简爱(英文版)-第38部分

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“It　is　a　long　way；”　I　again　said。
“It　is；　to　be　sure；　and　when　you　get　to　Bitternutt　Lodge；　Connaught；　Ireland；　I　shall　never　see　you　again；　Jane：　that’s　morally　certain。　I　never　go　over　to　Ireland；　not　having　myself　much　of　a　fancy　for　the　country。　We　have　been　good　friends；　Jane；　have　we　not？”
“Yes；　sir。”
“And　when　friends　are　on　the　eve　of　separation；　they　like　to　spend　the　little　time　that　remains　to　them　close　to　each　other。　e！　we’ll　talk　over　the　voyage　and　the　parting　quietly　half…an…hour　or　so；　while　the　stars　enter　into　their　shining　life　up　in　heaven　yonder：　here　is　the　chestnut　tree：　here　is　the　bench　at　its　old　roots。　e；　we　will　sit　there　in　peace　to…night；　though　we　should　never　more　be　destined　to　sit　there　together。”　He　seated　me　and　himself。
“It　is　a　long　way　to　Ireland；　Ja；　and　I　am　sorry　to　send　my　little　friend　on　such　weary　travels：　but　if　I　can’t　do　better；　how　is　it　to　be　helped？　Are　you　anything　akin　to　me；　do　you　think；　Jane？”
I　could　risk　no　sort　of　answer　by　this　time：　my　heart　was　still。
“Because；”　he　said；　“I　sometimes　have　a　queer　feeling　with　regard　to　you—especially　when　you　are　near　me；　as　now：　it　is　as　if　I　had　a　string　somewhere　under　my　left　ribs；　tightly　and　inextricably　knotted　to　a　similar　string　situated　in　the　corresponding　quarter　of　your　little　frame。　And　if　that　boisterous　Channel；　and　two　hundred　miles　or　so　of　land　e　broad　between　us；　I　am　afraid　that　cord　of　munion　will　be　snapt；　and　then　I’ve　a　nervous　notion　I　should　take　to　bleeding　inwardly。　As　for　you；—you’d　forget　me。”
“That　I　never　should；　sir：　you　know—”　Impossible　to　proceed。
“Jane；　do　you　hear　that　nightingale　singing　in　the　wood？　Listen！”
In　listening；　I　sobbed　convulsively；　for　I　could　repress　what　I　endured　no　longer；　I　was　obliged　to　yield；　and　I　was　shaken　from　head　to　foot　with　acute　distress。　When　I　did　speak；　it　was　only　to　express　an　impetuous　wish　that　I　had　never　been　born；　or　never　e　to　Thornfield。
“Because　you　are　sorry　to　leave　it？”
The　vehemence　of　emotion；　stirred　by　grief　and　love　within　me；　was　claiming　mastery；　and　struggling　for　full　sway；　and　asserting　a　right　to　predominate；　to　overe；　to　live；　rise；　and　reign　at　last：　yes；—and　to　speak。
“I　grieve　to　leave　Thornfield：　I　love　Thornfield：…　I　love　it；　because　I　have　lived　in　it　a　full　and　delightful　life；—momentarily　at　least。　I　have　not　been　trampled　on。　I　have　not　been　petrified。　I　have　not　been　buried　with　inferior　minds；　and　excluded　from　every　glimpse　of　munion　with　what　is　bright　and　energetic　and　high。　I　have　talked；　face　to　face；　with　what　I　reverence；　with　what　I　delight　in；—with　an　original；　a　vigorous；　an　expanded　mind。　I　have　known　you；　Mr。　Rochester；　and　it　strikes　me　with　terror　and　anguish　to　feel　I　absolutely　must　be　torn　from　you　for　ever。　I　see　the　necessity　of　departure；　and　it　is　like　looking　on　the　necessity　of　death。”
“Where　do　you　see　the　necessity？”　he　asked　suddenly。
“Where？　You；　sir；　have　placed　it　before　me。”
“In　what　shape？”
“In　the　shape　of　Miss　Ingram；　a　noble　and　beautiful　woman；—your　bride。”
“My　bride！　What　bride？　I　have　no　bride！”
“But　you　will　have。”
“Yes；—I　will！—I　will！”　He　set　his　teeth。
“Then　I　must　go：…　you　have　said　it　yourself。”
“No：　you　must　stay！　I　swear　it—and　the　oath　shall　be　kept。”
“I　tell　you　I　must　go！”　I　retorted；　roused　to　something　like　passion。　“Do　you　think　I　can　stay　to　bee　nothing　to　you？　Do　you　think　I　am　an　automaton？—a　machine　without　feelings？　and　can　bear　to　have　my　morsel　of　bread　snatched　from　my　lips；　and　my　drop　of　living　water　dashed　from　my　cup？　Do　you　think；　because　I　am　poor；　obscure；　plain；　and　little；　I　am　soulless　and　heartless？　You　think　wrong！—I　have　as　much　soul　as　you；—and　full　as　much　heart！　And　if　God　had　gifted　me　with　some　beauty　and　much　wealth；　I　should　have　made　it　as　hard　for　you　to　leave　me；　as　it　is　now　for　me　to　leave　you。　I　am　not　talking　to　you　now　through　the　medium　of　custom；　conventionalities；　nor　even　of　mortal　flesh；—it　is　my　spirit　that　addresses　your　spirit；　just　as　if　both　had　passed　through　the　grave；　and　we　stood　at　God’s　feet；　equal；—as　we　are！”
“As　we　are！”　repeated　Mr。　Rochester—“so；”　he　added；　enclosing　me　in　his　arms。　Gathering　me　to　his　breast；　pressing　his　lips　on　my　lips：　“so；　Jane！”
“Yes；　so；　sir；”　I　rejoined：　“and　yet　not　so；　for　you　are　a　married　man—or　as　good　as　a　married　man；　and　wed　to　one　inferior　to　you—to　one　with　whom　you　have　no　sympathy—whom　I　do　not　believe　you　truly　love；　for　I　have　seen　and　heard　you　sneer　at　her。　I　would　scorn　such　a　union：　therefore　I　am　better　than　you—let　me　go！”
“Where；　Jane？　To　Ireland？”
“Yes—to　Ireland。　I　have　spoken　my　mind；　and　can　go　anywhere　now。”
“Jane；　be　still；　don’t　struggle　so；　like　a　wild　frantic　bird　that　is　rending　its　own　plumage　in　its　desperation。”
“I　am　no　bird；　and　no　　ensnares　me；　I　am　a　free　human　being　with　an　independent　will；　which　I　now　exert　to　leave　you。”
Another　effort　set　me　at　liberty；　and　I　stood　erect　before　him。
“And　your　will　shall　decide　your　destiny；”　he　said：　“I　offer　you　my　hand；　my　heart；　and　a　share　of　all　my　possessions。”
“You　play　a　farce；　which　I　merely　laugh　at。”
“I　ask　you　to　pass　through　life　at　my　side—to　be　my　second　self；　and　best　earthly　panion。”
“For　that　fate　you　have　already　made　your　choice；　and　must　abide　by　it。”
“Jane；　be　still　a　few　moments：　you　are　over…excited：　I　will　be　still　too。”
A　waft　of　wind　came　sweeping　down　the　laurel…walk；　and　trembled　through　the　boughs　of　the　chestnut：　it　wandered　away—away—to　an　indefinite　distance—it　died。　The　nightingale’s　song　was　then　the　only　voice　of　the　hour：　in　listening　to　it；　I　again　wept。　Mr。　Rochester　sat　quiet；　looking　at　me　gently　and　seriously。　Some　time　passed　before　he　spoke；　he　at　last　said—
“e　to　my　side；　Jane；　and　let　us　explain　and　understand　one　another。”
“I　will　never　again　e　to　your　side：　I　am　torn　away　now；　and　cannot　return。”
“But；　Jane；　I　summon　you　as　my　wife：　it　is　you　only　I　intend　to　marry。”
I　was　silent：　I　thought　he　mocked　me。
“e；　Jane—e　hither。”
“Your　bride　stands　between　us。”
He　rose；　and　with　a　stride　reached　me。
“My　bride　is　here；”　he　said；　again　drawing　me　to　him；　“because　my　equal　is　here；　and　my　likeness。　Jane；　will　you　marry　me？”
Still　I　did　not　answer；　and　still　I　writhed　myself　from　his　grasp：　for　I　was　still　incredulous。
“Do　you　doubt　me；　Jane？”
“Entirely。”
“You　have　no　faith　in　me？”
“Not　a　whit。”
“Am　I　a　liar　in　your　eyes？”　he　asked　passionately。　“Little　sceptic；　you　shall　be　convinced。　What　love　have　I　for　Miss　Ingram？　None：　and　that　you　know。　What　love　has　she　for　me？　None：　as　I　have　taken　pains　to　prove：　I　caused　a　rumour　to　reach　her　that　my　fortune　was　not　a　third　of　what　was　supposed；　and　after　that　I　presented　myself　to　see　the　result；　it　was　coldness　both　from　her　and　her　mother。　I　would　not—I　could　not—marry　Miss　Ingram。　You—　you　strange；　you　almost　unearthly　thing！—I　love　as　my　own　flesh。　You—poor　and　obscure；　and　small　and　plain　as　you　are—I　entreat　to　accept　me　as　a　husband。”
“What；　me！”　I　ejaculated；　beginning　in　his　earnestness—and　especially　in　his　incivility—to　credit　his　sincerity：　“me　who　have　not　a　friend　in　the　world　but　you…　if　you　are　my　friend：　not　a　shilling　but　what　you　have　given　me？”
“You；　Jane；　I　must　have　you　for　my　own—entirely　my　own。　Will　you　be　mine？　Say　yes；　quickly。”
“Mr。　Rochester；　let　me　look　at　your　face：　turn　to　the　moonlight。”
“Why？”
“Because　I　want　to　read　your　countenance—turn！”
“There！　you　will　find　it　scarcely　more　legible　than　a　crumpled；　scratched　page。　Read　on：　only　make　haste；　for　I　suffer。”
His　face　was　very　much　agitated　and　very　much　flushed；　and　there　were　strong　workings　in　the　features；　and　strange　gleams　in　the　eyes
“Oh；　Jane；　you　torture　me！”　he　exclaimed。　“With　that　searching　and　yet　faithful　and　generous　look；　you　torture　me！”
“How　can　I　do　that？　If　you　are　true；　and　your　offer　real；　my　only　feelings　to　you　must　be　gratitude　and　devotion—they　cannot　torture。”
“Gratitude！”　he　ejaculated；　and　added　wildly—“Jane　accept　me　quickly。　Say；　Edward—give　me　my　name—Edward—I　will　marry　you。”
“Are　you　in　earnest？　Do　you　truly　love　me？　Do　you　sincerely　wish　me　to　be　your　wife？”
“I　do；　and　if　an　oath　is　necessary　to　satisfy　you；　I　swear　it。”
“Then；　sir；　I　will　marry　you。”
“Edward—my　little　wife！”
“Dear　Edward！”
“e　to　me—e　to　me　entirely　now；”　said　he；　and　added；　in　his　deepest　tone；　speaking　in　my　ear　as　his　cheek　was　laid　on　mine；　“Make　my　happiness—I　will　make　yours。”
“God　pardon　me！”　he　subjoined　ere　long；　“and　man　meddle　not　with　me：　I　have　her；　and　will　hold　her。”
“There　is　no　one　to　meddle；　sir。　I　have　no　kindred　to　interfere。”
“No—that　is　the　best　of　it；”　he　said。　And　if　I　had　loved　him　less　I　should　have　thought　his　accent　and　look　of　exultation　savage；　but；　sitting　by　him；　roused　from　the　nightmare　of　parting—called　to　the　paradise　of　union—I　thought　only　of　the　bliss　given　me　to　drink　in　so　abundant　a　flow。　Again　and　again　he　said；　“Are　you　happy；　Jane？”　And　again　and　again　I　answered；　“Yes。”　After　which　he　murmured；　“It　will　atone—it　will　atone。　Have　I　not　found　her　friendless；　and　cold；　and　fortless？　Will　I　not　guard；　and　cherish；　and　solace　her？　Is　there　not　love　in　my　heart；　and　constancy　in　my　resolves？　It　will　expiate　at　God’s　tribunal。　I　know　my　Maker　sanctions　what　I　do。　For　the　world’s　judgment—I　wash　my　hands　thereof。　For　man’s　opinion—I　defy　it。”
But　what　had　befallen　the　night？　The　moon　was　not　yet　set；　and　we　were　all　in　shadow：　I　could　scarcely　see　my　master’s　face；　near　as　I　was。　And　what　ailed　the　chestnut　tree？　it　writhed　and　groaned；　while　wind　roared　in　the　laurel　walk；　and　came　sweeping　over　us。
“We　must　go　in；”　said　Mr。　Rochester：　“the　weather　changes。　I　could　have　sat　with　thee　till　morning；　Jane。”
“And　so；”　thought　I；　“could　I　with　you。”　I　should　have　said　so；　perhaps；　but　a　livid；　vivid　spark　leapt　out　of　a　cloud　at　which　I　was　looking；　and　there　was　a　crack；　a　crash；　and　a　close　rattling　peal；　and　I　thought　only　of　hiding　my　dazzled　eyes　against　Mr。　Rochester’s　shoulder。
The　rain　rushed　down。　He　hurried　me　up　the　walk；　through　the　grounds；　and　into　the　house；　but　we　were　quite　wet　before　we　could　pass　the　threshold。　He　was　taking　off　my　shawl　in　the　hall；　and　shaking　the　water　out　of　my　loosened　hair；　when　Mrs。　Fairfax　emerged　from　her　room。　I　did　not　observe　her　at　first；　nor　did　Mr。　Rochester。　The　lamp　was　lit。　The　clock　was　on　the　stroke　of　twelve。
“Hasten　to　take　off　your　wet　things；”　said　he；　“and　before　you　go；　good…night—good…night；　my　darling！”
He　kissed　me　repeatedly。　When　I　looked　up；　on　leaving　his　arms；　there　stood　the　widow；　pale；　grave；　and　amazed。　I　only　smiled　at　her；　and　ran　upstairs。　“Explanation　will　do　for　another　time；”　thought　I。　Still；　when　I　reached　my　chamber；　I　felt　a　pang　at　the　idea　she　should　even　temporarily　misconstrue　what　she　had　seen。　But　joy　soon　effaced　every　other　feeling；　and　loud　as　the　wind　blew；　near　and　deep　as　the　thunder　crashed；　fierce　and　frequent　as　the　lightning　gleamed；　cataract…like　as　the　rain　fell　during　a　storm　of　two　hours’　duration；　I　experienced　no　fear　and　little　awe。　Mr。　Rochester　came　thrice　to　my　door　in　the　course　of　it；　to　ask　if　I　fort；　that　was　strength　for　anything。
Before　I　left　my　bed　in　the　morning；　little　Adèle　came　running　in　to　tell　me　that　the　great　horse…chestnut　at　the　bottom　of　the　orchard　had　been　struck　by　lightning　in　the　night；　and　half　of　it　split　away。
Chapter　24
As　I　rose　and　dressed；　I　thought　over　what　had　happened；　and　wondered　if　it　were　a　dream。　I　could　not　be　certain　of　the　reality　till　I　had　seen　Mr。　Rochester　again；　and　heard　him　renew　his　words　of　love　and　promise。
While　arranging　my　hair；　I　looked　at　my　face　in　the　glass；　and　felt　it　was　no　longer　plain：　there　was　hope　in　its　aspect　and　life　in　its　colour；　and　my　eyes　seemed　as　if　they　had　beheld　the　fount　of　fruition；　and　borrowed　beams　from　the　lustrous　ripple。　I　had　often　been　unwilling　to　look　at　my　master；　because　I　feared　he　could　not　be　pleased　at　my　look；　but　I　was　sure　I　might　lift　my　face　to　his　now；　and　not　cool　his　affection　by　its　expression。　I　took　a　plain　but　clean　and　light　summer　dress　from　my　drawer　and　put　it　on：　it　seemed　no　attire　had　ever　so　well　bee　me；　because　none　had　I　ever　worn　in　so　blissful　a　mood。
I　was　not　surprised；　when　I　ran　down　into　the　hall；　to　see　that　a　brilliant　June　morning　had　succeeded　to　the　tempest　of　the　night；　and　to　feel；　through　the　open　glass　door；　the　breathing　of　a　fresh　and　fragrant　breeze。　Nature　must　be　gladsome　when　I　was　so　happy。　A　beggar…woman　and　her　little　boy—pale；　ragged　objects　both—were　ing　up　the　walk；　and　I　ran　down　and　gave　them　all　the　money　I　happened　to　have　in　my　purse—some　three　or　four　shillings：　good　or　bad；　they　must　partake　of　my　jubilee。　The　rooks　cawed；　and　blither　birds　sang；　but　nothing　was　so　merry　or　so　musical　as　my　own　rejoicing　heart。
Mrs。　Fairfax　surprised　me　by　looking　out　of　the　window　with　a　sad　countenance；　and　saying　gravely—“Miss　Eyre；　will　you　e　to　breakfast？”　During　the　meal　she　was　quiet　and　cool：　but　I　could　not　undeceive　her　then。　I　must　wait　for　my　master　to　give　explanations；　and　so　must　she。　I　ate　what　I　could；　and　then　I　hastened　upstairs。　I　met　Adèle　leaving　the　schoolroom。
“Where　are　you　going？　It　is　time　for　lessons。”
“Mr。　Rochester　has　sent　me　away　to　the　nursery。”
“Where　is　he？”
“In　there；”　pointing　to　the　apartment　she　had　left；　and　I　went　in；　and　there　he　stood。
“e　and　bid　me　good…morning；”　said　he。　I　gladly　advanced；　and　it　was　not　merely　a　cold　word　now；　or　even　a　shake　of　the　hand　that　I　received；　but　an　embrace　and　a　kiss。　It　seemed　natural：　it　seemed　genial　to　be　so　well　loved；　so　caressed　by　him。
“Jane；　you　look　blooming；　and　smiling；　and　pretty；”　said　he：　“truly　pretty　this　morning。　Is　this　my　pale；　little　elf？　Is　this　my　mustard…seed？　This　little　sunny…faced　girl　with　the　dimpled　cheek　and　rosy　lips；　the　satin…smooth　hazel　hair；　and　the　radiant　hazel　eyes？”　（I　had　green　eyes；　reader；　but　you　must　excuse　the　mistake：　for　him　they　were　new…dyed；　I　suppose。）
“It　is　Jane　Eyre；　sir。”
“Soon　to　be　Jane　Rochester；”　he　added：　“in　four　weeks；　Ja；　not　a　day　more。　Do　you　hear　that？”
I　did；　and　I　could　not　quite　prehend　it：　it　made　me　giddy。　The　feeling；　the　announcement　sent　through　me；　was　something　stronger　than　was　consistent　with　joy—something　that　smote　and　stunned。　It　was；　I　think　almost　fear。
“You　blushed；　and　now　you　are　white；　Jane：　what　is　that　for？”
“Because　you　gave　me　a　new　name—Jane　Rochester；　and　it　seems　so　strange。”
“Yes；　Mrs。　Rochester；”　said　he；　“young　Mrs。　Rochester—Fairfax　Rochester’s　girl…bride。”
“It　can　never　be；　sir；　it　does　not　sound　likely。　Human　beings　never　enjoy　plete　happiness　in　this　world。　I　was　not　born　for　a　different　destiny　to　the　rest　of　my　species：　to　imagine　such　a　lot　befalling　me　is　a　fairy　tale—a　day…dream。”
“Which　I　can　and　will　realise。　I　shall　begin　to…day。　This　morning　I　wrote　to　my　banker　in　London　to　send　me　certain　jewels　he　has　in　his　keeping；—heirlooms　for　the　ladies　of　Thornfield。　In　a　day　or　two　I　hope　to　pour　them　into　your　lap：　for　every　privilege；　every　attention　shall　be　your