简爱(英文版)-第47部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


ed　by　business；　I　came　back　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　Hay　Lane　I　saw　a　quiet　little　figure　sitting　by　itself。　I　passed　it　as　negligently　as　I　did　the　pollard　willow　opposite　to　it：　I　had　no　presentiment　of　what　it　would　be　to　me；　no　inward　warning　that　the　arbitress　of　my　life—my　genius　for　good　or　evil—waited　there　in　humble　guise。　I　did　not　know　it；　even　when；　on　the　occasion　of　Mesrour’s　accident；　it　came　up　and　gravely　offered　me　help。　Childish　and　slender　creature！　It　seemed　as　if　a　lin　had　hopped　to　my　foot　and　proposed　to　bear　me　on　its　tiny　wing。　I　was　surly；　but　the　thing　would　not　go：　it　stood　by　me　with　strange　perseverance；　and　looked　and　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　fresh　sap　and　sense—stole　into　my　frame。　It　was　well　I　had　learnt　that　this　elf　must　return　to　me—that　it　belonged　to　my　house　down　below—or　I　could　not　have　felt　it　pass　away　from　under　my　hand；　and　seen　it　vanish　behind　the　dim　hedge；　without　singular　regret。　I　heard　you　e　home　that　night；　Jane；　though　probably　you　were　not　aware　that　I　thought　of　you　or　watched　for　you。　The　next　day　I　observed　you—myself　unseen—for　half…an…hour；　while　you　played　with　Adèle　in　the　gallery。　It　was　a　snowy　day；　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。　Adèle　claimed　your　outward　attention　for　a　while；　yet　I　fancied　your　thoughts　were　elsewhere：　but　you　were　very　patient　with　her；　my　little　Jane；　you　talked　to　her　and　amused　her　a　long　time。　When　at　last　she　left　you；　you　lapsed　at　once　into　deep　reverie：　you　betook　yourself　slowly　to　pace　the　gallery。　Now　and　then；　in　passing　a　casement；　you　glanced　out　at　the　thick…falling　snow；　you　listened　to　the　sobbing　wind；　and　again　you　paced　gently　on　and　dreamed。　I　think　those　day　visions　were　not　dark：　there　was　a　pleasurable　illumination　in　your　eye　occasionally；　a　soft　excitement　in　your　aspect；　which　told　of　no　bitter；　bilious；　hypochondriac　brooding：　your　look　revealed　rather　the　sweet　musings　of　youth　when　its　spirit　follows　on　willing　wings　the　flight　of　Hope　up　and　on　to　an　ideal　heaven。　The　voice　of　Mrs。　Fairfax；　speaking　to　a　servant　in　the　hall；　wakened　you：　and　how　curiously　you　smiled　to　and　at　yourself；　Ja！　There　was　much　sense　in　your　smile：　it　was　very　shrewd；　and　seemed　to　make　light　of　your　own　abstraction。　It　seemed　to　say—‘My　fine　visions　are　all　very　well；　but　I　must　not　forget　they　are　absolutely　unreal。　I　have　a　rosy　sky　and　a　green　flowery　Eden　in　my　brain；　but　without；　I　am　perfectly　aware；　lies　at　my　feet　a　rough　tract　to　travel；　and　around　me　gather　black　tempests　to　encounter。’　You　ran　downstairs　and　demanded　of　Mrs。　Fairfax　some　occupation：　the　weekly　house　accounts　to　make　up；　or　something　of　that　sort；　I　think　it　was。　I　was　vexed　with　you　for　getting　out　of　my　sight。
“Impatiently　I　waited　for　evening；　when　I　might　summon　you　to　my　presence。　An　unusual—to　me—a　perfectly　new　character　I　suspected　was　yours：　I　desired　to　search　it　deeper　and　know　it　better。　You　entered　the　room　with　a　look　and　air　at　once　shy　and　independent：　you　uch　as　you　are　now。　I　made　you　talk：　ere　long　I　found　you　full　of　strange　contrasts。　Your　garb　and　manner　were　restricted　by　rule；　your　air　was　often　diffident；　and　altogether　that　of　one　refined　by　nature；　but　absolutely　unused　to　society；　and　a　good　deal　afraid　of　making　herself　disadvantageously　conspicuous　by　some　solecism　or　blunder；　yet　when　addressed；　you　lifted　a　keen；　a　daring；　and　a　glowing　eye　to　your　interlocutor’s　face：　there　was　peration　and　power　in　each　glance　you　gave；　when　plied　by　close　questions；　you　found　ready　and　round　answers。　Very　soon　you　seemed　to　get　used　to　me：　I　believe　you　felt　the　existence　of　sympathy　between　you　and　your　grim　and　cross　master；　Jane；　for　it　was　astonishing　to　see　how　quickly　a　certain　pleasant　ease　tranquillised　your　manner：　snarl　as　I　would；　you　showed　no　surprise；　fear；　annoyance；　or　displeasure　at　my　moroseness；　you　watched　me；　and　now　and　then　smiled　at　me　with　a　simple　yet　sagacious　grace　I　cannot　describe。　I　was　at　once　content　and　stimulated　with　what　I　saw：　I　liked　what　I　had　seen；　and　wished　to　see　more。　Yet；　for　a　long　time；　I　treated　you　distantly；　and　sought　your　pany　rarely。　I　was　an　intellectual　epicure；　and　wished　to　prolong　the　gratification　of　making　this　novel　and　piquant　acquaintance：　besides；　I　was　for　a　while　troubled　with　a　haunting　fear　that　if　I　handled　the　flower　freely　its　bloom　would　fade—the　sweet　charm　of　freshness　would　leave　it。　I　did　not　then　know　that　it　was　no　transitory　blossom；　but　rather　the　radiant　resemblance　of　one；　cut　in　an　indestructible　gem。　Moreover；　I　wished　to　see　whether　you　would　seek　me　if　I　shunned　you—but　you　did　not；　you　kept　in　the　schoolroom　as　still　as　your　own　desk　and　easel；　if　by　chance　I　met　you；　you　passed　me　as　soon；　and　with　as　little　token　of　recognition；　as　was　consistent　with　respect。　Your　habitual　expression　in　those　days；　Jane；　was　a　thoughtful　look；　not　despondent；　for　you　were　not　sickly；　but　not　buoyant；　for　you　had　little　hope；　and　no　actual　pleasure。　I　wondered　what　you　thought　of　me；　or　if　you　ever　thought　of　me；　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　social　heart；　it　was　the　silent　schoolroom—it　was　the　tedium　of　your　life—that　made　you　mournful。　I　permitted　myself　the　delight　of　being　kind　to　you；　kindness　stirred　emotion　soon：　your　face　became　soft　in　expression；　your　tones　gentle；　I　liked　my　name　pronounced　by　your　lips　in　a　grateful　happy　accent。　I　used　to　enjoy　a　chance　meeting　with　you；　Jane；　at　this　time：　there　was　a　curious　hesitation　in　your　manner：　you　glanced　at　me　with　a　slight　trouble—a　hovering　doubt：　you　did　not　know　what　my　caprice　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　to　simulate　the　first　whim；　and；　when　I　stretched　my　hand　out　cordially；　such　bloom　and　light　and　bliss　rose　to　your　young；　wistful　features；　I　had　much　ado　often　to　avoid　straining　you　then　and　there　to　my　heart。”
“Don’t　talk　any　more　of　those　days；　sir；”　I　interrupted；　furtively　dashing　away　some　tears　from　my　eyes；　his　language　was　torture　to　me；　for　I　knew　what　I　must　do—and　do　soon—and　all　these　reminiscences；　and　these　revelations　of　his　feelings　only　made　my　work　more　difficult。
“No；　Jane；”　he　returned：　“what　necessity　is　there　to　dwell　on　the　Past；　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　a　youth　and　manhood　passed　half　in　unutterable　misery　and　half　in　dreary　solitude；　I　have　for　the　first　time　found　what　I　can　truly　love—I　have　found　you。　You　are　my　sympathy—my　better　self—my　good　angel。　I　am　bound　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　now　that　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　feared　early　instilled　prejudice：　I　wanted　to　have　you　safe　before　hazarding　confidences。　This　was　cowardly：　I　should　have　appealed　to　your　nobleness　and　magnanimity　at　first；　as　I　do　now—opened　to　you　plainly　my　life　of　agony—described　to　you　my　hunger　and　thirst　after　a　higher　and　worthier　existence—shown　to　you；　not　my　resolution　（that　word　is　weak）；　but　my　resistless　bent　to　love　faithfully　and　well；　where　I　am　faithfully　and　well　loved　in　return。　Then　I　should　have　asked　you　to　accept　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　human　being　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　renounce　love　and　idol。　One　drear　word　prised　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！”　remenced　he；　with　a　gentleness　that　broke　me　down　with　grief；　and　turned　me　stone…cold　with　ominous　terror—for　this　still　voice　was　the　pant　of　a　lion　rising—“Jane；　do　you　mean　to　go　one　way　in　the　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　pletely。
“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　he　forebore　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　are　gone。　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　me　to　some　corpse　in　yonder　churchyard。　What　shall　I　do；　Jane？　Where　turn　for　a　panion　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　it　for　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　declared　I　could　not　change：　you　tell　me　to　my　face　I　shall　change　soon。　And　what　a　distortion　in　your　judgment；　what　a　perversity　in　your　ideas；　is　proved　by　your　conduct！　Is　it　better　to　drive　a　fellow…creature　to　despair　than　to　transgress　a　mere　human　law；　no　man　being　injured　by　the　breach？　for　you　have　neither　relatives　nor　acquaintances　whom　you　need　fear　to　offend　by　living　with　me？”
This　was　true：　and　while　he　spoke　my　very　conscience　and　reason　turned　traitors　against　me；　and　charged　me　with　crime　in　resisting　him。　They　spoke　almost　as　loud　as　Feeling：　and　that　clamoured　wildly。　“Oh；　ply！”　it　said。　“Think　of　his　misery；　think　of　his　danger—look　at　his　state　when　left　alone；　remember　his　headlong　nature；　consider　the　recklessness　following　on　despair—soothe　him；　save　him；　love　him；　tell　him　you　love　him　and　will　be　his。　Who　in　the　world　cares　for　you？　or　who　will　be　injured　by　what　you　do？”
Still　indomitable　was　the　reply—“I　care　for　myself。　The　more　solitary；　the　more　friendless；　the　more　unsustained　I　am；　the　more　I　will　respect　myself。　I　will　keep　the　law　given　by　God；　sanctioned　by　man。　I　will　hold　to　the　principles　received　by　me　when　I　was　sane；　and　not　mad—as　I　am　now。　Laws　and　principles　are　not　for　the　times　when　there　is　no　temptation：　they　are　for　such　moments　as　this；　when　body　and　soul　rise　in　mutiny　against　their　rigour；　stringent　are　they；　inviolate　they　shall　be。　If　at　my　individual　convenience　I　might　break　them；　what　would　be　their　worth？　They　have　a　worth—so　I　have　always　believed；　and　if　I　cannot　believe　it　now；　it　is　because　I　am　insane—quite　insane：　with　my　veins　running　fire；　and　my　heart　beating　faster　than　I　can　count　its　throbs。　Preconceived　opinions；　foregone　determinations；　are　all　I　have　at　this　hour　to　stand　by：　there　I　plant　my　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　a　moment；　whatever　followed；　he　crossed　the　floor　and　seized　my　arm　and　grasped　my　waist。　He　seemed　to　devour　me　with　his　flaming　glance：　physically；　I　felt；　at　the　moment；　powerless　as　stubble　exposed　to　the　draught　and　glow　of　a　furnace：　mentally；　I　still　possessed　my　soul；　and　with　it　the　certainty　of　ultimate　safety。　The　soul；　fortunately；　has　an　interpreter—often　an　unconscious；　but　still　a　truthful　interpreter—in　the　eye。　My　eye　rose　to　his；　and　while　I　looked　in　his　fierce　face　I　gave　an　involuntary　sigh；　his　gripe　was　painful；　and　my　over…taxed　strength　almost　exhausted。
“Never；”　said　he；　as　he　ground　his　teeth；　“never　was　anything　at　once　so　frail　and　so　indomitable。　A　mere　reed　she　feels　in　my　hand！”　（And　he　shook　me　with　the　force　of　his　hold。）　“I　could　bend　her　with　my　finger　and　thumb：　and　what　good　would　it　do　if　I　bent；　if　I　uptore；　if　I　crushed　her？　Consider　that　eye：　consider　the　resolute；　wild；　free　thing　looking　out　of　it；　defying　me；　with　more　than　courage—with　a　stern　triumph。　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　outrage　will　only　let　the　captive　loose。　Conqueror　I　might　be　of　the　house；　but　the　inmate　would　escape　to　heaven　before　I　could　call　myself　possessor　of　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。　Of　yourself　you　could　e　with　soft　flight　and　nestle　against　my　heart；　if　you　would：　seized　against　your　will；　you　will　elude　the　grasp　like　an　essence—you　will　vanish　ere　I　inhale　your　fragrance。　Oh！　e；　Jane；　e！”
As　he　said　this；　he　released　me　from　his　clutch；　and　only　looked　at　me。　The　look　was　far　worse　to　resist　than　the　frantic　strain：　only　an　idiot；　however；　would　have　succumbed　now。　I　had　dared　and　baffled　his　fury；　I　must　elude　his　sorrow：　I　retired　to　the　door。
“You　are　going；　Jane？”
“I　am　going；　sir。”
“You　are　leaving　me？”
“Yes。”
“You　will　not　e？　You　will　not　be　my　forter；　my　rescuer？　My　deep　love；　my　wild　woe；　my　frantic　prayer；　are　all　nothing　to　you？”
What　unutterable　pathos　was　in　his　voice！　How　hard　it　was　to　reiterate　firmly；　“I　am　going。”
“Jane！”
“Mr。　Rochester！”
“Withdraw；　then；—I　consent；　but　remember；　you　leave　me　here　in　anguish。　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　a　deep；　strong　sob。
I　had　already　gained　the　door；　but；　reader；　I　walked　back—walked　back　as　determinedly　as　I　had　retreated。　I　knelt　down　by　him；　I　turned　his　face　from　the　cushion　to　me；　I　kissed　his　cheek；　I　smoothed　his　hair　with　my　hand。
“God　bless　you；　my　dear　master！”　I　said。　“God　keep　you　from　harm　and　wrong—direct　you；　solace　you—reward　you　well　for　your