简爱(英文版)-第65部分

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s　moment　John　approached　him　from　some　quarter。
“Will　you　take　my　arm；　sir？”　he　said；　“there　is　a　heavy　shower　ing　on：　had　you　not　better　go　in？”
“Let　me　alone；”　was　the　answer。
John　withdrew　without　having　observed　me。　Mr。　Rochester　now　tried　to　walk　about：　vainly；—all　was　too　uncertain。　He　groped　his　way　back　to　the　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；　e　at　this　late　hour　to　this　lonely　place？”　I　answered　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　few　words；　that　I　had　heard　all　which　had　happened　since　I　left　Thornfield；　and　that　I　was　e　to　see　Mr。　Rochester。　I　asked　John　to　go　down　to　the　turn…pike…house；　where　I　had　dismissed　the　chaise；　and　bring　my　trunk；　which　I　had　left　there：　and　then；　while　I　removed　my　bon　and　shaary　as　to　whether　I　could　be　acmodated　at　the　Manor　House　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。　The　tray　shook　as　I　held　it；　the　water　spilt　from　the　glass；　my　heart　struck　my　ribs　loud　and　fast。　Mary　opened　the　door　for　me；　and　shut　it　behind　me。
This　parlour　looked　gloomy：　a　neglected　handful　of　fire　burnt　low　in　the　grate；　and；　leaning　over　it；　with　his　head　supported　against　the　high；　old…fashioned　mantelpiece；　appeared　the　blind　tenant　of　the　room。　His　old　dog；　Pilot；　lay　on　one　side；　removed　out　of　the　way；　and　coiled　up　as　if　afraid　of　being　inadvertently　trodden　upon。　Pilot　pricked　up　his　ears　when　I　came　in：　then　he　jumped　up　with　a　yelp　and　a　whine；　and　bounded　towards　me：　he　almost　knocked　the　tray　from　my　hands。　I　set　it　on　the　table；　then　patted　him；　and　said　softly；　“Lie　down！”　Mr。　Rochester　turned　mechanically　to　see　what　the　motion　was：　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　his　lips；　and　seemed　to　listen：　he　drank；　and　put　the　glass　down。　“This　is　you；　Mary；　is　it　not？”
“Mary　is　in　the　kitchen；”　I　answered。
He　put　out　his　hand　with　a　quick　gesture；　but　not　seeing　where　I　stood；　he　did　not　touch　me。　“Who　is　this？　Who　is　this？”　he　demanded；　trying；　as　it　seemed；　to　SEE　with　those　sightless　eyes—　unavailing　and　distressing　attempt！　“Answer　me—speak　again！”　he　ordered；　imperiously　and　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　e　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　I　must　feel；　or　my　heart　will　stop　and　my　brain　burst。　Whatever—whoever　you　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　e　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　her　features；　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　to　my　heart；　as　I　do　now；　and　kissed　her；　as　thus—and　felt　that　she　loved　me；　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　empty　mockery；　and　I　was　desolate　and　abandoned—my　life　dark；　lonely；　hopeless—my　soul　athirst　and　forbidden　to　drink—my　heart　famished　and　never　to　be　fed。　Gentle；　soft　dream；　nestling　in　my　arms　now；　you　will　fly；　too；　as　your　sisters　have　all　fled　before　you：　but　kiss　me　before　you　go—embrace　me；　Jane。”
“There；　sir—and　there！”’
I　pressed　my　lips　to　his　once　brilliant　and　now　rayless　eyes—I　swept　his　hair　from　his　brow；　and　kissed　that　too。　He　suddenly　seemed　to　arouse　himself：　the　conviction　of　the　reality　of　all　this　seized　him。
“It　is　you—is　it；　Jane？　You　are　e　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　never　dream　that。　Besides；　there　is　that　peculiar　voice　of　hers；　so　animating　and　piquant；　as　well　as　soft：　it　cheers　my　withered　heart；　it　puts　life　into　it。—What；　Ja！　Are　you　an　independent　woman？　A　rich　woman？”
“If　you　won’t　let　me　live　with　you；　I　can　build　a　house　of　my　own　close　up　to　your　door；　and　you　may　e　and　sit　in　my　parlour　when　you　want　pany　of　an　evening。”
“But　as　you　are　rich；　Jane；　you　have　now；　no　doubt；　friends　who　will　look　after　you；　and　not　suffer　you　to　devote　yourself　to　a　blind　lameter　like　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　panion—to　read　to　you；　to　walk　with　you；　to　sit　with　you；　to　wait　on　you；　to　be　eyes　and　hands　to　you。　Cease　to　look　so　melancholy；　my　dear　master；　you　shall　not　be　left　desolate；　so　long　as　I　live。”
He　replied　not：　he　seemed　serious—abstracted；　he　sighed；　he　half…　opened　his　lips　as　if　to　speak：　he　closed　them　again。　I　felt　a　little　embarrassed。　Perhaps　I　had　too　rashly　over…leaped　conventionalities；　and　he；　like　St。　John；　saw　impropriety　in　my　inconsiderateness。　I　had　indeed　made　my　proposal　from　the　idea　that　he　wished　and　would　ask　me　to　be　his　wife：　an　expectation；　not　the　less　certain　because　unexpressed；　had　buoyed　me　up；　that　he　would　claim　me　at　once　as　his　own。　But　no　hint　to　that　effect　escaping　him　and　his　countenance　being　more　overcast；　I　suddenly　remembered　that　I　might　have　been　all　wrong；　and　was　perhaps　playing　the　fool　unwittingly；　and　I　began　gently　to　withdraw　myself　from　his　arms—but　he　eagerly　snatched　me　closer。
“No—no—Jane；　you　must　not　go。　No—I　have　touched　you；　heard　you；　felt　the　fort　of　your　presence—the　sweetness　of　your　consolation：　I　cannot　give　up　these　joys。　I　have　little　left　in　myself—I　must　have　you。　The　world　may　laugh—may　call　me　absurd；　selfish—but　it　does　not　signify。　My　very　soul　demands　you：　it　will　be　satisfied；　or　it　will　take　deadly　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　I　understand　another。　You；　perhaps；　could　make　up　your　mind　to　be　about　my　hand　and　chair—to　wait　on　me　as　a　kind　little　nurse　（for　you　have　an　affectionate　heart　and　a　generous　spirit；　which　prompt　you　to　make　sacrifices　for　those　you　pity）；　and　that　ought　to　suffice　for　me　no　doubt。　I　suppose　I　should　now　entertain　none　but　fatherly　feelings　for　you：　do　you　think　so？　e—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；　Ja：　you　are　young—you　must　marry　one　day。”
“I　don’t　care　about　being　married。”
“You　should　care；　Ja：　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　more　cheerful；　and　took　fresh　courage：　these　last　words　gave　me　an　insight　as　to　where　the　difficulty　lay；　and　as　it　was　no　difficulty　y　previous　embarrassment。　I　resumed　a　livelier　vein　of　conversation。
“It　is　time　some　one　undertook　to　rehumanise　you；”　said　I；　parting　his　thick　and　long　uncut　locks；　“for　I　see　you　are　being　metamorphosed　into　a　lion；　or　something　of　that　sort。　You　have　a　‘faux　air’　of　Nebuchadnezzar　in　the　fields　about　you；　that　is　certain：　your　hair　reminds　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　the　mutilated　limb　from　his　breast；　and　showing　it　to　me。　“It　is　a　mere　stump—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　of　fire　on　your　forehead：　and　the　worst　of　it　is；　one　is　in　danger　of　loving　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　disparaging　to　your　judgment。　Now；　let　me　leave　you　an　instant；　to　make　a　better　fire；　and　have　the　hearth　swept　up。　Can　you　tell　when　there　is　a　good　fire？”
“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：　I　prepared　him；　likewise；　a　fortable　repast。　My　spirits　were　excited；　and　with　pleasure　and　ease　I　talked　to　him　during　supper；　and　for　a　long　time　after。　There　was　no　harassing　restraint；　no　repressing　of　glee　and　vivacity　with　him；　for　with　him　I　was　at　perfect　ease；　because　I　knew　I　suited　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　he　was；　smiles　played　over　his　face；　joy　dawned　on　his　forehead：　his　lineaments　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　only　very　partial　replies：　it　was　too　late　to　enter　into　particulars　that　night。　Besides；　I　wished　to　touch　no　deep…　thrilling　chord—to　open　no　fresh　well　of　emotion　in　his　heart：　my　sole　present　aim　was　to　cheer　him。　Cheered；　as　I　have　said；　he　was：　and　yet　but　by　fits。　If　a　moment’s　silence　broke　the　conversation；　he　would　turn　restless；　touch　me；　then　say；　“Jane。”
“You　are　altogether　a　human　being；　Jane？　You　are　certain　of　that？”
“I　conscientiously　believe　so；　Mr。　Rochester。”
“Yet　how；　on　this　dark　and　doleful　evening；　could　you　so　suddenly　rise　on　my　lone　hearth？　I　stretched　my　hand　to　take　a　glass　of　water　from　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　e　in；　in　Mary’s　stead；　with　the　tray。”
“And　there　is　enchantment　in　the　very　hour　I　am　now　spending　with　you。　Who　can　tell　what　a　dark；　dreary；　hopeless　life　I　have　dragged　on　for　months　past？　Doing　nothing；　expecting　nothing；　merging　night　in　day；　feeling　but　the　sensation　of　cold　when　I　let　the　fire　go　out；　of　hunger　when　I　forgot　to　eat：　and　then　a　ceaseless　sorrow；　and；　at　times；　a　very　delirium　of　desire　to　behold　my　Jane　again。　Yes：　for　her　restoration　I　longed；　far　more　than　for　that　of　my　lost　sight。　How　can　it　be　that　Jane　is　with　me；　and　says　she　loves　me？　Will　she　not　depart　as　suddenly　as　she　came？　To…morrow；　I　fear　I　shall　find　her　no　more。”
A　monplace；　practical　reply；　out　of　the　train　of　his　own　disturbed　ideas；　was；　I　was　sure；　the　best　and　most　reassuring　for　him　in　this　frame　of　mind。　I　passed　my　finger　over　his　eyebrows；　and　remarked　that　they　were　scorched；　and　that　I　would　apply　something　which　would　make　them　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　a　shadow；　whither　and　how　to　me　unknown；　and　for　me　remaining　afterwards　undiscoverable？
“Have　you　a　pocket…b　about　you；　sir？”
“What　for；　Jane？”
“Just　to　b　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　I　am　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　hundred　times　better　people；　possessed　of　ideas　and　views　you　never　entertained　in　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　your　head；　and　then　I　think　you　will　cease　to　entertain　doubts　of　my　substantiality。”
“Who　have　you　been　with；　Jane？”
“You　shall　not　get　it　out　of　me　to…night；　sir；　you　must　wait　till　to…morrow；　to　leave　my　tale　half　told；　will；　you　know；　be　a　sort　of　security　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　glass　of　water　then：　I　must　bring　an　egg　at　the　least；　to　say　nothing　of　fried　ham。”
“You　mocking　changeling—fairy…born　and　human…bred！　You　make　me　feel　as　I　have　not　felt　these　twelve　months。　If　Saul　could　have　had　you　for　his　David；　the　evil　spirit　would　have　been　exorcised　without　the　aid　of　the　harp。”
“There；　sir；　you　are　redd　up　and　made　decent。　Now　I’ll　leave　you：　I　have　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　e。”
Very　early　the　next　morning　I　heard　him　up　and