我们母亲的兄弟。很久以前我父亲和他曾有过争吵。听从他的建议，我们父亲把大部分资产冒险投入一桩后来毁了他的买卖。彼此都责备对方。他们怒气冲冲地分别了，从此没有和好。我舅舅后来又投资了几家使他财运亨通的企业。他似乎积攒了二万英镑的财产。他—直单身，除了我们也没有近亲，另外有一个关系比我们要离得远些。我的父亲一直希望他会把遗产留给我们，以弥补他的过失。这封信通知我们，他已把每个子儿都给了另外一位亲戚，只留下三十畿尼，由圣.约翰、黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯三平分，用来购置三枚丧戒。当然他有权按他高兴的去做，但是收到这样的消息暂时总使我们有些扫兴。玛丽和我都会认为各得一千英镑是很富的了，而这样一笔钱对圣.约翰所要做的好事也是很可贵的。”
这番解释以后，这个话题也就扔到了一边，里弗斯先生和他的妹妹也没有再提起。第二天我离开沼泽居去莫尔顿。第三天黛安娜和玛丽告别这里去遥远的Ｂ城。一周后里弗斯先生和汉娜去了牧师住宅，于是这古老的田庄就被废弃了。

伊墨君(热心会员)

31楼 2013-02-11

Chapter 29

THE recollection of about three days and nights succeeding this isvery dim in my mind. I can recall some sensations felt in that interval;but few thoughts framed, and no actions performed. I knew I was in asmall room and in a narrow bed. To that bed I seemed to have grown; Ilay on it motionless as a stone; and to have torn me from it would havebeen almost to kill me. I took no note of the lapse of time- of thechange from morning to noon, from noon to evening. I observed when anyone entered or left the apartment: I could even tell who they were; Icould understand what was said when the speaker stood near to me; but Icould not answer; to open my lips or move my limbs was equallyimpossible. Hannah, the servant, was my most frequent visitor. Hercoming disturbed me. I had a feeling that she wished me away: that shedid not understand me or my circumstances; that she was prejudicedagainst me. Diana and Mary appeared in the chamber once or twice a day.They would whisper sentences of this sort at my bedside-
'It is very well we took her in.'
'Yes; she would certainly have been found dead at the door in themorning had she been left out all night. I wonder what she has gonethrough?'
'Strange hardships, I imagine- poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer?'
'She is not an uneducated person, I should think, by her manner ofspeaking; her accent was quite pure; and the clothes she took off,though splashed and wet, were little worn and fine.'
'She has a peculiar face; fleshless and haggard as it is, I ratherlike it; and when in good health and animated, I can fancy herphysiognomy would be agreeable.'
Never once in their dialogues did I hear a syllable of regret at thehospitality they had extended to me, or of suspicion of, or aversion to,myself. I was comforted.
Mr. St. John came but once: he looked at me, and said my state oflethargy was the result of reaction from excessive and protractedfatigue. He pronounced it needless to send for a doctor: nature, he wassure, would manage best, left to herself. He said every nerve had beenoverstrained in some way, and the whole system must sleep torpid awhile. There was no disease. He imagined my recovery would be rapidenough when once commenced. These opinions he delivered in a few words,in a quiet, low voice; and added, after a pause, in the tone of a manlittle accustomed to expansive comment, 'Rather an unusual physiognomy;certainly, not indicative of vulgarity or degradation.'
'Far otherwise,' responded Diana. 'To speak truth, St. John, my heartrather warms to the poor little soul. I wish we may be able to benefither permanently.'
'That is hardly likely,' was the reply. 'You will find she is someyoung lady who has had a misunderstanding with her friends, and hasprobably injudiciously left them. We may, perhaps, succeed in restoringher to them, if she is not obstinate: but I trace lines of force in herface which make me sceptical of her tractability.' He stood consideringme some minutes; then added, 'She looks sensible, but not at allhandsome.'
'She is so ill, St. John.'
'Ill or well, she would always be plain. The grace and harmony of beauty are quite wanting in those features.'
On the third day I was better; on the fourth, I could speak, move,rise in bed, and turn. Hannah had brought me some gruel and dry toast,about, as I supposed, the dinner-hour. I had eaten with relish: the foodwas good- void of the feverish flavour which had hitherto poisoned whatI had swallowed. When she left me, I felt comparatively strong andrevived: ere long satiety of repose and desire for action stirred me. Iwished to rise; but what could I put on? Only my damp and bemiredapparel; in which I had slept on the ground and fallen in the marsh. Ifelt ashamed to appear before my benefactors so clad. I was spared thehumiliation.
On a chair by the bedside were all my own things, clean and dry. Myblack silk frock hung against the wall. The traces of the bog wereremoved from it; the creases left by the wet smoothed out: it was quitedecent. My very shoes and stockings were purified and renderedpresentable. There were the means of washing in the room, and a comb andbrush to smooth my hair. After a weary process, and resting every fiveminutes, I succeeded in dressing myself. My clothes hung loose on me;for I was much wasted, but I covered deficiencies with a shawl, and oncemore, clean and respectable looking- no speck of the dirt, no trace ofthe disorder I so hated, and which seemed so to degrade me, left- Icrept down a stone staircase with the aid of the banisters, to a narrowlow passage, and found my way presently to the kitchen.
It was full of the fragrance of new bread and the warmth of agenerous fire. Hannah was baking. Prejudices, it is well known, are mostdifficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never beenloosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weedsamong stones. Hannah had been cold and stiff, indeed, at the first:latterly she had begun to relent a little; and when she saw me come intidy and well-dressed, she even smiled.
'What, you have got up!' she said. 'You are better, then. You may sit you down in my chair on the hearthstone, if you will.'
She pointed to the rocking-chair: I took it. She bustled about,examining me every now and then with the corner of her eye. Turning tome, as she took some loaves from the oven, she asked bluntly-
'Did you ever go a-begging afore you came here?'
I was indignant for a moment; but remembering that anger was out ofthe question, and that I had indeed appeared as a beggar to her, Ianswered quietly, but still not without a certain marked firmness- 'Youare mistaken in supposing me a beggar. I am no beggar; any more thanyourself or your young ladies.'
After a pause she said, 'I dunnut understand that: you've like no house, nor no brass, I guess?'
'The want of house or brass (by which I suppose you mean money) does not make a beggar in your sense of the word.'
'Are you book-learned?' she inquired presently.
'Yes, very.'
'But you've never been to a boarding-school?'
'I was at a boarding-school eight years.'
She opened her eyes wide. 'Whatever cannot ye keep yourself for, then?'
'I have kept myself; and, I trust, shall keep myself again. What areyou going to do with these gooseberries?' I inquired as she brought out abasket of the fruit.
'Mak' 'em into pies.'
'Give them to me and I'll pick them.'
'Nay; I dunnut want ye to do nought.'
'But I must do something. Let me have them.'
She consented; and she even brought me a clean towel to spread over my dress, 'lest,' as she said, 'I should mucky it.'
'Ye've not been used to sarvant's wark, I see by your hands,' she remarked. 'Happen ye've been a dressmaker?'
'No, you are wrong. And now, never mind what I have been: don'ttrouble your head further about me; but tell me the name of the housewhere we are.'
'Some calls it Marsh End, and some calls it Moor House.'
'And the gentleman who lives here is called Mr. St. John?'
'Nay; he doesn't live here: he is only staying a while. When he is at home, he is in his own parish at Morton.'
'That village a few miles off?'
'Aye.'
'And what is he?'
'He is a parson.'
I remembered the answer of the old housekeeper at the parsonage, whenI had asked to see the clergyman. 'This, then, was his father'sresidence?'
'Aye; old Mr. Rivers lived here, and his father, and grandfather, and gurt (great) grandfather afore him.'
'The name, then, of that gentleman, is Mr. St. John Rivers?'
'Aye; St. John is like his kirstened name.'
'And his sisters are called Diana and Mary Rivers?'
'Yes.'
'Their father is dead?'
'Dead three weeks sin' of a stroke.'
'They have no mother?'
'The mistress has been dead this mony a year.'
'Have you lived with the family long?'
'I've lived here thirty year. I nursed them all three'
'That proves you must have been an honest and faithful servant. Iwill say so much for you, though you have had the incivility to call me abeggar.'
She again regarded me with a surprised stare. 'I believe,' she said,'I was quite mista'en in my thoughts of you: but there is so mony cheatsgoes about, you mun forgie me.'
'And though,' I continued, rather severely, 'you wished to turn mefrom the door, on a night when you should not have shut out a dog.'
'Well, it was hard: but what can a body do? I thought more o' th'childer nor of mysel: poor things! They've like nobody to tak' care on'em but me. I'm like to look sharpish.'
I maintained a grave silence for some minutes.
'You munnut think too hardly of me,' she again remarked.
'But I do think hardly of you,' I said; 'and I'll tell you why- notso much because you refused to give me shelter, or regarded me as animpostor, as because you just now made it a species of reproach that Ihad no "brass" and no house. Some of the best people that ever livedhave been as destitute as I am; and if you are a Christian, you oughtnot to consider poverty a crime.'
'No more I ought,' said she: 'Mr. St. John tells me so too; and I seeI wor wrang- but I've clear a different notion on you now to what Ihad. You look a raight down dacent little crater.'
'That will do- I forgive you now. Shake hands.'
She put her floury and horny hand into mine; another and heartiersmile illumined her rough face, and from that moment we were friends.
Hannah was evidently fond of talking. While I picked the fruit, andshe made the paste for the pies, she proceeded to give me sundry detailsabout her deceased master and mistress, and 'the childer,' as shecalled the young people.
Old Mr. Rivers, she said, was a plain man enough, but a gentleman,and of as ancient a family as could be found. Marsh End had belonged tothe Rivers ever since it was a house: and it was, she affirmed, 'aboontwo hundred year old- for all it looked but a small, humble place,naught to compare wi' Mr. Oliver's grand hall down i' Morton Vale. Butshe could remember Bill Oliver's father a journeyman needle-maker; andth' Rivers wor gentry i' th' owd days o' th' Henrys, as onybody mightsee by looking into th' registers i' Morton Church vestry.' Still, sheallowed, 'the owd maister was like other folk- naught mich out o' th'common way: stark mad o' shooting, and farming, and sich like.' Themistress was different. She was a great reader, and studied a deal; andthe 'bairns' had taken after her. There was nothing like them in theseparts, nor ever had been; they had liked learning, all three, almostfrom the time they could speak; and they had always been 'of a mak' oftheir own.' Mr. St. John, when he grew up, would go to college and be aparson; and the girls, as soon as they left school, would seek places asgovernesses: for they had told her their father had some years ago losta great deal of money by a man he had trusted turning bankrupt; and ashe was now not rich enough to give them fortunes, they must provide forthemselves. They had lived very little at home for a long while, andwere only come now to stay a few weeks on account of their father'sdeath; but they did so like Marsh End and Morton, and all these moorsand hills about. They had been in London, and many other grand towns;but they always said there was no place like home; and then they were soagreeable with each other- never fell out nor 'threaped.' She did notknow where there was such a family for being united.
Having finished my task of gooseberry picking, I asked where the two ladies and their brother were now.
'Gone over to Morton for a walk; but they would be back in half an hour to tea.'
They returned within the time Hannah had allotted them: they enteredby the kitchen door. Mr. St. John, when he saw me, merely bowed andpassed through; the two ladies stopped: Mary, in a few words, kindly andcalmly expressed the pleasure she felt in seeing me well enough to beable to come down; Diana took my hand: she shook her head at me.
'You should have waited for my leave to descend,' she said. 'You still look very pale- and so thin! Poor child!- poor girl!'
Diana had a voice toned, to my ear, like the cooing of a dove.
She possessed eyes whose gaze I delighted to encounter. Her wholeface seemed to me full of charm. Mary's countenance was equallyintelligent- her features equally pretty; but her expression was morereserved, and her manners, though gentle, more distant. Diana looked andspoke with a certain authority: she had a will, evidently. It was mynature to feel pleasure in yielding to an authority supported like hers,and to bend, where my conscience and self-respect permitted, to anactive will.
'And what business have you here?' she continued. 'It is not yourplace. Mary and I sit in the kitchen sometimes, because at home we liketo be free, even to license- but you are a visitor, and must go into theparlour.'
'I am very well here.'
'Not at all, with Hannah bustling about and covering you with flour.'
'Besides, the fire is too hot for you,' interposed Mary.
'To be sure,' added her sister. 'Come, you must be obedient.' Andstill holding my hand she made me rise, and led me into the inner room.
'Sit there,' she said, placing me on the sofa, 'while we take ourthings off and get the tea ready; it is another privilege we exercise inour little moorland home- to prepare our own meals when we are soinclined, or when Hannah is baking, brewing, washing, or ironing.'
She closed the door, leaving me solus with Mr. St. John, who satopposite, a book or newspaper in his hand. I examined first, theparlour, and then its occupant.
The parlour was rather a small room, very plainly furnished, yetcomfortable, because clean and neat. The old-fashioned chairs were verybright, and the walnut-wood table was like a looking-glass. A fewstrange, antique portraits of the men and women of other days decoratedthe stained walls; a cupboard with glass doors contained some books andan ancient set of china. There was no superfluous ornament in the room-not one modern piece of furniture, save a brace of workboxes and alady's desk in rosewood, which stood on a side-table: everything-including the carpet and curtains- looked at once well worn and wellsaved.
Mr. St. John- sitting as still as one of the dusty pictures on thewalls, keeping his eyes fixed on the page he perused, and his lipsmutely sealed- was easy enough to examine. Had he been a statue insteadof a man, he could not have been easier. He was young- perhaps fromtwenty-eight to thirty- tall, slender; his face riveted the eye; it waslike a Greek face, very pure in outline: quite a straight, classic nose;quite an Athenian mouth and chin. It is seldom, indeed, an English facecomes so near the antique models as did his.
He might well be a little shocked at the irregularity of mylineaments, his own being so harmonious. His eyes were large and blue,with brown lashes; his high forehead, colourless as ivory, was partiallystreaked over by careless locks of fair hair.
This is a gentle delineation, is it not, reader? Yet he whom itdescribes scarcely impressed one with the idea of a gentle, a yielding,an impressible, or even of a placid nature. Quiescent as he now sat,there was something about his nostril, his mouth, his brow, which, to myperceptions, indicated elements within either restless, or hard, oreager. He did not speak to me one word, nor even direct to me oneglance, till his sisters returned. Diana, as she passed in and out, inthe course of preparing tea, brought me a little cake, baked on the topof the oven.
'Eat that now,' she said: 'you must be hungry. Hannah says you have had nothing but some gruel since breakfast.'
I did not refuse it, for my appetite was awakened and keen. Mr.Rivers now closed his book, approached the table, and, as he took aseat, fixed his blue pictorial-looking eyes full on me. There was anunceremonious directness, a searching, decided steadfastness in his gazenow, which told that intention and not diffidence, had hitherto kept itaverted from the stranger.
'You are very hungry,' he said.
'I am, sir.' It is my way- it always was my way, by instinct- ever to meet the brief with brevity, the direct with plainness.
'It is well for you that a low fever has forced you to abstain forthe last three days: there would have been danger in yielding to thecravings of your appetite at first. Now you may eat, though still notimmoderately.'
'I trust I shall not eat long at your expense, sir,' was my very clumsily-contrived, unpolished answer.
'No,' he said coolly: 'when you have indicated to us the residence ofyour friends, we can write to them, and you may be restored to home.'
'That, I must plainly tell you, is out of my power to do; being absolutely without home and friends.'
The three looked at me, but not distrustfully; I felt there was nosuspicion in their glances: there was more of curiosity. I speakparticularly of the young ladies. St. John's eyes, though clear enoughin a literal sense, in a figurative one were difficult to fathom. Heseemed to use them rather as instruments to search other people'sthoughts, than as agents to reveal his own: the which combination ofkeenness and reserve was considerably more calculated to embarrass thanto encourage.
'Do you mean to say,' he asked, 'that you are completely isolated from every connection?'
'I do. Not a tie links me to any living thing: not a claim do I possess to admittance under any roof in England.'
'A most singular position at your age!'
Here I saw his glance directed to my hands, which were folded on thetable before me. I wondered what he sought there: his words soonexplained the quest.
'You have never been married? You are a spinster?'
Diana laughed. 'Why, she can't be above seventeen or eighteen years old, St. John,' said she.
'I am near nineteen: but I am not married. No.'
I felt a burning glow mount to my face; for bitter and agitatingrecollections were awakened by the allusion to marriage. They all sawthe embarrassment and the emotion. Diana and Mary relieved me by turningtheir eyes elsewhere than to my crimsoned visage; but the colder andsterner brother continued to gaze, till the trouble he had excitedforced out tears as well as colour.
'Where did you last reside?' he now asked.
'You are too inquisitive, St. John,' murmured Mary in a low voice;but he leaned over the table and required an answer by a second firm andpiercing look.
'The name of the place where, and of the person with whom I lived, is my secret,' I replied concisely.
'Which, if you like, you have, in my opinion, a right to keep, both from St. John and every other questioner,' remarked Diana.
'Yet if I know nothing about you or your history, I cannot help you,' he said. 'And you need help, do you not?'
'I need it, and I seek it so far, sir, that some true philanthropistwill put me in the way of getting work which I can do, and theremuneration for which will keep me, if but in the barest necessaries oflife.'
'I know not whether I am a true philanthropist; yet I am willing toaid you to the utmost of my power in a purpose so honest. First, then,tell me what you have been accustomed to do, and what you can do.'
I had now swallowed my tea. I was mightily refreshed by the beverage;as much so as a giant with wine: it gave new tone to my unstrungnerves, and enabled me to address this penetrating young judge steadily.
'Mr. Rivers,' I said, turning to him, and looking at him, as helooked at me, openly and without diffidence, 'you and your sisters havedone me a great service- the greatest man can do his fellow-being; youhave rescued me, by your noble hospitality, from death. This benefitconferred gives you an unlimited claim on my gratitude, and a claim, to acertain extent, on my confidence. I will tell you as much of thehistory of the wanderer you have harboured, as I can tell withoutcompromising my own peace of mind- my own security, moral and physical,and that of others.
'I am an orphan, the daughter of a clergyman. My parents died before Icould know them. I was brought up a dependant; educated in a charitableinstitution. I will even tell you the name of the establishment, where Ipassed six years as a pupil, and two as a Mr. Rivers?- the Rev. RobertBrocklehurst is the treasurer.'
'I have heard of Mr. Brocklehurst, and I have seen the school.'
'I left Lowood nearly a year since to become a private governess. Iobtained a good situation, and was happy. This place I was obliged toleave four days before I came here. The reason of my departure I cannotand ought not to explain: it would be useless, dangerous, and wouldsound incredible. No blame attached to me: I am as free from culpabilityas any one of you three. Miserable I am, and must be for a time; forthe catastrophe which drove me from a house I had found a paradise wasof a strange and direful nature. I observed but two points in planningmy departure- speed, secrecy: to secure these, I had to leave behind meeverything I possessed except a small parcel;
which, in my hurry and trouble of mind, I forgot to take out of thecoach that brought me to Whitcross. To this neighbourhood, then, I came,quite destitute. I slept two nights in the open air, and wandered abouttwo days without crossing a threshold: but twice in that space of timedid I taste food; and it was when brought by hunger, exhaustion, anddespair almost to the last gasp, that you, Mr. Rivers, forbade me toperish of want at your door, and took me under the shelter of your roof.I know all your sisters have done for me since- for I have not beeninsensible during my seeming torpor- and I owe to their spontaneous,genuine, genial compassion as large a debt as to your evangelicalcharity.'
'Don't make her talk any more now, St. John,' said Diana, as Ipaused; 'she is evidently not yet fit for excitement. Come to the sofaand sit down now, Miss Elliott.'
I gave an involuntary half start at hearing the alias: I hadforgotten my new name. Mr. Rivers, whom nothing seemed to escape,noticed it at once.
'You said your name was Jane Elliott?' he observed.
'I did say so; and it is the name by which I think it expedient to becalled at present, but it is not my real name, and when I hear it, itsounds strange to me.'
'Your real name you will not give?'
'No: I fear discovery above all things; and whatever disclosure would lead to it, I avoid.'
'You are quite right, I am sure,' said Diana. 'Now do, brother, let her be at peace a while.'
But when St. John had mused a few moments he recommenced as imperturbably and with as much acumen as ever.
'You would not like to be long dependent on our hospitality- youwould wish, I see, to dispense as soon as may be with my sisters'compassion, and, above all, with my charity (I am quite sensible of thedistinction drawn, nor do I resent it- it is just): you desire to beindependent of us?'
'I do: I have already said so. Show me how to work, or how to seekwork: that is all I now ask; then let me go, if it be but to the meanestcottage; but till then, allow me to stay here: I dread another essay ofthe horrors of homeless destitution.'
'Indeed you shall stay here,' said Diana, putting her white hand onmy head. 'You shall,' repeated Mary, in the tone of undemonstrativesincerity which seemed natural to her.
'My sisters, you see, have a pleasure in keeping you,' said Mr. St.John, 'as they would have a pleasure in keeping and cherishing ahalf-frozen bird, some wintry wind might have driven through theircasement. I feel more inclination to put you in the way of keepingyourself, and shall endeavour to do so; but observe, my sphere isnarrow. I am but the incumbent of a poor country parish: my aid must beof the humblest sort. And if you are inclined to despise the day ofsmall things, seek some more efficient succour than such as I canoffer.'
'She has already said that she is willing to do anything honest shecan do,' answered Diana for me; 'and you know, St. John, she has nochoice of helpers: she is forced to put up with such crusty people asyou.'
'I will be a dressmaker; I will be a plain-workwoman; I will be a servant, a nurse-girl, if I can be no better,' I answered.
'Right,' said Mr. St. John, quite coolly. 'If such is your spirit, I promise to aid you, in my own time and way.'
He now resumed the book with which he had been occupied before tea. I soon withdrew, for I had talked as much, and sat up as long, as my present strength would permit.

这以后的三天三夜，我脑子里的记忆很模糊。我能回忆起那段时间一鳞半爪的感觉，但形不成什么想法，付诸不了行动。我知道自己在一个小房间里，躺在狭窄的床上，我与那张床似乎已难舍难分。我躺着一动不动，像块石头。把我从那儿挣开，几乎等于要我的命。我并不在乎时间的流逝——不在乎上午转为下午、下午转为晚上的变化。我观察别人进出房间，甚至还能分辨出他们是谁，能听懂别人在我身旁所说的话，但回答不上来。动嘴唇与动手脚一样不行。佣人汉娜来得最多，她一来就使我感到不安。我有一种感觉，她希望我走。她不了解我和我的处境，对我怀有偏见。黛安娜和玛丽每天到房间来一两回。她们会在我床边悄声说着这一类话：
“幸好我们把她收留下来了。”
“是呀，要是她整夜给关在房子外面，第二天早晨准会死有门口。不知道她吃了什么苦头。”
“我想象是少见的苦头吧，——消瘦、苍白、可怜的流浪者！”
“从她说话的神态看，我认为她不是一个没有受过教育的人、她的口音很纯。她脱下的衣服虽然湿淋淋溅了泥，但不旧，而且很精致。”
“她的脸很奇特，尽管皮包骨头又很憔悴，但我比较喜欢。可以想见她健康而有生气时、面孔一定很可爱。”
在她们的交谈中，我从来没有听到她们说过一句话，对自己的好客，表示懊悔，或者对我表示怀疑或厌恶。我得到了安慰。
圣.约翰先生只来过一次，他瞧着我，说我昏睡不醒是长期疲劳过度的反应，认为不必去叫医生，确信最好的办法是顺其自然。他说每根神经都有些紧张过度，所以整个机体得有一段沉睡麻木的时期，而并不是什么病。他想锨而不是我自己，他们也怪可怜的，除了我没有人照应。我总该当心些。”
我沉着脸几分钟没有吱声。
“你别把我想得太坏，”她又说。
“不过我确实把你想得很坏”，我说，“而且我告?Dh囙“说实话，圣.约翰，我内心对这可怜的小幽灵产生了好感。但愿我们永远能够帮助她。”
“这不大可能，”对方回答，“你会发现她是某个年轻小姐，与自己朋友产生了误会，可能轻率地一走了之。要是她不固执，我们也许可以把她送回去。但是我注意到了她脸上很有力的线条，这使我怀疑她脾气很倔强。”他站着端详了我一会，随后补充说，”她看上去很聪明，但一点也不漂亮。”
“她病得那么重，圣.约翰。”
“不管身体好不好，反正长得很一般。那些五官缺少美的雅致与和谐。”
到了第三天我好些了，第四天我已能说话，移动，从床上坐起来，转动身子。我想大约晚饭时间，汉娜端来一些粥和烤面包。我吃得津津有味，觉得这些东西很好吃——不像前几天发烧时，吃什么都没有味道，她离开我时，我觉得已有些力气，恢复了元气。不久，我对休息感到厌腻，很想起来动动，想从床上爬起来。但是穿什么好呢？只有溅了泥的湿衣服，我就是那么穿着睡在地上，倒在沼泽地里的，我羞于以这身打扮出现在我的恩人们面前。不过我免掉了这种羞辱。
我床边的椅子上摆着我所有的衣物，又干净又干燥。我的黑丝上衣挂在墙上。泥沼的印迹已经洗去，潮湿留下的褶皱己经熨平，看上去很不错了，我的鞋子和袜子已洗得干干净净，很是象样了，房子里有流洗的工具，有一把梳子和一把刷子可把头发梳理整齐。我疲乏地挣扎了一番，每隔五分钟休息一下，终于穿好了衣服。因为消瘦，衣服穿在身上很宽松，不过我用披肩掩盖了这个不足。于是我再一次清清爽爽体体面面了—一没有—丝我最讨厌、并似乎很降低我身份的尘土和凌乱——我扶着栏杆，爬下了石头楼梯，到了一条低矮窄小的过道，立刻进了厨房。
厨房里弥漫着新鲜面包的香气和熊熊炉火的暖意。汉娜正在烤面包。众所周知，偏见很难从没有用教育松过土施过肥的心田里根除。它象野草钻出石缝那样顽强地在那儿生长。说实在，起初汉娜冷淡生硬。近来开始和气一点了，而这回见我衣冠楚楚，竟笑了起来。
“什么，你已经起来了？”她说，“那么你好些了。要是你愿意，你可以坐在炉边我的椅子上，”
她指了指那把摇椅。我坐了下来。她忙碌着，不时从眼角瞟我。她一边从烤炉里取出面包，一面转向我生硬地问道：
“你到这个地方来之前也讨过饭吗？”
我一时很生气，但想起发火是不行的，何况在她看来我曾像个乞丐，于是便平心静气地回答了她，不过仍带着明显的强硬口气
“你错把我当成乞丐了，跟你自己或者你的小姐们一样，我不是什么乞丐。”
她顿了一下后说：“那我就不大明白了，你象是既没有房子，也没有铜子儿？”
“没有房子或铜子儿（我猜你指的是钱）并不就成了你说的那个意思上的乞丐。”
“你读过书吗？”她立刻问，
“是的，读过不少书。”
“不过你从来没有进过寄宿学校吧？”
“我在寄宿学校呆了八年。”
她眼睛睁得大大的。“那你为什么还养不活自己呢？”
“我养活了自己，而且我相信以后还能养活自己。拿这些鹅莓干什么呀？”她拎出一篮子鹅莓时我问。
“做饼。”
“给我吧，我来拣。”
“不，我什么也不要你干。”
“但我总得干点什么。还是让我来吧。”
她同意了，甚至还拿来一块干净的毛巾铺在我衣服上，一面还说：“怕你把衣服弄脏了。”
“你不是干惯佣人活的，从你的手上看得出来，”她说，“也许是个裁缝吧？”
“不是，你猜错啦，现在别管我以前是干什么的。不要为我再去伤你的脑筋，不过告诉我你们这所房子叫什么名字。”
“有人叫它沼泽居，有人叫它沼泽宅。”
“住在这儿的那位先生叫圣.约翰先生？”
“不，他不住在这儿，只不过暂时呆一下。他的家在自己的教区莫尔顿。”
“离这儿几英里的那个村子？”
“是呀。”
“他干什么的。”
“是个牧师。”
我还记得我要求见牧师时那所住宅里老管家的回答。
“那么这里是他父亲的居所了？”
“不错。老里弗斯先生在这儿住过，还有他父亲，他祖父，他曾祖父。”
“那么，那位先生的名字是圣.约翰.里弗斯先生了。”
“是呀，圣.约翰是他受洗礼时的名字。”
“他的妹妹名叫黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯？”
“是的。”
“他们的父亲去世了？”
“三个星期前中风死的。”
“他们没有母亲吗，”
“太太去世已经多年了。”
“你同这家人生活得很久了吗？”
“我住在这里三十年了，三个人都是我带大的。”
“那说明你准是个忠厚的仆人。尽管你那么没有礼貌地把我当作乞丐，我还是愿意那么说你的好话。”
她再次诧异地打量着我。“我相信，”她说，“我完全把你看错了，不过这里来往的骗子很多，你得原谅我。”
“而且，”我往下说，口气颇有些严厉，“尽管你要在一个连条狗都不该撵走的夜晚，把我赶出门外。”
“嗯，是有点狠心。可是叫人怎么办呢？我想得更多的是孩子们而不是我自己，他们也怪可怜的，除了我没有人照应。我总该当心些。”
我沉着脸几分钟没有吱声。
“你别把我想得太坏，”她又说。
“不过我确实把你想得很坏”，我说，“而且我告诉你为什么——倒不是因为你不许我投宿，或者把我看成了骗子，而是因为你刚才把我没‘铜子儿’没房子当成了一种耻辱。有些在世的好人像我一样穷得一个子儿也没有。如果你是个基督徒，你就不该把贫困看作罪过。”
“以后不该这样了，”她说，“圣.约翰先生也是这么同我说的。我知道自己错了一一但是，我现在对你的看法跟以前明显不同了。你看来完全是个体面的小家伙。”
“那行了——我现在原谅你了，握握手吧。”她把沾了面粉布满老茧的手塞进我手里，她粗糙的脸上闪起了一个更亲切的笑容，从那时起我们便成了朋友。
汉娜显然很健谈。我拣果子她捏面团做饼时，她继续细谈着过世的主人和女主人，以及她称作“孩子们”的年轻人。
她说老里弗斯先生是个极为朴实的人，但是位绅士，出身于一个十分古老的家庭。沼泽居自建成以后就一直属于里弗斯先生，她还肯定，这座房子“已有两百年左右历史了——尽管它看上去不过是个不起眼的小地方，丝毫比不上奥利弗先生在莫尔顿谷的豪华富宅，但我还记得比尔．奥利弗的父亲是个走家穿户的制针人，而里弗斯家族在过去亨利时代都是贵族，看看莫尔顿教堂法衣室记事簿，就谁都知道。”不过她仍认为“老主人像别人一样——并没有太出格，只是完全迷恋于狩猎种田等等。”女主人可不同。她爱读书，而且学得很多。“孩子们”像她。这一带没有人跟他们一样的，以往也没有。三个人都喜欢学习，差不多从能说话的时候起就这样了，他们自己一直“另有一套”。圣.约翰先生长大了就进大学，做起牧师来、而姑娘们一离开学校就去找家庭教师的活，他们告诉她，他们的父亲，几年前由于信托人破产，而丧失了一大笔钱。他现在已不富裕，没法给他们财产，他们就得自谋生计了。好久以来他们已很少住在家里了，这会儿是因为父亲去世才来这里小住几周的。不过他们确实也喜欢沼泽居和莫尔顿，以及附近所有的荒原和小山。他们到过伦敦和其他很多大城市，但总是说什么地方也比不上家里。另外，他们彼此又是那么融洽一—从来不争不吵。她不知道哪里还找得到这样一个和睦的家庭。
我拣完了鹅莓后问她，两位小姐和她们的哥哥上哪儿去了。
“散步上莫尔顿去了，半小时内会回来吃茶点。”
他们在汉娜规定的时间内回来了，是从厨房门进来的。圣.约翰先生见了我不过点了点头就走过了。两位小姐停了下来。玛丽心平气和地说了几句话，表示很高兴见我己经好到能下楼了。黛安娜握住我的手，对我摇摇头。
“你该等我允许后才好下楼，”她说。“你脸色还是很苍白——又那么瘦！可怜的孩子？——可怜的姑娘！”
黛安娜的声调在我听来象鸽子的咕咕声。她有一双我很乐意接触她目光的眼睛。她的整张脸似乎都充满魅力。玛丽的面容，一样聪明—一她的五官一样漂亮，但她的表情更加冷淡，她的仪态虽然文雅却更显得隔膜。黛安娜的神态和说话的样子都有一种权威派头，显然很有主意。我生性喜欢服从像她那样有依靠的权威，在我的良心和自尊允许范围内，向富有活力的意志低头。
“你在这儿干什么？”她继续说。“这不是你呆的地方。玛丽和我有时在厨房里坐坐，因为在家里我们爱随便些，甚至有些放肆——但你是客人，得到客厅去。”
“我在这儿很舒服。”
“一点也不——汉娜这么忙这忙那会把面粉沾在你身上。”
“另外，火炉对你也有些太热，”玛丽插嘴说。
“没有错，”她姐姐补充说。“来吧，你得听话。”她一面握着我的手一面拉我起来，领进内室。
“那儿坐着吧，”她说着把我安顿在沙发上，“我们来脱掉衣服，准备好茶点。在沼泽居小家庭中享受的另一个特权，是自己准备饭菜，那往往是想要这么干，或者汉娜忙着烘烤，调制、烫衣的时候，”
她关了门，留下我与圣.约翰先生单独呆着。他坐在我对面，手里捧着一本书或一张报纸。我先是打量了一下客厅。随后再看看厅主人。
客厅不大，陈设也很朴实，但于净整洁十分舒服。老式椅子油光锃亮，那张胡桃木桌子象面穿衣镜。斑驳的墙上装饰着几张过去时代奇怪而古老的男女画像。在一个装有玻璃门的橱里，放着几本书和一套古瓷器。除了放在书桌上的—对针线盒和青龙木女用书台，房间里没有多余的装饰品——没有一件现代家具。包括地毯和窗帘在内的一切，看上去既陈旧而又保养得很好。
圣.约翰先生——一动不动地坐着，犹如墙上色彩暗淡的画，眼睛盯着他细读着的那页书，嘴唇默默地闭着，——很容易让我细看个究竟，他要是装成塑像，而不是人，那是再容易不过了，他很年青——二十八至三十光景——高挑个子，身材颀长。他的脸引人注目，像一张希腊人的脸，轮廓完美、长着一个笔直的古典式鼻子，一张十足雅典人的嘴和下巴。说实在，英国人的脸很少像他那样如此酷似古典脸型的。他自己的五官那么匀称，也许对我的不匀称便有点儿吃惊了。他的眼睛又大又蓝，长着棕色的睫毛，高高的额头跟象牙一般苍白，额头上不经意披下了几绺金色的头发。
这是一幅线条柔和的写生，是不是，读者？然而画中的人给人的印象却并不属于那种温和忍让、容易打动甚至十分平静的个性。虽然他此刻默默地坐着，但我觉察到，他的鼻孔、嘴巴、额头有着某种东西，表现出内心的不安、冷酷或急切。他的妹妹们回来之前、他还没有同我说过一个字，或者朝我看过一眼。黛安娜走进走出，准备着茶点，给我带来了一块在炉顶上烤着的小饼。
“这会儿就把它吃掉吧，”她说、“你准饿了。汉娜说从早饭到现在，你只喝了点粥，什么也没吃。”
我没有谢绝，我的胃口恢复了，而且很好，这时里弗斯先生合上书，走到桌子旁边。他就座时，那双画一般的蓝眼晴紧盯着我。目光里有一种不拘礼节的直率，一种锐利、明确的坚定，说明他一直避开陌生人不是出于腼腆，而是故意的。
“你很饿，”他说。
“是的，先生。”这是我的习惯——向来的习惯，完全是直觉—一简问简答，直问直说。
“幸好三天来的低烧迫使你禁食，要是一开始便放开肚子吃就危险了。现在你可以吃了，不过还是得节制。”
“我相信不会花你的钱吃得很久的，先生，”这是我笨嘴笨舌、粗里粗气的回答。
“不，”他冷冷地说：“等你把朋友的住址告诉我们后，我们可以写信给他们，你就又可以回家了。”
“我得直率地告诉你们，我没有能力这么做，因为我既没有家，也没有朋友。”
三位都看着我，但并非不信任。我觉得他们的眼神里没有怀疑的表情，而更多的是好奇。我尤其指小姐们。圣.约翰的眼晴表面看来相当明净，但实际上深不可测。他似乎要把它用作探测别人思想的工具，而不是暴露自己内心的窗口。眼神里热情与冷漠的交融，很大程度上不是为了鼓励别人，而是要使人感到窘迫。
“你的意思是说，”他问，“你孤孤单单，没有一个亲朋？”
“是的。没有一根纽带把我同哪位活着的人维系在一起，我也没有任何权利走进英国的任何人家里？”
“像你这样年纪，这种状况是绝无仅有的。”
说到这里我看到他的目光扫到了我手上，这时我双乎交叉，放在面前的桌子上。我不知道他在找什么。但他的话立刻解释了那种探寻。
“你没有结婚？是个单身女人？”
黛安娜大笑起来。“嗨，她不会超过十七、十八岁，圣.约翰。”她说。
“我快十九了，不过没有结过婚，没有。”
我只觉得脸上—阵热辣辣的火烧，一提起结婚又勾起了我痛苦和兴奋的回忆。他们都看出了我的发窘和激动。黛安娜和玛丽把目光从我涨得通红的脸上转向别处，以便使我得到宽慰，但是她们那位有些冷漠和严厉的哥哥却继续盯着我，直至他引起的麻烦弄得我既流泪又变脸，
“你以前住在什么地方，”他此刻又问了。
“你也太爱打听了，圣.约翰，”玛丽低声咕哝着。但他带着诱人肺腑的坚定的眼光，将身子俯过桌子，要求得到回答。
“我住在哪儿，跟谁住在一起，这是我的秘密，”我回答得很简略。
“在我看来，要是你高兴，不管是圣.约翰还是其他人的提问，你都有权不说，”黛安娜回答说。
“不过要是我不了解你和你的身世，我无法帮助你，”他说。“而你是需要帮助的，是不是？”
“到现在为止我需要帮助，也寻求帮助，先生——希望某个真正的慈善家会让我有一份力所能及的工作，以及让我把日子过下去的报酬，就是能满足生活的必需也好。”
“我不知道自己是不是位真正的慈善家，不过我愿意真诚地竭尽全力帮助你。那么首先你得告诉我，你习惯于干什么，你能干什么。”
这会儿我已经吞下了茶点，饮料使我犹如喝了酒的巨人，精神大为振作，它给我衰弱的神经注入了新的活力，使我能够不慌不忙同这位目光敏锐的年轻法官说话，
“里弗斯先生，”我说着转向了他，像他看我那样，堂而皇之毫无羞色地看着他，“你和你的妹妹们己经帮了我很大的忙——一个最伟大的人，能为他的同类所做的，你以你高尚的殷勤，从死亡中拯救了我。你所施予的恩惠，使你绝对有权要求我感激你，并且某种程度上要求知道我的秘密。我会在不损害我心境的平静、自身及他人道德和人身的安全的前提下，尽量把你们所庇护的流浪者的身世说个明白。”
“我是一个孤儿，一个牧师的女儿。我还不能记事父母就去世了。我靠人赡养长大，在一个慈善机构受了教育。我甚至可以告诉你这个机构的名字，在那里我做了六年学生，两年教师一—××郡罗沃德孤儿院，你可能听到过它，里弗斯先主？——罗伯特．布罗克赫斯特牧师是司库。”
“我听说过布罗克赫斯特先生，也见过这学校。”
“差不多一年前我离开了罗沃德，去当私人家庭教师。我得到了一份很好的工作，也很愉快。来这里的四天前，我不得不离开那个地方。离开的原因我不能也不该解释，就是解释也没有用——会招来危险，听起来也难以令人置信。我没有责任，像你们三位中的任何一位那样是无罪的。我很难过，以后一段时间还得这样，因为把我从我看作天堂的房子里赶出来的原因，奇怪而可怕。在计划逃离时我看到了两点——速度和秘密，为了做到这两点，我不得不把我的所有统统留下，只拿了一包裹。就是这个小包裹，我也在匆忙和烦恼中，忘了从把我带到惠特克劳斯的马车上拿下来了。于是我囊空如洗来到这附近。我在露天宿了两夜，游荡了两天，没有跨进过一条门槛，在这段时间只有两回吃过东西。正当我由于饥饿、疲乏和绝望到了几乎只剩最后一口气时，你里弗斯先生，不让我饿死冻死在家门口，把我收留进你们的房子。我知道从那时起你妹妹们为我所做的一切——因为在我外表上麻木迟钝的那些日子里，我并不是没有感觉的——我对你们自然、真诚、亲切的怜悯，如同对你合乎福音的慈善，欠下了一笔很大的债。”
“这会儿别要她再谈下去了，圣.约翰，”我停下来时黛安娜说。“显然她不宜激动，上沙发这儿来，坐下吧，爱略特小姐。”
一听这个别名，我不由自主地微微一惊，我己忘了我新起的名字。但什么都逃不过他眼睛的里弗斯先生，立刻注意到了。
“你说你的名字叫简.爱略特是吗？”他说，
“我是这么说过的，这个名字，我想是作为权宜之计暂时用用的，但不是我的真名、所以初一听有些陌生。”
“你不愿讲你的真名，”
“不愿。我尤其担心被人发现。凡是要导致这种后果的事，我都要避开，”
“我敢肯定你做得很对，”黛安娜说。“现在，哥哥，一定得让她安宁，一会儿了。”
但是，圣.约翰静默了一会儿后，又开腔了，还是像刚才那样目光敏锐，不慌不忙。
“你不愿长期依赖我们的好客吧—一我看你会希望尽快摆脱我妹妹们的怜悯，尤其是我的慈善（我对他的强调很敏感，但也不生气——因为那是正当的），你希望不依赖我们吗？”
“是的。我已经这么说过了。告诉我怎么干活，或者怎么找活干，这就是我现在所要求的，然后我走，即使是到最简陋的草屋去———但在那之前，请让我呆在这儿，我害怕再去品尝无家可归饥寒交迫的恐怖。”
“说实在你应当留在这儿，”黛安娜把她白皙的手搭在我头上说。“你应当这样，”玛丽重复说，口气里透出了含蓄的真诚，这在她似乎是自然的流露。
“你瞧，我的妹妹们很乐意收留你，”圣.约翰先生说，“就像乐意收留和抚育一只被寒风驱赶到了窗前，快要冻僵的鸟一样。我更倾向于让你自己养活自己，而且要努力这样做。但是请注意，我的活动范围很窄，不过是个贫苦乡村教区的牧师。我的帮助肯定是最微不足道的。要是你不屑于干日常琐事，那就去寻找比我所能提供的更有效的帮助吧。”
“她已经说过，凡是力所能及的正当活儿，她都愿意干。”黛安娜替我作了回答。“而且你知道，圣.约翰，她无法挑谁来帮忙，连你这种犟脾气的人，她也不得不忍受。”
“我可以当个裁缝，我可以当个普通女工，要是干不了更好的活，我可以当个仆人，做个护理女。”我回答。
“行，”圣.约翰先生十分冷淡地说。“如果你有这志气，我就答应帮你忙了，用我自己的时间，按我自己的方式。”
这时他又继续看他那本茶点之前就已埋头在看的书了。我立刻退了出去，因为就眼下体力所及，我已经谈得够多，坐得够长了。

伊墨君(热心会员)

30楼 2013-02-11

Chapter 28

TWO days are passed. It is a summer evening; the coachman has set medown at a place called Whitcross; he could take me no farther for thesum I had given, and I was not possessed of another shilling in theworld. The coach is a mile off by this time; I am alone. At this moment Idiscover that I forgot to take my parcel out of the pocket of thecoach, where I had placed it for safety; there it remains, there it mustremain; and now, I am absolutely destitute.
Whitcross is no town,nor even a hamlet; it is but a stone pillar set up where four roadsmeet: whitewashed, I suppose, to be more obvious at a distance and indarkness. Four arms spring from its summit: the nearest town to whichthese point is, according to the inscription, distant ten miles; thefarthest, above twenty. From the well-known names of these towns I learnin what county I have lighted; a north-midland shire, dusk withmoorland, ridged with mountain: this I see. There are great moors behindand on each hand of me; there are waves of mountains far beyond thatdeep valley at my feet. The population here must be thin, and I see nopassengers on these roads: they stretch out east, west, north, andsouth-white, broad, lonely; they are all cut in the moor, and theheather grows deep and wild to their very verge. Yet a chance travellermight pass by; and I wish no eye to see me now: strangers would wonderwhat I am doing, lingering here at the sign-post, evidently objectlessand lost. I might be questioned: I could give no answer but what wouldsound incredible and excite suspicion. Not a tie holds me to humansociety at this moment- not a charm or hope calls me where myfellow-creatures are- none that saw me would have a kind thought or agood wish for me.
I have no relative but the universal mother, Nature: I will seek her breast and ask repose.
I struck straight into the heath; I held on to a hollow I saw deeplyfurrowing the brown moorside; I waded knee-deep in its dark growth; Iturned with its turnings, and finding a moss-blackened granite crag in ahidden angle, I sat down under it. High banks of moor were about me;the crag protected my head: the sky was over that.
Some time passed before I felt tranquil even here: I had a vaguedread that wild cattle might be near, or that some sportsman or poachermight discover me. If a gust of wind swept the waste, I looked up,fearing it was the rush of a bull; if a plover whistled, I imagined it aman. Finding my apprehensions unfounded, however, and calmed by thedeep silence that reigned as evening declined at nightfall, I tookconfidence. As yet I had not thought; I had only listened, watched,dreaded; now I regained the faculty of reflection.
What was I to do? Where to go? Oh, intolerable questions, when Icould do nothing and go nowhere!- when a long way must yet be measuredby my weary, trembling limbs before I could reach human habitation- whencold charity must be entreated before I could get a lodging: reluctantsympathy importuned, almost certain repulse incurred, before my talecould be listened to, or one of my wants relieved!
I touched the heath: it was dry, and yet warm with the heat of thesummer day. I looked at the sky; it was pure: a kindly star twinkledjust above the chasm ridge. The day fell, but with propitious softness;no breeze whispered. Nature seemed to me benign and good;
I thought she loved me, outcast as I was; and I, who from man couldanticipate only mistrust, rejection, insult, clung to her with filialfondness. To-night, at least, I would be her guest, as I was her child:my mother would lodge me without money and without price. I had onemorsel of bread yet: the remnant of a roll I had bought in a town wepassed through at noon with a stray penny- my last coin. I saw ripebilberries gleaming here and there, like jet beads in the heath: Igathered a handful and ate them with the bread. My hunger, sharp before,was, if not satisfied, appeased by this hermit's meal. I said myevening prayers at its conclusion, and then chose my couch.
Beside the crag the heath was very deep: when I lay down my feet wereburied in it; rising high on each side, it left only a narrow space forthe night-air to invade. I folded my shawl double, and spread it overme for a coverlet; a low, mossy swell was my pillow.
Thus lodged, I was not, at least at the commencement of the night, cold.
My rest might have been blissful enough, only a sad heart broke it.
It plained of its gaping wounds, its inward bleeding, its rivenchords. It trembled for Mr. Rochester and his doom; it bemoaned him withbitter pity; it demanded him with ceaseless longing; and, impotent as abird with both wings broken, it still quivered its shattered pinions invain attempts to seek him.
Worn out with this torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night wascome, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene forthe companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainlywe feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scalespread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worldswheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, Hisomnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr.Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mightyMilky-way. Remembering what it was- what countless systems there sweptspace like a soft trace of light- I felt the might and strength of God.Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grewthat neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. Iturned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also theSaviour of spirits.
Mr. Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded.I again nestled to the breast of the hill; and ere long in sleep forgotsorrow.
But next day, Want came to me pale and bare. Long after the littlebirds had left their nests; long after bees had come in the sweet primeof day to gather the heath honey before the dew was dried- when the longmorning shadows were curtailed, and the sun filled earth and sky- I gotup, and I looked round me.
What a still, hot, perfect day! What a golden desert this spreadingmoor! Everywhere sunshine. I wished I could live in it and on it. I saw alizard run over the crag; I saw a bee busy among the sweet bilberries. Iwould fain at the moment have become bee or lizard, that I might havefound fitting nutriment, permanent shelter here. But I was a humanbeing, and had a human being's wants: I must not linger where there wasnothing to supply them. I rose; I looked back at the bed I had left.Hopeless of the future, I wished but this- that my Maker had that nightthought good to require my soul of me while I slept; and that this wearyframe, absolved by death from further conflict with fate, had now butto decay quietly, and mingle in peace with the soil of this wilderness.Life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, andpains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the wantprovided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled. I setout.
Whitcross regained, I followed a road which led from the sun, nowfervent and high. By no other circumstance had I will to decide mychoice. I walked a long time, and when I thought I had nearly doneenough, and might conscientiously yield to the fatigue that almostoverpowered me- might relax this forced action, and, sitting down on astone I saw near, submit resistlessly to the apathy that clogged heartand limb- I heard a bell chime- a church bell.
I turned in the direction of the sound, and there, amongst theromantic hills, whose changes and aspect I had ceased to note an hourago, I saw a hamlet and a spire. All the valley at my right hand wasfull of pasture-fields, and cornfields, and wood; and a glitteringstream ran zigzag through the varied shades of green, the mellowinggrain, the sombre woodland, the clear and sunny lea.
Recalled by the rumbling of wheels to the road before me, I saw aheavily-laden waggon labouring up the hill, and not far beyond were twocows and their drover. Human life and human labour were near. I muststruggle on: strive to live and bend to toil like the rest.
About two o'clock P.M. I entered the village. At the bottom of itsone street there was a little shop with some cakes of bread in thewindow. I coveted a cake of bread. With that refreshment I could perhapsregain a degree of energy: without it, it would be difficult toproceed. The wish to have some strength and some vigour returned to meas soon as I was amongst my fellow-beings. I felt it would be degradingto faint with hunger on the causeway of a hamlet. Had I nothing about meI could offer in exchange for one of these rolls? I considered. I had asmall silk handkerchief tied round my throat; I had my gloves. I couldhardly tell how men and women in extremities of destitution proceeded. Idid not know whether either of these articles would be accepted:probably they would not; but I must try.
I entered the shop: a woman was there. Seeing a respectably-dressedperson, a lady as she supposed, she came forward with civility. Howcould she serve me? I was seized with shame: my tongue would not utterthe request I had prepared. I dared not offer her the half-worn gloves,the creased handkerchief: besides, I felt it would be absurd. I onlybegged permission to sit down a moment, as I was tired.
Disappointed in the expectation of a customer, she coolly acceded tomy request. She pointed to a seat; I sank into it. I felt sorely urgedto weep; but conscious how unseasonable such a manifestation would be, Irestrained it. Soon I asked her 'if there were any dressmaker orplain-workwoman in the village?'
'Yes; two or three. Quite as many as there was employment for.'
I reflected. I was driven to the point now. I was brought face toface with Necessity. I stood in the position of one without a resource,without a friend, without a coin. I must do something. What? I mustapply somewhere. Where?
'Did she know of any place in the neighbourhood where a servant was wanted?'
'Nay; she couldn't say.'
'What was the chief trade in this place? What did most of the people do?'
'Some were farm labourers; a good deal worked at Mr. Oliver's needle-factory, and at the foundry.'
'Did Mr. Oliver employ women?'
'Nay; it was men's work.'
'And what do the women do?'
'I knawn't,' was the answer. 'Some does one thing, and some another. Poor folk mun get on as they can.'
She seemed to be tired of my questions: and, indeed, what claim had Ito importune her? A neighbour or two came in; my chair was evidentlywanted. I took leave.
I passed up the street, looking as I went at all the houses to theright hand and to the left; but I could discover no pretext, nor see aninducement to enter any. I rambled round the hamlet, going sometimes to alittle distance and returning again, for an hour or more. Muchexhausted, and suffering greatly now for want of food, I turned asideinto a lane and sat down under the hedge. Ere many minutes had elapsed, Iwas again on my feet, however, and again searching something- aresource, or at least an informant. A pretty little house stood at thetop of the lane, with a garden before it, exquisitely neat andbrilliantly blooming. I stopped at it. What business had I to approachthe white door or touch the glittering knocker? In what way could itpossibly be the interest of the inhabitants of that dwelling to serveme? Yet I drew near and knocked.
A mild-looking, cleanly-attired young woman opened the door. In such avoice as might be expected from a hopeless heart and fainting frame- avoice wretchedly low and faltering- I asked if a servant was wantedhere?
'No,' said she; 'we do not keep a servant.'
'Can you tell me where I could get employment of any kind?' Icontinued. 'I am a stranger, without acquaintance in this place. I wantsome work: no matter what.'
But it was not her business to think for me, or to seek a place forme: besides, in her eyes, how doubtful must have appeared my character,position, tale. She shook her head, she 'was sorry she could give me noinformation,' and the white door closed, quite gently and civilly: butit shut me out. If she had held it open a little longer, I believe Ishould have begged a piece of bread; for I was now brought low.
I could not bear to return to the sordid village, where, besides, noprospect of aid was visible. I should have longed rather to deviate to awood I saw not far off, which appeared in its thick shade to offerinviting shelter; but I was so sick, so weak, so gnawed with nature'scravings, instinct kept me roaming round abodes where there was a chanceof food. Solitude would be no solitude- rest no rest- while thevulture, hunger, thus sank beak and talons in my side.
I drew near houses; I left them, and came back again, and again Iwandered away: always repelled by the consciousness of having no claimto ask- no right to expect interest in my isolated lot. Meantime, theafternoon advanced, while I thus wandered about like a lost and starvingdog. In crossing a field, I saw the church spire before me: I hastenedtowards it. Near the churchyard, and in the middle of a garden, stood awell-built though small house, which I had no doubt was the parsonage. Iremembered that strangers who arrive at a place where they have nofriends, and who want employment, sometimes apply to the clergyman forintroduction and aid. It is the clergyman's function to help- at leastwith advice- those who wished to help themselves. I seemed to havesomething like a right to seek counsel here. Renewing then my courage,and gathering my feeble remains of strength, I pushed on. I reached thehouse, and knocked at the kitchen-door. An old woman opened: I asked wasthis the parsonage?
'Yes.'
'Was the clergyman in?'
'No.'
'Would he be in soon?'
'No, he was gone from home.'
'To a distance?'
'Not so far- happen three mile. He had been called away by the suddendeath of his father: he was at Marsh End now, and would very likelystay there a fortnight longer.'
'Was there any lady of the house?'
'Nay, there was naught but her, and she was housekeeper'; and of her,reader, I could not bear to ask the relief for want of which I wassinking; I could not yet beg; and again I crawled away.
Once more I took off my handkerchief- once more I thought of thecakes of bread in the little shop. Oh, for but a crust! for but onemouthful to allay the pang of famine! Instinctively I turned my faceagain to the village; I found the shop again, and I went in; and thoughothers were there besides the woman I ventured the request-
'Would she give me a roll for this handkerchief?'
She looked at me with evident suspicion: 'Nay, she never sold stuff i' that way.'
Almost desperate, I asked for half a cake; she again refused.
'How could she tell where I had got the handkerchief?' she said.
'Would she take my gloves?'
'No! what could she do with them?'
Reader, it is not pleasant to dwell on these details. Some say thereis enjoyment in looking back to painful experience past; but at this dayI can scarcely bear to review the times to which I allude: the moraldegradation, blent with the physical suffering, form too distressing arecollection ever to be willingly dwelt on. I blamed none of those whorepulsed me. I felt it was what was to be expected, and what could notbe helped: an ordinary beggar is frequently an object of suspicion; awell-dressed beggar inevitably so. To be sure, what I begged wasemployment; but whose business was it to provide me with employment?Not, certainly, that of persons who saw me then for the first time, andwho knew nothing about my character. And as to the woman who would nottake my handkerchief in exchange for her bread, why, she was right, ifthe offer appeared to her sinister or the exchange unprofitable. Let mecondense now. I am sick of the subject.
A little before dark I passed a farmhouse, at the open door of whichthe farmer was sitting, eating his supper of bread and cheese. I stoppedand said-
'Will you give me a piece of bread? for I am very hungry.' He cast onme a glance of surprise; but without answering, he cut a thick slicefrom his loaf, and gave it to me. I imagine he did not think I was abeggar, but only an eccentric sort of lady, who had taken a fancy to hisbrown loaf. As soon as I was out of sight of his house, I sat down andate it.
I could not hope to get a lodging under a roof, and sought it in thewood I have before alluded to. But my night was wretched, my restbroken: the ground was damp, the air cold: besides, intruders passednear me more than once, and I had again and again to change my quarters:no sense of safety or tranquillity befriended me. Towards morning itrained; the whole of the following day was wet. Do not ask me, reader,to give a minute account of that day; as before, I sought work; asbefore, I was repulsed; as before, I starved; but once did food pass mylips. At the door of a cottage I saw a little girl about to throw a messof cold porridge into a pig trough. 'Will you give me that?' I asked.
She stared at me. 'Mother!' she exclaimed, 'there is a woman wants me to give her these porridge.'
'Well, lass,' replied a voice within, 'give it her if she's a beggar. T' pig doesn't want it.'
The girl emptied the stiffened mould into my hands and I devoured it ravenously.
As the wet twilight deepened, I stopped in a solitary bridle-path, which I had been pursuing an hour or more.
'My strength is quite failing me,' I said in a soliloquy. 'I feel Icannot go much farther. Shall I be an outcast again this night?
While the rain descends so, must I lay my head on the cold, drenchedground? I fear I cannot do otherwise: for who will receive me? But itwill be very dreadful, with this feeling of hunger, faintness, chill,and this sense of desolation- this total prostration of hope.
In all likelihood, though, I should die before morning. And whycannot I reconcile myself to the prospect of death? Why do I struggle toretain a valueless life? Because I know, or believe, Mr. Rochester isliving: and then, to die of want and cold is a fate to which naturecannot submit passively. Oh, Providence! sustain me a little longer!
Aid!- direct me!'
My glazed eye wandered over the dim and misty landscape. I saw I hadstrayed far from the village: it was quite out of sight. The verycultivation surrounding it had disappeared. I had, by cross-ways andby-paths, once more drawn near the tract of moorland; and now, only afew fields, almost as wild and unproductive as the heath from which theywere scarcely reclaimed, lay between me and the dusky hill.
'Well, I would rather die yonder than in a street or on a frequentedroad,' I reflected. 'And far better that crows and ravens- if any ravensthere be in these regions- should pick my flesh from my bones, thanthat they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and moulder in apauper's grave.'
To the hill, then, I turned. I reached it. It remained now only tofind a hollow where I could lie down, and feel at least hidden, if notsecure. But all the surface of the waste looked level. It showed novariation but of tint: green, where rush and moss overgrew the marshes;black, where the dry soil bore only heath. Dark as it was getting, Icould still see these changes, though but as mere alternations of lightand shade; for colour had faded with the daylight.
My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor-edge,vanishing amidst the wildest scenery, when at one dim point, far inamong the marshes and the ridges, a light sprang up. 'That is an ignisfatuus,' was my first thought; and I expected it would soon vanish. Itburnt on, however, quite steadily, neither receding nor advancing. 'Isit, then, a bonfire just kindled?' I questioned. I watched to seewhether it would spread: but no; as it did not diminish, so it did notenlarge. 'It may be a candle in a house,' I then conjectured; 'but ifso, I can never reach it. It is much too far away: and were it within ayard of me, what would it avail? I should but knock at the door to haveit shut in my face.'
And I sank down where I stood, and hid my face against the ground. Ilay still a while: the night-wind swept over the hill and over me, anddied moaning in the distance; the rain fell fast, wetting me afresh tothe skin. Could I but have stiffened to the still frost- the friendlynumbness of death- it might have pelted on; I should not have felt it;but my yet living flesh shuddered at its chilling influence. I rose erelong.
The light was yet there, shining dim but constant through the rain.
I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towards it.
It led me aslant over the hill, through a wide bog, which would havebeen impassable in winter, and was splashy and shaking even now, in theheight of summer. Here I fell twice; but as often I rose and rallied myfaculties. This light was my forlorn hope: I must gain it.
Having crossed the marsh, I saw a trace of white over the moor. Iapproached it; it was a road or a track: it led straight up to thelight, which now beamed from a sort of knoll, amidst a clump of trees-firs, apparently, from what I could distinguish of the character oftheir forms and foliage through the gloom. My star vanished as I drewnear: some obstacle had intervened between me and it. I put out my handto feel the dark mass before me: I discriminated the rough stones of alow wall- above it, something like palisades, and within, a high andprickly hedge. I groped on. Again a whitish object gleamed before me: itwas a gate- a wicket; it moved on its hinges as I touched it. On eachside stood a sable bush- holly or yew.
Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a houserose to view, black, low, and rather long; but the guiding light shonenowhere. All was obscurity. Were the inmates retired to rest? I fearedit must be so. In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot outthe friendly gleam again, from the lozenged panes of a very smalllatticed window, within a foot of the ground, made still smaller by thegrowth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves clustered thickover the portion of the house wall in which it was set. The aperturewas so screened and narrow, that curtain or shutter had been deemedunnecessary; and when I stooped down and put aside the spray of foliageshooting over it, I could see all within. I could see clearly a roomwith a sanded floor, clean scoured; a dresser of walnut, with pewterplates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowingpeat-fire. I could see a clock, a white deal table, some chairs. Thecandle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on the table; and by itslight an elderly woman, somewhat rough-looking, but scrupulously clean,like all about her, was knitting a stocking.
I noticed these objects cursorily only- in them there was nothingextraordinary. A group of more interest appeared near the hearth,sitting still amidst the rosy peace and warmth suffusing it. Two young,graceful women- ladies in every point- sat, one in a low rocking-chair,the other on a lower stool; both wore deep mourning of crape andbombazeen, which sombre garb singularly set off very fair necks andfaces: a large old pointer dog rested its massive head on the knee ofone girl- in the lap of the other was cushioned a black cat.
A strange place was this humble kitchen for such occupants! Who werethey? They could not be the daughters of the elderly person at thetable; for she looked like a rustic, and they were all delicacy andcultivation. I had nowhere seen such faces as theirs: and yet, as Igazed on them, I seemed intimate with every lineament. I cannot callthem handsome- they were too pale and grave for the word: as they eachbent over a book, they looked thoughtful almost to severity. A standbetween them supported a second candle and two great volumes, to whichthey frequently referred, comparing them, seemingly, with the smallerbooks they held in their hands, like people consulting a dictionary toaid them in the task of translation. This scene was as silent as if allthe figures had been shadows and the firelit apartment a picture: sohushed was it, I could hear the cinders fall from the grate, the clocktick in its obscure corner; and I even fancied I could distinguish theclick-click of the woman's knitting-needles. When, therefore, a voicebroke the strange stillness at last, it was audible enough to me.
'Listen, Diana,' said one of the absorbed students; 'Franz and oldDaniel are together in the night-time, and Franz is telling a dream fromwhich he has awakened in terror- listen!' And in a low voice she readsomething, of which not one word was intelligible to me; for it was inan unknown tongue- neither French nor Latin. Whether it were Greek orGerman I could not tell.
'That is strong,' she said, when she had finished: 'I relish it.'
The other girl, who had lifted her head to listen to her sister,repeated, while she gazed at the fire, a line of what had been read.
At a later day, I knew the language and the book; therefore, I willhere quote the line: though, when I first heard it, it was only like astroke on sounding brass to me- conveying no meaning:-
'"Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehen wie die Sternen Nacht." Good!good!' she exclaimed, while her dark and deep eye sparkled. 'There youhave a dim and mighty archangel fitly set before you! The line is worth ahundred pages of fustian. "Ich wage die Gedanken in der Schale meinesZornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms." I like it!'
Both were again silent.
'Is there ony country where they talk i' that way?' asked the old woman, looking up from her knitting.
'Yes, Hannah- a far larger country than England, where they talk in no other way.'
'Well, for sure case, I knawn't how they can understand t'onet'other: and if either o' ye went there, ye could tell what they said, Iguess?'
'We could probably tell something of what they said, but not all- forwe are not as clever as you think us, Hannah. We don't speak German,and we cannot read it without a dictionary to help us.'
'And what good does it do you?'
'We mean to teach it some time- or at least the elements, as they say; and then we shall get more money than we do now.'
'Varry like: but give ower studying; ye've done enough for to-night.'
'I think we have: at least I'm tired. Mary, are you?'
'Mortally: after all, it's tough work fagging away at a language with no master but a lexicon.'
'It is, especially such a language as this crabbed but glorious Deutsch. I wonder when St. John will come home.'
'Surely he will not be long now: it is just ten (looking at a littlegold watch she drew from her girdle). It rains fast, Hannah: will youhave the goodness to look at the fire in the parlour?'
The woman rose: she opened a door, through which I dimly saw apassage: soon I heard her stir a fire in an inner room; she presentlycame back.
'Ah, childer!' said she, 'it fair troubles me to go into yond' roomnow: it looks so lonesome wi' the chair empty and set back in a corner.'
She wiped her eyes with her apron: the two girls, grave before, looked sad now.
'But he is in a better place,' continued Hannah: 'we shouldn't wishhim here again. And then, nobody need to have a quieter death nor hehad.'
'You say he never mentioned us?' inquired one of the ladies.
'He hadn't time, bairn: he was gone in a minute, was your father.
He had been a bit ailing like the day before, but naught to signify;and when Mr. St. John asked if he would like either o' ye to be sentfor, he fair laughed at him. He began again with a bit of a heaviness inhis head the next day- that is, a fortnight sin'- and he went to sleepand niver wakened: he wor a'most stark when your brother went into t'chamber and fand him. Ah, childer! that's t' last o' t' old stock- forye and Mr. St. John is like of different soart to them 'at's gone; forall your mother wor mich i' your way, and a'most as book-learned. Shewor the pictur' o' ye, Mary: Diana is more like your father.'
I thought them so similar I could not tell where the old servant (forsuch I now concluded her to be) saw the difference. Both were faircomplexioned and slenderly made; both possessed faces full ofdistinction and intelligence. One, to be sure, had hair a shade darkerthan the other, and there was a difference in their style of wearing it;Mary's pale brown locks were parted and braided smooth: Diana's duskiertresses covered her neck with thick curls. The clock struck ten.
'Ye'll want your supper, I am sure,' observed Hannah; 'and so will Mr. St. John when he comes in.'
And she proceeded to prepare the meal. The ladies rose; they seemedabout to withdraw to the parlour. Till this moment, I had been so intenton watching them, their appearance and conversation had excited in meso keen an interest, I had half-forgotten my own wretched position: nowit recurred to me. More desolate, more desperate than ever, it seemedfrom contrast. And how impossible did it appear to touch the inmates ofthis house with concern on my behalf; to make them believe in the truthof my wants and woes- to induce them to vouchsafe a rest for mywanderings! As I groped out the door, and knocked at it hesitatingly, Ifelt that last idea to be a mere chimera. Hannah opened.
'What do you want?' she inquired, in a voice of surprise, as she surveyed me by the light of the candle she held.
'May I speak to your mistresses?' I said.
'You had better tell me what you have to say to them. Where do you come from?'
'I am a stranger.'
'What is your business here at this hour?'
'I want a night's shelter in an out-house or anywhere, and a morsel of bread to eat.'
Distrust, the very feeling I dreaded, appeared in Hannah's face.
'I'll give you a piece of bread,' she said, after a pause; 'but we can't take in a vagrant to lodge. It isn't likely.'
'Do let me speak to your mistresses.'
'No, not I. What can they do for you? You should not be roving about now; it looks very ill.'
'But where shall I go if you drive me away? What shall I do?'
'Oh, I'll warrant you know where to go and what to do. Mind you don't do wrong, that's all. Here is a penny; now go-'
'A penny cannot feed me, and I have no strength to go farther.
Don't shut the door:- oh, don't, for God's sake!'
'I must; the rain is driving in-'
'Tell the young ladies. Let me see them-'
'Indeed, I will not. You are not what you ought to be, or you wouldn't make such a noise. Move off.'
'But I must die if I am turned away.'
'Not you. I'm fear'd you have some ill plans agate, that bring youabout folk's houses at this time o' night. If you've any followers-housebreakers or such like- anywhere near, you may tell them we are notby ourselves in the house; we have a gentleman, and dogs, and guns.'Here the honest but inflexible servant clapped the door to and bolted itwithin.
This was the climax. A pang of exquisite suffering- a throe of truedespair- rent and heaved my heart. Worn out, indeed, I was; not anotherstep could I stir. I sank on the wet doorstep: I groaned- I wrung myhands- I wept in utter anguish. Oh, this spectre of death!
Oh, this last hour, approaching in such horror! Alas, this isolation-this banishment from my kind! Not only the anchor of hope, but thefooting of fortitude was gone- at least for a moment; but the last Isoon endeavoured to regain.
'I can but die,' I said, 'and I believe in God. Let me try to wait His will in silence.'
These words I not only thought, but uttered; and thrusting back allmy misery into my heart, I made an effort to compel it to remain there-dumb and still.
'All men must die,' said a voice quite close at hand; 'but all arenot condemned to meet a lingering and premature doom, such as yourswould be if you perished here of want.'
'Who or what speaks?' I asked, terrified at the unexpected sound, andincapable now of deriving from any occurrence a hope of aid. A form wasnear- what form, the pitch-dark night and my enfeebled vision preventedme from distinguishing. With a loud long knock, the newcomer appealedto the door.
'Is it you, Mr. St. John?' cried Hannah.
'Yes- yes; open quickly.'
'Well, how wet and cold you must be, such a wild night as it is!
Come in- your sisters are quite uneasy about you, and I believe thereare bad folks about. There has been a beggar-woman- I declare she isnot gone yet!- laid down there. Get up! for shame! Move off, I say!'
'Hush, Hannah! I have a word to say to the woman. You have done yourduty in excluding, now let me do mine in admitting her. I was near, andlistened to both you and her. I think this is a peculiar case- I must atleast examine into it. Young woman, rise, and pass before me into thehouse.'
With difficulty I obeyed him. Presently I stood within that clean,bright kitchen- on the very hearth- trembling, sickening; conscious ofan aspect in the last degree ghastly, wild, and weather-beaten. The twoladies, their brother, Mr. St. John, the old servant, were all gazing atme.
'St. John, who is it?' I heard one ask.
'I cannot tell: I found her at the door,' was the reply.
'She does look white,' said Hannah.
'As white as clay or death,' was responded. 'She will fall: let her sit.'
And indeed my head swam: I dropped, but a chair received me. I still possessed my senses, though just now I could not speak.
'Perhaps a little water would restore her. Hannah, fetch some.
But she is worn to nothing. How very thin, and how very bloodless!'
'A mere spectre!'
'Is she ill, or only famished?'
'Famished, I think. Hannah, is that milk? Give it me, and a piece of bread.'
Diana (I knew her by the long curls which I saw drooping between meand the fire as she bent over me) broke some bread, dipped it in milk,and put it to my lips. Her face was near mine: I saw there was pity init, and I felt sympathy in her hurried breathing. In her simple words,too, the same balm-like emotion spoke: 'Try to eat.'
'Yes- try,' repeated Mary gently; and Mary's hand removed my soddenbonnet and lifted my head. I tasted what they offered me: feebly atfirst, eagerly soon.
'Not too much at first- restrain her,' said the brother; 'she has hadenough.' And he withdrew the cup of milk and the plate of bread.
'A little more, St. John- look at the avidity in her eyes.'
'No more at present, sister. Try if she can speak now- ask her her name.'
I felt I could speak, and I answered- 'My name is Jane Elliott.'
Anxious as ever to avoid discovery, I had before resolved to assume an alias.
'And where do you live? Where are your friends?'
I was silent.
'Can we send for any one you know?'
I shook my head.
'What account can you give of yourself?'
Somehow, now that I had once crossed the threshold of this house, andonce was brought face to face with its owners, I felt no longeroutcast, vagrant, and disowned by the wide world. I dared to put off themendicant- to resume my natural manner and character. I began once moreto know myself; and when Mr. St. John demanded an account- which atpresent I was far too weak to render- I said after a brief pause-
'Sir, I can give you no details to-night.'
'But what, then,' said he, 'do you expect me to do for you?'
'Nothing,' I replied. My strength sufficed for but short answers.
Diana took the word-
'Do you mean,' she asked, 'that we have now given you what aid yourequire? and that we may dismiss you to the moor and the rainy night?'
I looked at her. She had, I thought, a remarkable countenance, instinct both with power and goodness. I took sudden courage.
Answering her compassionate gaze with a smile, I said- 'I will trustyou. If I were a masterless and stray dog, I know that you would notturn me from your hearth to-night: as it is, I really have no fear. Dowith me and for me as you like; but excuse me from much discourse- mybreath is short- I feel a spasm when I speak.' All three surveyed me,and all three were silent.
'Hannah,' said Mr. St. John, at last, 'let her sit there at present,and ask her no questions; in ten minutes more, give her the remainder ofthat milk and bread. Mary and Diana, let us go into the parlour andtalk the matter over.'
They withdrew. Very soon one of the ladies returned- I could not tellwhich. A kind of pleasant stupor was stealing over me as I sat by thegenial fire. In an undertone she gave some directions to Hannah.Ere long, with the servant's aid, I contrived to mount a staircase;my dripping clothes were removed; soon a warm, dry bed received me. Ithanked God- experienced amidst unutterable exhaustion a glow ofgrateful joy- and slept.

两天过去了。夏天的一个傍晚，马车夫让我在一个叫作惠特克劳斯的地方下了车，凭我给的那点钱他已无法再把我往前拉，而在这个世上，我连一个先令也拿不出来了。此刻，马车已驶出一英里，撇下我孤单一人。这时我才发现忘了从马车贮物箱里把包裹拿出来了，我把它放在那儿原本是为了安全，不想就那么留下了，准是留在那儿，而我已经莫名一文了。
惠特克劳斯不是一个镇，连乡村也不是。它不过是一根石柱，竖在四条路汇合的地方：粉刷得很白，想必是为了在远处和黑夜显得更醒目。柱顶上伸出四个指路标，按上面的标识看，这个交汇点距最近的城镇十英里，离最远的超过二十英里。从这些熟悉的镇名来判断，我明白我在什么郡下了车。这是中部偏北的一个郡，看得出来荒野幽暗，山峦层叠。我身后和左右是大荒原，我脚下深谷的远处，是一片起伏的山林。这里人口必定稀少，因为路上不见行人。一条条道路伸向东南西北——灰白、宽敞、孤零，全都穿过荒原，路边长着茂密的欧石南。但偶尔也有路人经过，现在我却不希望有人看见我那么在路标下徘徊，显得毫无目的，不知所措，陌生人会不知道我在干什么。我也许会受到盘问，除了说些听来不可信和令人生疑的话之外，会无言以对。这一时刻我与人类社会完全失去了联系——没有一丝魅力或是希望把我召唤到我的同类那里，——没有谁见到我会对我表示一丝善意或良好的祝愿。我没有亲人，只有万物之母大自然。我会投向她的怀抱，寻求安息。
我径直走进欧石南丛，看见棕色的荒原边上有一条深陷的沟壑，便一直沿着它往前走去，穿行在没膝的青色树丛中，顺着一个个弯道拐了弯，在一个隐蔽的角落找到了一块布满青苔的花岗岩，在底下坐了下来。我周围是荒原高高的边沿，头上有岩石保护着，岩石上面是天空。即使在这儿，我也过了好一会才感到宁静。我隐约担心附近会有野兽。或者某个狩猎人或偷猎者会发现我。要是一阵风刮起了荒草，我就会抬起头来，深怕是一头野牛冲将过来了。要是一只行鸟叫了一下，我会想象是一个人的声音。然而我发现自己的担忧不过是捕风捉影，此外黄昏过后夜幕降临时深沉的寂静，使我镇定了下来，我便有了信心。但在这之前我没有思考过，只不过细听着，担心着，观察着。而现在我又恢复了思索的能力。
我该怎么办？往哪儿去？呵，当我无法可想，无处可去的时候，那些问题多么难以忍受呀！我得用疲乏颤抖的双腿走完很长的路，才能抵达有人烟的地方——我要恳求发点冷冷的慈悲，才能找到一个投宿之处；我要强求勉为其难的同情，而且多半还会遭人嫌弃，才能使人听听我的经历，满足我的需要。
我碰了碰欧石南，只觉得它很干燥，还带着夏日热力的微温。我看了看天空，只见它清明纯净，一颗星星在山凹上空和蔼地眨眼。露水降下来了，带着慈爱的温柔。没有微风在低语。大自然似乎对我很慈祥，虽然我成了流浪者，但我想她很爱我。我从人那儿只能期待怀疑、嫌弃和侮辱，我要忠心耿耿一往情深地依恋大自然。至少今晚我可以在那儿作客了——因为我是她的孩子，我的母亲会收留我，不要钱，不要付出代价。我还有一口吃剩的面包，那面包是我用一便士零钱——我最后的一枚硬币，从下午路过的小镇买来的。我看到了成熟的越桔——像欧石南丛中的煤玉那样，随处闪着光。我采集了一大把，和着面包吃。我刚才还饥肠辘辘，隐士的食品虽然吃不饱，却足以充饥了。吃完饭我做了夜祷告，随后便择榻就寝了。
岩石旁边，欧石南长得很高。我一躺下，双脚便陷了进去，两边的石楠高高坚起，只留下很窄的一块地方要受夜气侵袭。我把披肩一摺为二，铺在身上作盖被，一个长满青苔的低矮小墩当了枕头。我就这么住下了，至少在夜刚来临时，是觉得冷的。
我的安息本来也许是够幸福的，可惜让一颗悲伤的心破坏了，它泣诉着自己张开的伤口、流血的心扉、折断的心弦。它为罗切斯特先生和他的灭亡而颤抖，因为痛惜而为他恸哭。它带着无休止的渴望召唤他，尽管它像断了双翅的小鸟那样无能为力，却仍旧抖动着断翅，徒劳地找寻着他。
我被这种念头折磨得疲乏不堪，于是便起来跪着。夜已来临，星星已经升起，这是一个平安宁静的夜，平静得与恐怖无缘。我们知道上帝无处不在，但当他的劳作壮丽地展现在我们面前时，我们才最感觉到他的存在。在万里无云的夜空中，在他的宇宙无声地滚滚向前的地方，我们清楚地看到了他的无边无涯，他的万能，他无处不在。我已起来跪着为罗切斯特先生祈祷。抬起头来，我泪眼朦胧地看到了浩瀚的银河。一想起银河是什么——那里有无数的星系像一道微光那么扫过太空——我便感到了上帝的巨大力量。我确信他有能力拯救他的创造物，更相信无论是地球，还是它所珍爱的一个灵魂，都不会毁灭。我把祈祷的内容改为感恩。生命的源泉也是灵魂的救星。罗切斯特先生会安然无恙。他属于上帝，上帝会保护他。我再次投入小山的怀抱，不久，在沉睡中便忘掉了忧愁。
但第二天，苍白赤裸的匮乏，幽灵似地来到我身边。小鸟早已离开他们的巢穴，早露未干蜜蜂便早已在一天的黄金时刻飞到欧石南丛中采蜜，早晨长长的影子缩短了，太阳普照大地和天空——我才起身，朝四周看了看。
一个多么宁静、炎热的好天！一望无际的荒原多像一片金灿灿的沙漠！处处都是阳光。我真希望自己能住在这里，并以此为生。我看见一条蜥蜴爬过岩石，一只蜜蜂在甜蜜的越桔中间忙碌。此刻我愿做蜜蜂或蜥蜴，能在这里找到合适的养料和永久的住处。但我是人，有着人的需求。我可不能逗留在一个无法满足这种需求的地方，我站了起来，回头看了一眼我留下的床铺。我感到前途无望，但愿造物主认为有必要在夜里我熟睡时把我的灵魂要去；但愿我这疲乏的身躯能因为死亡而摆脱同命运的进一步搏斗；但愿它此刻无声无息地腐败，平静地同这荒原的泥土融为一体。然而，我还有生命，还有生命的一切需要、痛苦和责任。包袱还得背着；需要还得满足；痛苦还得忍受；责任还是要尽。于是我出发了。
我再次来到惠特克劳斯，这时骄阳高照。我选了一条背阳的路，我已无心根据其他请况来作出选择了。我走了很久，以为自己差不多走得够了，可以心安理得地向几乎把我压垮的疲劳屈服——可以放松一下这种强迫的活动了，于是在我附近看到的一块石头上坐了下来，听任心脏和四肢感到麻木。就在这时我听见钟声响了—一教堂的钟声。
我转向声音传来的方向。在那里，我一小时之前就已不去注意其变幻和外观富有浪漫色彩的山峦之间，我看到了一个村庄和尖顶。我左侧的山谷满眼都是牧地、玉米地和树林。一条闪光的小溪弯弯曲曲地流过深浅各异的绿荫，流过正在成熟的稻谷，暗淡的树林，明净而充满阳光的草地。前面路上传来了隆隆的车轮声，我回过神来，看见一辆重载的大车，吃力地爬上了小山。不远的地方有两头牛和一个牧人。附近就有人在生活和劳作，我得挣扎下去，像别人那样努力去生活和操劳。
约摸下午两点，我进了村庄。一条街的尽头开着一个小店，窗里放着一些面包。我对一块面包很眼馋。有那样一块点心，我也许还能恢复一点力气，要是没有，再往前走就困难了。一回到我的同类之间，心头便又升起了要恢复精力的愿望。我觉得昏倒在一个小村的大路上很丢脸。难道我身上就连换取几块面包的东西都没有了吗？我想了一想。我有一小块丝绸围巾围在脖子上，还有一双手套。我难以表达贫困潦倒中的男女是怎么度日的。我不知道这两件东西是否会被人接受。可能他们不会要，但我得试一试。
我走进了店里，里面有一个女人。她见是一位穿著体面的人，猜想是位贵妇，于是便很有礼貌地走上前来。她怎么来照应我呢？我羞愧难当。我的舌头不愿吐出早已想好的要求。我不敢拿出旧了的手套，皱巴巴的围巾。另外，我还觉得这很荒唐。我只求她让我坐一会儿，因为我累了。她没有盼到一位雇客，很是失望，冷冷地答应了我的要求。她指了指一个座位，我一屁股坐了下来。我很想哭，但意识到那种表现会不合情理，便忍住了。我立刻问她“村子里有没有裁缝或者做做一般针线活的女人？”
“有，有两三个。按活计算也就够多的了。”
我沉思了一下。现在我不得不直说了。我己经面临困境，落到了没有食物，没有朋友，没有一文钱的地步。我得想点办法。什么办法呢？我得上什么地方去求助。上哪个地方呢？
“你知道附近有谁需要佣人吗？”
“不，我说不上来。”
“这个地方的主要行业是什么？大多数人是干什么活儿的？”
“有些是农场工，很多人在奥利弗先生的缝纫厂和翻砂厂工作。”
“奥利弗先生雇用女人吗？”
“不，那是男人的工作。”
“那么女人干什么呢，”
“我说不上来，”对方回答，
“有的干这，有的干那，穷人总得想方设法把日子过下去呀。”
她似乎对我的回话不耐烦了，其实我又何必强人所难呢？这时进来了一两位邻居，很明显看中了我的椅子，我起身告辞了。
我沿街走去，一面走一面左顾右盼，打量着所有的房子，但找不到进门的借口或动机。我这么漫无目的地绕着村庄走了一个来小时，有时走远了一些，又折回来。因为没有东西下肚，我筋疲力尽难受极了，于是折进一条小巷，在树篱下坐了下来。可是没过几分钟我又站起来，再去找些什么——食物，或者至少打听到一点消息。小巷的高处有一间漂亮的小房子，房子前有一个精致整洁、繁花盛开的花园，我在花园旁边停了下来，我有什么理由走近白色的门，去敲响闪光的门环呢？房主人又怎么会有兴趣来照应我呢？但我还是走近去敲了门。一位和颜悦色穿著干净的年轻女子开了门。我用一个内心绝望，身怀虚弱的人那种可怜低沉、吞吞吐吐的音调——问她是不是要一个佣人？
“不要，”她说“我们不雇佣人。”
“你能不能告诉我，哪儿能找到工作吗？”我继续问。“这个地方我很陌生，没有熟人，想找个工作，什么样的都行。”
但为我想一个，或者找一个工作不是她的事儿，更何况在她看来，我的为人、我的状况和我说的原委一定显得很可疑，她摇了摇头，“很遗憾我没法给你提供消息，”白色的门尽管轻轻地、很有礼貌地合上了，但毕竟把我关出了门外。要是她让门再开一会儿，我相信准会向她讨点面包，因为现在我已落到十分下贱的地步了。
我不忍再返回龌龊的庄子，况且那儿也没有希望得到帮助。我本想绕道去一个看得见的不远的林子。那里浓荫盖地，似乎有可能提供诱人的落脚地方。但是我那么病弱，那么为天性的渴求所折磨、本能使我只绕着有机会得到食品的住处转。当饥饿像猛禽—样嘴爪俱下抓住我时、孤独也不成其孤独，歇息也谈不上歇息了。
我走近了住家，走开了又回来，回来了又走开。总有被一种意识所击退，觉得没有理由提出要求，没有权利期望别人对我孤独的命运发生兴趣。我像一条迷路的饿狗那么转来转去，一直到了下午，我穿过田野的时候，看到前面的教堂尖顶，便急步朝它走去。靠近教堂院子和一个花园的中间，有一所虽然不大但建造得很好的房子，我确信那是牧师的住所，我想起来，陌生人到了一个无亲无故的地方，想找个工作，有时会去找牧师引荐和帮助。给那些希望自立的人帮忙一—至少是出主意是牧师份内的事儿。我似乎有某种权利上那儿去听主意。于是我鼓起勇气，集中起一点点残留的力气，奋力往前走去。我到了房子跟前，敲了敲厨房的门。一位老妇开了门，我问她这是不是牧师的住所。
“是的。”
“牧师在吗？”
“没有。”
“很快会回来吗？”
“不，他离开家了。”
“去很远的地方？”
“不太远一—三英里。他因为父亲突然去世被叫走了，眼下住在沼泽居，很可能还要再呆上两周。”
“家里有哪位小姐在吗？”
“没有，除了我没有别人，而我是管家。”读者呀，我不忍求她帮我摆脱越陷越深的困境，而我又不能乞讨，于是我再次退缩
我又取下了围巾—一又想起了小店的面包。呵，就是一片面包屑也好！只要有一口就能减轻饥饿的痛苦，我本能地又把脸转向了村庄，我又看见了那个店，走了进去，尽管除了那女人里面还有其他人，我冒昧地提出了请求“你肯让我用这块围巾换一个面包卷吗？”
她显然满腹狐疑地看着我，“不，我从来不那么卖东西。”
在几乎走投无路之中，我央求她换半个，她再次拒绝了。“我怎么知道你从什么地方弄来的围巾？”她说。
“你肯收这双手套吗？”
“不行，我要它干什么？”
读者呀，叙述这些细节是不愉快的。有人说，回首痛苦的往事是一种享受。但就是在今天，我也不忍回顾我提到的那些时日，道德的堕落搀和着肉体的煎熬，构成了我不愿重提的痛苦回忆。我不责备任何一个冷眼待我的人，觉得这尽在意料之中，也是无可避免的。一个普通的乞丐往往是怀疑的对象，而一个穿著体面的乞丐，就必定是这样了。当然，我只恳求工作，但给我活干又是谁的事儿呢？当然不是那些初次见我，对我的为人一无所知的人的事。至于那个女人不肯让我用围巾换面包，那也是难怪的，要是我的提议在她后来居心叵测，或是这桩交换无利可图，那她的做法也是不错的。让我长话短说吧，我讨厌这个话题。
天快黑的时候，我走过一家农户。农夫坐在敞开着的门口，正用面包和奶酪作晚餐。我站住说：
“能给我一片面包吗？因为我实在饿得慌。”他惊异地看了我一眼，但二话没说，便切了一厚片面包给我。我估计他并不认为我是个乞丐，而只是一位怪僻的贵妇，看中了他的黑面包了。我一走到望不见他屋子的地方，便坐下吃了起来。
既然我无法期望在屋檐下借宿，那就让我到前面提到的林子里去过夜吧。但是那晚很糟糕，休息断断续续，地面很潮湿，空气十分寒冷，此外，不止一次地有外人路过，弄得我一次次换地方，没有安全感，也得不到清静。临近早晨天下雨了，第二天下了一整天。读者呀，别要我把那天的情况说个仔细。我像以前一样寻找工作，像以前一样遭到拒绝，像以前一样挨饿。不过有一回食物倒是进了嘴。在一间小茅屋门口，我看见一个小女孩正要把糊糟糟的冷粥倒进猪槽里。
“可以把它给我吗？”我问。
她瞪着我。“妈妈！”她嚷道，“有个女的要我把粥给她。”
“行呵，孩子，”里边的一个声音回答，“要是她是个乞丐，那就给了她吧，猪也不会要吃的。”
这女孩把结了块的粥倒在我手上，我狼吞虎咽地吃掉了。
湿润的黄昏越来越浓时，我在一条偏僻的马道上走了一个多小时后停了下来。
“我体力不行了，”我自言自语地说。“自己觉得走不了多远了。难道今晚又没有地方投宿？雨下得那么大，难道我又得把头靠在阴冷湿透的地面上吗？我担心自己别无选择了。谁肯接纳我呢？但是带着这种饥饿、昏眩、寒冷、凄楚的感觉—一一种绝望的心情，那着实可怕。不过很可能我捱不到早上就会死去。那么我为什么不能心甘情愿地死掉呢？为什么我还要挣扎来维持没有价值的生命？因为我知道，或是相信，罗切斯特先生还活着，另外，死于饥寒是天性所不能默认的命运。呵，上天呀！再支撑我一会儿！帮助我一—指引我吧！”
我那呆滞的眼睛徘徊在暗沉沉、雾蒙蒙的山水之间。我发现自己已远离村庄，因为它已在我视线中消失，村子周围的耕地也不见了。我已经穿小径，抄近路再次靠近了一大片荒原。此刻，在我与黑糊糊的小山之间，只有几小片田野，几乎没有很好开垦，和原来的欧石南差不多一样荒芜和贫瘠。
“是呀，与其倒毙街头或死在人来人往的路上，倒不加死到那边去，”我沉思着。“让乌鸦和渡鸦——要是那些地区有渡鸦的话——啄我骨头上的肉比装在贫民院的棺材里和穷光蛋的墓穴中要强。”
随后我折向那座小山，并到了那里。现在就只剩找个能躺下来的地方了，就是并不安全，至少也是隐蔽的。可是荒原的表面看上去都一样平坦，只有色彩上有些差别；灯心草和苔藓茂密生长的湿地呈青色；而只长欧石南的干土壤是黑色的。虽然夜越来越黑，但我仍能看清这些差别，尽管它不过是光影的交替，因为颜色已经随日光而褪尽了。
我的目光仍在暗淡的高地游弋，并沿着消失在最荒凉的景色中的荒原边缘逡巡。这时，远在沼泽和山脊之中，一个模糊的点，一道光跃入我眼帘。“那是鬼火，”是我第一个想法，我估计它会立即消失。然而，那光继续亮着，显得很稳定，既不后退，也不前进。“难道是刚点燃的篝火？”我产生了疑问。我注视着，看它会不会扩散。但没有，它既不缩小，也不扩大。“这也许是一间房子里的烛光。”我随后揣想着，“即便那样，我也永远到不了那儿了。它离这儿太远，可就是离我一码远，又有什么用？我只会敲，开门，又当着我面关上。”
我就在站立的地方颓然倒下，把头埋进地里，静静地躺了一会。夜风刮过小山，吹过我身上，呜咽着在远处消失。雨下得很大，重又把我浇透。要是这么冻成了冰块一—那么友好地麻木而死——雨点也许还会那么敲击着；而我毫无感觉。可是我依然活着的肉体，在寒气的侵袭下颤抖，不久我便站了起来。
那光仍在那边，在雨中显得朦胧和遥远。我试着再走，拖着疲乏的双腿慢慢地朝它走去。它引导我穿过一个宽阔的泥沼，从斜刺里上了山。要是在冬天，这个泥沼是没法通过的，就是眼下盛夏，也是泥浆四溅，一步一摇晃。我跌倒了两次，两次都爬起来，振作起精神。那道光是我几乎无望的希望，我得赶到那里。
穿过沼泽我看到荒原上有一条白印子，我向它走去，见是一条大路或是小径，直通那道正从树丛中一个小土墩上射来的光。在昏暗中从树形和树叶能分辨出，那显然是杉木树丛，我一走近，我的星星便不见了，原来某些障碍把它和我隔开了，我伸出手在面前一团漆黑中摸索。我辨认出了一堵矮墙的粗糙石头—一上面象是—道栅栏，里面是高而带刺的篱笆。我继续往前摸。那白色东西歪又在我面前闪光了，原来是一条门——一条旋转门，我一碰便在铰链上转了起来。门两边各有一丛黑黑的灌木——是冬青或是紫杉。
进了门，走过灌木，眼前便现出了一所房子的剪影，又黑又矮却相当长。但是那道引路的光却消失了，一切都模模糊糊。难道屋里的人都安息了？我担心准是这样。我转了一个角度去找门，那里又闪起了友好的灯光，是从一尺之内一扇格子小窗的菱形玻璃上射出来的，那扇窗因为长青藤或是满墙的爬藤类植物的叶子，显得更小了。留下的空隙那么小，又覆盖得那么好，窗帘和百叶窗似乎都没有必要了。我弯腰撩开窗户上浓密的小枝条，里面的一切便看得清清楚楚了。我能看得清房间的沙子地板擦得干干净净。还有一个核桃木餐具柜，上面放着一排排锡盘，映出了燃烧着的泥炭火的红光。我能看得见一只钟、一张白色的松木桌和几把椅子，桌子上点着一根蜡烛，烛光一直是我的灯塔。一个看去有些粗糙，但也像她周围的一切那样一尘不染的老妇人，借着烛光在编织袜子。
我只是粗略地看了看这些东西，——它们并没有不同寻常的地方。令我更感兴趣的是火炉旁的一群人，在洋溢着的玫瑰色的宁静和暖意中默默地坐着。两个年轻高雅的女子一一从各方面看都像贵妇人——坐着，一个坐在低低的摇椅里；另一个坐在一条更矮的凳子上。两人都穿戴了黑纱和毛葛的重丧服，暗沉沉的服饰格外烘托出她们白皙的脖子和面孔。一只大猎狗把它巨大无比的头靠在一个姑娘膝头，——另一个姑娘的膝头则偎着一只黑猫。
这个简陋的厨房里居然呆着这样两个人，真是奇怪。她们会是谁呢，不可能是桌子旁边那个长者的女儿，因为她显得很土，而她们却完全是高雅而有教养。我没有在别处看到过这样的面容，然而我盯着她们看时，却似乎觉得熟悉每一个面部特征。她们说不上漂亮一—过份苍白严肃了些，够不上这个词。两人都低头看书，显得若有所思，甚至还有些严厉。她们之间的架子上放着第二根蜡烛，和两大卷书，两人不时地翻阅着，似乎还在与手中的小书作比较，像是在查阅词典，翻译什么一样。这一幕静得仿佛所有的人都成了影子，生了火的房间活像一幅画。这儿那么静谧，我能听到煤渣从炉栅上落下的声音，昏暗的角落时钟的嘀嗒声，我甚至想象我能分辨出那女人嚓嚓嚓嚓的编织声，因而当一个嗓音终于打破奇怪的宁静时，我足以听得分明。
“听着，黛安娜，”两位专心致志的学生中的一位说，“费朗茨和老丹尼尔在一起过夜。费朗茨正说起一个梦，这个梦把他给吓醒——听着！”她声音放得很低，读了什么东西，我连一个字也没听懂，因为这是一种完全陌生的语言——既不是法文，也不是拉丁。至于是希腊文还是德文，我无法判断。
“那说得很有力，”她念完后说，“我很欣赏。”另一位抬头听着她妹妹的站娘，一面凝视炉火，一面重复了刚才读过的一行。后来，我知道了那种语言和那本书，所以我要在这里加以引用，尽管我当初听来，仿佛是敲在铜器上的响声一—不传达任何意义：
“Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehn wie die SternenNacht”“妙！妙！”她大嚷着，乌黑深沉的眼睛闪着光芒。“你面前恰好站了一位模糊而伟大的天使！这一行胜过一百页浮华的文章。‘Ich wagedie Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichtemeines Grimms’我喜欢它！”
两人沉默了，
“有哪个国家的人是那么说话的？”那老妇人停下手头的编织、抬起头来问。
“有的、汉娜一—一个比英国要大得多的国家、那里的人就只这么说。”
“噢，说真的，我不知道他们彼此怎么能明白，要是你们谁上那儿去，我想你们能懂他说的话吧？”
“他们说的我们很可能只懂—些，不是全部都懂——因为我们不像你想象的那么聪明，汉娜，我们不会说德语，而且不借助词典还读不懂。”
“那这对你们有什么用？”
“某一天我们想教德语——或者像他们说的，至少教基础，然后我们会比现在赚更多的钱，”
“很可能的，不过今晚你们读得够多了。该停止了。”
“我想是够多了，至少我倦了，玛丽，你呢？”
“累极了，那么孜孜不倦学一门语言，没有老师，只靠一部词典，毕竟是吃力的。”
“是呀，尤其是像德语这样艰涩而出色的语言。不知道圣.约翰什么时候会回家来。”
“现在肯定不会太久了，才十点呢（她从腰带里掏出一只小小的金表来，看了一眼）”。“雨下得很大，汉娜。请你看一下客厅里的火炉好吗？”
那妇人站起来，开了门。从门外望进去，我依稀看到了一条过道。不一会我听她在内间拨着火，她马上又返回了。
“呵，孩子们！”她说，“这会儿进那边的房间真让我难受。椅子空空的，都靠后摆在角落里，看上去很冷清。”
她用围裙揩了揩眼睛，两位神情严肃的姑娘这时也显得很关心。
“不过他在一个更好的地方了，”汉娜继续说：“我们不该再盼他在这里。而且，谁也不会比他死得更安详了。”
“你说他从没提起过我们？”一位小姐问。
“他来不及提了，孩子，他一下子就去了——你们的父亲。像前一天一样，他一直有点痛，但不严重。圣.约翰先生问他，是否要派人去叫你们两个中的一个回来，他还笑他呢。第二天他的头开始有点沉重——那是两周以前——他睡过去了，再也没有醒来。你们兄弟进房间发现他的时候，他差不多已经咽气了。呵，孩子！那是最后一个老派人了——因为跟那些过世的人相比，你和圣.约翰先生似是另一类人，你母亲完全也像你们一样，差不多一样有学问。你活像她，玛丽，黛安娜像你们父亲。”
我认为她们彼此很像，看不出老仆人（这会儿我断定她是这种身份的人）所见的区别。两人都是皮肤白皙，身材苗条。两人的脸都绝顶聪明，很有特征。当然一位的头发比另一位要深些，发式也不一样。玛丽的浅褐色头发两边分开，梳成了光光的辫子，黛安娜的深色头发流成粗厚的发卷，遮盖着脖子。时钟敲了十点。
“肯定你们想吃晚饭了，”汉娜说。“圣.约翰先生回来了也会一样。”
她忙着去准备晚饭了。两位小姐立起身来，似乎正要走开到客厅去。在这之前我一直目不转睛地看着她们，她们的外表和谈话引起了我强烈的兴趣，我竟把自己的痛苦处境忘掉了一半。这会儿却重又想了起来，与她们一对比，我的境遇就更凄凉、更绝望了。要打动房子里的人让她们来关心我，相信我的需要和悲苦是真的一一要说动她们为我的流浪提供一个歇息之处，是多么不可能呀！我摸到门边，犹犹豫豫地敲了起来时，我觉得自己后一个念头不过是妄想。汉娜开了门。
“你有什么事？”她一面借着手中的烛光打量我，一面带着惊异的声调问。
“我可以同你的小姐们说说吗？”我说。
“你还是告诉我你有什么话要同她们讲吧，你是从哪儿来的？”
“我是个陌生人。”
“这时候上这里来干什么？”
“我想在外间或者什么地方搭宿一个晚上，还要一口面包吃。”
汉娜脸上出现了我所担心的那种怀疑的表情。“我给你一片面包，”她顿了一下说，“但我们不收流浪者过夜。那不妥当。”
“无论加何让我同你小姐们说说。”
“不行，我不让。她们能替你做什么呢？这会儿你不该游荡了，天气看来很不好。”
“但要是你把我赶走，我能上哪儿呢？我怎么办呢？”
“呵，我保证你知道上哪儿去干什么？当心别干坏事就行啦。这儿是一个便士，现在你走吧！”
“一便士不能填饱我肚皮，而我没有力气往前赶路了。别关门！—一呵，别，看在上帝份上：”
“我得关掉，否则雨要泼进来了。”
“告诉年轻姑娘们吧，让我见见她们。”
“说真的我不让。你不守本份，要不你不会这么吵吵嚷嚷的。走吧！”
“要是把我赶走，我准会死掉的。”
“你才不会呢。我担心你们打着什么坏主意，所以才那么深更半夜到人家房子里来，要是你有什么同伙一一强入住宅打劫的一类人——就在近旁，你可以告诉他们，房子里不光是我们这几个，我们有一位先生，还有狗和熗。”说到这儿，这位诚实却执拗的佣人关了门，在里面上了闩。
这下子可是倒霉透顶了。一阵剧痛——彻底绝望的痛苦一—充溢并撕裂了我的心。其实我已经衰弱不堪，就是再往前跨一步的力气都没有了。我颓然倒在潮湿的门前台阶上。我呻吟着——绞着手——极度痛苦地哭了起来。呵，死亡的幽灵！呵，这最后的一刻来得那么恐怖！哎呀，这种孤独——那么从自己同类中被撵走！不要说希望之锚消失了，就连刚强精神立足的地方也不见了一—至少有一会儿是这样，但后一点，我马上又努力恢复了。
“我只能死了，”我说，“而我相信上帝，让我试着默默地等待他的意志吧。”
这些话我不仅脑子里想了，而且还说出了口，我把一切痛苦又驱回心里，竭力强迫它留在那里．—一安安静静地不出声。
“人总是要死的，”离我很近的一个声音说道：“但并不是所有的人都注定要象你这样，慢悠悠受尽折磨而早死的，要是你就这么死于饥渴的话。”
“是谁，或者什么东西在说话？”我问道，一时被突如其来的声音吓了一跳。此刻我不会对发生的任何事情寄予得救的希望。一个影子移近了一—究竟什么影子，漆黑的夜和衰弱的视力使我难以分辨。这位新来者在门上重重地长时间敲了起来。
“是你吗，圣.约翰先生？”汉娜叫道。
“是呀—一是呀，快开门。”
“哎呀，那么个狂风暴雨的夜晚，你准是又湿又感觉冷了：进来吧——你妹妹们为你很担心，而且我相信附近有坏人。有一个女讨饭——我说她还没有走呢？躺在那里。快起来！真害臊！我说你走吧！”
“嘘，汉娜！我来对这女人说句话，你已经尽了责把她关在门外，这会儿让我来尽我的责把她放进来。我就在旁边，听了你也听了她说的。我想这情况特殊一一我至少得了解一下。年轻的女人，起来吧，从我面前进屋去。”
我困难地照他的话办了，不久我就站在干净明亮的厨房里了——就在炉子跟前——浑身发抖，病得厉害，知道自己风吹雨打、精神狂乱，样子极其可怕。两位小姐，她们的哥哥圣.约翰先生和老仆人都呆呆地看着我。
“圣.约翰，这是谁呀，”我听见一个问。
“我说不上来，发现她在门边，”那人回答。
“她脸色真苍白，”汉娜说。
“色如死灰，”对方回答，“她会倒下的，让她坐着吧。”
说真的我的脑袋昏昏沉沉的。我倒了下去，但一把椅子接住了我。尽管这会儿我说不了话，但神志是清醒的。
“也许喝点水会使她恢复过来。汉娜，去打点水来吧。不过她憔悴得不成样子了。那么瘦，一点血色也没有！”
“简直成了个影子。”
“她病了，还光是饿坏了？”
“我想是饿坏了。汉娜，那可是牛奶，给我吧，再给一片面包。”
黛安娜（我是在她朝我弯下身子，看到垂在我与火炉之间的长卷发知道的）掰下了一些面包，在牛奶里浸了一浸，送进我嘴里。她的脸紧挨着我，在她脸上我看到了一种怜悯的表情，从她急促的呼吸中我感受到了她的同情。她用朴素的话说出了满腔温情：“硬吃一点吧。”
“是呀——硬吃一点”玛丽和气地重复着，从我头上摘去了湿透的草帽，把我的头托起来。我尝了尝他们给我的东西，先是恹恹地，但马上便急不可耐了。
“先别让她吃得太多一一控制一下，”哥哥说，“她已经吃够了”。于是她端走了那杯牛奶和那盘面包。
“再让她吃一点点吧，圣.约翰——瞧她眼睛里的贪婪相。”
“暂时不要了，妹妹。要是她现在能说话，那就试着——问问她的名字吧。”
我觉得自己能说了，而且回答——‘我的名字叫简.爱略特，因为仍急于避免被人发现，我早就决定用别名了。
“你住在什么地方，你的朋友在哪里，”
我没有吭声。
“我们可以把你认识的人去叫来吗？”
我摇了摇头。
“你能说说你自己的事儿吗？”
不知怎地，我一跨进门槛，一被带到这家主人面前，就不再觉得自己无家可归，到处流浪，被广阔的世界所抛弃了。我就敢于扔掉行乞的行当一—恢复我本来的举止和个性。我再次开始了解自己。圣.约翰要我谈—下自己的事时——眼下我体质太弱没法儿讲——我稍稍顿了一顿后说——
“先生，今晚我没法给你细讲了。”
“不过，”他说，“那么你希望我们为你做些什么呢？”
“没有，”我回答。我的力气只够我作这样简要的回答。黛安娜接过了话：
“你的意思是，”她问，“我们既然已给了你所需要的帮助，那就可以把你打发到荒原和雨夜中去了？”
我看了看她。我想她的脸很出众，流溢着力量和善意。我蓦地鼓起勇气，对她满是同情的目光报之以微笑。我说：“我会相信你们。假如我是一条迷路的无主狗，我知道你们今天晚上不会把我从火炉旁撵走。其实，我真的并不害怕。随你们怎么对待我照应我吧，但请原谅我不能讲得太多——我的气很短——一讲话就痉挛。”三个人都仔细打量我，三个人都不说话。
“汉娜，”圣.约翰先生终于说，“这会儿就让她坐在那里吧，别问她问题。十分钟后把剩下的牛奶和面包给她。玛丽和黛安娜，我们到客厅去，仔细谈谈这件事吧。”
他们出去了。很快一位小姐回来了一—我分不出是哪一位，我坐在暖融融的火炉边时，一种神思恍惚的快感悄悄地流遍我全身。她低声吩咐了汉娜。没有多久，在佣人的帮助下，我挣扎着登上楼梯，脱去了湿淋淋的衣服，很快躺倒在一张温暖干燥的床上。我感谢上帝——在难以言说的疲惫中感受到了一丝感激的喜悦——便睡着了。

伊墨君(热心会员)

29楼 2013-02-11

Chapter 27

SOME time in the afternoon I raised my head, and looking round andseeing the western sun gilding the sign of its decline on the wall, Iasked, 'What am I to do?'
But the answer my mind gave- 'LeaveThornfield at once'- was so prompt, so dread, that I stopped my ears. Isaid I could not bear such words now. 'That I am not Edward Rochester'sbride is the least part of my woe,' I alleged: 'that I have wakened outof most glorious dreams, and found them all void and vain, is a horror Icould bear and master; but that I must leave him decidedly, instantly,entirely, is intolerable. I cannot do it.'
But, then, a voice within me averred that I could do it and foretoldthat I should do it. I wrestled with my own resolution: I wanted to beweak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I sawlaid out for me; and Conscience, turned tyrant, held Passion by thethroat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot inthe slough, and swore that with that arm of iron he would thrust herdown to unsounded depths of agony.
'Let me be torn away, then!' I cried. 'Let another help me!'
'No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shallyourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand:your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.'
I rose up suddenly, terror-struck at the solitude which so ruthless ajudge haunted,- at the silence which so awful a voice filled. My headswam as I stood erect. I perceived that I was sickening from excitementand inanition; neither meat nor drink had passed my lips that day, for Ihad taken no breakfast. And, with a strange pang, I now reflected that,long as I had been shut up here, no message had been sent to ask how Iwas, or to invite me to come down: not even little Adele had tapped atthe door; not even Mrs. Fairfax had sought me. 'Friends always forgetthose whom fortune forsakes,' I murmured, as I undrew the bolt andpassed out. I stumbled over an obstacle: my head was still dizzy, mysight was dim, and my limbs were feeble. I could not soon recovermyself. I fell, but not on to the ground; an outstretched arm caught me.I looked up- I was supported by Mr. Rochester, who sat in a chairacross my chamber threshold.
'You come out at last,' he said. 'Well, I have been waiting for youlong, and listening: yet not one movement have I heard, nor one sob:five minutes more of that death-like hush, and I should have forced thelock like a burglar. So you shun me?- you shut yourself up and grievealone! I would rather you had come and upbraided me with vehemence. Youare passionate: I expected a scene of some kind. I was prepared for thehot rain of tears; only I wanted them to be shed on my breast: now asenseless floor has received them, or your drenched handkerchief. But Ierr: you have not wept at all! I see a white cheek and a faded eye, butno trace of tears. I suppose, then, your heart has been weeping blood?
'Well, Jane! not a word of reproach? Nothing bitter - nothingpoignant? Nothing to cut a feeling or sting a passion? You sit quietlywhere I have placed you, and regard me with a weary, passive look.
'Jane, I never meant to wound you thus. If the man who had but onelittle ewe lamb that was dear to him as a daughter, that ate of hisbread and drank of his cup, and lay in his bosom, had by some mistakeslaughtered it at the shambles, he would not have rued his bloodyblunder more than I now rue mine. Will you ever forgive me?'
Reader, I forgave him at the moment and on the spot. There was suchdeep remorse in his eye, such true pity in his tone, such manly energyin his manner; and besides, there was such unchanged love in his wholelook and mien- I forgave him all: yet not in words, not outwardly; onlyat my heart's core.
'You know I am a scoundrel, Jane?' ere long he inquired wistfully-wondering, I suppose, at my continued silence and tameness, the resultrather of weakness than of will.
'Yes, sir.'
'Then tell me so roundly and sharply- don't spare me.'
'I cannot: I am tired and sick. I want some water.' He heaved a sortof shuddering sigh, and taking me in his arms, carried me downstairs. Atfirst I did not know to what room he had borne me; all was cloudy to myglazed sight: presently I felt the reviving warmth of a fire; for,summer as it was, I had become icy cold in my chamber. He put wine to mylips; I tasted it and revived; then I ate something he offered me, andwas soon myself. I was in the library- sitting in his chair- he wasquite near. 'If I could go out of life now, without too sharp a pang, itwould be well for me,' I thought;
'then I should not have to make the effort of cracking myheart-strings in rending them from among Mr. Rochester's. I must leavehim, it appears. I do not want to leave him- I cannot leave him.'
'How are you now, Jane?'
'Much better, sir; I shall be well soon.'
'Taste the wine again, Jane.'
I obeyed him; then he put the glass on the table, stood before me,and looked at me attentively. Suddenly he turned away, with aninarticulate exclamation, full of passionate emotion of some kind; hewalked fast through the room and came back; he stooped towards me as ifto kiss me; but I remembered caresses were now forbidden. I turned myface away and put his aside.
'What!- How is this?' he exclaimed hastily. 'Oh, I know! you won'tkiss the husband of Bertha Mason? You consider my arms filled and myembraces appropriated?'
'At any rate, there is neither room nor claim for me, sir.'
'Why, Jane? I will spare you the trouble of much talking; I willanswer for you- Because I have a wife already, you would reply.- I guessrightly?'
'Yes.'
'If you think so, you must have a strange opinion of me; you mustregard me as a plotting profligate- a base and low rake who has beensimulating disinterested love in order to draw you into a snaredeliberately laid, and strip you of honour and rob you of self-respect.What do you say to that? I see you can say nothing: in the first place,you are faint still, and have enough to do to draw your breath; in thesecond place, you cannot yet accustom yourself to accuse and revile me,and besides, the flood-gates of tears are opened, and they would rushout if you spoke much; and you have no desire to expostulate, toupbraid, to make a scene: you are thinking how to act- talking youconsider is of no use. I know you- I am on my guard.'
'Sir, I do not wish to act against you,' I said; and my unsteady voice warned me to curtail my sentence.
'Not in your sense of the word, but in mine you are scheming todestroy me. You have as good as said that I am a married man- as amarried man you will shun me, keep out of my way: just now you haverefused to kiss me. You intend to make yourself a complete stranger tome: to live under this roof only as Adele's governess; if ever I say afriendly word to you, if ever a friendly feeling inclines you again tome, you will say,- "That man had nearly made me his mistress: I must beice and rock to him"; and ice and rock you will accordingly become.'
I cleared and steadied my voice to reply: 'All is changed about me,sir; I must change too- there is no doubt of that; and to avoidfluctuations of feeling, and continual combats with recollections andassociations, there is only one way- Adele must have a new governess,sir.'
'Oh, Adele will go to school- I have settled that already; nor do Imean to torment you with the hideous associations and recollections ofThornfield Hall- this accursed place- this tent of Achan- this insolentvault, offering the ghastliness of living death to the light of the opensky- this narrow stone hell, with its one real fiend, worse than alegion of such as we imagine. Jane, you shall not stay here, nor will I.I was wrong ever to bring you to Thornfield Hall, knowing as I did howit was haunted. I charged them to conceal from you, before I ever sawyou, all knowledge of the curse of the place; merely because I fearedAdele never would have a governess to stay if she knew with what inmateshe was housed, and my plans would not permit me to remove the maniacelsewhere- though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even moreretired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safelyenough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, inthe heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement.Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but toeach villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirectassassination, even of what I most hate.
'Concealing the mad-woman's neighbourhood from you, however, wassomething like covering a child with a cloak and laying it down near aupas-tree: that demon's vicinage is poisoned, and always was. But I'llshut up Thornfield Hall: I'll nail up the front door and board the lowerwindows: I'll give Mrs. Poole two hundred a year to live here with mywife, as you term that fearful hag: Grace will do much for money, andshe shall have her son, the keeper at Grimsby Retreat, to bear hercompany and be at hand to give her aid in the paroxysms, when my wife isprompted by her familiar to burn people in their beds at night, to stabthem, to bite their flesh from their bones, and so on-'
'Sir,' I interrupted him, 'you are inexorable for that unfortunatelady: you speak of her with hate- with vindictive antipathy. It iscruel- she cannot help being mad.'
'Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), youdon't know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is notbecause she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I shouldhate you?'
'I do indeed, sir.'
'Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothingabout the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your fleshis as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be mytreasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not astrait waistcoat- your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me:if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I shouldreceive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. Ishould not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in yourquiet  moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and Icould hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me nosmile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though theyhad no longer a ray of recognition for me.- But why do I follow thattrain of ideas? I was talking of removing you from Thornfield. All, youknow, is prepared for prompt departure: to-morrow you shall go. I onlyask you to endure one more night under this roof, Jane; and then,farewell to its miseries and terrors for ever! I have a place to repairto, which will be a secure sanctuary from hateful reminiscences, fromunwelcome intrusion- even from falsehood and slander.'
'And take Adele with you, sir,' I interrupted; 'she will be a companion for you.'
'What do you mean, Jane? I told you I would send Adele to school; andwhat do I want with a child for a companion, and not my own child,- aFrench dancer's bastard? Why do you importune me about her! I say, whydo you assign Adele to me for a companion?'
'You spoke of a retirement, sir; and retirement and solitude are dull: too dull for you.'
'Solitude! solitude!' he reiterated with irritation. 'I see I mustcome to an explanation. I don't know what sphynx-like expression isforming in your countenance. You are to share my solitude. Do youunderstand?'
I shook my head: it required a degree of courage, excited as he wasbecoming, even to risk that mute sign of dissent. He had been walkingfast about the room, and he stopped, as if suddenly rooted to one spot.He looked at me long and hard: I turned my eyes from him, fixed them onthe fire, and tried to assume and maintain a quiet, collected aspect.
'Now for the hitch in Jane's character,' he said at last, speaking more calmly than from his look I had expected him to speak.
'The reel of silk has run smoothly enough so far; but I always knewthere would come a knot and a puzzle: here it is. Now for vexation, andexasperation, and endless trouble! By God! I long to exert a fraction ofSamson's strength, and break the entanglement like tow!'
He recommenced his walk, but soon again stopped, and this time just before me.
'Jane! will you hear reason?' (he stooped and approached his lips tomy ear); 'because, if you won't, I'll try violence. His voice washoarse; his look that of a man who is just about to burst aninsufferable bond and plunge headlong into wild license. I saw that inanother moment, and with one impetus of frenzy more, I should be able todo nothing with him. The present- the passing second of time- was all Ihad in which to control and restrain him: a  movement of repulsion,flight, fear would have sealed my doom,- and his. But I was not afraid:not in the least. I felt an inward power; a sense of influence, whichsupported me. The crisis was perilous; but not without its charm: suchas the Indian, perhaps, feels when he slips over the rapid in his canoe.I took hold of his clenched hand, loosened the contorted fingers, andsaid to him, soothingly-
'Sit down; I'll talk to you as long as you like, and hear all you have to say, whether reasonable or unreasonable.'
He sat down: but he did not get leave to speak directly. I had beenstruggling with tears for some time: I had taken great pains to repressthem, because I knew he would not like to see me weep. Now, however, Iconsidered it well to let them flow as freely and as long as they liked.If the flood annoyed him, so much the better. So I gave way and criedheartily.
Soon I heard him earnestly entreating me to be composed. I said I could not while he was in such a passion.
'But I am not angry, Jane: I only love you too well; and you hadsteeled your little pale face with such a resolute, frozen look, I couldnot endure it. Hush, now, and wipe your eyes.'
His softened voice announced that he was subdued; so I, in myturn,became calm. Now he made an effort to rest his head on my shoulder,but I would not permit it. Then he would draw me to him: no.
'Jane! Jane!' he said, in such an accent of bitter sadness itthrilled along every nerve I had; 'you don't love me, then? It was onlymy station, and the rank of my wife, that you valued? Now that you thinkme disqualified to become your husband, you recoil from my touch as if Iwere some toad or ape.'
These words cut me: yet what could I do or say? I ought probably tohave done or said nothing; but I was so tortured by a sense of remorseat thus hurting his feelings, I could not control the wish to drop balmwhere I had wounded.
'I do love you,' I said, 'more than ever: but I must not show orindulge the feeling: and this is the last time I must express it.'
'The last time, Jane! What! do you think you can live with me, andsee me daily, and yet, if you still love me, be always cold anddistant?'
'No, sir; that I am certain I could not; and therefore I see there is but one way: but you will be furious if I mention it.'
'Oh, mention it! If I storm, you have the art of weeping.'
'Mr. Rochester, I must leave you.'
'For how long, Jane? For a few minutes, while you smooth your hair-which is somewhat dishevelled; and bathe your face- which looksfeverish?'
'I must leave Adele and Thornfield. I must part with you for my wholelife: I must begin a new existence among strange faces and strangescenes.'
'Of course: I told you you should. I pass over the madness aboutparting from me. You mean you must become a part of me. As to the newexistence, it is all right: you shall yet be my wife: I am not married.You shall be Mrs. Rochester- both virtually and nominally.
I shall keep only to you so long as you and I live. You shall go to aplace I have in the south of France: a whitewashed villa on the shoresof the Mediterranean. There you shall live a happy, and guarded, andmost innocent life. Never fear that I wish to lure you into error- tomake you my mistress. Why did you shake your head?
Jane, you must be reasonable, or in truth I shall again become frantic.'
His voice and hand quivered: his large nostrils dilated; his eye blazed: still I dared to speak.
'Sir, your wife is living: that is a fact acknowledged this morningby yourself. If I lived with you as you desire, I should then be yourmistress: to say otherwise is sophistical- is false.'
'Jane, I am not a gentle-tempered man- you forget that: I am notlong-enduring; I am not cool and dispassionate. Out of pity to me andyourself, put your finger on my pulse, feel how it throbs, and- beware!'
He bared his wrist, and offered it to me: the blood was forsaking hischeek and lips, they were growing livid; I was distressed on all hands.To agitate him thus deeply, by a resistance he so abhorred, was cruel:to yield was out of the question. I did what human beings doinstinctively when they are driven to utter extremity- looked for aid toone higher than man: the words 'God help me!' burst involuntarily frommy lips.
'I am a fool!' cried Mr. Rochester suddenly. 'I keep telling her I amnot married, and do not explain to her why. I forget she knows nothingof the character of that woman, or of the circumstances attending myinfernal union with her. Oh, I am certain Jane will agree with me inopinion, when she knows all that I know! Just put your hand in mine,Janet- that I may have the evidence of touch as well as sight, to proveyou are near me- and I will in a few words show you the real state ofthe case. Can you listen to me?'
'Yes, sir; for hours if you will.'
'I ask only minutes. Jane, did you ever hear or know that I was notthe eldest son of my house: that I had once a brother older than I?'
'I remember Mrs. Fairfax told me so once.'
'And did you ever hear that my father was an avaricious, grasping man?'
'I have understood something to that effect.'
'Well, Jane, being so, it was his resolution to keep the propertytogether; he could not bear the idea of dividing his estate and leavingme a fair portion: all, he resolved, should go to my brother, Rowland.Yet as little could he endure that a son of his should be a poor man. Imust be provided for by a wealthy marriage. He sought me a partnerbetimes. Mr. Mason, a West India planter and merchant, was his oldacquaintance. He was certain his possessions were real and vast: he madeinquiries. Mr. Mason, he found, had a son and daughter; and he learnedfrom him that he could and would give the latter a fortune of thirtythousand pounds: that sufficed. When I left college, I was sent out toJamaica, to espouse a bride already courted for me. My father saidnothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast ofSpanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a finewoman, in the style of Blanche Ingram: tall, dark, and majestic. Herfamily wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she.They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw heralone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flatteredme, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms andaccomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envyme. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and beingignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is nofolly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience,the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to itscommission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; sheallured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was.Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act!- an agony ofinward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did noteven know her. I was not sure of the existence of one virtue in hernature:
I had marked neither modesty, nor benevolence, nor candour, norrefinement in her mind or manners- and, I married her:- gross,grovelling, mole-eyed blockhead that I was! With less sin I might have-But let me remember to whom I am speaking.
'My bride's mother I had never seen: I understood she was dead. Thehoneymoon over, I learned my mistake; she was only mad, and shut up in alunatic asylum. There was a younger brother, too- a complete dumbidiot. The elder one, whom you have seen (and whom I cannot hate, whilstI abhor all his kindred, because he has some grains of affection in hisfeeble mind, shown in the continued interest he takes in his wretchedsister, and also in a dog-like attachment he once bore me), willprobably be in the same state one day. My father and my brother Rowlandknew all this; but they thought only of the thirty thousand pounds, andjoined in the plot against me.
'These were vile discoveries; but except for the treachery ofconcealment, I should have made them no subject of reproach to my wife,even when I found her nature wholly alien to mine, her tastes obnoxiousto me, her cast of mind common, low, narrow, and singularly incapable ofbeing led to anything higher, expanded to anything larger- when I foundthat I could not pass a single evening, nor even a single hour of theday with her in comfort; that kindly conversation could not be sustainedbetween us, because whatever topic I started, immediately received fromher a turn at once coarse and trite, perverse and imbecile- when Iperceived that I should never have a quiet or settled household, becauseno servant would bear the continued outbreaks of her violent andunreasonable temper, or the vexations of her absurd, contradictory,exacting orders- even then I restrained myself: I eschewed upbraiding, Icurtailed remonstrance; I tried to devour my repentance and disgust insecret; I repressed the deep antipathy I felt.
'Jane, I will not trouble you with abominable details: some strongwords shall express what I have to say. I lived with that woman upstairsfour years, and before that time she had tried me indeed: her characterripened and developed with frightful rapidity; her vices sprang up fastand rank: they were so strong, only cruelty could check them, and Iwould not use cruelty. What a pigmy intellect she had, and what giantpropensities! How fearful were the curses those propensities entailed onme! Bertha Mason, the true daughter of an infamous mother, dragged methrough all the hideous and degrading agonies which must attend a manbound to a wife at once intemperate and unchaste.
'My brother in the interval was dead, and at the end of the fouryears my father died too. I was rich enough now- yet poor to hideousindigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me.And I could not rid myself of it by any legal proceedings: for thedoctors now discovered that my wife was mad- her excesses hadprematurely developed the germs of insanity. Jane, you don't like mynarrative; you look almost sick- shall I defer the rest to another day?'
'No, sir, finish it now; I pity you- I do earnestly pity you.'
'Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort oftribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth of thosewho offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous, selfishhearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing of woes, crossedwith ignorant contempt for those who have endured them. But that is notyour pity, Jane; it is not the feeling of which your whole face is fullat this moment- with which your eyes are now almost overflowing- withwhich your heart is heaving- with which your hand is trembling in mine.Your pity, my darling, is the suffering mother of love: its anguish isthe very natal pang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let thedaughter have free advent- my arms wait to receive her.'
'Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?'
'Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respectwas all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyes of theworld, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved tobe clean in my own sight- and to the last I repudiated the contaminationof her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mentaldefects. Still, society associated my name and person with hers; I yetsaw her and heard her daily: something of her breath (faugh!) mixed withthe air I breathed; and besides, I remembered I had once been herhusband- that recollection was then, and is now, inexpressibly odious tome; moreover, I knew that while she lived I could never be the husbandof another and better wife; and, though five years my senior (her familyand her father had lied to me even in the particular of her age), shewas likely to live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she wasinfirm in mind. Thus, at the age of twenty-six, I was hopeless.
'One night I had been awakened by her yells- (since the medical menhad pronounced her mad, she had, of course, been shut up)- it was afiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precedethe hurricanes of those climates. Being unable to sleep in bed, I got upand opened the window. The air was like sulphur-steams- I could find norefreshment anywhere. Mosquitoes came buzzing in and hummed sullenlyround the room; the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dulllike an earthquake- black clouds were casting up over it; the moon wassetting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball- she threwher last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment oftempest. I was physically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and myears were filled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; whereinshe momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, withsuch language!- no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary thanshe: though two rooms off, I heard every word- the thin partitions ofthe West India house opposing but slight obstruction to her wolfishcries.
'"This life," said I at last, "is hell: this is the air- those arethe sounds of the bottomless pit! I have a right to deliver myself fromit if I can. The sufferings of this mortal state will leave me with theheavy flesh that now cumbers my soul. Of the fanatic's burning eternity Ihave no fear: there is not a future state worse than this present one-let me break away, and go home to God!"
'I said this whilst I knelt down at, and unlocked a trunk whichcontained a brace of loaded pistols: I meant to shoot myself. I onlyentertained the intention for a moment; for, not  being insane, thecrisis of exquisite and unalloyed despair, which had originated the wishand design of self-destruction, was past in a second.
'A wind fresh from Europe blew over the ocean and rushed through theopen casement: the storm broke, streamed, thundered, blazed, and the airgrew pure. I then framed and fixed a resolution. While I walked underthe dripping orange-trees of my wet garden, and amongst its drenchedpomegranates and pineapples, and while the refulgent dawn of the tropicskindled round me- I reasoned thus, Jane- and now listen; for it wastrue Wisdom that consoled me in that hour, and showed me the right pathto follow.
'The sweet wind from Europe was still whispering in the refreshedleaves, and the Atlantic was thundering in glorious liberty; my heart,dried up and scorched for a long time, swelled to the tone, and filledwith living blood- my being longed for renewal- my soul thirsted for apure draught. I saw hope revive- and felt regeneration possible.
From a flowery arch at the bottom of my garden I gazed over thesea-bluer than the sky: the old world was beyond; clear prospects openedthus:-
'"Go," said Hope, "and live again in Europe: there it is not knownwhat a sullied name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is bound to you.You may take the maniac with you to  England; confine her with dueattendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travel yourself to whatclime you will, and form what new tie you like.
That woman, who has so abused your long-suffering, so sullied yourname, so outraged your honour, so blighted your youth, is not your wife,nor are you her husband. See that she is cared for as her conditiondemands, and you have done all that God and humanity require of you. Lether identity, her connection with yourself, be buried in oblivion: youare bound to impart them to no living being. Place her in safety andcomfort: shelter her degradation with secrecy, and leave her."
'I acted precisely on this suggestion. My father and brother had notmade my marriage known to their acquaintance; because, in the very firstletter I wrote to apprise them of the union- having already begun toexperience extreme disgust of its consequences, and, from the familycharacter and constitution, seeing a hideous future opening to me- Iadded an urgent charge to keep it secret: and very soon the infamousconduct of the wife my father had selected for me was such as to makehim blush to own her as his daughter-in-law. Far from desiring topublish the connection, he became as anxious to conceal it as myself.
'To England, then, I conveyed her; a fearful voyage I had with such amonster in the vessel. Glad was I when I at last got her to Thornfield,and saw her safely lodged in that third storey room, of whose secretinner cabinet she has now for ten years made a wild beast's den- agoblin's cell. I had some trouble in finding an attendant for her, as itwas necessary to select one on whose fidelity dependence could beplaced; for her ravings would inevitably betray my secret: besides, shehad lucid intervals of days- sometimes weeks- which she filled up withabuse of me. At last I hired Grace Poole from the Grimsby Retreat. Sheand the surgeon, Carter (who dressed Mason's wounds that night he wasstabbed and worried), are the only two I have ever admitted to myconfidence. Mrs. Fairfax may indeed have suspected something, but shecould have gained no precise knowledge as to facts. Grace has, on thewhole, proved a good keeper; though, owing partly to a fault of her own,of which it appears nothing can cure her, and which is incident to herharassing profession, her vigilance has been more than once lulled andbaffled. The lunatic is both cunning and malignant; she has never failedto take advantage of her guardian's temporary lapses; once to secretethe knife with which she stabbed her brother, and twice to possessherself of the key of her cell, and issue therefrom in the night-time.On the first of these occasions, she perpetrated the attempt to burn mein my bed; on the second, she paid that ghastly visit to you. I thankProvidence, who watched over you, that she then spent her fury on yourwedding apparel, which perhaps brought back vague reminiscences of herown bridal days: but on what might have happened, I cannot endure toreflect. When I think of the thing which flew at my throat this morning,hanging its black and scarlet visage over the nest of my dove, my bloodcurdles-'
'And what, sir,' I asked, while he paused, 'did you do when you hadsettled her here? Where did you go?' 'What did I do, Jane? I transformedmyself into a will-o'-the-wisp.
Where did I go? I pursued wanderings as wild as those of theMarch-spirit. I sought the Continent, and went devious through all itslands. My fixed desire was to seek and find a good and intelligentwoman, whom I could love: a contrast to the fury I left at Thornfield-'
'But you could not marry, sir.'
'I had determined and was convinced that I could and ought. It wasnot my original intention to deceive, as I have deceived you. I meant totell my tale plainly, and make my proposals openly: and it appeared tome so absolutely rational that I should be considered free to love andbe loved, I never doubted some woman might be found willing and able tounderstand my case and accept me, in spite of the curse with which I wasburdened.'
'Well, sir?'
'When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You openyour eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restlessmovement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, andyou wanted to read the tablet of one's heart. But before I go on, tellme what you mean by your "Well, sir?" It is a small phrase very frequentwith you; and which many a time has drawn me on and on throughinterminable talk: I don't very well know why.'
'I mean,- What next? How did you proceed? What came of such an event?'
'Precisely! and what do you wish to know now?'
'Whether you found any one you liked: whether you asked her to marry you; and what she said.'
'I can tell you whether I found any one I liked, and whether I askedher to marry me: but what she said is yet to be recorded in the book ofFate. For ten long years I roved about, living first in one capital,then another: sometimes in St. Petersburg; oftener in Paris;occasionally in Rome, Naples, and Florence. Provided with plenty ofmoney and the passport of an old name, I could choose my own society: nocircles were closed against me. I sought my ideal of a woman amongstEnglish ladies, French countesses, Italian signoras, and Germangrafinnen. I could not find her. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, Ithought I caught a glance, heard a tone, beheld a form, which announcedthe realisation of my dream: but I was presently undeceived. You are notto suppose that I desired perfection, either of mind or person. Ilonged only for what suited me- for the antipodes of the Creole: and Ilonged vainly. Amongst them all I found not one whom, had I been ever sofree, I- warned as I was of the risks, the horrors, the loathings ofincongruous unions- would have asked to marry me. Disappointment made mereckless. I tried dissipation-never debauchery: that I hated, and hate.That was my Indian Messalina's attribute: rooted disgust at it and herrestrained me much, even in pleasure. Any enjoyment that bordered onriot seemed to approach me to her and her vices, and I eschewed it.
'Yet I could not live alone; so I tried the companionship ofmistresses. The first I chose was Celine Varens- another of those stepswhich make a man spurn himself when he recalls them. You already knowwhat she was, and how my liaison with her terminated. She had twosuccessors: an Italian, Giacinta, and a German, Clara; both consideredsingularly handsome. What was their beauty to me in a few weeks?
Giacinta was unprincipled and violent: I tired of her in three months.
Clara was honest and quiet; but heavy, mindless, and unimpressible:not one whit to my taste. I was glad to give her a sufficient sum to sether up in a good line of business, and so get decently rid of her.
But, Jane, I see by your face you are not forming a very favourableopinion of me just now. You think me an unfeeling, loose-principledrake: don't you?'
'I don't like you so well as I have done sometimes, indeed, sir.
Did it not seem to you in the least wrong to live in that way, firstwith one mistress and then another? You talk of it as a mere matter ofcourse.'
'It was with me; and I did not like it. It was a grovelling fashionof existence: I should never like to return to it. Hiring a mistress isthe next worse thing to buying a slave: both are often by nature, andalways by position, inferior: and to live familiarly with inferiors isdegrading. I now hate the recollection of the time I passed with Celine,Giacinta, and Clara.'
I felt the truth of these words; and I drew from them the certaininference, that if I were so far to forget myself and all the teachingthat had ever been instilled into me, as- under any pretext- with anyjustification- through any temptation- to become the successor of thesepoor girls, he would one day regard me with the same feeling which nowin his mind desecrated their memory. I did not give utterance to thisconviction: it was enough to feel it. I impressed it on my heart, thatit might remain there to serve me as aid in the time of trial.
'Now, Jane, why don't you say "Well, sir?" I have not done. You arelooking grave. You disapprove of me still, I see. But let me come to thepoint. Last January, rid of all mistresses- in a harsh, bitter frame ofmind, the result of a useless, roving, lonely life-corroded withdisappointment, sourly disposed against all men, and especially againstall womankind (for I began to regard the notion of an intellectual,faithful, loving woman as a mere dream), recalled by business, I cameback to England.
'On a frosty winter afternoon, I rode in sight of Thornfield Hall.Abhorred spot! I expected no peace- no pleasure there. On a stile in HayLane I saw a quiet little figure sitting by itself. I passed it asnegligently as I did the pollard willow opposite to it: I had nopresentiment of what it would be to me; no inward warning that thearbitress of my life- my genius for good or evil- waited there in humbleguise. I did not know it, even when, on the occasion of Mesrour'saccident, it came up and gravely offered me help.
Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnet had hopped tomy foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing. I was surly; but thething would not go: it stood by me with strange perseverance, and lookedand spoke with a sort of authority. I must be aided, and by that hand:and aided I was.
'When once I had pressed the frail shoulder, something new- a freshsap and sense- stole into my frame. It was well I had learnt that thiself must return to me- that it belonged to my house down below- or Icould not have felt it pass away from under my hand, and seen it vanishbehind the dim hedge, without singular regret. I heard you come homethat night, Jane, though probably you were not aware that I thought ofyou or watched for you. The next day I observed you- myself unseen- forhalf an hour, while you played with Adele in the gallery. It was a snowyday, I recollect, and you could not go out of doors. I was in my room;the door was ajar: I could both listen and watch. Adele claimed youroutward attention for a while; yet I fancied your thoughts wereelsewhere: but you were very patient with her, my little Jane; youtalked to her and amused her a long time. When at last she left you, youlapsed at once into deep reverie: you betook yourself slowly to pacethe gallery. Now and then, in passing a casement, you glanced out at thethick-falling snow; you listened to the sobbing wind, and again youpaced gently on and dreamed. I think those day visions were not dark:there was a pleasurable illumination in your eye occasionally, a softexcitement in your aspect, which told of no bitter, bilious,hypochondriac brooding: your look revealed rather the sweet musings ofyouth when its spirit follows on willing wings the flight of Hope up andon to an ideal heaven. The voice of Mrs. Fairfax, speaking to a servantin the hall, wakened you: and how curiously you smiled to and atyourself, Janet! There was much sense in your smile: it was very shrewd,and seemed to make light of your own abstraction. It seemed to say- "Myfine visions are all very well, but I must not forget they areabsolutely unreal. I have a rosy sky and a green flowery Eden in mybrain; but without, I am perfectly aware, lies at my feet a rough tractto travel, and around me gather black tempests to encounter."
You ran downstairs and demanded of Mrs. Fairfax some occupation: theweekly house accounts to make up, or something of that sort, I think itwas. I was vexed with you for getting out of my sight.
'Impatiently I waited for evening, when I might summon you to mypresence. An unusual- to me- a perfectly new character I suspected wasyours: I desired to search it deeper and know it better. You entered theroom with a look and air at once shy and independent: you were quaintlydressed- much as you are now. I made you talk: ere long I found youfull of strange contrasts. Your garb and manner were restricted by rule;your air was often diffident, and altogether that of one refined bynature, but absolutely unused to society, and a good deal afraid ofmaking herself disadvantageously conspicuous by some solecism orblunder; yet when addressed, you lifted a keen, a daring, and a glowingeye to your interlocutor's face: there was penetration and power in eachglance you gave; when plied by close questions, you found ready andround answers. Very soon you seemed to get used to me: I believe youfelt the existence of sympathy between you and your grim and crossmaster, Jane; for it was astonishing to see how quickly a certainpleasant ease tranquillised your manner: snarl as I would, you showed nosurprise, fear, annoyance, or displeasure at my moroseness; you watchedme, and now and then smiled at me with a simple yet sagacious grace Icannot describe. I was at once content and stimulated with what I saw: Iliked what I had seen, and wished to see more. Yet, for a long time, Itreated you distantly, and sought your company rarely. I was anintellectual epicure, and wished to prolong the gratification of makingthis novel and piquant acquaintance: besides, I was for a while troubledwith a haunting fear that if I handled the flower freely its bloomwould fade- the sweet charm of freshness would leave it. I did not thenknow that it was no transitory blossom, but rather the radiantresemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem. Moreover, I wished tosee whether you would seek me if I shunned you- but you did not; youkept in the schoolroom as still as your own desk and easel; if by chanceI met you, you passed me as soon, and with as little token ofrecognition, as was consistent with respect. Your habitual expression inthose days, Jane, was a thoughtful look; not despondent, for you werenot sickly; but not buoyant, for you had little hope, and no actualpleasure. I wondered what you thought of me, or if you ever thought ofme, and resolved to find this out.
'I resumed my notice of you. There was something glad in your glance,and genial in your manner, when you conversed: I saw you had a socialheart; it was the silent schoolroom- it was the tedium of your life-that made you mournful. I permitted myself the delight of being kind toyou; kindness stirred emotion soon: your face became soft in expression,your tones gentle; I liked my name pronounced by your lips in agrateful happy accent. I used to enjoy a chance meeting with you, Jane,at this time: there was a curious hesitation in your manner: you glancedat me with a slight trouble- a hovering doubt: you did not know what mycaprice might be- whether I was going to play the master and be stern,or the friend and be benignant. I was now too fond of you often tosimulate the first whim; and, when I stretched my hand out cordially,such bloom and light and bliss rose to your young, wistful features, Ihad much ado often to avoid straining you then and there to my heart.'
'Don't talk any more of those days, sir,' I interrupted, furtivelydashing away some tears from my eyes; his language was torture to me;for I knew what I must do- and do soon- and these reminiscences, andthese revelations of his feelings, only made my work more difficult.
'No, Jane,' he returned: 'what necessity is there to dwell on thePast, when the Present is so much surer- the Future so much brighter?'
I shuddered to hear the infatuated assertion.
'You see now how the case stands- do you not?' he continued. 'After ayouth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in drearysolitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love- I havefound you. You are my sympathy- my better self- my good angel. I ambound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely:a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you,draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you,and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.
'It was because I felt and knew this, that I resolved to marry you.
To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery: you know nowthat I had but a hideous demon. I was wrong to attempt to deceive you;but I feared a stubbornness that exists in your character. I fearedearly instilled prejudice: I wanted to have you safe before hazardingconfidences. This was cowardly: I should have appealed to your noblenessand magnanimity at first, as I do now- opened to you plainly my life ofagony- described to you my hunger and thirst after a higher andworthier existence- shown to you, not my resolution (that word is weak),but my resistless bent to love faithfully and well, where I amfaithfully and well loved in return. Then I should have asked you toaccept my pledge of fidelity and to give me yours.
Jane- give it me now.'
A pause.
'Why are you silent, Jane?'
I was experiencing an ordeal: a hand of fiery iron grasped my vitals.Terrible moment: full of struggle, blackness, burning! Not a humanbeing that ever lived could wish to be loved better than I was loved;and him who thus loved me I absolutely worshipped: and I must renouncelove and idol. One drear word comprised my intolerable duty- 'Depart!'
'Jane, you understand what I want of you? Just this promise- "I will be yours, Mr. Rochester."'
'Mr. Rochester, I will not be yours.'
Another long silence.
'Jane!' recommenced he, with a gentleness that broke me down withgrief, and turned me stone-cold with ominous terror- for this stillvoice was the pant of a lion rising- 'Jane, do you mean to go one way inthe world, and to let me go another?'
'I do.'
'Jane' (bending towards and embracing me), 'do you mean it now?'
'I do.'
'And now?' softly kissing my forehead and cheek.
'I do,' extricating myself from restraint rapidly and completely.
'Oh, Jane, this is bitter! This- this is wicked. It would not be wicked to love me.'
'It would to obey you.'
A wild look raised his brows- crossed his features: he rose; but heforbore yet. I laid my hand on the back of a chair for support: I shook,I feared- but I resolved.
'One instant, Jane. Give one glance to my horrible life when you aregone. All happiness will be torn away with you. What then is left?
For a wife I have but the maniac upstairs: as well might you refer meto some corpse in yonder churchyard. What shall I do, Jane? Where turnfor a companion and for some hope?'
'Do as I do: trust in God and yourself. Believe in heaven. Hope to meet again there.'
'Then you will not yield?'
'No.'
'Then you condemn me to live wretched and to die accursed?' His voice rose.
'I advise you to live sinless, and I wish you to die tranquil.'
'Then you snatch love and innocence from me? You fling me back on lust for a passion- vice for an occupation?'
'Mr. Rochester, I no more assign this fate to you than I grasp at itfor myself. We were born to strive and endure- you as well as I: do so.You will forget me before I forget you.'
'You make me a liar by such language: you sully my honour. I declaredI could not change: you tell me to my face I shall change soon. Andwhat a distortion in your judgment, what a perversity in your ideas, isproved by your conduct! Is it better to drive a fellow-creature todespair than to transgress a mere human law, no man being injured by thebreach? for you have neither relatives nor acquaintances whom you needfear to offend by living with me?'
This was true: and while he spoke my very conscience and reasonturned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him.They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. 'Oh,comply!' it said. 'Think of his misery; think of his danger- look at hisstate when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider therecklessness following on despair- soothe him; save him; love him; tellhim you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or whowill be injured by what you do?'
Still indomitable was the reply- 'I care for myself. The moresolitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more Iwill respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned byman. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, andnot mad- as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times whenthere is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body andsoul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might breakthem, what would be their worth? They have a worth- so I have alwaysbelieved; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane-quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating fasterthan I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregonedeterminations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plantmy foot.'
I did. Mr. Rochester, reading my countenance, saw I had done so.
His fury was wrought to the highest: he must yield to it for amoment, whatever followed; he crossed the floor and seized my arm andgrasped my waist. He seemed to devour me with his flaming glance:physically, I felt, at the moment, powerless as stubble exposed to thedraught and glow of a furnace: mentally, I still possessed my soul, andwith it the certainty of ultimate safety. The soul, fortunately, has aninterpreter- often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter- inthe eye. My eye rose to his; and while I looked in his fierce face Igave an involuntary sigh; his gripe was painful, and my overtaxedstrength almost exhausted.
'Never,' said he, as he ground his teeth, 'never was anything at onceso frail and so indomitable. A mere reed she feels in my hand!' (And heshook me with the force of his hold.) 'I could bend her with my fingerand thumb: and what good would it do if I bent, if I uptore, if Icrushed her? Consider that eye: consider the resolute, wild, free thinglooking out of it, defying me, with more than courage- with a sterntriumph. Whatever I do with its cage, I cannot get at it- the savage,beautiful creature! If I tear, if I rend the slight prison, my outragewill only let the captive loose. Conqueror I might be of the house; butthe inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessorof its clay dwelling-place. And it is you, spirit- with will and energy,and virtue and purity- that I want: not alone your brittle frame. Ofyourself you could come with soft flight and nestle against my heart, ifyou would: seized against your will, you will elude the grasp like anessence- you will vanish ere I inhale your fragrance. Oh! come, Jane,come!'
As he said this, he released me from his clutch, and only looked atme. The look was far worse to resist than the frantic strain: only anidiot, however, would have succumbed now. I had dared and baffled hisfury; I must elude his sorrow: retired to the door.
'You are going, Jane?'
'I am going, sir.'
'You are leaving me?'
'Yes.'
'You will not come? You will not be my comforter, my rescuer? My deeplove, my wild woe, my frantic prayer, are all nothing to you?' Whatunutterable pathos was in his voice! How hard it was to reiteratefirmly, 'I am going.'
'Jane!'
'Mr. Rochester!'
'Withdraw, then,- I consent; but remember, you leave me here inanguish. Go up to your own room; think over all I have said, and, Jane,cast a glance on my sufferings- think of me.'
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. 'Oh, Jane!my hope- my love- my life!' broke in anguish from his lips. Then came adeep, strong sob.
I had already gained the door; but, reader, I walked back- walkedback as determinedly as I had retreated. I knelt down by him; I turnedhis face from the cushion to me; I kissed his cheek; I smoothed his hairwith my hand.
'God bless you, my dear master!' I said. 'God keep you from harm andwrong- direct you, solace you- reward you well for your past kindness tome.'
'Little Jane's love would have been my best reward,' he answered;'without it, my heart is broken. But Jane will give me her love: yes-nobly, generously.'
Up the blood rushed to his face; forth flashed the fire from hiseyes; erect he sprang; he held his arms out; but I evaded the embrace,and at once quitted the room.
'Farewell!' was the cry of my heart as I left him. Despair added, 'Farewell for ever!'
. . . . . .
That night I never thought to sleep; but a slumber fell on me as soonas I lay down in bed. I was transported in thought to the scenes ofchildhood: I dreamt I lay in the red-room at Gateshead; that the nightwas dark, and my mind impressed with strange fears. The light that longago had struck me into syncope, recalled in this vision, seemedglidingly to mount the wall, and tremblingly to pause in the centre ofthe obscured ceiling. I lifted up my head to look: the roof resolved toclouds, high and dim; the gleam was such as the moon imparts to vapoursshe is about to sever. I watched her come- watched with the strangestanticipation; as though some word of doom were to be written on herdisk. She broke forth as never moon yet burst from cloud: a hand firstpenetrated the sable folds and waved them away; then, not a moon, but awhite human form shone in the azure, inclining a glorious browearthward. It gazed and gazed on me. It spoke to my spirit: immeasurablydistant was the tone, yet so near, it whispered in my heart-
'My daughter, flee temptation.'
'Mother, I will.'
So I answered after I had waked from the trancelike dream. It was yetnight, but July nights are short: soon after midnight, dawn comes.
'It cannot be too early to commence the task I have to fulfil,'thought I. I rose: I was dressed; for I had taken off nothing but myshoes. I knew where to find in my drawers some linen, a locket, a ring.In seeking these articles, I encountered the beads of a pearl necklaceMr. Rochester had forced me to accept a few days ago. I left that; itwas not mine: it was the visionary bride's who had melted in air. Theother articles I made up in a parcel; my purse, containing twentyshillings (it was all I had), I put in my pocket:
I tied on my straw bonnet, pinned my shawl, took the parcel and myslippers, which I would not put on yet, and stole from my room.
'Farewell, kind Mrs. Fairfax!' I whispered, as I glided past herdoor. 'Farewell, my darling Adele! I said, as I glanced towards thenursery. No thought could be admitted of entering to embrace her. I hadto deceive a fine ear: for aught I knew it might now be listening.
I would have got past Mr. Rochester's chamber without a pause; but myheart momentarily stopping its beat at that threshold, my foot wasforced to stop also. No sleep was there: the inmate was walkingrestlessly from wall to wall; and again and again he sighed while Ilistened. There was a heaven- a temporary heaven- in this room for me,if I chose: I had but to go in and to say-
'Mr. Rochester, I will love you and live with you through life tilldeath,' and a fount of rapture would spring to my lips. I thought ofthis.
That kind master, who could not sleep now, was waiting withimpatience for day. He would send for me in the morning; I should begone. He would have me sought for: vainly. He would feel himselfforsaken; his love rejected: he would suffer; perhaps grow desperate. Ithought of this too. My hand moved towards the lock: I caught it back,and glided on.
Drearily I wound my way downstairs: I knew what I had to do, and Idid it mechanically. I sought the key of the side-door in the kitchen; Isought, too, a phial of oil and a feather; I oiled the key and thelock. I got some water, I got some bread: for perhaps I should have towalk far; and my strength, sorely shaken of late, must not break down.All this I did without one sound. I opened the door, passed out, shut itsoftly. Dim dawn glimmered in the yard.
The great gates were closed and locked; but a wicket in one of themwas only latched. Through that I departed: it, too, I shut; and now Iwas out of Thornfield.
A mile off, beyond the fields, lay a road which stretched in thecontrary direction to Millcote; a road I had never travelled, but oftennoticed, and wondered where it led: thither I bent my steps.
No reflection was to be allowed now: not one glance was to be castback; not even one forward. Not one thought was to be given either tothe past or to the future. The first was a page so heavenly sweet- sodeadly sad- that to read one line of it would dissolve my courage andbreak down my energy. The last was an awful blank: something like theworld when the deluge was gone by.
I skirted fields, and hedges, and lanes till after sunrise. I believeit was a lovely summer morning: I know my shoes, which I had put onwhen I left the house, were soon wet with dew. But I looked neither torising sun, nor smiling sky, nor wakening nature. He who is taken out topass through a fair scene to the scaffold, thinks not of the flowersthat smile on his road, but of the block and axe-edge; of thedisseverment of bone and vein; of the grave gaping at the end: and Ithought of drear flight and homeless wandering- and oh!  with agony Ithought of what I left. I could not help it. I thought of him now- inhis room- watching the sunrise; hoping I should soon come to say I wouldstay with him and be his. I longed to be his; I panted to return: itwas not too late; I could yet spare him the bitter pang of bereavement.As yet my flight, I was sure, was undiscovered. I could go back and behis comforter- his pride; his redeemer from misery, perhaps from ruin.Oh, that fear of his self-abandonment- far worse than my abandonment-how it goaded me!
It was a barbed arrow-head in my breast; it tore me when I tried toextract it; it sickened me when remembrance thrust it farther in.
Birds began singing in brake and copse: birds were faithful to theirmates; birds were emblems of love. What was I? In the midst of my painof heart and frantic effort of principle, I abhorred myself. I had nosolace from self-approbation: none even from self-respect. I hadinjured- wounded- left my master. I was hateful in my own eyes.
Still I could not turn, nor retrace one step. God must have led me on.
As to my own will or conscience, impassioned grief had trampled oneand stifled the other. I was weeping wildly as I walked along mysolitary way: fast, fast I went like one delirious. A weakness,beginning inwardly, extending to the limbs, seized me, and I fell: I layon the ground some minutes, pressing my face to the wet turf. I hadsome fear- or hope- that here I should die: but I was soon up; crawlingforwards on my hands and knees, and then again raised to my feet- aseager and as determined as ever to reach the road.
When I got there, I was forced to sit to rest me under the hedge; and while I sat, I heard wheels, and saw a coach come on. I stood up andlifted my hand; it stopped. I asked where it was going: the drivernamed a place a long way off, and where I was sure Mr. Rochester had noconnections. I asked for what sum he would take me there; he said thirtyshillings; I answered I had but twenty; well, he would try to make itdo. He further gave me leave to get into the inside, as the vehicle wasempty: I entered, was shut in, and it rolled on its way.Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyesnever shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine.May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonisedas in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to bethe instrument of evil to what you wholly love.

下午某个时候，我抬起头来，向四周瞧了瞧，看见西沉的太阳正在墙上涂上金色的落日印记，我问道，“我该怎么办？”
我心灵的回答一一“立即离开桑菲尔德”——是那么及时，又那么可怕，我立即捂住了耳朵。我说，这些话我现在可受不了。“我不当爱德华．罗切斯特先生的新娘，是我痛苦中最小的一部份，”我断言，“我从一场美梦中醒来，发现全是竹篮打水一场空，这种恐惧我既能忍受，也能克服。不过要我义无反顾地马上离他而去却让我受不了，我不能这么做。”
但是，我内心的另一个声音却认为我能这样做，而且预言我应当这么做。我斟酌着这个决定，希望自己软弱些，以躲避已经为我铺下的可怕的痛苦道路。而良心己变成暴君，抓住激情的喉咙，嘲弄地告诉她，她那美丽的脚已经陷入了泥沼，还发誓要用铁臂把她推入深不可测的痛苦深渊。
“那么把我拉走吧！”我嚷道，“让别人来帮助我！”
“不，你得自己挣脱，没有人帮助你。你自己得剜出你的右眼；砍下你的右手，把你的心作为祭品而且要由你这位祭司把它刺穿。
我蓦地站了起来，被如此无情的法官所铸就的孤独，被充斥着如此可怕声音的寂静吓坏了。我站直时只觉得脑袋发晕。我明白自己由于激动和缺乏营养而感到不舒服。那天我没有吃早饭，肉和饮料都没有进过嘴。带着一种莫名的痛苦，我忽然回想起来，尽管我已在这里关了很久，但没有人带口信来问问我怎么样了，或者邀请我下楼去，甚至连阿黛勒也没有来敲我的门，费尔法克斯太太也没有来找我。“朋友们总是忘记那些被命运所抛弃的人，”我咕哝着，一面拉开门闩，走了出去。我在一个什么东西上绊了一下。因为我依然头脑发晕，视觉模糊，四肢无力，所以无法立刻控制住自己。我跌倒了，但没有倒在地上，一只伸出的手抓住了我。我抬起头来。——罗切斯特先生扶着我，他坐在我房门口的一把椅子上。
“你终于出来了，”他说，“是呀，我已经等了你很久了，而且细听着，但既没有听到一点动静，也没有听到一声哭泣，再过五分钟那么死一般的沉寂，我可要像盗贼那样破门而入了。看来，你避开我？——你把自己关起来，独自伤心？我倒情愿你厉声责备我。你易动感情，因此我估计会大闹一场。我准备你热泪如雨，只不过希望它落在我胸膛上，而现在，没有知觉的地板，或是你湿透了的手帕，接受了你的眼泪。可是我错了，你根本没有哭！我看到了白白的脸颊，暗淡的眼睛，却没有泪痕。那么我猜想，你的心一定哭泣着在流血？
“听着，简，没有一句责备的话吗？没有尖刻、辛辣的言词？没有挫伤感情或者打击热情的字眼？你静静地坐在我让你坐的地方，无精打采地看着我。
“简，我决不想这么伤害你，要是某人有一头亲如女儿的母羊，吃他的面包，饮用他的杯子，躺在他怀抱里，而由于某种疏忽，在屠场里宰了它，他对血的错误的悔恨决不会超过我现在的悔恨，你能宽恕我吗？”
读者！——我当时当地就宽恕了他。他的目光隐含着那么深沉的忏悔；语调里透出这样真实的憾意，举止中富有如此男子气的活力。此外，他的整个神态和风度中流露出那么矢志不移的爱情—一我全都宽恕了他，不过没有诉诸语言，没有表露出来，而只是掩藏在心底里。
“你知道我是个恶棍吗，简？”不久他若有所思地问——我想是对我继续缄默令神而感到纳闷，我那种心情是软弱而不是意志力的表现。
“是的，先生。”
“那就直截了当毫不留情地告诉我吧——别姑息我，”
“我不能，我既疲倦又不舒服。我想喝点儿水。”
他颤抖着叹了口气，把我抱在怀里下楼去了。起初我不知道他要把我抱到哪个房间去，在我呆滞的目光中一切都朦朦胧胧。很快我觉得一团温暖的火又回到了我身上，因为虽然时令正是夏天，我在自己的房间里早已浑身冰凉。他把酒送到我嘴里，我尝了一尝，缓过了神来。随后我吃了些他拿来的东西，于是很快便恢复过来了。我在图书室里——坐在他的椅子上一—他就在我旁边。“要是我现在就毫无痛苦地结束生命，那倒是再好没有了。”我想，“那样我就不必狠心绷断自己的心弦，以中止同罗切斯特先生心灵上的联系。后来我得离开他。我不想离开他——我不能离开他。”
“你现在好吗，简？”
“好多了，先生。很快就会好的。”
“再尝一下酒，简。”
我照他的话做了。随后他把酒杯放在桌上，站到我面前，专注地看着我。突然他转过身来，充满激情含糊不清地叫了一声，快步走过房间，又折回来，朝我弯下身子，像是要吻我，但我记起现在已不允许抚爱了。我转过头去，推开了他的脸。
“什么？一一这是怎么回事？”他急忙嚷道。“呵，我知道！你不想吻伯莎．梅森的丈夫？你认为我的怀里已经有人，我的拥抱已被占有？”
“无论怎么说，已没有我的份和我的容身之地了，先生。”
“为什么，简？我来免去你多费口舌的麻烦，让我替你回答——因为我已经有了—个妻子，你会回答——我猜得对吗？”
“是的。”
“要是你这样想，你准对我抱有成见了，你一定认为我是一个诡计多端的浪子——低俗下贱的恶棍，煽起没有真情的爱，把你拉进预先设置好的圈套，剥夺你的名誉，打消你的自尊。你对这有什么看法？我看你无话可说，首先你身子依然虚弱，还得花好些工夫才能喘过气来；其次，你还不习惯于指控我，辱骂我；此外眼泪的闸门大开着，要是你说得太多，泪水会奔涌而出，你没有心思来劝说，来责备，来大闹一场。你在思索着怎样来行动——你认为空谈无济于事。我知道你—一我戒备着。”
“先生，我不想与你作对，”我说，我那发抖的嗓音警告我要把话缩短。
“不按你理解的字义而按我理解的字义来说，你正谋划着毁灭我。你等于已经说，我是一个已婚男子——正因为这样，你躲着我，避开我。刚才你已拒绝吻我，你想跟我完全成为陌路人，只不过作为阿黛勒的家庭教师住在这座房子里。要是我对你说了句友好的话，要是一种友好的感情使你再次向着我，你会说‘那个人差点让我成了他的情妇，我必须对他冷若冰霜’，于是你便真的冷若冰霜了。”
我清了清喉咙稳住了嗓子回答他，“我周围的一切都改变了，先生。我也必须改变——这是毫无疑问的，为了避免感情的波动，免得不断抵制回忆和联想，那就只有一个办法——阿黛勒得另请家庭教师，先生。”
“噢，阿黛勒要上学去——我已作了安排。我也无意拿桑菲尔德府可怕的联想和回忆来折磨你一—这是个可诅咒的地方——这个亚干的营帐——这个傲慢的墓穴，向着明亮开阔的天空，显现出生不如死的鬼相——这个狭窄的石头地狱，一个真正的魔鬼，抵得上我们想象中的一大批——简，你不要呆在这儿，我也不呆。我明知道桑菲尔德府鬼影憧憧，却把你带到这儿来，这是我的过错。我还没有见你就已责令他们把这个地方的祸害都瞒着你，只是因为我怕你一知道与谁同住在一个屋檐下，阿黛勒就找不到肯呆在这里的女教师了。而我的计划又不允许我把这疯子迁往别的地方，一—尽管我拥有一个比这里更幽静，更隐蔽的老房子，叫做芬丁庄园。要不是考虑到那里地处森林中心，环境很不卫生，我良心上羞于作这样的安排，我是很可以让她安安稳稳地住在那儿的。那里潮湿的墙壁可能会很快从我肩上卸下她这个包袱。不过恶棍种种，恶行各有不同，我的并不在于间接谋杀，即便是对付对我恨之入骨的人。
“然而，把疯女人的住处瞒着你，不过是像用斗篷把一个孩子盖起来，把它放在一棵箭毒树旁边，那魔鬼把四周都毒化了，而只毒气不散，不过我将关闭桑菲尔德府，我要用钉子封住前门，用板条盖没矮窗。我要给普尔太太二百英镑一年，让她同我的妻子一—你称之为可怕的女巫，一起生活。只要给钱，格雷斯愿意干很多事，而且她可以让她在格里姆斯比收容所看门的儿子来作伴，我的妻子发作的时候，譬如受妖精的启发要把人们夜晚烧死在床上，用刀刺他们，从骨头上把肉咬下来的时候，格雷斯身边好歹也有个帮手。”
“先生，”我打断他说，“对那个不幸的女人来说，你实在冷酷无情。你一谈起她就恨恨地——势不两立。那很残酷一一她发疯也是身不由己的。”
“简，我的小宝贝，（我会这么叫你，因为你确实是这样），你不了解你谈的事儿，你又错怪我了。我恨她并不是因为她发了疯。要是你疯了，你想我会恨你吗？”
“我想你会的，先生。”
“那你错了。你一点也不了解我，一点也不了解我会怎样地爱。你身上每一丁点皮肉如同我自己身上的一样，对我来说都非常宝贵，病痛之时也一样如此。你的脑袋是我的宝贝，要是出了毛病，也照样是我的宝贝。要是你呓语连篇，我的胳膊会围住你，而不是紧身马甲——即使在动怒的时候你乱抓乱拉，对我说来也是迷人的。要是你像今天早上的那个女人那样疯狂向我扑来，我会用拥抱接受你，至少既起到制止的作用，又显出抚爱来。我不会像厌恶地避开她一样避开你，在你安静的时刻，你身边没有监护人，没有护士，只有我。我会带着不倦的温柔体贴，在你身边走动，尽管你不会对我报之以微笑。我会永不厌腻地盯着你的眼睛，尽管那双眼睛已不再射出一缕确认我的光芒。——但是我干嘛要顺着那样的思路去想呢？我刚谈着让你离开桑菲尔德。你知道，一切都准备好了，让你立刻离开这里，明天你就走。我只不过求你在这间屋于里再忍受一个晚上，简，随后就向它的痛苦和恐怖诀别：我自有地方可去，那会是个安全的避难所，躲开可憎的回忆、不受欢迎的干扰——甚至还有欺诈和诽谤。”
“带着阿黛勒走吧，先生，”我插嘴说，“你也有她可以作伴了。”
“你这是什么意思，简？我已告诉了你，我要送阿黛勒上学”我何必要一个孩子作伴？何况又不是我的孩子一—一个法国舞女的的杂种。你干嘛把我跟她缠在一起？我说，你为什么把阿黛勒派给我作伴？”
“你听说过我的父亲是个贪得无厌的人吗？”
“我大致了解一些。”
“好吧，简，出于贪婪，我父亲决心把他的财产合在一起，而不能容忍把它分割，留给我相当一部分。他决定一切都归我哥哥罗兰，然而也不忍心我这个儿子成为穷光蛋，还得通过一桩富有的婚事解决我的生计。不久之后他替我找了个伴侣。他有一个叫梅森先生的老相识，是西印度的种植园主和商人。他作了调查，肯定梅森先生家业很大。他发现梅森先生有一双儿女，还知道他能够，也愿意给他的女儿三万英镑的财产，那已经足够了。我一离开大学就被送往牙买加，跟一个已经替我求了爱的新娘成婚。我的父亲只字不提她的钱，却告诉我在西班牙城梅森小姐有倾城之貌，这倒不假。她是个美人，有布兰奇．英格拉姆的派头，身材高大，皮肤黝黑，雍容华贵。她家里也希望把我弄到手，因为我身世不错，和她一样。蠟r噜br> 他又开始走动，但很快停了下来，这回正好停在我面前。
“简！你愿意听我说理吗？（他弯下腰来，凑近我耳朵）因为要是你不听，我就要使用暴力了。”他的声音嘶哑，他的神态像是要冲破不可忍受的束缚，不顾一切地大胆放肆了。我在另一个场合见过这种情形，要是再增一分狂乱的冲动，我就对他无能为力了。此刻，唯有在一瞬之间将他控制住，不然，一个表示厌恶，逃避和胆怯的动作将置我自己一—还有他一一于死地。然而我并不害怕，丝毫没有。我感到一种内在的力量，一种气势在支持着我。危急关头往往险象环生，但也并非没有魅力，就像印第安人乘着皮筏穿过激流所感觉到的那样。我握住他捏得紧紧的手，松开他扭曲的手指，抚慰地对他说：
“坐下吧，你爱谈多久我就同你谈多久，你想说什么，不管有理无理，都听你说。”
他坐了下来，但我并没有让他马上就开口，我己经强忍住眼泪多时，竭力不让它流下来，因为我知道他不喜欢看到我哭。但现在我认为还是让眼泪任意流淌好，爱淌多久就淌多久。要是一腔泪水使他生了气，那就更好。于是我放任自己，哭了个痛快。
不久我就听他真诚地求我镇静下来，我说他那么怒火冲天，我可无法镇静下来。
“可是我没有生气，简。我只是太爱你了。你那苍白的小脸神色木然，铁板一块，我可受不了。安静下来，噢，把眼睛擦一擦。”
他口气软了下来，说明他己经克制住了。因此我也随之镇静下来。这时他试着要把他的头靠在我肩上，但我不允许，随后他要一把将我拉过去。不行！
“简！简！”他说。声调那么伤心，我的每根神经都颤栗起来了。“那么你不爱我了？你看重的只是我的地位以及作为我妻子的身份？现在你认为我不配作你的丈夫，你就害怕我碰你一碰了，好像我是什么癞蛤蟆或者猿猴似的。”
这些话使我感到难受，可是我能做什么，说什么呢？也许我应当什么也别做，什么也别说。但是我被悔恨折磨着，因为我伤了他的感情，我无法抑制自己的愿望，在我制造的伤口上贴上膏药。
“我确实爱你，”我说，“从来没有这么爱过。但我决不能表露或纵容这种感情。这是我最后一次表达了。”
“最后一次，简！什么！你认为可以跟我住在一起，天天看到我，而同时要是仍爱我，却又经常保持冷漠和疏远吗？”
“不，先生，我肯定不行，因此我认为只有一个办法，但要是我说出来，你准会发火。”
“噢，说吧！我就是大发雷霆，你也有哭哭啼啼的本事。”
“罗切斯特先生，我得离开你。”
“离开多久，简？几分钟工夫吧，梳理一下你有些蓬乱的头发，洗一下你看上去有些发烧的脸吗？”
“我得离开阿黛勒和桑菲尔德。我得永生永世离开你。我得在陌生的面孔和陌生的环境中开始新的生活。”
“当然。我同你说过你应当这样。我不理睬你一味要走的疯话。你的意思是你得成为我的一部份。至于新的生活，那很好，但你得成为我的妻子。我没有结过婚。你得成为罗切斯特太太——应当名实相符。只要你我还活着，我只会守着你。你得到我在法国南部拥有的一个地方，地中海沿岸一座墙壁雪白的别墅。在那里有人守护着你，你准会过着无忧无虑的幸福生活。决不必担心我会引诱你上当一—让你成为我的情妇。你为什么摇头？简，你得通情达理，要不然我真的会再发狂的。”
他的嗓子和手都颤抖着，他大大的鼻孔扇动着，他的眼睛冒着火光，但我依然敢说——
“先生，你的妻子还活着，这是早上你自己承认的事实。要是按你的希望同你一起生活，我岂不成了你的情妇。别的说法都是诡辩一—是欺骗。”
“简，我不是一个脾气温和的人——你忘了这点。我忍不了很久。我并不冷静，也不是一个不动感情的人，可怜可怜我和你自己吧，把你的手指按在我脉搏上，感觉一下它怎样跳动吧，而且当心——”
他露出手腕，伸向我。他的脸颊和嘴唇因为失血而变得苍白。我左右为难，十分苦恼。用他所厌恶的拒绝把他煽动起来吧，那是残酷的；要让步呢，又不可能。我做了一件走投无路的人出于本能会做的事——求助于高于凡人的神明。“上帝帮助我！”这句话从我嘴里脱口而出。
“我真傻：”罗切斯特先生突然说。“我老是告诉她我没有结过婚，却没有解释为什么。我忘了她一点也不知道那个女人的性格，不知道我同她地狱一般结合的背景。呵，我可以肯定，一旦简知道了我所知道的一切，她准会同意我的看法。把你的手放在我的手里，简妮特——这样我有接触和目光为依据，证明你在我旁边——我会用寥寥几句话，告诉你事情的真相。你能听我吗？”
“是的，先生。听你几小时都行。”
“我只要求几分钟。简，你是否听到过，或者知道我在家里不是老大，我还有一个年龄
比我大的哥哥？”
“我记得费尔法克斯太太一次告诉过我。”
“你听说过我的父亲是个贪得无厌的人吗？”
“我大致了解一些。”
“好吧，简，出于贪婪，我父亲决心把他的财产合在一起，而不能容忍把它分割，留给我相当一部分。他决定一切都归我哥哥罗兰，然而也不忍心我这个儿子成为穷光蛋，还得通过一桩富有的婚事解决我的生计。不久之后他替我找了个伴侣。他有一个叫梅森先生的老相识，是西印度的种植园主和商人。他作了调查，肯定梅森先生家业很大。他发现梅森先生有一双儿女，还知道他能够，也愿意给他的女儿三万英镑的财产，那已经足够了。我一离开大学就被送往牙买加，跟一个已经替我求了爱的新娘成婚。我的父亲只字不提她的钱，却告诉我在西班牙城梅森小姐有倾城之貌，这倒不假。她是个美人，有布兰奇．英格拉姆的派头，身材高大，皮肤黝黑，雍容华贵。她家里也希望把我弄到手，因为我身世不错，和她一样。他们把她带到聚会上给我看，打扮得花枝招展。我难得单独见她，也很少同她私下交谈。她恭维我，还故意卖弄姿色和才艺来讨好我。她圈子里的男人似乎都被她所倾倒，同时也羡慕我，我被弄得眼花缭乱，激动不已。我的感官被刺激起来了，由于幼稚无知，没有经验，以为自己爱上了她。社交场中的愚蠢角逐、年青人的好色、鲁莽和盲目，会使人什么糊里糊涂的蠢事都干得出来。她的亲戚们怂恿我；情敌们激怒我；她来勾引我。于是我还几乎不知道是怎么回事儿，婚事就定了。呵一—一想起这种行为我便失去了自尊！一—我被内心一种自我鄙视的痛苦所压倒，我从来没有爱过她，敬重过她，甚至也不了解她。她天性中有没有一种美德我都没有把握。在她的内心或举止中，我既没有看到谦逊和仁慈，也没有看到坦诚和高雅。而我娶了她—一我是多么粗俗，多么没有骨气！真是个有眼无珠的大傻瓜！要是我没有那么大的过失，也许我早就——不过还是让我记住我在同谁说话。
“新娘的母亲我从来没有见过，我以为她死了。但蜜月一过，我便发现自己搞错了。她不过是疯了，被关在疯人院里。我妻子还有个弟弟，是个不会说话的白痴。你所见到的大弟（尽管我讨厌他的亲人，却并不恨他，因为在他软弱的灵魂中，还有许多爱心，表现在他对可怜的姐姐一直很关心，以及对我一度显出狗一般的依恋）有一天很可能也会落到这个地步。我父亲和我哥哥罗兰对这些情况都知道，但他们只想到三万英镑，并且狼狈为奸坑害我。
“这都是些丑恶的发现，但是，除了隐瞒实情的欺诈行为，我不应当把这些都怪罪于我的妻子。尽管我发现她的个性与我格格不入，她的趣味使我感到厌恶，她的气质平庸、低下、狭隘，完全不可能向更高处引导，向更广处发展；我发现无法同她舒舒畅畅地度过一个晚上，甚至一个小时。我们之间没有真诚的对话，因为—谈任何话题，马上会得到她既粗俗又陈腐，即怪僻又愚蠢的呼应——我发觉自己决不会有一个清静安定的家，因为没有一个仆人能忍受她不断发作暴烈无理的脾性，能忍受她荒唐、矛盾和苛刻的命令所带来的烦恼一—即使那样，我也克制住了。我避免责备，减少规劝，悄悄地吞下了自己的悔恨和厌恶。我抑制住了自己的反感。
“简，我不想用讨厌的细节来打扰你了，我要说的话可以用几句激烈的话来表达。我跟那个女人在楼上住了四年，在那之前她折磨得我够呛。她的性格成熟了，并可怕地急剧发展；她的劣迹层出不穷，而且那么严重，只有使用残暴的手段才能加以制止，而我又不忍心，她的智力那么弱一—而她的冲动又何等之强呵！那些冲动给我造成了多么可怕的灾祸！伯莎．梅森——一个声名狼藉的母亲的真正的女儿——把我拉进了堕落骇人的痛苦深渊。一个男人同一个既放纵又鄙俗的妻子结合，这必定是在劫难逃的。
“在这期间我的哥哥死了，四年之后我父亲相继去世。从此我够富有的了——同时又穷得可怕。我所见过的最粗俗、最肮脏、最下贱的属性同我联系在一起，被法律和社会称作我的一部分。而我开法通过任何法律程序加以摆脱，因为这时医生们发觉我的妻子疯了——她的放肆已经使发疯的种子早熟一—简，你不喜欢我的叙述，你看上去几乎很厌恶一—其余的话是不是改日再谈？”
“不，先生，现在就讲完它。我怜悯你一—我真诚地怜悯你。”
“怜悯，这个词出自某些人之口时，简，是讨厌而带有污辱性的，完全有理由把它奉还给说出来的人。不过那是内心自私无情的人的怜悯，这是听到灾祸以后所产生的以自我为中心的痛苦，混杂着对受害者的盲目鄙视。但这不是你的怜悯，简，此刻你满脸透出的不是这种感情。——此刻你眼睛里洋溢着的——你内心搏动着的——使你的手颤抖的是另一种感情。我的宝贝，你的怜悯是爱的痛苦母亲，它的痛苦是神圣的热恋出世时的阵痛。我接受了，简！让那女儿自由地降生吧——我的怀抱已等待着接纳她了。”
“好，先生，说下去，你发现她疯了以后怎么办呢？”
“简——我到了绝望的边缘，能把我和深渊隔开的就只剩自尊了。在世人的眼里，无疑我已是名誉扫地，但我决心在自己眼里保持清白——我终于拒绝接受她的罪孽的感染，挣脱了同她神经缺陷的联系。但社会依然把我的名字，我本人和她捆在一起，我仍旧天天看到她，听到她。她呼吸的一部分（呸！）混杂在我呼吸的空气中。此外，我还记得我曾是她的丈夫一一对我来说这种联想过去和现在都有说不出的憎恶。而且我知道，只要她还活着，我就永远不能成为另一个更好的妻子的丈夫。尽管她比我大五岁（她的家庭和她的父亲甚至在她年龄细节上也骗了我），她很可能跟我活得一样长，因为她虽然头脑衰弱，但体魄强健。于是在二十六岁的年纪上，我便全然无望了。
“一天夜里我被她的叫喊惊醒了（自从医生宣布她疯了以后，她当然是被关起来了）一一那是西印度群岛火燎似的夜晚，这种天气常常是飓风到来的前奏。我难以入睡，便爬起来开了窗。空气像含硫的蒸气—一到处都让人提不起神来。蚊子嗡嗡的飞进来，阴沉地在房间里打转。在那儿我能听到大海之声，像地震一般沉闷地隆隆响着。黑云在大海上空集结，月亮沉落在宽阔的红色波浪上，像一个滚烫的炮弹一—向颤抖着正酝酿风暴的海洋，投去血色的目光。我确实深受这种气氛和景色的感染，而我的耳朵却充斥着疯子尖叫着的咒骂声。咒骂中夹杂着我的名字，语调里那么充满仇恨，语言又那么肮脏！一—没有一个以卖淫为业的妓女，会使用比她更污秽的字眼，尽管隔了两个房间，我每个字都听得清清楚楚——西印度群岛薄薄的隔板丝毫挡不住她狼一般的嚎叫。
“‘这种生活，’我终于说，‘是地狱！这就是无底深渊里的空气和声音！要是我能够，我有权解脱自己。人世的痛苦连同拖累我灵魂的沉重肉体会离我而去。对狂热者信奉的地狱之火，我并不害怕。将来的状况不会比现在的更糟——让我摆脱，回到上帝那儿去吧！’
“我一面说，一面蹲在一只箱子旁边，把锁打开，箱子里放着一对上了子弹的手熗。我想开熗自杀。但这一念头只转了一会儿，由于我没有发疯，那种激起自杀念头并使我万念俱灰的危机，刹那间过去了。
“刚刚来自欧洲的风吹过洋面，穿过宽敞的窗户。暴风雨到来了，大雨滂沱，雷鸣电闪，空气变得清新了。随后我设想并下定了决心。我在湿漉漉的园子里水珠滴嗒的桔子树下，在湿透的石榴和菠萝树中间漫步，周围燃起了灿烂的热带黎明一—于是我思考着，简—一噢，听着，在那一时刻真正的智慧抚慰了我，向我指明了正确的道路。
“从欧洲吹来的甜甜的凤，在格外清新的树叶间耳语，大西洋自由自在地咆哮着。我那颗早已干枯和焦灼的心，对着那声音舒张开来，注满了活的血液一—我的身躯向往新生——我的心灵渴望甘露。我看见希望复活了——感到重生有了可能。我从花园顶端拱形花棚下眺望着大海——它比天空更加蔚蓝。旧世界已经远去，清晰的前景展现在面前，于是：
“‘走吧，’希望说，‘再到欧洲去生活吧，在那里你那被玷污的名字不为人所知，也没有人知道你背负着龌龊的重荷。你可以把疯子带往英国，关在桑菲尔德，给予应有的照料和戒备。然后到随便哪个地方去旅游，结识你喜欢的新关系。那个女人恣意让你如此长期受苦，如此败坏你的名声，如此侵犯你的荣誉，如此毁灭你的青春，她不是你妻子，你也不是她丈夫。注意让她按病情需要得到照应，那你就已做了上帝和人类要求你的一切。让她的身份，她同你的关系永远被忘却，你决不要把这些告诉任何活人。把她安置在一个安全舒适的地方，悄悄地把她的堕落掩藏起来，离开她吧。’”
“我完全按这个建议去做。我的父亲和哥哥没有把我婚姻的底细透给他们的旧识，因为在我写给他们的第一封信里，我就向他们通报了我的婚配——已经开始感受到它极其讨厌的后果，而且从那一家人的性格和体质中，看到了我可怕的前景一一我附带又敦促他们严守秘密。不久，我父亲替我选中的妻子的丑行，己经到了这个地步，使他也羞于认她为媳了。对这一关系他远不想大事声张，却像我一样急于把它掩盖起来。
“随后我把她送到了英格兰，同这么个怪物呆在船上，经历了一次可怕的航行。我非常兴，最后终于把她送到了桑菲尔德，看她平安地住在三楼房间里。房间的内密室，十年来己被她弄成了野兽的巢穴——妖怪的密室。我费了一番周折找人服侍她。有必要选择一位忠实可靠的人，因为她的呓语必然会泄露我的秘密。此外，她还有神志清醒的日子——有时几周——这种时候她整日价骂我。最后我从格里姆斯比收容所雇来了格雷斯.普尔。她和外科医生卡特（梅森被刺并心事重重的那个夜晚，是他给梅森包，扎了伤口），只有这两个人，我让他们知道我内心的秘密。费尔法克斯太太其实也许有些怀疑，但无法确切了解有关事实。总的来说，格雷斯证明是个好管家。但多半是因为伴随这折磨人的差事而来，而又无可救药的自身缺陷，她不止一次放松警戒，出了事情。这个疯子既狡猾又恶毒，决不放过机会，利用看护人暂时的疏忽。有一次她偷偷拿刀捅了她弟弟，有两次搞到了她小房间的钥匙，并且夜间从那里走了出来。在以上第一个场合，她蓄意把我烧死在床上，第二次，她找到你门上来了。我感谢上帝守护你。随后她把火发在你的婚装上，那也许使她朦胧地记起了自己当新娘的日子，至于还可能发生什么，我不忍心再回想了，当我想起早上扑向我喉咙的东西，想起它把又黑又红的脸凑向我宝贝的窝里时，我的血凝结了——”
“那么，先生，”趁他顿住时我问，“你把她安顿在这里后，自己干了什么呢？你上哪儿去了”
“我干了什么吗，简？我让自己变成了一个形踪不定的人。我上哪儿去了？我像沼泽地的精灵那样东游西荡，去了欧洲大陆，迂回曲折穿越了那里所有的国家。我打定主意找一个我可以爱她的出色聪明的女人，与我留在桑菲尔德的泼妇恰成对比一一，
“但你不能结婚，先生。”
“我决心而且深信我能够结婚，也应该结婚，我虽然己经骗了你，但欺骗不是我的初衷。我打算将自己的事儿坦诚相告，公开求婚。我应当被认为有爱和被爱的自由，在我看来这是绝对合理的。我从不怀疑能找到某个女人，愿意并理解我的处境，接纳我，尽管我背着该诅咒的包袱。”
“那么，先生？”
“当你刨根究底时，简，你常常使我发笑。你像一只急切的小鸟那样张开眼睛，时而局促不安地动来动去，仿佛口头回答的语速太慢，你还想读一读人家心上的铭文。我往下说之前，告诉我你的‘那么，先生？’是什么意思。这个小小的短语你经常挂在嘴边，很多次是它把我导入无休止的交谈，连我自己也不十分清楚究竟为什么？”
“我的意思是——随后发生了什么？你怎么继续下去？这件事情后来怎样了？”
“完全茹跑出了我的视线之外，我对你很生气。”
“我急不可耐地等着晚间的到来，这样可以把你召到我面前。我怀疑，你有一种不同寻常的性格，对我来说，一种全新的性格，我很想对它进行深层的探索，了解得更透彻。你进了房间，目光与神态既腼腆又很有主见。你穿着古怪——很像你现在的样子。我使你开了腔，不久我就发现你身上充满奇怪的反差。你的服装和举止受着清规戒律的约束；你的神态往往很羞涩，完全是那种天性高雅绝不适应社交的人，很害怕自己因为某种失礼和错误而出丑。但一旦同你交谈，你向对方的脸庞投去锐利、大胆、闪亮的目光。你的每个眼神里都有一种穿透力。问你思路严密的问题，你应对如流。你似乎很快对我习惯了—一我相信你觉得在你与你的严厉、暴躁的主人之间，有引起共鸣的地方，因为我惊异地看到，一种愉快的自在感，立刻使你的举止变得平静了。尽管我暴跳如雷，你并没有对我的乖僻露出惊奇、胆怯、苦恼或不快。你观察着我，不时朝我笑笑，那笑容中带着一种难以形容的朴实和聪明伶俐的神态。我立刻对我所目睹的感到满意和兴奋。我喜欢己经见到的东西，而且希望见得更多。

伊墨君(热心会员)

28楼 2013-02-11

Chapter 26

SOPHIE came at seven to dress me: she was very long indeed in accomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester, grown, I suppose, impatient of my delay, sent up to ask why I did not come. She was just fastening my veil (the plain square of blond after all) to my hair with a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon as I could.
'Stop!' she cried in French. 'Look at yourself in the mirror: you have not taken one peep.'

So I turned at the door: I saw a robed and veiled figure, so unlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stranger. 'Jane!' called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester.

'Lingerer!' he said, 'my brain is on fire with impatience, and you tarry so long!'

He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all over, pronounced me 'fair as a lily, and not only the pride of his life, but the desire of his eyes,' and then telling me he would give me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang the bell. One of his lately hired servants, a footman, answered it.

'Is John getting the carriage ready?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Is the luggage brought down?'

'They are bringing it down, sir.'

'Go you to the church: see if Mr. Wood (the clergyman) and the clerk are there: return and tell me.'

The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the gates; the footman soon returned.

'Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice.'

'And the carriage?'

'The horses are harnessing.'

'We shall not want it to go to church; but it must be ready the moment we return: all the boxes and luggage arranged and strapped on, and the coachman in his seat.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Jane, are you ready?'

I rose. There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to wait for or marshal: none but Mr. Rochester and I. Mrs. Fairfax stood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have spoken to her, but my hand was held by a grasp of iron: I was hurried along by a stride I could hardly follow; and to look at Mr. Rochester's face was to feel that not a second of delay would be tolerated for any purpose. I wonder what other bridegroom ever looked as he did- so bent up to a purpose, so grimly resolute: or who, under such steadfast brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.

I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending the drive, I gazed neither on sky nor earth: my heart was with my eyes; and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame. I wanted to see the invisible thing on which, as we went along, he appeared to fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel the thoughts whose force he seemed breasting and resisting.

At the churchyard wicket he stopped: he discovered I was quite out of breath. 'Am I cruel in my love?' he said. 'Delay an instant: lean on me, Jane.'

And now I can recall the picture of the grey old house of God rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the green grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures of strangers straying amongst the low hillocks and reading the mementoes graven on the few mossy head-stones. I noticed them, because, as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they were not observed; he was earnestly looking at my face, from which the blood had, I daresay, momentarily fled: for I felt my forehead dewy, and my cheeks and lips cold. When I rallied, which I soon did, he walked gently with me up the path to the porch.

We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited in his white surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All was still: two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My conjecture had been correct: the strangers had slipped in before us, and they now stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs towards us, viewing through the rails the old times-stained marble tomb, where a kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de Rochester, slain at Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars, and of Elizabeth, his wife.

Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a cautious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one of the strangers- a gentleman, evidently- was advancing up the chancel. The service began.

The explanation of the intent of matrimony was gone through; and then the clergyman came a step farther forward, and, bending slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.

'I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed), that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful.'

He paused, as the custom is. When is the pause after that sentence ever broken by reply? Not, perhaps, once in a hundred years. And the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was proceeding: his hand was already stretched towards Mr. Rochester, as his lips unclosed to ask, 'Wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?-' when a distinct and near voice said-

'The marriage cannot go on: I declare the existence of an impediment.'

The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute; the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an earthquake had rolled under his feet: taking a firmer footing, and not turning his head or eyes, he said, 'Proceed.'

Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, with deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said-

'I cannot proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted, and evidence of its truth or falsehood.'

'The ceremony is quite broken off,' subjoined the voice behind us. 'I am in a condition to prove my allegation: an insuperable impediment to this marriage exists.'

Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not: he stood stubborn and rigid, making no movement but to possess himself of my hand. What a hot and strong grasp he had! and how like quarried marble was his pale, firm, massive front at this moment! How his eye shone, still watchful, and yet wild beneath!

Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. 'What is the nature of the impediment?' he asked. 'Perhaps it may be got over- explained away?'

'Hardly,' was the answer. 'I have called it insuperable, and I speak advisedly.'

The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails. He continued, uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily, but not loudly-

'It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage. Mr. Rochester has a wife now living.'

My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had never vibrated to thunder- my blood felt their subtle violence as it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester: I made him look at me. His whole face was colourless rock: his eye was both spark and flint. He disavowed nothing: he seemed as if he would defy all things. Without speaking, without smiling, without seeming to recognise in me a human being, he only twined my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.

'Who are you?' he asked of the intruder.

'And you would thrust on me a wife?'

'I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the law recognises, if you do not.'

'Favour me with an account of her- with her name, her parentage, her place of abode.'

'Certainly.' Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket, and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:- date of fifteen years back), Edward Fairfax Rochester, of Thornfield England, was married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at- church, Spanish Town, Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church- a copy of it is now in my possession. Signed, Richard Mason."'

'That- if a genuine document- may prove I have been married, but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as my wife is still living.'

'She was living three months ago,' returned the lawyer.

'How do you know?'

'I have a witness to the fact, whose testimony even you, sir, will scarcely controvert.'

'Produce him- or go to hell.'

'I will produce him first- he is on the spot. Mr. Mason, have the goodness to step forward.'

Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his teeth; he experienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run through his frame. The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the background, now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's shoulder- yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and glared at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye: it had now a tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his face flushed- olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow as from spreading, ascending heart-fire: and he stirred, lifted his strong arm- he could have struck Mason, dashed him on the church-floor, shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his body- but Mason shrank away and cried faintly, 'Good God!' Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester- his passion died as if a blight had shrivelled it up: he only asked- 'What have you to say?'

An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.

'The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again demand, what have you to say?'

'Sir- sir,' interrupted the clergyman, 'do not forget you are in a sacred place.' Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, 'Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?'

'Courage,' urged the lawyer,- 'speak out.'

'She is now living at Thornfield Hall,' said Mason, in more articulate tones: 'I saw her there last April. I am her brother.'

'At Thornfield Hall!' ejaculated the clergyman. 'Impossible! I am an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall.'

I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lips, and he muttered-

'No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it- or of her under that name.' He mused- for ten minutes he held counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it-

'Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet from the barrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John Green (to the clerk), leave the church: there will be no wedding to-day.' The man obeyed.

Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: 'Bigamy is an ugly word!- I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has out-manoeuvred me, or Providence has checked me,- perhaps the last. I am little better than a devil at this moment; and, as my pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judgments of God, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm. Gentlemen, my plan is broken up:- what this lawyer and his client say is true: I have been married, and the woman to whom I was married lives! You say you never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at the house up yonder, Wood; but I daresay you have many a time inclined your ear to gossip about the mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some, my cast-off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen years ago,-

Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks, showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!- never fear me!- I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you. Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole, was both a mad-woman and a drunkard!- as I found out after I had wed the daughter: for they were silent on family secrets before.

Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both points. I had a charming partner- pure, wise, modest: you can fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe you no further explanation.

Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human. This girl,' he continued, looking at me, 'knew no more than you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and legal, and never dreamt she was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner! Come all of you- follow!'

Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentlemen came after. At the front door of the hall we found the carriage.

'Take it back to the coach-house, John,' said Mr. Rochester coolly:

'it will not be wanted to-day.'

At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adele, Sophie, Leah, advanced to meet and greet us.

'To the right-about- every soul!' cried the master; 'away with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I!- they are fifteen years too late!'

He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand, and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him, which they did. We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded to the third storey: the low, black door, opened by Mr. Rochester's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its great bed and its pictorial cabinet.

'You know this place, Mason,' said our guide; 'she bit and stabbed you here.'

He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second door: this, too, he opened. In a room without a window, there burnt a fire guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over the fire, apparently cooking something in a saucepan. In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.

'Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!' said Mr. Rochester. 'How are you? and how is your charge to-day?'

'We're tolerable, sir, I thank you,' replied Grace, lifting the boiling mess carefully on to the hob: 'rather snappish, but not 'rageous.'

A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet.

'Ah! sir, she sees you!' exclaimed Grace: 'you'd better not stay.'

'Only a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments.'

'Take care then, sir!- for God's sake, take care!'

The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple face,- those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced.

'Keep out of the way,' said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside:

'she has no knife now, I suppose, and I'm on my guard!'

'One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft.'

'We had better leave her,' whispered Mason.

'Go to the devil!' was his brother-in-law's recommendation.

''Ware!' cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously. Mr. Rochester flung me behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: they struggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her husband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the contest- more than once she almost throttled him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow: but he would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he pinioned them behind her: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair. The operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the most convulsive plunges. Mr. Rochester then turned to the spectators: he looked at them with a smile both acrid and desolate.

'That is my wife,' said he. 'Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am ever to know- such are the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to have' (laying his hand on my shoulder): 'this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon. I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder- this face with that mask- this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, and remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with you now. I must shut up my prize.'

We all withdrew. Mr. Rochester stayed a moment behind us, to give some further order to Grace Poole. The solicitor addressed me as he descended the stair.

'You, madam,' said he, 'are cleared from all blame: your uncle will be glad to hear it- if, indeed, he should be still living- when Mr. Mason returns to Madeira.'

'My uncle! What of him? Do you know him?'

'Mr. Mason does. Mr. Eyre has been the Funchal correspondent of his house for some years. When your uncle received your letter intimating the contemplated union between yourself and Mr. Rochester, Mr. Mason, who was staying at Madeira to recruit his health, on his way back to Jamaica, happened to be with him. Mr. Eyre mentioned the intelligence; for he knew that my client here was acquainted with a gentleman of the name of Rochester. Mr. Mason, astonished and distressed as you may suppose, revealed the real state of matters. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, is now on a sick-bed; from which, considering the nature of his disease- decline- and the stage it has reached, it is unlikely he will ever rise. He could not then hasten to England himself, to extricate you from the snare into which you had fallen, but he implored Mr. Mason to lose no time in taking steps to prevent the false marriage. He referred him to me for assistance. I used all despatch, and am thankful I was not too late: as you, doubtless, must be also. Were I not morally certain that your uncle will be dead ere you reach Madeira, I would advise you to accompany Mr. Mason back; but as it is, I think you had better remain in England till you can hear further, either from or of Mr. Eyre. Have we anything else to stay for?' he inquired of Mr. Mason.

'No, no- let us be gone,' was the anxious reply; and without waiting to take leave of Mr. Rochester, they made their exit at the hall door. The clergyman stayed to exchange a few sentences, either of admonition or reproof, with his haughty parishioner; this duty done, he too departed.

I heard him go as I stood at the half-open door of my own room, to which I had now withdrawn. The house cleared, I shut myself in, fastened the bolt that none might intrude, and proceeded- not to weep, not to mourn, I was yet too calm for that, but- mechanically to take off the wedding-dress, and replace it by the stuff gown I had worn yesterday, as I thought, for the last time. I then sat down: I felt weak and tired. I leaned my arms on a table, and my head dropped on them. And now I thought: till now I had only heard, seen, moved- followed up and down where I was led or dragged- watched event rush on event, disclosure open beyond disclosure: but now, I thought.

The morning had been a quiet morning enough- all except the brief scene with the lunatic: the transaction in the church had not been noisy; there was no explosion of passion, no loud altercation, no dispute, no defiance or challenge, no tears, no sobs: a few words had been spoken, a calmly pronounced objection to the marriage made; some stern, short questions put by Mr. Rochester; answers, explanations given, evidence adduced; an open admission of the truth had been uttered by my master; then the living proof had been seen; the intruders were gone, and all was over.

I was in my own room as usual- just myself, without obvious change: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me. And yet where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday?- where was her life?- where were her prospects?

Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman- almost a bride, was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale; her prospects were desolate. A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and fragrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway. My hopes were all dead- struck with a subtle doom, such as, in one night, fell on all the first-born in the land of Egypt. I looked on my cherished wishes, yesterday so blooming and glowing; they lay stark, chill, livid corpses that could never revive. I looked at my love: that feeling which was my master's- which he had created; it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in a cold cradle; sickness and anguish had seized it; it could not seek Mr. Rochester's arms- it could not derive warmth from his breast. Oh, never more could it turn to him; for faith was blighted- confidence destroyed! Mr. Rochester was not to me what he had been; for he was not what I had thought him. I would not ascribe vice to him; I would not say he had betrayed me; but the attribute of stainless truth was gone from his idea, and from his presence I must go: that I perceived well. When- how- whither, I could not yet discern; but he himself, I doubted not, would hurry me from Thornfield. Real affection, it seemed, he could not have for me; it had been only fitful passion: that was balked; he would want me no more. I should fear even to cross his path now: my view must be hateful to him. Oh, how blind had been my eyes! How weak my conduct!

My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead. One idea only still throbbed life-like within me- a remembrance of God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be whispered, but no energy was found to express them-

'Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help.'

It was near: and as I had lifted no petition to Heaven to avert it- as I had neither joined my hands, nor bent my knees, nor moved my lips- it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured over me. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, 'the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing: I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me.'

索菲娅七点钟来替我打扮，确实费了好久才大功告成。那么久，我想罗切斯特先生对我的拖延有些不耐烦了，派人来问，我为什么还没有到。索菲娅正用一枚饰针把面纱（毕竟只是一块淡色的普通方巾）系到我头发上，一待完毕，我便急急忙忙从她手下钻了出去。

“慢着！”她用法语叫道。“往镜子里瞧一瞧你自己，你连一眼都还没看呢。”

于是我在门边转过身来，看到了一个穿了袍子，戴了面纱的人，一点都不像我往常的样子，就仿佛是一位陌生人的影像。“简！”一个声音嚷道，我赶紧走下楼去。罗切斯特先生在楼梯脚下迎着我。

“磨磨蹭蹭的家伙，”他说，“我的脑袋急得直冒火星、你太拖拉了！”

他带我进了餐室，急切地把我从头到脚打量了一遍，声称我“像百合花那么美丽，不仅是他生活中的骄傲，而且也让他大饱眼福。”随后他告诉我只给我十分钟吃早饭，并按了按铃。他新近雇用的一个仆人，一位管家应召而来。

“约翰把马车准备好了吗？”

“好了，先生。”

“行李拿下去了吗？”

“他们现在正往下拿呢，先生。”

“上教堂去一下，看看沃德先生（牧师）和执事在不在那里。回来告诉我。”

读者知道，大门那边就是教堂，所以管家很快就回来了。

“沃德先生在法衣室里，先生，正忙着穿法衣呢。”

“马车呢？”

“马匹正在上挽具。”

“我们上教堂不用马车，但回来时得准备停当。所有的箱子和行李都要装好捆好，车夫要在自己位置上坐好。”

“是，先生。”

“简，你准备好了吗？”

我站了起来，没有男傧相和女傧相，也没有亲戚等候或引领。除了罗切斯特先生和我，没有别人。我们经过大厅时，费尔法克斯太太站在那里。我本想同她说话，但我的手被铁钳似地捏住了，让我几乎跟不住的脚步把我匆匆推向前去。一看罗切斯特先生的脸我就觉得，不管什么原因，再拖一秒钟他都不能忍耐了。我不知道其他新郎看上去是不是像他这付样子——那么专注于一个目的，那么毅然决然；或者有谁在那对稳重的眉毛下，露出过那么火辣辣，光闪闪的眼睛。

我不知道那天天气是好还是不好，走下车道时，我既没观天也没看地，我的心灵与眼目都集中在罗切斯特先生身上。我边走边要看看他好像恶狠狠盯着的无形东西，要感受那些他似乎在对抗和抵御的念头。

我们在教堂院子边门停了下来，他发现我喘不过气来了。“我爱得有点残酷吗？”他问。“歇一会儿，靠着我，简。”

如今，我能回忆起当时的情景：灰色的老教堂宁静地耸立在我面前；一只白嘴鸦在教堂尖顶盘旋；远处的晨空通红通红。我还隐约记得绿色的坟墩；也并没有忘记两个陌生的人影，在低矮的小丘之间徘徊，—边读着刻在几块长满青苔的墓石上的铭文。这两个人引起了我的注意，因为一见到我们，他们便转到教堂背后去了。我相信他们要从侧廊的门进去，观看婚礼仪式。罗切斯特先生并没有注意到这两个人，他热切地瞧着我的脸，我想我的脸一时毫无血色，因为我觉得我额头汗涔涔，两颊和嘴唇冰凉。但我不久便定下神来，同他沿着小径，缓步走向门廊。

我们进了幽静而朴实的教堂，牧师身穿白色的法衣，在低矮的圣坛等候，旁边站着执事。一切都十分平静，那两个影子在远远的角落里走动。我的猜测没有错，这两个陌生人在我们之前溜了进来，此刻背朝着我们，站立在罗切斯特家族的墓穴旁边，透过栅栏，瞧着带有时间印迹的古老大理石坟墓，这里一位下跪的天使守卫着内战中死于马斯顿荒原的戴默尔．德．罗切斯特的遗骸和他的妻子伊丽莎白。

我们在圣坛栏杆前站好。我听见身后响起了小心翼翼的脚步声，便回头看了一眼，只见陌生人中的一位——显然是位绅士——正走向圣坛。仪式开始了，牧师对婚姻的目的作了解释，随后往前走了一步，向罗切斯特先生微微欠了欠身子，又继续了。

“我要求并告诫你们两人（因为在可怕的最后审判日，所有人内心的秘密都要袒露无遗时，你们也将作出回答），如果你们中的一位知道有什么障碍使你们不能合法地联姻，那就现在供认吧，因为你们要确信，凡是众多没有得到上帝允许而结合的人，都不是上帝结成的夫妇，他们的婚姻是非法的。”

他按照习惯顿了一下，那句话之后的停顿，什么时候曾被回答所打破呢？不，也许一百年才有一次。所以牧师依然盯着书，并没有抬眼，静默片刻之后又说了下去，他的手已伸向罗切斯特先生，一边张嘴问道，“你愿意娶这个女人为结发妻子吗？”就在这当儿，近处一个清晰的声音响了起来：

“婚礼不能继续下去了，我宣布存在着一个障碍。”

牧师抬头看了一下说话人，默默地站在那里，执事也一样，罗切斯特先生仿佛觉得地震滚过他脚下，稍稍移动了一下，随之便站稳了脚跟，既没有回头，也没有抬眼，便说，“继续下去。”

他用深沉的语调说这句话后，全场一片寂静。沃德先生立即说：

“不先对刚才宣布的事调查一下，证明它是真是假，我是无法继续的。”

“婚礼中止了，”我们背后的嗓音补充道。“我能够证实刚才的断言，这桩婚事存在着难以克服的障碍。”

罗切斯特先生听了置之不理。他顽固而僵直地站着，一动不动，但握住了我的手。他握得多紧！他的手多灼人！他那苍白、坚定的阔脸这时多么像开采下来的大理石！他的眼睛多么有光彩！表面平静警觉，底下却犹如翻江倒海！

沃德先生似乎不知所措，“是哪一类性质的障碍？”他问。“说不定可以排除——能够解释清楚呢？”

“几乎不可能，”那人回答，“我称它难以克服，是经过深思熟虑后才说的。”

说话人走到前面，倚在栏杆上。他往下说，每个字都说得那么清楚，那么镇定，那么稳重，但声音并不高。

“障碍完全在于一次以前的婚姻，罗切斯特先生有一个妻子还活着。”

这几个字轻轻道来，但对我神经所引起的震动，却甚过于雷霆——对我血液的细微侵蚀远甚于风霜水火，但我又镇定下来了，没有晕倒的危险，我瞧了瞧罗切斯特先生，让他瞧着我。他的整张脸成了一块苍白的岩石。他的眼睛直冒火星，却又坚如燧石。他一点也没有否认，似乎要无视一切。他没有说话，没有微笑，也似乎没有把我看作一个人，而只是胳膊紧紧搂住我的腰，把我紧贴在他身边。

“你是谁？”他问那个入侵者。

“我的名字叫布里格斯—一伦敦××街的一个律师。”

“你要把一个妻子强加于我吗？”

“我要提醒你，你有一个太太。先生，就是你不承认，法律也是承认的。”

“请替我描述一下她的情况——她的名字，她的父母，她的住处。”

“当然。”布里格斯先生镇定自若地从口袋里取出了一个文件，用一种一本正经的鼻音读了起来：

“我断言并证实，公元××年十月二十日（十五年前的一个日子），英国××郡桑菲尔德府、及××郡芬丁庄园的爱德华．费尔法克斯．罗切斯特同我的姐姐，商人乔纳斯．梅森及妻子克里奥尔人、安托万内特的女儿，伯莎．安托万内特．梅森，在牙买加的西班牙镇××教堂成婚。婚礼的记录可见于教堂的登记簿——其中一份现在我手中。里查德．梅森签
字。”

“如果这份文件是真的，那也只能证明我结过婚，却不能证明里面作为我妻子而提到的女人还活着。”

“三个月之前她还活着，”律师反驳说。

“你怎么知道？”

“我有一位这件事情的证人，他的证词，先生，连你也难以反驳。”

“把他叫来吧——不然见鬼去。”

“我先把他叫来——他在场。梅森先生，请你到前面来。”

罗切斯特先生一听这个名字便咬紧了牙齿，抽搐似地剧烈颤抖起来，我离他很近，感觉得到他周身愤怒和绝望地痉挛起来。这时候一直躲在幕后的第二个陌生人，走了过来，律师的肩头上露出了一张苍白的脸来——不错，这是梅森本人。罗切斯特先生回头瞪着他。我常说他眼睛是黑的，而此刻因为愁上心头，便有了一种黄褐色，乃至带血丝的光。他的脸涨红了——橄榄色的脸颊和没有血色的额头，也由于心火不断上升和扩大而闪闪发亮。他动了动，举起了强壮的胳膊，——完全可以痛打梅森——把他击倒在地板上——无情地把他揍得断气——但梅森退缩了一下，低声叫了起来，“天哪！”一种冷冷的蔑视在罗切斯特先生心中油然而生。就仿佛蛀虫使植物枯萎一样，他的怒气消了，只不过问了一句，“你有什么要说的？”

从梅森苍白的唇间吐出了几乎听不见的回答。

“要是你回答不清，那就见鬼去吧，我再次要求，你有什么要说的？”

“先生——先生——”牧师插话了，“别忘了你在一个神圣的地方。”随后他转向梅森，和颜悦色地说，“你知道吗，先生，这位先生的妻子是不是还活着？”

“胆子大些，”律师怂恿着，——“说出来。”

“她现在住在桑菲尔德府，”梅森用更为清晰的声调说，“四月份我还见过她。我是她弟弟。”

“在桑菲尔德府！”牧师失声叫道。“不可能！我是这一带的老住客，先生，从来没有听到桑菲尔德府有一个叫罗切斯特太太的人。”

我看见一阵狞笑扭曲了罗切斯特先生的嘴唇，他咕哝道：

“不——天哪！我十分小心，不让人知道有这么回事，——或者知道她叫那个名字。”他沉思起来，琢磨了十来分钟，于是打定主意宣布道：

“行啦——一切都一齐窜出来了，就象子弹出了熗膛，——沃德，合上你的书本，脱下
你的法衣吧，约翰．格林（面向执事）离开教堂吧。今天不举行婚礼了。”这人照办了。

罗切斯特先生厚着脸皮毫不在乎地说下去。“重婚是一个丑陋的字眼！——然而我有意重婚，但命运却挫败了我，或者上天制止了我—一也许是后者。此刻我并不比魔鬼好多少。就像我那位牧师会告诉我的那样，必定会受到上帝最严正的审判——甚至该受不灭的火和不死的虫的折磨。先生们，我的计划被打破了！——这位律师和他顾客所说的话是真的。我结了婚，同我结婚的女人还活着！你说你在府上那一带，从来没有听到过一位叫罗切斯特太太的人，沃德。不过我猜想有很多次你想竖起耳朵，听听关于一个神秘的疯子被看管着的流言，有人已经向你耳语，说她是我同父异母的私生姐姐，有人说她是被我抛弃的情妇，——现在我告诉你们，她是我妻子——十五年前我同她结的婚——名字叫伯莎．梅森，这位铁石心肠的人的姐姐。此刻他四肢打颤，脸色发白，向你们表示男子汉们的心是多么刚强。提起劲来，迪克？——别怕我！——我几乎宁愿揍一个女人而不揍你。伯莎．梅森是疯子，而且出身于一个疯人家庭——一连三代的白痴和疯子！她的母亲，那个克里奥人既是个疯女人，又是个酒鬼！——我是同她的女儿结婚后才发现的，因为以前他们对家庭的秘密守口如瓶。伯莎像是—个百依百顺的孩子，在这两方面承袭了她母亲。我曾有过一位迷人的伴侣——纯洁、聪明、谦逊。你可能想象我是一个幸福的男人——我经历了多么丰富的场面：呵！我的阅历真有趣，要是你们知道就好了！不过我不再进一步解释了，布里格斯、沃德、梅森一—我邀请你们都上我家去，拜访一下普尔太太的病人，我的妻子！——你们会看到我受骗上当所娶的是怎样一个人，评判一下我是不是有权撕毁协议，寻求至少是符合人性的同情。“这位姑娘，”他瞧着我往下说，“沃德，对讨厌的秘密，并不比你们知道得更多。她认为一切既公平又合法，从来没有想到自己会落入骗婚的圈套，同一个受了骗的可怜虫结亲，这个可怜虫早已跟一个恶劣、疯狂、没有人性的伴侣结合！来吧，你们都跟我来？”

他依然紧握着我的手，离开了教堂。三位先生跟在后面。我们发现马车停在大厅的前门口。

“把它送回马车房去，约翰，”罗切斯特先生冷冷地说，“今天不需要它了。”

我们进门时，费尔法克斯太太、阿黛勒、索菲娅、莉娅都走上前来迎接我们。

“统统都向后转。”主人喊道，“收起你们的祝贺吧？谁需要它呢？一一我可不要！一
一它晚了十五年？”

他继续往前走，登上楼梯，一面仍紧握着我的手，一面招呼先生们跟着他，他们照办了。我们走上第一道楼梯，经过门廊，继续上了三楼。罗切斯特先生的万能钥匙打开了这扇又矮又黑的门，让我进了铺有花毯的房间，房内有一张大床和一个饰有图案的柜子。

“你知道这个地方，梅森，”我们的向导说，“她在这里咬了你，刺了你。”

他撩起墙上的帷幔，露出了第二扇门，又把它打开。在一间没有窗户的房间里，燃着一堆火，外面围着一个又高又坚固的火炉围栏，从天花板上垂下的铁链子上悬挂着一些灯。格雷斯．普尔俯身向着火，似乎在平底锅里炒着什么东西。在房间另一头的暗影里，一个人影在前后跑动，那究竟是什么，是动物还是人，粗粗一看难以辨认。它好象四肢着地趴着，又是抓又是叫，活象某种奇异的野生动物，只不过有衣服蔽体罢了。一头黑白相间、乱如鬃毛的头发遮去了她的头和脸。

“早上好，普尔太太？”罗切斯特先生说，“你好吗？你照管的人今天怎么样？”

“马马虎虎，先生，谢谢你，”格雷斯一面回答，一面小心地把烧滚了的乱七八糟的东西放在炉旁架子上。“有些急躁，但没有动武。”

一阵凶恶的叫声似乎揭穿了她报喜不报忧，这条穿了衣服的野狗直起身来，高高地站立在后腿上。

“哎呀，先生，她看见了你？”格雷斯嚷道，“你还是别呆在这儿。”

“只呆一会儿，格雷斯。你得让我呆一会儿。”

“那么当心点，先生！看在上帝面上，当心！”

这疯子咆哮着，把她乱蓬蓬的头发从脸上撩开，凶狠地盯着来访者。我完全记得那发紫的脸膛，肿胀的五言。普尔太太走上前来。

“走开，”罗切斯特先生说着把她推到了一边。“我想她现在手里没有刀吧？而且我防备着。”

“谁也不知道她手里有什么，先生，她那么狡猾，人再小心也斗不过她的诡计。”

“我们还是离开她吧。”梅森悄声说。

“见鬼去吧！”这便是他姐夫的建议。

“小心！”格雷斯大喝一声。三位先生不约而同地往后退缩，罗切斯特先生把我推到他背后。疯子猛扑过来，凶恶地卡住他喉咙，往脸上就咬。他们搏斗着。她是大个子女人，腰圆膀粗，身材几乎与她丈夫不相上下。厮打时显露出男性的力量，尽管罗切斯特先生有着运动员的体质，但不止一次险些儿被她闷死。他完全可以狠狠一拳将她制服，但他不愿出手，宁愿扭斗。最后他终于按住了她的一双胳膊。格雷斯递给他一根绳子，他将她的手反绑起来，又用身边的一根绳子将她绑在一把椅子上。这一连串动作是在凶神恶煞般地叫喊和猛烈的反扑中完成的。随后罗切斯特先生转向旁观者，带着刻毒而凄楚的笑看着他们。

“这就是我的妻子，”他说。“这就是我平生唯一一次尝到的夫妇间拥抱的滋味一—这就是我闲暇时所能得到的爱抚与慰藉，而这是我希望拥有的（他把他的手放在我肩上）。这位年青姑娘，那么严肃，那么平静地站在地狱门口，镇定自若地观看着—个魔鬼的游戏。我要她，是希望在那道呛人的菜之后换换口味。沃德和布里格斯，瞧瞧两者何等不同！把这双明净的眼睛同那边红红的眼珠比较一下吧．一—把这张脸跟那付鬼相一—这付身材与那个庞然大物比较一下吧，然后再来审判我吧。布道的牧师和护法的律师，都请记住，你们怎么来审判我，将来也会受到怎么样的审判。现在你们走吧，我得要把我的宝贝藏起来了。”

我们都走了出来。罗切斯特先生留后一步，对格雷斯．普尔再作了交代。我们下楼时律师对我说：

“你，小姐，”他说，“证明完全是无辜的，等梅森先生返回马德拉后，你的叔叔听说是这么回事会很高兴——真的，要是他还活着。”

“我的叔叔！他怎么样？你认识他吗？”

“梅森先生认识他，几年来爱先生一直与他丰沙尔的家保持通讯联系。你的叔叔接到你的信，得悉你与罗切斯特先生有意结合时，梅森先生正好也在，他是回牙买加的路上，逗留在马德拉群岛疗养的。爱先生提起了这个消息，因为他知道我的一个顾客同一位名叫罗切斯特先生的相熟。你可以想象，梅森先生既惊讶又难受，便披露了事情的真相。很遗憾，你的叔叔现在卧病在床，考虑到疾病的性质，一—肺病——以及疾病的程度，他很可能会一病不起。他不可能亲自赶到英国，把你从掉入的陷井中解救出来，但他恳求梅森先生立即采取措施，阻止这桩诈骗婚姻。他让我帮他的忙。我使用了一切公文快信，谢天谢地，总算并不太晚，无疑你也必定有同感。要不是我确信你还没赶到马德拉群岛，你的叔叔会去世，我会建议你同梅森先生结伴而行。但事情既然如此，你还是留在英国，等你接到他的信或者听到关于他的消息后再说。我们还有什么别的事需要呆着吗？”他问梅西森先生。

“不，没有了，—一我们走吧，”听者急不可耐地回答。他们没有等得及向罗切斯特先生告别，便从大厅门出去了。牧师呆着同他高傲的教区居民交换了几句劝导或是责备的话，尽了这番责任，也离去了。

我听见他走了，这时我已回到自己的房间里，正站在半掩着的门旁边。人去楼空，我把自己关进房间，拴上门，免得别人闯进来，然后开始——不是哭泣，不是悲伤，我很镇静，不会这样，而是——机械地脱下婚礼服，换上昨天我要最后一次穿戴的呢袍。随后我坐了下来，感到浑身疲软。我用胳膊支着桌子，将头靠在手上。现在我开始思考了。在此之前，我只是听，只是看，只是动——由别人领着或拖着，跟上跟下——观看事情一件件发生，秘密一桩桩揭开。而现在，我开始思考了。

早上是够平静的一—除了与疯子交手的短暂场面，一切都平平静静。教堂里的一幕也并没有高声大气，没有暴怒，没有大声吵闹，没有争辩，没有对抗或挑衅，没有眼泪，没有哭泣。几句话一说，平静地宣布对婚姻提出异议，罗切斯特先生问了几个严厉而简短的问题，对方作了回答和解释，援引了证据，我主人公开承认了事实，随后看了活的证据。闯入者走了，一切都过去了。

我像往常那样呆在我的房间里一—只有我自己，没有明显的变化。我没有受到折磨，损伤或者残害，然而昨天的简.爱又在哪儿呢？—一她的生命在哪儿？——她的前程在哪儿？

简.爱，她曾是一个热情洋溢、充满期待的女人——差一点做了新娘——再度成了冷漠、孤独的姑娘。她的生命很苍白，她的前程很凄凉。圣诞的霜冻在仲夏就降临；十二月的白色风暴六月里便刮得天旋地转；冰凌替成熟的苹果上了釉彩；积雪摧毁了怒放的玫瑰；干草田和玉米地里覆盖着一层冰冻的寿衣；昨夜还姹紫嫣红的小巷，今日无人踩踏的积雪已经封住了道路；十二小时之前还树叶婆娑、香气扑鼻犹如热带树丛的森林，现在已经白茫茫一片荒芜，犹如冬日挪威的松林，我的希望全都熄灭了——受到了微妙致命的一击，就像埃及的长子一夜之间所受到的一样。我观察了自己所抱的希望，昨天还是那么繁茂，那么光彩照人，现在却变得光秃秃、寒颤颤、铅灰色了——成了永远无法复活的尸体，我审视着我的爱情，我主人的那种感情——他所造成的感情，在我心里打着寒颤，象冰冷摇篮里的一个病孩，病痛已经缠身，却又难以回到罗切斯特先生的怀抱——无法从他的胸膛得到温暖。呵，永远也回不到他那儿去了，因为信念已被扼杀——信任感已被摧毁！对我来说，罗切斯特先生不是过去的他了，因为他已不像我所想象的那样。我不会把恶行加予他，我不会说他背叛了我，但是真理那种一尘不染的属性，已与他无缘了，我必须离他而去，这点我看得非常清楚，什么时侯起——怎样走——上哪儿去，我还不能明辨。但我相信他自己会急于把我从桑菲尔德撵走，他似乎已不可能对我怀有真情，而只有忽冷忽热的激情，而且受到压抑。他不再需要我了，现在我甚至竟害怕与他狭路相逢，他一见我准感到厌恶。呵，我的眼睛多瞎！我的行动多软弱！

我的眼晴被蒙住了，而且闭了起来。旋转的黑暗飘浮着似乎包围了我，思绪滚滚而来犹如黑色的浊流。我自暴自弃，浑身松弛，百无聊赖，仿佛躺在一条大河干枯的河床上，我听见洪水从远山奔泻而来，我感觉到激流逼近了，爬起来吧，我没有意志，逃走吧，我又没有力气。我昏昏沉沉地躺着，渴望死去。有一个念头仍像生命那样在我内心搏动——上帝的怀念，并由此而产生了无言的祈祷。这些话在我没有阳光的内心往复徘徊，仿佛某些话该悄声倾吐出来，却又无力去表达它们。

“求你不要远离我，因为急难临近了，没有人帮助我。”

急难确实近了，而我并没有请求上天消灾灭祸——我既没有合上双手，没有屈膝，也没有张嘴——急难降临了，洪流滚滚而来把我吞没。我意识到我的生活十分狐单，我的爱情己经失去，我的希望已被浇灭，我的信心受了致命的一击，这整个想法犹如—个色彩单调的块状物，在我头顶有力地大幅度摆动着。这痛苦的时刻不堪描述。真是“水灌进了我的灵魂，我陷入了深深的泥淖，觉得无处立足，坠进深渊，激流把我淹没了。”

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sunney1(派派新人)

27楼 2013-02-08

太长了，看的眼睛好累

伊墨君(热心会员)

26楼 2013-02-07

Chapter 25

THE month of courtship had wasted: its very last hours were beingnumbered. There was no putting off the day that advanced- the bridalday; and all preparations for its arrival were complete. I, at least,had nothing more to do: there were my trunks, packed, locked, corded,ranged in a row along the wall of my little chamber; to-morrow, at thistime, they would be far on their road to London: and so should I(D.V.),- or rather, not I, but one Jane Rochester, a person whom as yet Iknew not. The cards of address alone remained to nail on: they lay,four little squares, in the drawer. Mr. Rochester had himself writtenthe direction, 'Mrs. Rochester,- Hotel, London,' on each: I could notpersuade myself to affix them, or to have them affixed. Mrs. Rochester!She did not exist: she would not be born till to-morrow, some time aftereight o'clock A.M.; and I would wait to be assured she had come intothe world alive before I assigned to her all that property. It wasenough that in yonder closet, opposite my dressing-table, garments saidto be hers had already displaced my black stuff Lowood frock and strawbonnet: for not to me appertained that suit of wedding raiment; thepearl-coloured robe, the vapoury veil pendent from the usurpedportmanteau. I shut the closet to conceal the strange, wraith-likeapparel it contained;
which, at this evening hour- nine o'clock- gaveout certainly a most ghostly shimmer through the shadow of myapartment. 'I will leave you by yourself, white dream,' I said. 'I amfeverish: I hear the wind blowing: I will go out of doors and feel it.'
It was not only the hurry of preparation that made me feverish; notonly the anticipation of the great change- the new life which was tocommence to-morrow: both these circumstances had their share, doubtless,in producing that restless, excited mood which hurried me forth at thislate hour into the darkening grounds: but a third cause influenced mymind more than they.
I had at heart a strange and anxious thought. Something had happenedwhich I could not comprehend; no one knew of or had seen the event butmyself: it had taken place the preceding night. Mr. Rochester that nightwas absent from home; nor was he yet returned: business had called himto a small estate of two or three farms he possessed thirty miles off-business it was requisite he should settle in person, previous to hismeditated departure from England. I waited now his return; eager todisburthen my mind, and to seek of him the solution of the enigma thatperplexed me. Stay till he comes, reader: and, when I disclose my secretto him, you shall share the confidence.
I sought the orchard, driven to its shelter by the wind, which allday had blown strong and full from the south, without, however, bringinga speck of rain. Instead of subsiding as night drew on, it seemed toaugment its rush and deepen its roar: the trees blew steadfastly oneway, never writhing round, and scarcely tossing back their boughs oncein an hour; so continuous was the strain bending their branchy headsnorthward- the clouds drifted from pole to pole, fast following, mass onmass: no glimpse of blue sky had been visible that July day.
It was not without a certain wild pleasure I ran before the wind,delivering my trouble of mind to the measureless air-torrent thunderingthrough space. Descending the laurel walk, I faced the wreck of thechestnut-tree; it stood up black and riven: the trunk, split down thecentre, gaped ghastly. The cloven halves were not broken from eachother, for the firm base and strong roots kept them unsundered below;though community of vitality was destroyed- the sap could flow no more:their great boughs on each side were dead, and next winter's tempestswould be sure to fell one or both to earth: as yet, however, they mightbe said to form one tree- a ruin, but an entire ruin.
'You did right to hold fast to each other,' I said: as if themonster-splinters were living things, and could hear me. 'I think,scathed as you look, and charred and scorched, there must be a littlesense of life in you yet, rising out of that adhesion at the faithful,honest roots: you will never have green leaves more- never more seebirds making nests and singing idyls in your boughs; the time ofpleasure and love is over with you: but you are not desolate: each ofyou has a comrade to sympathise with him in his decay.' As I looked upat them, the moon appeared momentarily in that part of the sky whichfilled their fissure; her disk was blood-red and half overcast; sheseemed to throw on me one bewildered, dreary glance, and buried herselfagain instantly in the deep drift of cloud. The wind fell, for a second,round Thornfield; but far away over wood and water, poured a wild,melancholy wail: it was sad to listen to, and I ran off again.
Here and there I strayed through the orchard, gathered up the appleswith which the grass round the tree roots was thickly strewn; then Iemployed myself in dividing the ripe from the unripe; I carried theminto the house and put them away in the storeroom. Then I repaired tothe library to ascertain whether the fire was lit, for, though summer, Iknew on such a gloomy evening Mr. Rochester would like to see acheerful hearth when he came in: yes, the fire had been kindled sometime, and burnt well. I placed his arm-chair by the chimney-corner: Iwheeled the table near it: I let down the curtain, and had the candlesbrought in ready for lighting. More restless than ever, when I hadcompleted these arrangements I could not sit still, nor even remain inthe house: a little timepiece in the room and the old clock in the hallsimultaneously struck ten.
'How late it grows!' I said. 'I will run down to the gates: it ismoonlight at intervals; I can see a good way on the road. He may becoming now, and to meet him will save some minutes of suspense.'
The wind roared high in the great trees which embowered the gates;but the road as far as I could see, to the right hand and the left, wasall still and solitary: save for the shadows of clouds crossing it atintervals as the moon looked out, it was a long pale line, unvaried byone moving speck.
A puerile tear dimmed my eye while I looked- a tear of disappointmentand impatience; ashamed of it, I wiped it away. I lingered; the moonshut herself wholly within her chamber, and drew close her curtain ofdense cloud: the night grew dark; rain came driving fast on the gale.
'I wish he would come! I wish he would come!' I exclaimed, seizedwith hypochondriac foreboding. I had expected his arrival before tea;now it was dark: what could keep him? Had an accident happened?
The event of last night again recurred to me. I interpreted it as awarning of disaster. I feared my hopes were too bright to be realised;and I had enjoyed so much bliss lately that I imagined my fortune hadpassed its meridian, and must now decline.
'Well, I cannot return to the house,' I thought; 'I cannot sit by thefireside, while he is abroad in inclement weather: better tire my limbsthan strain my heart; I will go forward and meet him.'
I set out; I walked fast, but not far: ere I had measured a quarterof a mile, I heard the tramp of hoofs; a horseman came on, full gallop; adog ran by his side. Away with evil presentiment! It was he: here hewas, mounted on Mesrour, followed by Pilot. He saw me; for the moon hadopened a blue field in the sky, and rode in it watery bright: he tookhis hat off, and waved it round his head. I now ran to meet him.
'There!' he exclaimed, as he stretched out his hand and bent from thesaddle: 'you can't do without me, that is evident. Step on my boot-toe;give me both hands: mount!'
I obeyed: joy made me agile: I sprang up before him. A hearty kissingI got for a welcome, and some boastful triumph, which I swallowed aswell as I could. He checked himself in his exultation to demand, 'But isthere anything the matter, Janet, that you come to meet me at such anhour? Is there anything wrong?'
'No, but I thought you would never come. I could not bear to wait in the house for you, especially with this rain and wind.'
'Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid; pull mycloak round you: but I think you are feverish, Jane: both your cheekand hand are burning hot. I ask again, is there anything the matter?'
'Nothing now; I am neither afraid nor unhappy.'
'Then you have been both?'
'Rather: but I'll tell you all about it by and by, sir; and I daresay you will only laugh at me for my pains.'
'I'll laugh at you heartily when to-morrow is past; till then I darenot: my prize is not certain. This is you, who have been as slippery asan eel this last month, and as thorny as a briar-rose? I could not lay afinger anywhere but I was pricked; and now I seem to have gathered up astray lamb in my arms. You wandered out of the fold to seek yourshepherd, did you, Jane?'
'I wanted you: but don't boast. Here we are at Thornfield: now let me get down.'
He landed me on the pavement. As John took his horse, and he followedme into the hall, he told me to make haste and put something dry on,and then return to him in the library; and he stopped me, as I made forthe staircase, to extort a promise that I would not be long: nor was Ilong; in five minutes I rejoined him. I found him at supper.
'Take a seat and bear me company, Jane: please God, it is the lastmeal but one you will eat at Thornfield Hall for a long time.'
I sat down near him, but told him I could not eat.
'Is it because you have the prospect of a journey before you, Jane?
Is it the thoughts of going to London that takes away your appetite?'
'I cannot see my prospects clearly to-night, sir; and I hardly knowwhat thoughts I have in my head. Everything in life seems unreal.'
'Except me: I am substantial enough- touch me.'
'You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all: you are a mere dream.'
He held out his hand, laughing. 'Is that a dream?' said he, placingit close to my eyes. He had a rounded, muscular, and vigorous hand, aswell as a long, strong arm.
'Yes; though I touch it, it is a dream,' said I, as I put it down from before my face. 'Sir, have you finished supper?'
'Yes, Jane.'
I rang the bell and ordered away the tray. When we were again alone, Istirred the fire, and then took a low seat at my master's knee.
'It is near midnight,' I said.
'Yes: but remember, Jane, you promised to wake with me the night before my wedding.'
'I did; and I will keep my promise, for an hour or two at least: I have no wish to go to bed.'
'Are all your arrangements complete?'
'All, sir.'
'And on my part likewise,' he returned, 'I have settled everything;and we shall leave Thornfield to-morrow, within half an hour after ourreturn from church.'
'Very well, sir.'
'With what an extraordinary smile you uttered that word- "very well,"Jane! What a bright spot of colour you have on each cheek! and howstrangely your eyes glitter! Are you well?'
'I believe I am.'
'Believe! What is the matter? Tell me what you feel.'
'I could not, sir: no words could tell you what I feel. I wish thispresent hour would never end: who knows with what fate the next day maycome charged?'
'This is hypochondria, Jane. You have been over-excited, or over-fatigued.'
'Do you, sir, feel calm and happy?'
'Calm?- no: but happy- to the heart's core.'
I looked up at him to read the signs of bliss in his face: it was ardent and flushed.
'Give me your confidence, Jane,' he said: 'relieve your mind of anyweight that oppresses it, by imparting it to me. What do you fear?- thatI shall not prove a good husband?'
'It is the idea farthest from my thoughts.'
'Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?- of the new life into which you are passing?'
'No.'
'You puzzle me, Jane: your look and tone of sorrowful audacity perplex and pain me. I want an explanation.'
'Then, sir, listen. You were from home last night?'
'I was: I know that; and you hinted a while ago at something whichhad happened in my absence:- nothing, probably, of consequence; but, inshort, it has disturbed you. Let me hear it. Mrs. Fairfax has saidsomething, perhaps? or you have overheard the servants talk?- yoursensitive self-respect has been wounded?'
'No, sir.' It struck twelve- I waited till the timepiece hadconcluded its silver chime, and the clock its hoarse, vibrating stroke,and then I proceeded.
'All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaselessbustle; for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any hauntingfears about the new sphere, et cetera: I think it a glorious thing tohave the hope of living with you, because I love you. No, sir, don'tcaress me now- let me talk undisturbed.
Yesterday I trusted well in Providence, and believed that events wereworking together for your good and mine: it was a fine day, if yourecollect- the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensionsrespecting your safety or comfort on your journey. I walked a littlewhile on the pavement after tea, thinking of you; and I beheld you inimagination so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence. Ithought of the life that lay before me- your life, sir- an existencemore expansive and stirring than my own: as much more so as the depthsof the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its ownstrait channel. I wondered why moralists call this world a drearywilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose. Just at sunset, the airturned cold and the sky cloudy: I went in, Sophie called me upstairs tolook at my wedding-dress, which they had just brought; and under it inthe box I found your present- the veil which, in your princelyextravagance, you sent for from London: resolved, I suppose, since Iwould not have jewels, to cheat me into accepting something as costly.
I smiled as I unfolded it, and devised how I would tease you aboutyour aristocratic tastes, and your efforts to masque your plebeian bridein the attributes of a peeress. I thought how I would carry down to youthe square of unembroidered blond I had myself prepared as a coveringfor my low-born head, and ask if that was not good enough for a womanwho could bring her husband neither fortune, beauty, nor connections. Isaw plainly how you would look; and heard your impetuous republicananswers, and your haughty disavowal of any necessity on your part toaugment your wealth, or elevate your standing, by marrying either apurse or a coronet.'
'How well you read me, you witch!' interposed Mr. Rochester: 'butwhat did you find in the veil besides its embroidery? Did you findpoison, or a dagger, that you look so mournful now?'
'No, no, sir; besides the delicacy and richness of the fabric, Ifound nothing save Fairfax Rochester's pride; and that did not scare me,because I am used to the sight of the demon. But, sir, as it grew dark,the wind rose: it blew yesterday evening, not as it blows now- wild andhigh- but "with a sullen, moaning sound" far more eerie.
I wished you were at home. I came into this room, and the sight ofthe empty chair and fireless hearth chilled me. For some time after Iwent to bed, I could not sleep- a sense of anxious excitement distressedme. The gale still rising, seemed to my ear to muffle a mournfulunder-sound; whether in the house or abroad I could not at first tell,but it recurred, doubtful yet doleful at every lull; at last I made outit must be some dog howling at a distance. I was glad when it ceased. Onsleeping, I continued in dreams the idea of a dark and gusty night. Icontinued also the wish to be with you, and experienced a strange,regretful consciousness of some barrier dividing us. During all my firstsleep, I was following the windings of an unknown road; total obscurityenvironed me; rain pelted me; I was burdened with the charge of alittle child: a very small creature, too young andfeeble to walk, andwhich shivered in my cold arms, and wailed piteously in my ear. Ithought, sir, that you were on the road a long way before me; and Istrained every nerve to overtake you, and made effort on effort to utteryour name and entreat you to stop- but my movements were fettered, andmy voice still died away inarticulate; while you, I felt, withdrewfarther and farther every moment.'
'And these dreams weigh on your spirits now, Jane, when I am close toyou? Little nervous subject! Forget visionary woe, and think only ofreal happiness! You say you love me, Janet: yes- I will not forget that;and you cannot deny it. Those words did not die inarticulate on yourlips. I heard them clear and soft: a thought too solemn perhaps, butsweet as music- "I think it is a glorious thing to have the hope ofliving with you, Edward, because I love you." Do you love me, Jane?-repeat it.'
'I do, sir- I do, with my whole heart.'
'Well,' he said, after some minutes' silence, 'it is strange; butthat sentence has penetrated my breast painfully. Why? I think becauseyou said it with such an earnest, religious energy, and because yourupward gaze at me now is the very sublime of faith, truth, and devotion:it is too much as if some spirit were near me. Look wicked, Jane: asyou know well how to look: coin one of your wild, shy, provoking smiles,tell me you hate me- tease me, vex me; do anything but move me: I wouldrather be incensed than saddened.'
'I will tease you and vex you to your heart's content, when I have finished my tale: but hear me to the end.'
'I thought, Jane, you had told me all. I thought I had found the source of your melancholy in a dream.'
I shook my head. 'What! is there more? But I will not believe it tobe anything important. I warn you of incredulity beforehand. Go on.'
The disquietude of his air, the somewhat apprehensive impatience of his manner, surprised me: but I proceeded.
'I dreamt another dream, sir: that Thornfield Hall was a dreary ruin,the retreat of bats and owls. I thought that of all the stately frontnothing remained but a shell-like wall, very high and veryfragile-looking. I wandered, on a moonlight night, through thegrass-grown enclosure within: here I stumbled over a marble hearth, andthere over a fallen fragment of cornice. Wrapped up in a shawl, I stillcarried the unknown little child: I might not lay it down anywhere,however tired were my arms- however much its weight impeded my progress,I must retain it. I heard the gallop of a horse at a distance on theroad; I was sure it was you; and you were departing for many years andfor a distant country. I climbed the thin wall with frantic periloushaste, eager to catch one glimpse of you from the top: the stones rolledfrom under my feet, the ivy branches I grasped gave way, the childclung round my neck in terror, and almost strangled me; at last I gainedthe summit. I saw you like a speck on a white track, lessening everymoment. The blast blew so strong I could not stand. I sat down on thenarrow ledge; I hushed the scared infant in my lap: you turned an angleof the road: I bent forward to take a last look; the wall crumbled; Iwas shaken; the child rolled from my knee, I lost my balance, fell, andwoke.'
'Now, Jane, that is all.'
'All the preface, sir; the tale is yet to come. On waking, a gleamdazzled my eyes; I thought- Oh, it is daylight! But I was mistaken; itwas only candlelight. Sophie, I supposed, had come in.
There was a light in the dressing-table, and the door of the closet,where, before going to bed, I had hung my wedding-dress and veil, stoodopen; I heard a rustling there. I asked, "Sophie, what are you doing?"No one answered; but a form emerged from the closet; it took the light,held it aloft, and surveyed the garments pendent from the portmanteau."Sophie! Sophie!" I again cried: and still it was silent.
I had risen up in bed, I bent forward: first surprise, thenbewilderment, came over me; and then my blood crept cold through myveins. Mr. Rochester, this was not Sophie, it was not Leah, it was notMrs. Fairfax: it was not- no, I was sure of it, and am still- it was noteven that strange woman, Grace Poole.'
'It must have been one of them,' interrupted my master.
'No, sir, I solemnly assure you to the contrary. The shape standingbefore me had never crossed my eyes within the precincts of ThornfieldHall before; the height, the contour were new to me.'
'Describe it, Jane.'
'It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hairhanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on: it waswhite and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I cannot tell.'
'Did you see her face?'
'Not at first. But presently she took my veil from its place; sheheld it up, gazed at it long, and then she threw it over her own head,and turned to the mirror. At that moment I saw the reflection of thevisage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong glass.'
'And how were they?'
'Fearful and ghastly to me- oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! Itwas a discoloured face- it was a savage face. I wish I could forget theroll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of thelineaments!'
'Ghosts are usually pale, Jane.'
'This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the browfurrowed: the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes.
Shall I tell you of what it reminded me?'
'You may.'
'Of the foul German spectre- the Vampyre.'
'Ah!- what did it do?'
'Sir, it removed my veil from its gaunt head, rent it in two parts, and flinging both on the floor, trampled on them.'
'Afterwards?'
'It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw dawnapproaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door.
Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared uponme- she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it undermy eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lostconsciousness: for the second time in my life- only the second time- Ibecame insensible from terror.'
'Who was with you when you revived?'
'No one, sir, but the broad day. I rose, bathed my head and face inwater, drank a long draught; felt that though enfeebled I was not ill,and determined that to none but you would I impart this vision. Now sir,tell me who and what that woman was?'
'The creature of an over-stimulated brain; that is certain. I must becareful of you, my treasure: nerves like yours were not made for roughhandling.'
'Sir, depend on it, my nerves were not in fault; the thing was real: the transaction actually took place.'
'And your previous dreams, were they real too? Is Thornfield Hall aruin? Am I severed from you by insuperable obstacles? Am I leaving youwithout a tear- without a kiss- without a word?'
'Not yet.'
'Am I about to do it? Why, the day is already commenced which is tobind us indissolubly; and when we are once united, there shall be norecurrence of these mental terrors: I guarantee that.'
'Mental terrors, sir! I wish I could believe them to be only such: Iwish it more now than ever; since even you cannot explain to me themystery of that awful visitant.'
'And since I cannot do it, Jane, it must have been unreal.'
'But, sir, when I said so to myself on rising this morning, and when Ilooked round the room to gather courage and comfort from the cheerfulaspect of each familiar object in full daylight, there- on the carpet- Isaw what gave the distinct lie to my hypothesis,- the veil, torn fromtop to bottom in two halves!'
I felt Mr. Rochester start and shudder; he hastily flung his armsround me. 'Thank God!' he exclaimed, 'that if anything malignant didcome near you last night, it was only the veil that was harmed. Oh, tothink what might have happened!'
He drew his breath short, and strained me so close to him, I couldscarcely pant. After some minutes' silence, he continued, cheerily-
'Now, Janet, I'll explain to you all about it. It was half dream,half reality. A woman did, I doubt not, enter your room: and that womanwas- must have been- Grace Poole. You call her a strange being yourself:from all you know, you have reason so to call her- what did she do tome? what to Mason? In a state between sleeping and waking, you noticedher entrance and her actions; but feverish, almost delirious as youwere, you ascribed to her a goblin appearance different from her own:the long dishevelled hair, the swelled black face, the exaggeratedstature, were figments of imagination; results of nightmare: thespiteful tearing of the veil was real: and it is like her. I see youwould ask why I keep such a woman in my house:
when we have been married a year and a day, I will tell you; but notnow. Are you satisfied, Jane? Do you accept my solution of the mystery?'
I reflected, and in truth it appeared to me the only possible one:satisfied I was not, but to please him I endeavoured to appear so-relieved, I certainly did feel; so I answered him with a contentedsmile. And now, as it was long past one, I prepared to leave him.
'Does not Sophie sleep with Adele in the nursery?' he asked, as I lit my candle.
'Yes, sir.'
'And there is room enough in Adele's little bed for you. You mustshare it with her to-night, Jane: it is no wonder that the incident youhave related should make you nervous, and I would rather you did notsleep alone: promise me to go to the nursery.'
'I shall be very glad to do so, sir.'
'And fasten the door securely on the inside. Wake Sophie when you goupstairs, under pretence of requesting her to rouse you in good timeto-morrow; for you must be dressed and have finished breakfast beforeeight. And now, no more sombre thoughts: chase dull care away, Janet.Don't you hear to what soft whispers the wind has fallen? and there isno more beating of rain against the window-panes: look here' (he liftedup the curtain)- 'it is a lovely night!'
It was. Half heaven was pure and stainless: the clouds, now troopingbefore the wind, which had shifted to the west, were filing off eastwardin long, silvered columns. The moon shone peacefully.
'Well,' said Mr. Rochester, gazing inquiringly into my eyes, 'how is my Janet now?'
'The night is serene, sir; and so am I.'
'And you will not dream of separation and sorrow to-night; but of happy love and blissful union.'
This prediction was but half fulfilled: I did not indeed dream ofsorrow, but as little did I dream of joy; for I never slept at all.With little Adele in my arms, I watched the slumber of childhood- sotranquil, so passionless, so innocent- and waited for the coming day:all my life was awake and astir in my frame: and as soon as the sun roseI rose too. I remember Adele clung to me as I left her: I remember Ikissed her as I loosened her little hands from my neck; and I cried overher with strange emotion, and quitted her because I feared my sobswould break her still sound repose. She seemed the emblem of my pastlife; and he I was now to array myself to meet, the dread, but adored,type of my unknown future day.

一个月的求婚期过去了，只剩下了最后几个小时。结婚的日子已经临近，不会推迟。一切准备工作也已就绪，至少我手头没有别的事儿要干了。我的箱子已收拾停当，锁好，捆好，沿小房间的墙根，一字儿摆开，明天这个时候，这些东西会早已登上去伦敦的旅程，还有我（如蒙上帝恩允）——或者不如说，不是我而是一位我目前尚不认识的，叫作简．罗切斯特的人，只有地址标签还没贴上，那四个小方块仍躺在抽屉里。罗切斯特先生亲自在每个标签上书写了：“伦敦××旅馆罗切斯特太太”这几个字。我无法让自己或者别人把它们贴上去。罗切斯特太太！她并不存在，要到明天八点钟后的某个时候才降生。我得等到完全相信她已经活生生地来到这个世界时，才把那份财产划归她。在我梳妆台对面的衣柜里，一些据说是她的衣物，已经取代了她罗沃德的黑呢上衣和草帽。这已经是足够的了，因为那套婚礼服，以及垂挂在临时占用的钩子上的珠白色长袍和簿雾似的面纱，本不属于她的。我关上了衣柜，隐去了里面幽灵似的奇装异服。在晚间九点这个时辰，这些衣著在我房间的暗影里，发出了阴森森的微光。“我要让你独个儿留着，白色的梦幻，”我说。“我兴奋难耐，我听见风在劲吹，我要出门去感受一下。”
使我兴奋的不仅是匆匆忙忙的结婚准备，也不仅是因为对巨大的变化，明天开始的新生活所怀的希望。毫无疑问，两者都起了作用，使我兴奋不安，这么晚了还匆匆来到越来越黑的庭园。但是第三个原因对我的心理影响更大。
我内心深处埋藏着一种古怪而焦急的念头。这儿发生了一件我无法理解的事情，而且除了我，既无人知道，也无人见过。那是在前一天晚上发生的。罗切斯特先生出门去了，还没有回来。他因为有事上三十英里外的两三个小农庄去了——这些事务需要他在计划离开英国之前亲自去办理。此刻我等着他回来，急于卸去心头的包袱，请他解开困惑着我的谜。我要呆到他回来，读者，我一向他倾诉我的秘密，你们也就不言自明了。
我朝果园走去了。风把我驱赶到了隐蔽的角落。强劲的南风刮了整整一天，却没有带来一滴雨。入夜，风势非但没有减弱，反而越来越强，咆哮声越来越响。树木被一个劲儿地往一边吹着，从不改向，一个小时里，树枝几乎一次都没有朝反方向倒去，树梢一直紧绷着往北弯着。云块从一头飘到另一头，接踵而来，层层叠叠，七月的这一天看不到一丝蓝天。
我被风推着往前奔跑，把心头的烦恼付诸呼啸而过、无穷无尽的气流，倒也不失为一种狂乱的喜悦。我走下月桂小径，面前是横遭洗劫的栗树，黑乎乎的已经被撕裂，却依然站立着，树干中一劈为二，可怕地张着大口。但裂开的两半并没有完全脱开，因为坚实的树基和强壮的树根使底部仍然连接着。尽管生命的整体遭到了破坏一—树汁已不再流动，每一片大树枝都已枯死，明年冬天的暴风雨一定会把裂开的一片或者两片都刮到地上，但是它们可以说合起来是一棵树一—虽已倒地，却完整无缺。
“你们这样彼此紧贴着做得很对，”我说，仿佛裂开的大树是有生命的东西，听得见我的话。“我想，尽管你看上去遍体鳞伤，焦黑一片，但你身上一定还有细微的生命，从朴实忠诚的树根的粘合处冒出来。你们再也不会吐出绿叶——再也看不到鸟儿在枝头筑巢，唱起悠闲的歌。你们欢乐的相爱时刻已经逝去，但你们不会感到孤寂，在朽败中你们彼此都有同病相怜的伙伴。”我抬头仰望树干，只见月亮瞬间出现在树干裂缝中的那一小片天空，血红的月轮被遮去了一半。她似乎向我投来困惑、忧郁的一瞥，随后又躲进了厚厚的云层。刹那之间，桑菲尔德一带的风势减弱了。但远处的树林里和水面上，却响起了狂野凄厉的哀号，听起来叫人伤心，于是我便跑开了。
我漫步穿过果园，把树根周围厚厚的青草底下的苹果捡起来，随后忙着把成熟了的苹果和其他苹果分开，带回屋里，放进储藏室。接着我上图书室去看看有没有生上火炉。因为虽是夏天，但我知道，在这祥一个阴沉的夜晚，罗切斯特先生喜欢一进门就看到令人愉快的炉火。不错，火生起来已经有一会儿了，烧得很旺。我把他的安乐椅放在炉角，把桌子推近它。我放下窗帘，让人送来蜡烛，以备点灯。
这一切都安排好以后，我很有些坐立不安，甚至连屋子里也呆不住了。房间里的小钟和厅里的老钟同时敲响了十点。
“这么晚了！”我自言自语地说：“我要跑下楼到大门口去。借着时隐时现的月光，我能看清楚很远的路。也许这会儿他就要来了，出去迎接他可以使我少担几分钟心。”
风在遮掩着大门的巨树中呼啸着。但我眼目所及，路的左右两旁都孤寂无声，只有云的阴影不时掠过。月亮探出头来时，也不过是苍白的一长条，单调得连一个移动的斑点都没有。
我仰望天空，一滴幼稚的眼泪蒙住了眼睛，那是失望和焦急之泪。我为此感到羞涩，赶紧把它抹去，但迟迟没有举步。月亮把自己整个儿关进了闺房，并拉上了厚实的云的窗帘。夜变得黑沉沉了，大风刮来了骤雨。
“但愿他会来！但愿他会来！”我大嚷着，心里产生了要发作疑病症的预感。茶点之前我就盼望他到了，而此刻天已经全黑。什么事儿耽搁了他呢？难道出了事故？我不由得想起了昨晚的一幕，我把它理解成是灾祸的预兆。我担心自己的希望过于光明而不可能实现，最近我享了那么多福，自己不免想到，我的运气已过了顶点，如今必然要走下坡路了。“是呀，我不能回屋去，”我思忖道，“我不能安坐在火炉边，而他却风风雨雨在外面闯荡。与其忧心如焚，不如脚头劳累一些，我要走上前去迎接他。”
我出发了，走得很快，但并不很远。还没到四分之一英里，我便听见了一阵马蹄声。一位骑手疾驰而来，旁边窜着一条狗。不祥的预感一扫而光！这正是他，骑着梅斯罗来了，身后跟着派洛特。他看见了我，因为月亮在空中开辟了一条蓝色的光带，在光带中飘移，晶莹透亮。他摘下帽子，在头顶挥动，我迎着他跑上去。
“瞧！”他大声叫道，一面伸出双手，从马鞍上弯下腰来。“显然你少了我不行，踩在我靴子尖上，把两只手都给我，上！”
我照他说的做了。心里一高兴身子也灵活了，我跳上马坐到他前面。他使劲吻我，表示对我的欢迎，随后又自鸣得意地吹了一番，我尽量一股脑儿都相信。得意之中他刹住话题问我：“怎么回事？珍妮特，你居然这个时候来接我？出了什么事了？”
“没有。不过我以为你永远不会回来了。我实在耐不住等在屋子里，尤其是雨下得那么大，风刮得那么紧。”
“确实是雨大风狂！是呀，看你像美人鱼一样滴着水。把我的斗篷拉过去盖住你。不过我想你有些发烧，简。你的脸颊和手都烫得厉害。我再问一句，出了什么事了吗？”
“现在没有。我既不害怕，也不难受。”
“那样的话，你刚才害怕过，难受过？”
“有一些，不过慢慢地我会告诉你的，先生。我猜想你只会讥笑我自寻烦恼。”
“明天一过，我要痛痛快快地笑你，但现在可不敢。我的宝贝还不一定到手。上个月你就像鳗鱼一样滑溜，像野蔷薇一样多刺，什么地方手指一碰就挨了刺。现在我好像己经把迷途的羔羊揣在怀里了，你溜出了羊栏来找你的牧羊人啦，简？”
“我需要你。可是别吹了，我们已经到了桑菲尔德，让我下去吧。”
他把我放到了石子路上。约翰牵走了马。他跟在我后头进了大厅，告诉我赶快换上干衣服，然后回到图书室他身边。我正向楼梯走去，他截住我，硬要我答应不要久待。我确实没有呆多久。五分钟后便回到了他身边，这时他正在用晚饭。
“坐下来陪我，简，要是上帝保佑，在很长一段时间内，这是你在桑菲尔德府吃的倒数第二顿饭了。”
我在他旁边坐下，但告诉他我吃不下了。
“难道是因为牵挂着面前的旅程，简？是不是因为想着去伦敦便弄得没有胃口了？”
“今晚我看不清自己的前景，先生。而且我几乎不知道脑子里想些什么？生活中的一切似乎都是虚幻的。”
“除了我。我是够实实在在的了——碰我一下吧。”
“你，先生，是最像幻影了，你只不过是个梦。”
他伸出手，大笑起来。“这也是个梦？”他把手放到紧挨我眼睛的地方说。他的手肌肉发达、强劲有力、十分匀称，他的胳膊又长又壮实。
“不错，我碰了它，但它是个梦，”我把他的手从面前按下说。“先生，你用完晚饭了吗？”
“吃好了，简。”
我打了铃，吩咐把托盘拿走。再次只剩下我们两人时，我拨了拔火，在我主人膝边找了个低矮的位置坐下。
“将近半夜了，”我说。
“不错，但记住，简，你答应过，在婚礼前夜同我一起守夜。”
“我的确答应过，而且我会信守诺言，至少陪你一两个小时，我不想睡觉。”
“你都收拾好了吗，”
“都好了，先生。”
“我也好了，”他说。“我什么都处理好了，明天从教堂里一回来，半小时之内我们就离开桑菲尔德。”
“很好，先生。”
“你说‘很好’两个字的时候，笑得真有些反常呀，简！你双颊上的一小块多亮！你眼睛里的闪光多怪呀！你身体好吗？”
“我相信很好。”
“相信！怎么回事？—一告诉我你觉得怎么样。”
“我没法告诉你，先生。我的感觉不是语言所能表达的。我真希望时光永远停留在此时此刻，谁知道下一个钟头的命运会怎样呢？”
“这是一种多疑症，简。这阵子你太激动了，要不太劳累了？”
个月光如水的夜晚，我漫步穿过里面杂草丛生的围场。一会儿这里绊着了大理石火炉，一会儿那里碰到了倒地的断梁。我披着头巾，仍然抱着那个不知名的孩子。尽管我的胳膊很吃力，我却不能把它随便放下—一尽管孩子拖累着我，但我必须带着它。我听见了远处路上一匹马的奔驰声。可以肯定那是你，而你离开已经多年，去了一个遥远的国家。我疯也似地不顾危险匆匆爬上那道薄薄的墙，急于从顶上看你一眼，石头从我的脚下滚落，我抓住的枝藤松开了，那孩子恐惧地紧抱住我的脖子，几乎使我窒息。最后我爬到了墙顶。我看见你在白色的路上象一个小点点，越来越小，越来越小。风刮得那么猛，我简直站都站不住。我坐在狭窄的壁架上，使膝头这个神圣婴儿安静下来。你在路上拐了一个弯，我俯下身子去看最后一眼。墙倒塌了，我抖动了一下，孩子从我膝头滚下，我失去了平衡，跌了下来，醒过来了。”
“现在，简，讲完了吧。”
“序幕完了，先生，故事还没有开场呢。醒来时一道强光弄得我眼睛发花。我想——呵，那是日光！可是我搞错了，那不过是烛光。我猜想索菲娅已经进屋了。梳妆台上有一盏灯，而衣橱门大开瓢T溧恼鸬床偶绦?迪氯ァ?br>
“昨天我忙了一整天，在无休止的忙碌中，我非常愉快。因为不像你似乎设想的那样，我并没有为新天地之类的忧虑而烦恼。我认为有希望同你一起生活是令人高兴的，因为我爱你。——不，先生，现在别来抚摸我——不要打扰我，让我说下去。昨天我笃信上苍，相信对你我来说是天助人愿。你总还记得，那是个晴朗的日子，天空那么宁静，让人毋须为你路途的平安和舒适担忧。甩完茶以后，我在石子路上走了一会，思念着你。在想象中，我看见你离我很近，几乎就在我跟前。我思忖着展现在我面前的生活——你的生活，先生——比我的更奢华，更激动人心，就像容纳了江河的大海深处，同海峡的浅滩相比，有天壤之别。我觉得奇怪，为什么道德学家称这个世界为凄凉的荒漠，对我来说，它好像盛开的玫瑰。就在夕阳西下的时候，气温转冷，天空布满阴云，我便走进屋去了。索菲娅叫我上楼去看看刚买的婚礼服，在婚礼服底下的盒子里，我看见了你的礼物——是你以王子般的阔绰，叫人从伦敦送来的面纱，我猜想你是因为我不愿要珠宝，而决计哄我接受某种昂贵的东西。我打开面纱，会心地笑了笑，算计着我怎样来嘲弄你的贵族派头，取笑你费尽心机要给你的平民新娘戴上贵族的假面。我设想自己如何把那块早已准备好遮盖自己出身卑微的脑袋，没有绣花的花边方丝巾拿下来，问问你，对一个既无法给她的丈夫提供财富、美色，也无法给他带来社会关系的女人，是不是够好的了。我清清楚楚地看到了你的表情。听到了你激烈而开明的回答；听到你高傲地否认有必要仰仗同钱袋与桂冠结亲，来增加自己的财富，或者提高自己的地位。”
“你把我看得真透，你这女巫！”罗切斯特先生插嘴道，“但除了刺绣之外，你还在面纱里发现了什么，你是见到了毒药，还是匕首，弄得现在这么神色悲哀？”
“没有，没有，先生。除了织品的精致和华丽，以及费尔法克斯．罗切斯特的傲慢，我什么也没有看到。他的傲慢可吓不倒我，因为我己见惯了魔鬼。可是，先生，天越来越黑，风也越来越大了。昨天的风不像现在的这样刮得强劲肆虐，而是响着“沉闷的低吟声，，显得分外古怪。我真希望你还在家里。我走进这个房间，一见到空空荡荡的椅子和没有生火的炉子，心便凉了半截。上床以后，我因为激动不安、忧心忡忡而久久不能入睡。风势仍在增强，在我听来，它似乎裹夹着一阵低声的哀鸣。这声音来自屋内还是户外，起初我无法辨认，但后来重又响了起来，每次间歇听上去模糊而悲哀。最后我终于弄清楚那一定是远处的狗叫声。后来叫声停了，我非常高兴。但一睡着，又继续梦见月黑风高的夜晚，继续盼着同你在一起，并且奇怪而遗憾地意识到，某种障碍把我们隔开了。刚睡着的时候，我沿着一条弯弯曲曲的陌生的路走着，四周一片模糊，雨点打在我身上，我抱着一个孩子，不堪重负。一个小不点儿，年纪太小身体又弱，不能走路，在我冰冷的怀抱里颤抖，在我耳旁哀哀地哭泣。我想，先生，你远远地走在我前面，我使出浑身劲儿要赶上你，一次次奋力叫着你的名字，央求你停下来一—但我的行动被束缚着，我的嗓音渐渐地沉下去，变得模糊不清，而你，我觉得分分秒秒离我越来越远了。”
“难道现在我在你跟前了，简，这些梦还使你心情沉重吗？神经质的小东西！忘掉梦幻中的灾祸，单想现实中的幸福吧！你说你爱我，珍妮特，不错——那我不会忘记，你也不能否认。这些话并没有在你嘴边模糊不清地消失。我听来既清晰而又温柔。也许这个想法过于严肃了一些，但却象音乐一样甜蜜：‘我想有希望同你生活在一起是令人愉快的，因为我爱你。’你爱我吗，简？再说一遍。”
“我爱你，先生一—我爱你，全身心爱你。”
“行啦，”他沉默片刻后说，“真奇怪，那句话刺痛了我的胸膛。为什么呢？我想是因为你说得那么虔敬，那么富有力量，因为你抬眼看我时，目光里透出了极度的信赖、真诚和忠心。那太难受了，仿佛在我身边的是某个精灵。摆出凶相来吧，简，你很明白该怎么摆。装出任性、腼腆、挑衅的笑容来，告诉我你恨我——戏弄我，惹怒我吧，什么都行，就是别打动我。我宁愿发疯而不愿哀伤。”
“等我把故事讲完，我会让你心满意足地戏弄你，惹怒你，听我讲完吧。”
“我想，简，你已经全都告诉我啦，我认为我已经发现你的忧郁全因为一个梦！”
我摇了摇头。
“什么！还有别的！但我不相信是什么了不起的事情。有话在先，我表示怀疑，讲下去吧。”
他神态不安，举止有些忧虑焦躁，我感到很惊奇，但我继续说下去了。
“我还做了另外一个梦，先生。梦见桑菲尔德府已是一处凄凉的废墟，成了蝙蝠和猫头鹰出没的地方。我想，那气派非凡的正壁已荡然无存，只剩下了一道贝壳般的墙，看上去很高也很单簿。在一个月光如水的夜晚，我漫步穿过里面杂草丛生的围场。一会儿这里绊着了大理石火炉，一会儿那里碰到了倒地的断梁。我披着头巾，仍然抱着那个不知名的孩子。尽管我的胳膊很吃力，我却不能把它随便放下—一尽管孩子拖累着我，但我必须带着它。我听见了远处路上一匹马的奔驰声。可以肯定那是你，而你离开已经多年，去了一个遥远的国家。我疯也似地不顾危险匆匆爬上那道薄薄的墙，急于从顶上看你一眼，石头从我的脚下滚落，我抓住的枝藤松开了，那孩子恐惧地紧抱住我的脖子，几乎使我窒息。最后我爬到了墙顶。我看见你在白色的路上象一个小点点，越来越小，越来越小。风刮得那么猛，我简直站都站不住。我坐在狭窄的壁架上，使膝头这个神圣婴儿安静下来。你在路上拐了一个弯，我俯下身子去看最后一眼。墙倒塌了，我抖动了一下，孩子从我膝头滚下，我失去了平衡，跌了下来，醒过来了。”
“现在，简，讲完了吧。”
“序幕完了，先生，故事还没有开场呢。醒来时一道强光弄得我眼睛发花。我想——呵，那是日光！可是我搞错了，那不过是烛光。我猜想索菲娅已经进屋了。梳妆台上有一盏灯，而衣橱门大开着，睡觉前我曾把我的婚礼服和面纱放进橱里。我听见了一阵悉悉粹粹的声音。我问，‘索菲娅，你在干嘛？’没有人回答。但是一个人影从橱里出来。它端着蜡烛，举得高高的，并且仔细端详着从架子上垂下来的衣服，‘索菲娅！索菲娅！’我又叫了起来，但它依然默不作声。我已在床上坐了起来，俯身向前。我先是感到吃惊，继而迷惑不解。我血管里的血也冷了。罗切斯特先生，这不是索菲娅，不是莉娅，也不是费尔法克斯太太。它不是一—不，我当时很肯定，现在也很肯定——甚至也不是那个奇怪的女人格雷斯．普尔。”
“一定是她们中间的一个，”主人打断了我的话。
“不，先生，我庄严地向你保证，跟你说的恰恰相反。站在我面前的人影，以前我从来没有在桑菲尔德府地区见过。那身高和外形对我来说都是陌生的。”
“描绘一下吧，简。”
“先生，那似乎是个女人，又高又大，背上垂着粗黑的长发，我不知道她穿了什么衣服，反正又白又整齐。但究竟是袍子，被单，还是裹尸布，我说不上来。”
“你看见她的脸了吗？”
“起先没有。但她立刻把我的面纱从原来的地方取下来，拿起来呆呆地看了很久，随后往自己头上一盖，转身朝着镜子。这一刹那，在暗淡的鸭蛋形镜子里，我清清楚楚地看到了她面容与五官的映像。”
“看上去怎么样？”
“我觉得像鬼一样吓人——呵，先生，我从来没有见过这样的面孔！没有血色，一付凶
相。但愿我忘掉那双骨碌碌转的红眼睛，那付黑乎乎五官鼓鼓的鬼相！”
“鬼魂总是苍白的，简。”
“先生，它却是紫色的。嘴唇又黑又肿，额头沟壑纵横，乌黑的眉毛怒竖着，两眼充满血丝，要我告诉你我想起了什么吗？”
“可以。”
“想起了可恶的德国幽灵——吸血鬼。”
“呵！——它干了什么啦？”
“先生，它从瘦削的头上取下面纱，撕成两半，扔在地上，踩了起来。”
“后来呢？”
“它拉开窗帘，往外张望。也许它看到已近拂晓，便拿着蜡烛朝房门退去。正好路过我床边时，鬼影停了下来。火一般的目光向我射来，她把蜡烛举起来靠近我的脸，在我眼皮底下把它吹灭了。我感到她白煞煞的脸朝我闪着光，我昏了过去。平生第二次—一只不过第二次——我吓昏了。”
“你醒过来时谁跟你在一起？”
“除了大白天，先生，谁也没有。我起身用水冲了头和脸，喝了一大口水。觉得身子虽然虚弱，却并没有生病，便决定除了你，对谁都不说这恶梦的事儿。好吧，先生，告诉我这女人是谁，干什么的？”
“无疑，那是头脑过于兴奋的产物。对你得小心翼翼，我的宝贝，象你这样的神经，生来就经不住粗暴对待的。”
“先生，毫无疑问，我的神经没有毛病，那东西是真的，事情确实发生了。”
“那么你以前的梦呢，都是真的吗？难道桑菲尔德府已化成一片废墟？难道你我被不可逾越的障碍隔开了？难道我离开了你，没有流一滴泪——没有吻一吻一—没有说一句话？”
“不，没有。”
“难道我就要这么干？一—嘿，把我们溶合在一起的日子已经到来，我们一旦结合，这种心理恐惧就再也不会发生，我敢保证。”
“心理恐惧！但愿我能相信不过如此而已！而既然连你都无法解释可怕的来访者之谜，现在我更希望只是心理恐惧了。”
“既然我无法解释，简，那就一定不会是真的。”
“不过，先生，我今天早晨起来，这么自言自语说着，在房间里东张西望，想从光天化日下每件眼熟的东西悦目的外表上，找到点勇气和慰籍——瞧，就在地毯上—一我看到了一件东西，完全否定了我原来的设想——那块从上到下被撕成两半的面纱！”
我觉得罗切斯特先生大吃一惊，打了个寒颤，急急忙忙搂住我脖子“谢天谢地！”他嚷道，“幸好昨晚你所遇到的险情，不过就是毁了面纱——哎呀，只要想一想还会出什么别的事呢？”
他喘着粗气，紧紧地搂住我，差点让我透不过气来。沉默片刻之后，他兴致十足地说下去：
“这一半是梦，一半是真。我并不怀疑确实有个女人进了你房间，那女人就是一—准是—一格雷斯．普尔。你自己把她叫作怪人，就你所知，你有理由这么叫她—一瞧她怎么对待我的？怎么对待梅森？在似睡非睡的状态下，你注意到她进了房间，看到了她的行动，但由于你兴奋得几乎发狂，你把她当成了不同于她本来面貌的鬼相：散乱的长发、黑黑的肿脸、夸大了的身材是你的臆想，恶梦的产物。恶狠狠撕毁面纱倒是真的，很象她干的事。我明白你会问，干嘛在屋里养着这样一个女人。等我们结婚一周年时，我会告诉你，而不是现在。你满意了吗，简？你同意对这个谜的解释吗？”
我想了一想，对我来说实在也只能这么解释了，说满意那倒未必，但为了使他高兴，我尽力装出这付样子来——说感到宽慰却是真的，于是我对他报之以满意的微笑。这时早过了一点钟，我准备向他告辞了。
“索菲娅不是同阿黛勒一起睡在育儿室吗？”我点起蜡烛时他问。
“是的，先生。”
“阿黛勒的小床还能睡得下你的，今晚得跟她一起睡，简。你说的事情会使你神经紧张，那也毫不奇怪。我倒情愿你不要单独睡，答应我到育儿室去。”
“我很乐意这样做，先生。”
“从里面把门拴牢。上楼的时候把索菲娅叫醒，就说请她明天及时把你叫醒，因为你得在八点前穿好衣服，吃好早饭。现在别再那么忧心忡忡了，抛开沉重的烦恼，珍妮特。你难道没有听见轻风的细语？雨点不再敲打窗户，瞧这儿——（他撩起窗帘）多么可爱的夜晚！”
确实如此。半个天空都明净如水。此刻，风已改由西面吹来，轻云在风前疾驰，朝东排列成长长的银色园柱，月亮洒下了宁静的光辉。
“好吧，”罗切斯特先生说，一边带着探询的目光窥视我。“这会儿我的珍妮特怎么样了？”
“夜晚非常平静，先生，我也一样。”
“明天除了欢乐的爱和幸福的结合，你再也不会梦见分离和悲伤了。”
这一预见只实现了一半。我的确没有梦见忧伤，但也没有梦见欢乐，因为我根本就没有睡着。我搂着阿黛勒，瞧着孩子沉沉睡去一—那么平静，那么安宁，那么天真——等待着来日，我的整个生命苏醒了，在我躯体内躁动着。太阳一出，我便起来了，我记得离开阿黛勒时她紧紧搂住我，我记得把她的小手从我脖子上松开的时候，我吻了吻她。我怀着一种莫名的情感对着她哭了起来，赶紧离开了她，生怕哭泣声会惊动她的酣睡。她似乎就是我往昔生活的标志，而他，我此刻梳装打扮前去会面的，他是既可怕而又亲切、却一无所知的未来的标志。

[Novel] 【长篇连载】Jane Eyre----简·爱（中英对照）一部催泪的小说〖全篇〗

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