简爱(英文版)-第35章

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“But；　mother；　I　did　not　e　to　hear　Mr。　Rochester’s　fortune：　I　came　to　hear　my　own；　and　you　have　told　me　nothing　of　it。”
“Your　fortune　is　yet　doubtful：　when　I　examined　your　face；　one　trait　contradicted　another。　Chance　has　meted　you　a　measure　of　happiness：　that　I　know。　I　knew　it　before　I　came　here　this　evening。　She　has　laid　it　carefully　on　one　side　for　you。　I　saw　her　do　it。　It　depends　on　yourself　to　stretch　out　your　hand；　and　take　it　up：　but　whether　you　will　do　so；　is　the　problem　I　study。　Kneel　again　on　the　rug。”
“Don’t　keep　me　long；　the　fire　scorches　me。”
I　knelt。　She　did　not　stoop　towards　me；　but　only　gazed；　leaning　back　in　her　chair。　She　began　muttering；—
“The　flame　flickers　in　the　eye；　the　eye　shines　like　dew；　it　looks　soft　and　full　of　feeling；　it　smiles　at　my　jargon：　it　is　susceptible；　impression　follows　impression　through　its　clear　sphere；　where　it　ceases　to　smile；　it　is　sad；　an　unconscious　lassitude　weighs　on　the　lid：　that　signifies　melancholy　resulting　from　loneliness。　It　turns　from　me；　it　will　not　suffer　further　scrutiny；　it　seems　to　deny；　by　a　mocking　glance；　the　truth　of　the　discoveries　I　have　already　made；—to　disown　the　charge　both　of　sensibility　and　chagrin：　its　pride　and　reserve　only　confirm　me　in　my　opinion。　The　eye　is　favourable。
“As　to　the　mouth；　it　delights　at　times　in　laughter；　it　is　disposed　to　impart　all　that　the　brain　conceives；　though　I　daresay　it　would　be　silent　on　much　the　heart　experiences。　Mobile　and　flexible；　it　was　never　intended　to　be　pressed　in　the　eternal　silence　of　solitude：　it　is　a　mouth　which　should　speak　much　and　smile　often；　and　have　human　affection　for　its　interlocutor。　That　feature　too　is　propitious。
“I　see　no　enemy　to　a　fortunate　issue　but　in　the　brow；　and　that　brow　professes　to　say；—‘I　can　live　alone；　if　self…respect；　and　circumstances　require　me　so　to　do。　I　need　not　sell　my　soul　to　buy　bliss。　I　have　an　inward　treasure　born　with　me；　which　can　keep　me　alive　if　all　extraneous　delights　should　be　withheld；　or　offered　only　at　a　price　I　cannot　afford　to　give。’　The　forehead　declares；　‘Reason　sits　firm　and　holds　the　reins；　and　she　will　not　let　the　feelings　burst　away　and　hurry　her　to　wild　chasms。　The　passions　may　rage　furiously；　like　true　heathens；　as　they　are；　and　the　desires　may　imagine　all　sorts　of　vain　things：　but　judgment　shall　still　have　the　last　word　in　every　argument；　and　the　casting　vote　in　every　decision。　Strong　wind；　earthquake…shock；　and　fire　may　pass　by：　but　I　shall　follow　the　guiding　of　that　still　small　voice　which　interprets　the　dictates　of　conscience。’
“Well　said；　forehead；　your　declaration　shall　be　respected。　I　have　formed　my　plans—right　plans　I　deem　them—and　in　them　I　have　attended　to　the　claims　of　conscience；　the　counsels　of　reason。　I　know　how　soon　youth　would　fade　and　bloom　perish；　if；　in　the　cup　of　bliss　offered；　but　one　dreg　of　shame；　or　one　flavour　of　remorse　were　detected；　and　I　do　not　want　sacrifice；　sorrow；　dissolution—such　is　not　my　taste。　I　wish　to　foster；　not　to　blight—to　earn　gratitude；　not　to　wring　tears　of　blood—no；　nor　of　brine：　my　harvest　must　be　in　smiles；　in　endearments；　in　sweet—　That　will　do。　I　think　I　rave　in　a　kind　of　exquisite　delirium。　I　should　wish　now　to　protract　this　moment　ad　infinitum；　but　I　dare　not。　So　far　I　have　governed　myself　thoroughly。　I　have　acted　as　I　inwardly　swore　I　would　act；　but　further　might　try　me　beyond　my　strength。　Rise；　Miss　Eyre：　leave　me；　the　play　is　played　out’。”
Where　was　I？　Did　I　wake　or　sleep？　Had　I　been　dreaming？　Did　I　dream　still？　The　old　woman’s　voice　had　changed：　her　accent；　her　gesture；　and　all　were　familiar　to　me　as　my　own　face　in　a　glass—as　the　speech　of　my　own　tongue。　I　got　up；　but　did　not　go。　I　looked；　I　stirred　the　fire；　and　I　looked　again：　but　she　drew　her　bon　and　her　bandage　closer　about　her　face；　and　again　beckoned　me　to　depart。　The　flame　illuminated　her　hand　stretched　out：　roused　now；　and　on　the　alert　for　discoveries；　I　at　once　noticed　that　hand。　It　was　no　more　the　withered　limb　of　eld　than　my　own；　it　was　a　rounded　supple　member；　with　smooth　fingers；　symmetrically　turned；　a　broad　ring　flashed　on　the　little　finger；　and　stooping　forward；　I　looked　at　it；　and　saw　a　gem　I　had　seen　a　hundred　times　before。　Again　I　looked　at　the　face；　which　was　no　longer　turned　from　me—on　the　contrary；　the　bon　was　doffed；　the　bandage　displaced；　the　head　advanced。
“Well；　Jane；　do　you　know　me？”　asked　the　familiar　voice。
“Only　take　off　the　red　cloak；　sir；　and　then—”
“But　the　string　is　in　a　knot—help　me。”
“Break　it；　sir。”
“There；　then—‘Off；　ye　lendings！’”　And　Mr。　Rochester　stepped　out　of　his　disguise。
“Now；　sir；　what　a　strange　idea！”
“But　well　carried　out；　eh？　Don’t　you　think　so？”
“With　the　ladies　you　must　have　managed　well。”
“But　not　with　you？”
“You　did　not　act　the　character　of　a　gipsy　with　me。”
“What　character　did　I　act？　My　own？”
“No；　some　unaccountable　one。　In　short；　I　believe　you　have　been　trying　to　draw　me　out—or　in；　you　have　been　talking　nonsense　to　make　me　talk　nonsense。　It　is　scarcely　fair；　sir。”
“Do　you　forgive　me；　Jane？”
“I　cannot　tell　till　I　have　thought　it　all　over。　If；　on　reflection；　I　find　I　have　fallen　into　no　great　absurdity；　I　shall　try　to　forgive　you；　but　it　was　not　right。”
“Oh；　you　have　been　very　correct—very　careful；　very　sensible。”
I　reflected；　and　thought；　on　the　whole；　I　had。　It　was　a　fort；　but；　indeed；　I　had　been　on　my　guard　almost　from　the　beginning　of　the　interview。　Something　of　masquerade　I　suspected。　I　knew　gipsies　and　fortune…tellers　did　not　express　themselves　as　this　seeming　old　woman　had　expressed　herself；　besides　I　had　noted　her　feigned　voice；　her　anxiety　to　conceal　her　features。　But　my　mind　had　been　running　on　Grace　Poole—that　living　enigma；　that　mystery　of　mysteries；　as　I　considered　her。　I　had　never　thought　of　Mr。　Rochester。
“Well；”　said　he；　“what　are　you　musing　about？　What　does　that　grave　smile　signify？”
“Wonder　and　self…congratulation；　sir。　I　have　your　permission　to　retire　now；　I　suppose？”
“No；　stay　a　moment；　and　tell　me　what　the　people　in　the　drawing…room　yonder　are　doing。”
“Discussing　the　gipsy；　I　daresay。”
“Sit　down！—Let　me　hear　what　they　said　about　me。”
“I　had　better　not　stay　long；　sir；　it　must　be　near　eleven　o’clock。　Oh；　are　you　aware；　Mr。　Rochester；　that　a　stranger　has　arrived　here　since　you　left　this　morning？”
“A　stranger！—no；　who　can　it　be？　I　expected　no　one；　is　he　gone？”
“No；　he　said　he　had　known　you　long；　and　that　he　could　take　the　liberty　of　installing　himself　here　till　you　returned。”
“The　devil　he　did！　Did　he　give　his　name？”
“His　name　is　Mason；　sir；　and　he　es　from　the　West　Indies；　from　Spanish　Town；　in　Jamaica；　I　think。”
Mr。　Rochester　was　standing　near　me；　he　had　taken　my　hand；　as　if　to　lead　me　to　a　chair。　As　I　spoke　he　gave　my　wrist　a　convulsive　grip；　the　smile　on　his　lips　froze：　apparently　a　spasm　caught　his　breath。
“Mason！—the　West　Indies！”　he　said；　in　the　tone　one　might　fancy　a　speaking　automaton　to　enounce　its　single　words；　“Mason！—the　West　Indies！”　he　reiterated；　and　he　went　over　the　syllables　three　times；　growing；　in　the　intervals　of　speaking；　whiter　than　ashes：　he　hardly　seemed　to　know　what　he　was　doing。
“Do　you　feel　ill；　sir？”　I　inquired。
“Jane；　I’ve　got　a　blow；　I’ve　got　a　blow；　Jane！”　He　staggered。
“Oh；　lean　on　me；　sir。”
“Jane；　you　offered　me　your　shoulder　once　before；　let　me　have　it　now。”
“Yes；　sir；　yes；　and　my　arm。”
He　sat　down；　and　made　me　sit　beside　him。　Holding　my　hand　in　both　his　own；　he　chafed　it；　gazing　on　me；　at　the　same　time；　with　the　most　troubled　and　dreary　look。
“My　little　friend！”　said　he；　“I　wish　I　were　in　a　quiet　island　with　only　you；　and　trouble；　and　danger；　and　hideous　recollections　removed　from　me。”
“Can　I　help　you；　sir？—I’d　give　my　life　to　serve　you。”
“Jane；　if　aid　is　wanted；　I’ll　seek　it　at　your　hands；　I　promise　you　that。”
“Thank　you；　sir。　Tell　me　what　to　do；—I’ll　try；　at　least；　to　do　it。”
“Fetch　me　now；　Jane；　a　glass　of　wine　from　the　dining…room：　they　will　be　at　supper　there；　and　tell　me　if　Mason　is　with　them；　and　what　he　is　doing。”
I　went。　I　found　all　the　party　in　the　dining…room　at　supper；　as　Mr。　Rochester　had　said；　they　were　not　seated　at　table；—the　supper　was　arranged　on　the　sideboard；　each　had　taken　what　he　chose；　and　they　stood　about　here　and　there　in　groups；　their　plates　and　glasses　in　their　hands。　Every　one　seemed　in　high　glee；　laughter　and　conversation　were　general　and　animated。　Mr。　Mason　stood　near　the　fire；　talking　to　Colonel　and　Mrs。　Dent；　and　appeared　as　merry　as　any　of　them。　I　filled　a　wine…glass　（I　saw　Miss　Ingram　watch　me　frowningly　as　I　did　so：　she　thought　I　was　taking　a　liberty；　I　daresay）；　and　I　returned　to　the　library。
Mr。　Rochester’s　extreme　pallor　had　disappeared；　and　he　looked　once　more　firm　and　stern。　He　took　the　glass　from　my　hand。
“Here　is　to　your　health；　ministrant　spirit！”　he　said。　He　swallowed　the　contents　and　returned　it　to　me。　“What　are　they　doing；　Jane？”
“Laughing　and　talking；　sir。”
“They　don’t　look　grave　and　mysterious；　as　if　they　had　heard　something　strange？”
“Not　at　all：　they　are　full　of　jests　and　gaiety。”
“And　Mason？”
“He　was　laughing　too。”
“If　all　these　people　came　in　a　body　and　spat　at　me；　what　would　you　do；　Jane？”
“Turn　them　out　of　the　room；　sir；　if　I　could。”
He　half　smiled。　“But　if　I　were　to　go　to　them；　and　they　only　looked　at　me　coldly；　and　whispered　sneeringly　amongst　each　other；　and　then　dropped　off　and　left　me　one　by　one；　what　then？　Would　you　go　with　them？”
“I　rather　think　not；　sir：　I　should　have　more　pleasure　in　staying　with　you。”
“To　fort　me？”
“Yes；　sir；　to　fort　you；　as　well　as　I　could。”
“And　if　they　laid　you　under　a　ban　for　adhering　to　me？”
“I；　probably；　should　know　nothing　about　their　ban；　and　if　I　did；　I　should　care　nothing　about　it。”
“Then；　you　could　dare　censure　for　my　sake？”
“I　could　dare　it　for　the　sake　of　any　friend　who　deserved　my　adherence；　as　you；　I　am　sure；　do。”
“Go　back　now　into　the　room；　step　quietly　up　to　Mason；　and　whisper　in　his　ear　that　Mr。　Rochester　is　e　and　wishes　to　see　him：　show　him　in　here　and　then　leave　me。”
“Yes；　sir。”
I　did　his　behest。　The　pany　all　stared　at　me　as　I　passed　straight　among　them。　I　sought　Mr。　Mason；　delivered　the　message；　and　preceded　him　from　the　room：　I　ushered　him　into　the　library；　and　then　I　went　upstairs。
At　a　late　hour；　after　I　had　been　in　bed　some　time；　I　heard　the　visitors　repair　to　their　chambers：　I　distinguished　Mr。　Rochester’s　voice；　and　heard　him　say；　“This　way；　Mason；　this　is　your　room。”
He　spoke　cheerfully：　the　gay　tones　set　my　heart　at　ease。　I　was　soon　asleep。
Chapter　20
I　had　forgotten　to　draw　my　curtain；　which　I　usually　did；　and　also　to　let　down　my　window…blind。　The　consequence　was；　that　when　the　moon；　which　was　full　and　bright　（for　the　night　was　fine）；　came　in　her　course　to　that　space　in　the　sky　opposite　my　casement；　and　looked　in　at　me　through　the　unveiled　panes；　her　glorious　gaze　roused　me。　Awaking　in　the　dead　of　night；　I　opened　my　eyes　on　her　disk—silver…　white　and　crystal　clear。　It　was　beautiful；　but　too　solemn；　I　half　rose；　and　stretched　my　arm　to　draw　the　curtain。
Good　God！　What　a　cry！
The　night—its　silence—its　rest；　was　rent　in　twain　by　a　savage；　a　sharp；　a　shrilly　sound　that　ran　from　end　to　end　of　Thornfield　Hall。
My　pulse　stopped：　my　heart　stood　still；　my　stretched　arm　was　paralysed。　The　cry　died；　and　was　not　renewed。　Indeed；　whatever　being　uttered　that　fearful　shriek　could　not　soon　repeat　it：　not　the　widest…winged　condor　on　the　Andes　could；　twice　in　succession；　send　out　such　a　yell　from　the　cloud　shrouding　his　eyrie。　The　thing　delivering　such　utterance　must　rest　ere　it　could　repeat　the　effort。
It　came　out　of　the　third　storey；　for　it　passed　overhead。　And　overhead—yes；　in　the　room　just　above　my　chamber…ceiling—I　now　heard　a　struggle：　a　deadly　one　it　seemed　from　the　noise；　and　a　half…smothered　voice　shouted—
“Help！　help！　help！”　three　times　rapidly。
“Will　no　one　e？”　it　cried；　and　then；　while　the　staggering　and　stamping　went　on　wildly；　I　distinguished　through　plank　and　plaster：—
“Rochester！　Rochester！　for　God’s　sake；　e！”
A　chamber…door　opened：　some　one　ran；　or　rushed；　along　the　gallery。　Another　step　stamped　on　the　flooring　above　and　something　fell；　and　there　was　silence。
I　had　put　on　some　clothes；　though　horror　shook　all　my　limbs；　I　issued　from　my　apartment。　The　sleepers　were　all　aroused：　ejaculations；　terrified　murmurs　sounded　in　every　room；　door　after　door　unclosed；　one　looked　out　and　another　looked　out；　the　gallery　filled。　Gentlemen　and　ladies　alike　had　quitted　their　beds；　and　“Oh！　what　is　it？”—“Who　is　hurt？”—“What　has　happened？”—“Fetch　a　light！”—“Is　it　fire？”—“Are　there　robbers？”—“Where　shall　we　run？”　was　demanded　confusedly　on　all　hands。　But　for　the　moonlight　they　would　have　been　in　plete　darkness。　They　ran　to　and　fro；　they　crowded　together：　some　sobbed；　some　stumbled：　the　confusion　was　inextricable。
“Where　the　devil　is　Rochester？”　cried　Colonel　Dent。　“I　cannot　find　him　in　his　bed。”
“Here！　here！”　was　shouted　in　return。　“Be　posed；　all　of　you：　I’m　ing。”
And　the　door　at　the　end　of　the　gallery　opened；　and　Mr。　Rochester　advanced　with　a　candle：　he　had　just　descended　from　the　upper　storey。　One　of　the　ladies　ran　to　him　directly；　she　seized　his　arm：　it　was　Miss　Ingram。
“What　awful　event　has　t