牛津書蟲第6級(jí)6-01.Jane Eyre Chapter 36

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Chapter36

Thedaylightcame.Iroseatdawn.Ibusiedmyselfforanhourortwowitharrangingmythingsinmychamber,drawers,andwardrobe,intheorderwhereinIshouldwishtoleavethemduringabriefabsence.Meantime,IheardSt.Johnquithisroom.Hestoppedatmydoor:Ifearedhewouldknock—no,butaslipofpaperwaspassedunderthedoor.Itookitup.Itborethesewords-

“Youleftmetoosuddenlylastnight.Hadyoustayedbutalittlelonger,youwouldhavelaidyourhandontheChristian’scrossandtheangel’scrown.IshallexpectyourcleardecisionwhenIreturnthisdayfortnight.Meantime,watchandpraythatyouenternotintotemptation:thespirit,Itrust,iswilling,buttheflesh,Isee,isweak.Ishallprayforyouhourly.—Yours,ST.JOHN.”

“Myspirit,”Iansweredmentally,“iswillingtodowhatisright;andmyflesh,Ihope,isstrongenoughtoaccomplishthewillofHeaven,whenoncethatwillisdistinctlyknowntome.Atanyrate,itshallbestrongenoughtosearch—inquire—togropeanoutletfromthiscloudofdoubt,andfindtheopendayofcertainty.”

ItwasthefirstofJune;yetthemorningwasovercastandchilly:rainbeatfastonmycasement.Iheardthefront-dooropen,andSt.Johnpassout.Lookingthroughthewindow,Isawhimtraversethegarden.He

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tookthewayoverthemistymoorsinthedirectionofWhitcross—therehewouldmeetthecoach.

“InafewmorehoursIshallsucceedyouinthattrack,cousin,”thoughtI:“ItoohaveacoachtomeetatWhitcross.ItoohavesometoseeandaskafterinEngland,beforeIdepartforever.”

Itwantedyettwohoursofbreakfast-time.Ifilledtheintervalinwalkingsoftlyaboutmyroom,andponderingthevisitationwhichhadgivenmyplanstheirpresentbent.IrecalledthatinwardsensationIhadexperienced:forIcouldrecallit,withallitsunspeakablestrangeness.IrecalledthevoiceIhadheard;againIquestionedwhenceitcame,asvainlyasbefore:itseemedinME—notintheexternalworld.Iaskedwasitamerenervousimpression—adelusion?Icouldnotconceiveorbelieve:itwasmorelikeaninspiration.ThewondrousshockoffeelinghadcomeliketheearthquakewhichshookthefoundationsofPaulandSilas’sprison;ithadopenedthedoorsofthesoul’scellandlooseditsbands—ithadwakeneditoutofitssleep,whenceitsprangtrembling,listening,aghast;thenvibratedthriceacryonmystartledear,andinmyquakingheartandthroughmyspirit,whichneitherfearednorshook,butexultedasifinjoyoverthesuccessofoneeffortithadbeenprivilegedtomake,independentofthecumbrousbody.

“Eremanydays,”Isaid,asIterminatedmymusings,“Iwillknowsomethingofhimwhosevoiceseemedlast

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nighttosummonme.Lettershaveprovedofnoavail—personalinquiryshallreplacethem.”

AtbreakfastIannouncedtoDianaandMarythatIwasgoingajourney,andshouldbeabsentatleastfourdays.

“Alone,Jane?”theyasked.

“Yes;itwastoseeorhearnewsofafriendaboutwhomIhadforsometimebeenuneasy.”

Theymighthavesaid,asIhavenodoubttheythought,thattheyhadbelievedmetobewithoutanyfriendssavethem:for,indeed,Ihadoftensaidso;but,withtheirtruenaturaldelicacy,theyabstainedfromcomment,exceptthatDianaaskedmeifIwassureIwaswellenoughtotravel.Ilookedverypale,sheobserved.Ireplied,thatnothingailedmesaveanxietyofmind,whichIhopedsoontoalleviate.

Itwaseasytomakemyfurtherarrangements;forIwastroubledwithnoinquiries—nosurmises.HavingonceexplainedtothemthatIcouldnotnowbeexplicitaboutmyplans,theykindlyandwiselyacquiescedinthesilencewithwhichIpursuedthem,accordingtometheprivilegeoffreeactionIshouldundersimilarcircumstanceshaveaccordedthem.

IleftMoorHouseatthreeo’clockp.m.,andsoonafterfourIstoodatthefootofthesign-postofWhitcross,waitingthearrivalofthecoachwhichwastotakemetodistantThornfield.Amidstthesilenceofthose

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solitaryroadsanddeserthills,Ihearditapproachfromagreatdistance.Itwasthesamevehiclewhence,ayearago,Ihadalightedonesummereveningonthisveryspot—howdesolate,andhopeless,andobjectless!ItstoppedasIbeckoned.Ientered—notnowobligedtopartwithmywholefortuneasthepriceofitsaccommodation.OncemoreontheroadtoThornfield,Ifeltlikethemessenger-pigeonflyinghome.

Itwasajourneyofsix-and-thirtyhours.IhadsetoutfromWhitcrossonaTuesdayafternoon,andearlyonthesucceedingThursdaymorningthecoachstoppedtowaterthehorsesatawaysideinn,situatedinthemidstofscenerywhosegreenhedgesandlargefieldsandlowpastoralhills(howmildoffeatureandverdantofhuecomparedwiththesternNorth-MidlandmoorsofMorton!)metmyeyelikethelineamentsofaoncefamiliarface.Yes,Iknewthecharacterofthislandscape:Iwassurewewerenearmybourne.

“HowfarisThornfieldHallfromhere?”Iaskedoftheostler.

“Justtwomiles,ma’am,acrossthefields.”

“Myjourneyisclosed,”Ithoughttomyself.Igotoutofthecoach,gaveaboxIhadintotheostler’scharge,tobekepttillIcalledforit;paidmyfare;satisfiedthecoachman,andwasgoing:thebrighteningdaygleamedonthesignoftheinn,andIreadingiltletters,“TheRochesterArms.”Myheartleaptup:Iwasalreadyonmymaster’sverylands.Itfellagain:thethoughtstruckit:-

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“YourmasterhimselfmaybebeyondtheBritishChannel,foraughtyouknow:andthen,ifheisatThornfieldHall,towardswhichyouhasten,whobesideshimisthere?Hislunaticwife:andyouhavenothingtodowithhim:youdarenotspeaktohimorseekhispresence.Youhavelostyourlabour—youhadbettergonofarther,”urgedthemonitor.“Askinformationofthepeopleattheinn;theycangiveyouallyouseek:theycansolveyourdoubtsatonce.Gouptothatman,andinquireifMr.Rochesterbeathome.”

Thesuggestionwassensible,andyetIcouldnotforcemyselftoactonit.Isodreadedareplythatwouldcrushmewithdespair.Toprolongdoubtwastoprolonghope.ImightyetoncemoreseetheHallundertherayofherstar.Therewasthestilebeforeme—theveryfieldsthroughwhichIhadhurried,blind,deaf,distractedwitharevengefulfurytrackingandscourgingme,onthemorningIfledfromThornfield:ereIwellknewwhatcourseIhadresolvedtotake,Iwasinthemidstofthem.HowfastIwalked!HowIransometimes!HowIlookedforwardtocatchthefirstviewofthewell-knownwoods!WithwhatfeelingsIwelcomedsingletreesIknew,andfamiliarglimpsesofmeadowandhillbetweenthem!

Atlastthewoodsrose;therookeryclustereddark;aloudcawingbrokethemorningstillness.Strangedelightinspiredme:onIhastened.Anotherfieldcrossed—alanethreaded—andtherewerethecourtyardwalls—thebackoffices:thehouseitself,therookerystillhid.“Myfirstviewofitshallbeinfront,”I

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determined,“whereitsboldbattlementswillstriketheeyenoblyatonce,andwhereIcansingleoutmymaster’sverywindow:perhapshewillbestandingatit—herisesearly:perhapsheisnowwalkingintheorchard,oronthepavementinfront.CouldIbutseehim!—butamoment!Surely,inthatcase,Ishouldnotbesomadastoruntohim?Icannottell—Iamnotcertain.AndifIdid—whatthen?Godblesshim!Whatthen?Whowouldbehurtbymyoncemoretastingthelifehisglancecangiveme?Irave:perhapsatthismomentheiswatchingthesunriseoverthePyrenees,oronthetidelessseaofthesouth.”

Ihadcoastedalongthelowerwalloftheorchard—turneditsangle:therewasagatejustthere,openingintothemeadow,betweentwostonepillarscrownedbystoneballs.FrombehindonepillarIcouldpeeproundquietlyatthefullfrontofthemansion.Iadvancedmyheadwithprecaution,desiroustoascertainifanybedroomwindow-blindswereyetdrawnup:battlements,windows,longfront—allfromthisshelteredstationwereatmycommand.

ThecrowssailingoverheadperhapswatchedmewhileItookthissurvey.Iwonderwhattheythought.TheymusthaveconsideredIwasverycarefulandtimidatfirst,andthatgraduallyIgrewveryboldandreckless.Apeep,andthenalongstare;andthenadeparturefrommynicheandastrayingoutintothemeadow;andasuddenstopfullinfrontofthegreatmansion,andaprotracted,hardygazetowardsit.“Whataffectationof

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diffidencewasthisatfirst?”theymighthavedemanded;“whatstupidregardlessnessnow?”

Hearanillustration,reader.

Aloverfindshismistressasleeponamossybank;hewishestocatchaglimpseofherfairfacewithoutwakingher.Hestealssoftlyoverthegrass,carefultomakenosound;hepauses—fancyingshehasstirred:hewithdraws:notforworldswouldhebeseen.Allisstill:heagainadvances:hebendsaboveher;alightveilrestsonherfeatures:heliftsit,bendslower;nowhiseyesanticipatethevisionofbeauty—warm,andblooming,andlovely,inrest.Howhurriedwastheirfirstglance!Buthowtheyfix!Howhestarts!Howhesuddenlyandvehementlyclaspsinbotharmstheformhedarednot,amomentsince,touchwithhisfinger!Howhecallsaloudaname,anddropshisburden,andgazesonitwildly!Hethusgraspsandcries,andgazes,becausehenolongerfearstowakenbyanysoundhecanutter—byanymovementhecanmake.Hethoughthislovesleptsweetly:hefindssheisstonedead.

Ilookedwithtimorousjoytowardsastatelyhouse:Isawablackenedruin.

Noneedtocowerbehindagate-post,indeed!—topeepupatchamberlattices,fearinglifewasastirbehindthem!Noneedtolistenfordoorsopening—tofancystepsonthepavementorthegravel-walk!Thelawn,thegroundsweretroddenandwaste:theportalyawnedvoid.Thefrontwas,asIhadonceseenitinadream,

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butawell-likewall,veryhighandveryfragile-looking,perforatedwithpanelesswindows:noroof,nobattlements,nochimneys—allhadcrashedin.

Andtherewasthesilenceofdeathaboutit:thesolitudeofalonesomewild.Nowonderthatlettersaddressedtopeopleherehadneverreceivedananswer:aswelldespatchepistlestoavaultinachurchaisle.ThegrimblacknessofthestonestoldbywhatfatetheHallhadfallen—byconflagration:buthowkindled?Whatstorybelongedtothisdisaster?Whatloss,besidesmortarandmarbleandwood-workhadfolloweduponit?Hadlifebeenwreckedaswellasproperty?Ifso,whose?Dreadfulquestion:therewasnooneheretoanswerit—notevendumbsign,mutetoken.

Inwanderingroundtheshatteredwallsandthroughthedevastatedinterior,Igatheredevidencethatthecalamitywasnotoflateoccurrence.Wintersnows,Ithought,haddriftedthroughthatvoidarch,winterrainsbeateninatthosehollowcasements;for,amidstthedrenchedpilesofrubbish,springhadcherishedvegetation:grassandweedgrewhereandtherebetweenthestonesandfallenrafters.Andoh!wheremeantimewasthehaplessownerofthiswreck?Inwhatland?Underwhatauspices?Myeyeinvoluntarilywanderedtothegreychurchtowernearthegates,andIasked,“IshewithDamerdeRochester,sharingtheshelterofhisnarrowmarblehouse?”

Someanswermustbehadtothesequestions.Icouldfinditnowherebutattheinn,andthither,erelong,I

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returned.Thehosthimselfbroughtmybreakfastintotheparlour.Irequestedhimtoshutthedoorandsitdown:Ihadsomequestionstoaskhim.Butwhenhecomplied,Iscarcelyknewhowtobegin;suchhorrorhadIofthepossibleanswers.AndyetthespectacleofdesolationIhadjustleftpreparedmeinameasureforataleofmisery.Thehostwasarespectable-looking,middle-agedman.

“YouknowThornfieldHall,ofcourse?”Imanagedtosayatlast.

“Yes,ma’am;Ilivedthereonce.”

“Didyou?”Notinmytime,Ithought:youareastrangertome.

“IwasthelateMr.Rochester’sbutler,”headded.

Thelate!Iseemtohavereceived,withfullforce,the

blowIhadbeentryingtoevade.

“Thelate!”Igasped.“Ishedead?”

“Imeanthepresentgentleman,Mr.Edward’sfather,”heexplained.Ibreathedagain:mybloodresumeditsflow.FullyassuredbythesewordsthatMr.Edward—MYMr.Rochester(Godblesshim,whereverhewas!)—wasatleastalive:was,inshort,“thepresentgentleman.”Gladdeningwords!ItseemedIcouldhearallthatwastocome—whateverthedisclosuresmightbe—withcomparativetranquillity.Sincehewasnotinthegrave,Icouldbear,Ithought,tolearnthathewasattheAntipodes.

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“IsMr.RochesterlivingatThornfieldHallnow?”Iasked,knowing,ofcourse,whattheanswerwouldbe,butyetdesirousofdeferringthedirectquestionastowherehereallywas.

“No,ma’am—oh,no!Nooneislivingthere.Isupposeyouareastrangerintheseparts,oryouwouldhaveheardwhathappenedlastautumn,—ThornfieldHallisquitearuin:itwasburntdownjustaboutharvest-time.Adreadfulcalamity!suchanimmensequantityofvaluablepropertydestroyed:hardlyanyofthefurniturecouldbesaved.Thefirebrokeoutatdeadofnight,andbeforetheenginesarrivedfromMillcote,thebuildingwasonemassofflame.Itwasaterriblespectacle:Iwitnesseditmyself.”

“Atdeadofnight!”Imuttered.Yes,thatwaseverthehouroffatalityatThornfield.“Wasitknownhowitoriginated?”Idemanded.

“Theyguessed,ma’am:theyguessed.Indeed,Ishouldsayitwasascertainedbeyondadoubt.Youarenotperhapsaware,”hecontinued,edginghischairalittlenearerthetable,andspeakinglow,“thattherewasa

lady—a—alunatic,keptinthehouse?”

“Ihaveheardsomethingofit.”

“Shewaskeptinverycloseconfinement,ma’am:peopleevenforsomeyearswasnotabsolutelycertainofherexistence.Noonesawher:theyonlyknewbyrumourthatsuchapersonwasattheHall;andwhoorwhatshewasitwasdifficulttoconjecture.Theysaid

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Mr.Edwardhadbroughtherfromabroad,andsomebelievedshehadbeenhismistress.Butaqueerthinghappenedayearsince—averyqueerthing.”

Ifearednowtohearmyownstory.Iendeavouredtorecallhimtothemainfact.

“Andthislady?”

“Thislady,ma’am,”heanswered,“turnedouttobeMr.Rochester’swife!Thediscoverywasbroughtaboutinthestrangestway.Therewasayounglady,agoverness

attheHall,thatMr.Rochesterfellin—“

“Butthefire,”Isuggested.

“I’mcomingtothat,ma’am—thatMr.Edwardfellinlovewith.Theservantssaytheyneversawanybodysomuchinloveashewas:hewasafterhercontinually.Theyusedtowatchhim—servantswill,youknow,ma’am—andhesetstoreonherpasteverything:forall,nobodybuthimthoughthersoveryhandsome.Shewasalittlesmallthing,theysay,almostlikeachild.Ineversawhermyself;butI’veheardLeah,thehouse-maid,tellofher.Leahlikedherwellenough.Mr.Rochesterwasaboutforty,andthisgovernessnottwenty;andyousee,whengentlemenofhisagefallinlovewithgirls,theyareoftenlikeasiftheywerebewitched.Well,hewouldmarryher.”

“Youshalltellmethispartofthestoryanothertime,”Isaid;“butnowIhaveaparticularreasonforwishingto

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hearallaboutthefire.Wasitsuspectedthatthislunatic,Mrs.Rochester,hadanyhandinit?”

“You’vehitit,ma’am:it’squitecertainthatitwasher,andnobodybuther,thatsetitgoing.ShehadawomantotakecareofhercalledMrs.Poole—anablewomaninherline,andverytrustworthy,butforonefault—afaultcommontoadealofthemnursesandmatrons—sheKEPTAPRIVATEBOTTLEOFGINBYHER,andnowandthentookadropover-much.Itisexcusable,forshehadahardlifeofit:butstillitwasdangerous;forwhenMrs.Poolewasfastasleepaftertheginandwater,themadlady,whowasascunningasawitch,wouldtakethekeysoutofherpocket,letherselfoutofherchamber,andgoroamingaboutthehouse,doinganywildmischiefthatcameintoherhead.Theysayshehadnearlyburntherhusbandinhisbedonce:butIdon’tknowaboutthat.However,onthisnight,shesetfirefirsttothehangingsoftheroomnextherown,andthenshegotdowntoalowerstorey,andmadeherwaytothechamberthathadbeenthegoverness’s—(shewaslikeasifsheknewsomehowhowmattershadgoneon,andhadaspiteather)—andshekindledthebedthere;buttherewasnobodysleepinginit,fortunately.Thegovernesshadrunawaytwomonthsbefore;andforallMr.Rochestersoughtherasifshehadbeenthemostpreciousthinghehadintheworld,henevercouldhearawordofher;andhegrewsavage—quitesavageonhisdisappointment:heneverwasawildman,buthegotdangerousafterhelosther.Hewouldbealone,too.HesentMrs.Fairfax,thehousekeeper,

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awaytoherfriendsatadistance;buthedidithandsomely,forhesettledanannuityonherforlife:andshedeservedit—shewasaverygoodwoman.MissAdele,awardhehad,wasputtoschool.Hebrokeoffacquaintancewithallthegentry,andshuthimselfuplikeahermitattheHall.”

“What!didhenotleaveEngland?”

“LeaveEngland?Blessyou,no!Hewouldnotcrossthedoor-stonesofthehouse,exceptatnight,whenhewalkedjustlikeaghostaboutthegroundsandintheorchardasifhehadlosthissenses—whichitismyopinionhehad;foramorespirited,bolder,keenergentlemanthanhewasbeforethatmidgeofagovernesscrossedhim,youneversaw,ma’am.Hewasnotamangiventowine,orcards,orracing,assomeare,andhewasnotsoveryhandsome;buthehadacourageandawillofhisown,ifevermanhad.Iknewhimfromaboy,yousee:andformypart,IhaveoftenwishedthatMissEyrehadbeensunkintheseabeforeshecametoThornfieldHall.”

“ThenMr.Rochesterwasathomewhenthefirebrokeout?”

“Yes,indeedwashe;andhewentuptotheatticswhenallwasburningaboveandbelow,andgottheservantsoutoftheirbedsandhelpedthemdownhimself,andwentbacktogethismadwifeoutofhercell.Andthentheycalledouttohimthatshewasontheroof,whereshewasstanding,wavingherarms,abovethebattlements,andshoutingouttilltheycouldhearhera

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mileoff:Isawherandheardherwithmyowneyes.Shewasabigwoman,andhadlongblackhair:wecouldseeitstreamingagainsttheflamesasshestood.Iwitnessed,andseveralmorewitnessed,Mr.Rochesterascendthroughthesky-lightontotheroof;weheardhimcall‘Bertha!’Wesawhimapproachher;andthen,ma’am,sheyelledandgaveaspring,andthenextminuteshelaysmashedonthepavement.”“Dead?”“Dead!Ay,deadasthestonesonwhichherbrainsandbloodwerescattered.”“GoodGod!”“Youmaywellsayso,ma’am:itwasfrightful!”Heshuddered.“Andafterwards?”Iurged.

“Well,ma’am,afterwardsthehousewasburnttothe

ground:thereareonlysomebitsofwallsstandingnow.”“Wereanyotherliveslost?”“No—perhapsitwouldhavebeenbetteriftherehad.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“PoorMr.Edward!”heejaculated,“Ilittlethoughtevertohaveseenit!Somesayitwasajustjudgmentonhimforkeep