简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XXII
Mr. Rochester had given me but one week's leave of absence: yeta month elapsed before I quitted Gateshead. I wished to leaveimmediately after the funeral, but Georgiana entreated me to staytill she could get off to London, whither she was now at lastinvited by her uncle, Mr. Gibson, who had come down to direct hissister's interment and settle the family affairs. Georgiana saidshe dreaded being left alone with Eliza; from her she got neithersympathy in her dejection, support in her fears, nor aid in herpreparations; so I bore with her feeble-minded wailings and selfishlamentations as well as I could, and did my best in sewing forher and packing her dresses. It is true, that while I worked, shewould idle; and I thought to myself, "If you and I were destinedto live always together, cousin, we would commence matters on adifferent footing. I should not settle tamely down into being theforbearing party; I should assign you your share of labour, andcompel you to accomplish it, or else it should be left undone: Ishould insist, also, on your keeping some of those drawling,half-insincere complaints hushed in your own breast. It is onlybecause our connection happens to be very transitory, and comes ata peculiarly mournful season, that I consent thus to render it sopatient and compliant on my part. "
At last I saw Georgiana off; but now it was Eliza's turn torequest me to stay another week. Her plans required all her timeand attention, she said; she was about to depart for some unknownbourne; and all day long she stayed in her own room, her doorbolted within, filling trunks, emptying drawers, burning papers,and holding no communication with any one. She wished me to lookafter the house, to see callers, and answer notes of condolence.
One morning she told me I was at liberty. "And, " she added, "Iam obliged to you for your valuable services and discreet conduct!There is some difference between living with such an one as youand with Georgiana: you perform your own part in life and burdenno one. To-morrow, " she continued, "I set out for the Continent.I shall take up my abode in a religious house near Lisle -- anunnery you would call it; there I shall be quiet and unmolested.I shall devote myself for a time to the examination of the RomanCatholic dogmas, and to a careful study of the workings of theirsystem: if I find it to be, as I half suspect it is, the one bestcalculated to ensure the doing of all things decently and in order,I shall embrace the tenets of Rome and probably take the veil. "
I neither expressed surprise at this resolution nor attempted todissuade her from it. "The vocation will fit you to a hair, " Ithought: "much good may it do you!"
When we parted, she said: "Good-bye, cousin Jane Eyre; I wish youwell: you have some sense. "
I then returned: "You are not without sense, cousin Eliza; butwhat you have, I suppose, in another year will be walled up alivein a French convent. However, it is not my business, and so itsuits you, I don't much care. "
"You are in the right, " said she; and with these words we each wentour separate way. As I shall not have occasion to refer either toher or her sister again, I may as well mention here, that Georgianamade an advantageous match with a wealthy worn-out man of fashion,and that Eliza actually took the veil, and is at this day superiorof the convent where she passed the period of her novitiate, andwhich she endowed with her fortune.
How people feel when they are returning home from an absence, longor short, I did not know: I had never experienced the sensation.I had known what it was to come back to Gateshead when a child aftera long walk, to be scolded for looking cold or gloomy; and later,what it was to come back from church to Lowood, to long fora plenteous meal and a good fire, and to be unable to get either.Neither of these returnings was very pleasant or desirable: nomagnet drew me to a given point, increasing in its strength ofattraction the nearer I came. The return to Thornfield was yet tobe tried.
My journey seemed tedious -- very tedious: fifty miles one day, anight spent at an inn; fifty miles the next day. During the firsttwelve hours I thought of Mrs. Reed in her last moments; I saw herdisfigured and discoloured face, and heard her strangely alteredvoice. I mused on the funeral day, the coffin, the hearse, the blacktrain of tenants and servants -- few was the number of relatives-- the gaping vault, the silent church, the solemn service. ThenI thought of Eliza and Georgiana; I beheld one the cynosure of aball-room, the other the inmate of a convent cell; and I dwelt onand analysed their separate peculiarities of person and character.The evening arrival at the great town of -- scattered these thoughts;night gave them quite another turn: laid down on my traveller'sbed, I left reminiscence for anticipation.
I was going back to Thornfield: but how long was I to stay there?Not long; of that I was sure. I had heard from Mrs. Fairfax inthe interim of my absence: the party at the hall was dispersed;Mr. Rochester had left for London three weeks ago, but he was thenexpected to return in a fortnight. Mrs. Fairfax surmised that hewas gone to make arrangements for his wedding, as he had talked ofpurchasing a new carriage: she said the idea of his marrying MissIngram still seemed strange to her; but from what everybody said,and from what she had herself seen, she could no longer doubtthat the event would shortly take place. "You would be strangelyincredulous if you did doubt it, " was my mental comment. "I don'tdoubt it. "
The question followed, "Where was I to go?" I dreamt of MissIngram all the night: in a vivid morning dream I saw her closingthe gates of Thornfield against me and pointing me out anotherroad; and Mr. Rochester looked on with his arms folded -- smilingsardonically, as it seemed, at both her and me.
I had not notified to Mrs. Fairfax the exact day of my return; forI did not wish either car or carriage to meet me at Millcote. Iproposed to walk the distance quietly by myself; and very quietly,after leaving my box in the ostler's care, did I slip away fromthe George Inn, about six o'clock of a June evening, and take theold road to Thornfield: a road which lay chiefly through fields,and was now little frequented.
It was not a bright or splendid summer evening, though fair and soft:the haymakers were at work all along the road; and the sky, thoughfar from cloudless, was such as promised well for the future: itsblue -- where blue was visible -- was mild and settled, and itscloud strata high and thin. The west, too, was warm: no waterygleam chilled it -- it seemed as if there was a fire lit, an altarburning behind its screen of marbled vapour, and out of aperturesshone a golden redness.
I felt glad as the road shortened before me: so glad that I stoppedonce to ask myself what that joy meant: and to remind reason thatit was not to my home I was going, or to a permanent resting-place,or to a place where fond friends looked out for me and waited myarrival. "Mrs. Fairfax will smile you a calm welcome, to be sure, "said I; "and little Adele will clap her hands and jump to see you:but you know very well you are thinking of another than they, andthat he is not thinking of you. "
But what is so headstrong as youth? What so blind as inexperience?These affirmed that it was pleasure enough to have the privilegeof again looking on Mr. Rochester, whether he looked on me or not;and they added -- "Hasten! hasten! be with him while you may:but a few more days or weeks, at most, and you are parted from himfor ever!" And then I strangled a new-born agony -- a deformedthing which I could not persuade myself to own and rear -- and ranon.
They are making hay, too, in Thornfield meadows: or rather, thelabourers are just quitting their work, and returning home withtheir rakes on their shoulders, now, at the hour I arrive. I havebut a field or two to traverse, and then I shall cross the road andreach the gates. How full the hedges are of roses! But I have notime to gather any; I want to be at the house. I passed a tallbriar, shooting leafy and flowery branches across the path; Isee the narrow stile with stone steps; and I see -- Mr. Rochestersitting there, a book and a pencil in his hand; he is writing.
Well, he is not a ghost; yet every nerve I have is unstrung: fora moment I am beyond my own mastery. What does it mean? I didnot think I should tremble in this way when I saw him, or lose myvoice or the power of motion in his presence. I will go back assoon as I can stir: I need not make an absolute fool of myself.I know another way to the house. It does not signify if I knewtwenty ways; for he has seen me.
"Hillo!" he cries; and he puts up his book and his pencil. "Thereyou are! Come on, if you please. "
I suppose I do come on; though in what fashion I know not; beingscarcely cognisant of my movements, and solicitous only to appearcalm; and, above all, to control the working muscles of my face-- which I feel rebel insolently against my will, and struggle toexpress what I had resolved to conceal. But I have a veil -- itis down: I may make shift yet to behave with decent composure.
"And this is Jane Eyre? Are you coming from Millcote, and on foot?Yes -- just one of your tricks: not to send for a carriage, andcome clattering over street and road like a common mortal, but tosteal into the vicinage of your home along with twilight, just asif you were a dream or a shade. What the deuce have you done withyourself this last month?"
"I have been with my aunt, sir, who is dead. "
"A true Janian reply! Good angels be my guard! She comes from theother world -- from the abode of people who are dead; and tells meso when she meets me alone here in the gloaming! If I dared, I'dtouch you, to see if you are substance or shadow, you elf! -- butI'd as soon offer to take hold of a blue ignis fatuus light in amarsh. Truant! truant!" he added, when he had paused an instant."Absent from me a whole month, and forgetting me quite, I'll besworn!"
I knew there would be pleasure in meeting my master again, eventhough broken by the fear that he was so soon to cease to be mymaster, and by the knowledge that I was nothing to him: but therewas ever in Mr. Rochester (so at least I thought) such a wealthof the power of communicating happiness, that to taste but of thecrumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me, was tofeast genially. His last words were balm: they seemed to implythat it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not.And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home -- would that it weremy home!
He did not leave the stile, and I hardly liked to ask to go by. Iinquired soon if he had not been to London.
"Yes; I suppose you found that out by second-sight. "
"Mrs. Fairfax told me in a letter. "
"And did she inform you what I went to do?"
"Oh, yes, sir! Everybody knew your errand. "
"You must see the carriage, Jane, and tell me if you don't think itwill suit Mrs. Rochester exactly; and whether she won't look likeQueen Boadicea, leaning back against those purple cushions. I wish,Jane, I were a trifle better adapted to match with her externally.Tell me now, fairy as you are -- can't you give me a charm, or aphilter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?"
I neither expressed surprise at this resolution nor attempted todissuade her from it. "The vocation will fit you ?
"It would be past the power of magic, sir;" and, in thought, I added,"A loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsomeenough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty. "
Mr. Rochester had sometimes read my unspoken thoughts with an acumento me incomprehensible: in the present instance he took no noticeof my abrupt vocal response; but he smiled at me with a certainsmile he had of his own, and which he used but on rare occasions.He seemed to think it too good for common purposes: it was thereal sunshine of feeling -- he shed it over me now.
Mrs. Reed in her last moments; I saw herdisfigured and discoloured.
"Pass, Janet, " said he, making room for me to cross the stile: "goup home, and stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend'sthreshold. "
All I had now to do was to obey him in silence: no need for meto colloquise further. I got over the stile without a word, andmeant to leave him calmly. An impulse held me fast -- a force turnedme round. I said -- or something in me said for me, and in spite of me -
"Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangelyglad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home --my only home. "
I walked on so fast that even he could hardly have overtaken mehad he tried. Little Adele was half wild with delight when she sawme. Mrs. Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness.Leah smiled, and even Sophie bid me "bon soir" with glee. Thiswas very pleasant; there is no happiness like that of being lovedby your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is anaddition to their comfort.
I that evening shut my eyes resolutely against the future: I stoppedmy cars against the voice that kept warning me of near separationand coming grief. When tea was over and Mrs. Fairfax had takenher knitting, and I had assumed a low seat near her, and Adele,kneeling on the carpet, had nestled close up to me, and a sense ofmutual affection seemed to surround us with a ring of golden peace,I uttered a silent prayer that we might not be parted far or soon;but when, as we thus sat, Mr. Rochester entered, unannounced, andlooking at us, seemed to take pleasure in the spectacle of a groupso amicable -- when he said he supposed the old lady was all rightnow that she had got her adopted daughter back again, and addedthat he saw Adele was "prete e croquer sa petite maman Anglaise"-- I half ventured to hope that he would, even after his marriage,keep us together somewhere under the shelter of his protection,and not quite exiled from the sunshine of his presence.
A fortnight of dubious calm succeeded my return to Thornfield Hall.Nothing was said of the master's marriage, and I saw no preparationgoing on for such an event. Almost every day I asked Mrs. Fairfaxif she had yet heard anything decided: her answer was always inthe negative. Once she said she had actually put the question toMr. Rochester as to when he was going to bring his bride home; buthe had answered her only by a joke and one of his queer looks, andshe could not tell what to make of him.
One thing specially surprised me, and that was, there were nojourneyings backward and forward, no visits to Ingram Park: tobe sure it was twenty miles off, on the borders of another county;but what was that distance to an ardent lover? To so practisedand indefatigable a horseman as Mr. Rochester, it would be but amorning's ride. I began to cherish hopes I had no right to conceive:that the match was broken off; that rumour had been mistaken; thatone or both parties had changed their minds. I used to look atmy master's face to see if it were sad or fierce; but I could notremember the time when it had been so uniformly clear of clouds orevil feelings. If, in the moments I and my pupil spent with him, Ilacked spirits and sank into inevitable dejection, he became evengay. Never had he called me more frequently to his presence; neverbeen kinder to me when there -- and, alas! never had I loved himso well.