简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XXVI
Sophie came at seven to dress me: she was very long indeed inaccomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester, grown, I suppose,impatient of my delay, sent up to ask why I did not come. She wasjust fastening my veil (the plain square of blond after all) tomy hair with a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon asI could.
solicitor addressed me ashe descended the.
"Stop!" she cried in French. "Look at yourself in the mirror:you have not taken one peep. "
So I turned at the door: I saw a robed and veiled figure, sounlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stranger."Jane!" called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received atthe foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester.
"Lingerer!" he said, "my brain is on fire with impatience, andyou tarry so long!"
He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all over,pronounced me "fair as a lily, and not only the pride of his life,but the desire of his eyes, " and then telling me he would give mebut ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang the bell. One ofhis lately hired servants, a footman, answered it.
"Is John getting the carriage ready?"
"Yes, sir. "
"Is the luggage brought down?"
"They are bringing it down, sir. "
"Go you to the church: see if Mr. Wood (the clergyman) and theclerk are there: return and tell me. "
The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the gates;the footman soon returned.
"Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice. "
"And the carriage?"
"The horses are harnessing. "
"We shall not want it to go to church; but it must be ready themoment we return: all the boxes and luggage arranged and strappedon, and the coachman in his seat. "
"Yes, sir. "
"Jane, are you ready?"
I rose. There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives towait for or marshal: none but Mr. Rochester and I. Mrs. Fairfaxstood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have spoken to her,but my hand was held by a grasp of iron: I was hurried along by astride I could hardly follow; and to look at Mr. Rochester's facewas to feel that not a second of delay would be tolerated for anypurpose. I wonder what other bridegroom ever looked as he did --so bent up to a purpose, so grimly resolute: or who, under suchsteadfast brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped: he discovered I was quite outof breath. "Am I cruel in my love?" he said. "Delay an instant:lean on me, Jane. "
And now I can recall the picture of the grey old house of Godrising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of aruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the greengrave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures ofstrangers straying amongst the low hillocks and reading the mementoesgraven on the few mossy head-stones. I noticed them, because,as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the church; andI doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle door andwitness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they were not observed; hewas earnestly looking at my face from which the blood had, I daresay,momentarily fled: for I felt my forehead dewy, and my cheeks andlips cold. When I rallied, which I soon did, he walked gently withme up the path to the porch.
We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited in hiswhite surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All wasstill: two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My conjecturehad been correct: the strangers had slipped in before us, and theynow stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs towards us,viewing through the rails the old time-stained marble tomb, wherea kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de Rochester, slainat Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars, and of Elizabeth,his wife.
Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a cautiousstep behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one of the strangers-- a gentleman, evidently -- was advancing up the chancel. Theservice began. The explanation of the intent of matrimony was gonethrough; and then the clergyman came a step further forward, and,bending slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.
"I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadfulday of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed),that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfullybe joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be yewell assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise thanGod's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither istheir matrimony lawful. "
He paused, as the custom is. When is the pause after that sentenceever broken by reply? Not, perhaps, once in a hundred years. Andthe clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes from his book, and hadheld his breath but for a moment, was proceeding: his hand wasalready stretched towards Mr. Rochester, as his lips unclosed toask, "Wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?" --when a distinct and near voice said -
"The marriage cannot go on: I declare the existence of an impediment. "
The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute; the clerkdid the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an earthquake hadrolled under his feet: taking a firmer footing, and not turninghis head or eyes, he said, "Proceed. "
Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, withdeep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said -
"I cannot proceed without some investigation into what has beenasserted, and evidence of its truth or falsehood. "
"The ceremony is quite broken off, " subjoined the voice behindus. "I am in a condition to prove my allegation: an insuperableimpediment to this marriage exists. "
Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not: he stood stubborn and rigid,making no movement but to possess himself of my hand. What a hotand strong grasp he had! and how like quarried marble was hispale, firm, massive front at this moment! How his eye shone, stillwatchful, and yet wild beneath!
Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. "What is the nature of the impediment?"he asked. "Perhaps it may be got over -- explained away?"
"Hardly, " was the answer. "I have called it insuperable, and Ispeak advisedly. "
The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails. He continued,uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily, but not loudly -
"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage. Mr.Rochester has a wife now living. "
My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had nevervibrated to thunder -- my blood felt their subtle violence as ithad never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no dangerof swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester: I made him look at me.His whole face was colourless rock: his eye was both spark andflint. He disavowed nothing: he seemed as if he would defy allthings. Without speaking, without smiling, without seeming torecognise in me a human being, he only twined my waist with hisarm and riveted me to his side.
"Who are you?" he asked of the intruder.
"My name is Briggs, a solicitor of -- Street, London. "
"And you would thrust on me a wife?"
"I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the lawrecognises, if you do not. "
"Favour me with an account of her -- with her name, her parentage,her place of abode. "
"Certainly. " Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket, andread out in a sort of official, nasal voice:-
"'I affirm and can prove that on the 20th of October A. D. -- (adate of fifteen years back), Edward Fairfax Rochester, of ThornfieldHall, in the county of -, and of Ferndean Manor, in -shire, England,was married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Mason, daughter ofJonas Mason, merchant, and of Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at --church, Spanish Town, Jamaica. The record of the marriage will befound in the register of that church -- a copy of it is now in mypossession. Signed, Richard Mason. '"
"That -- if a genuine document -- may prove I have been married,but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as my wifeis still living. "
"She was living three months ago, " returned the lawyer.
"How do you know?"
"I have a witness to the fact, whose testimony even you, sir, willscarcely controvert. "
"Produce him -- or go to hell. "
"I will produce him first -- he is on the spot. Mr. Mason, havethe goodness to step forward. "
Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his teeth; he experienced,too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as I was, Ifelt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run through his frame.The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the background,now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's shoulder-- yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and glared athim. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye: it had nowa tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his face flushed --olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow as from spreading,ascending heart-fire: and he stirred, lifted his strong arm -- hecould have struck Mason, dashed him on the church-floor, shockedby ruthless blow the breath from his body -- but Mason shrank away,and cried faintly, "Good God!" Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester-- his passion died as if a blight had shrivelled it up: he onlyasked -- "What have YOU to say?"
An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.
"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I againdemand, what have you to say?"
"Sir -- sir, " interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are ina sacred place. " Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, "Areyou aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is stillliving?"
"Courage, " urged the lawyer, -- "speak out. "
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall, " said Mason, in more articulatetones: "I saw her there last April. I am her brother. "
"At Thornfield Hall!" ejaculated the clergyman. "Impossible! Iam an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I never heardof a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall. "
I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lips, and he muttered -
"No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it --or of her under that name. " He mused -- for ten minutes he heldcounsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it -
"Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet from thebarrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; JohnGreen (to the clerk), leave the church: there will be no weddingto-day. " The man obeyed.
Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: "Bigamy is anugly word! -- I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has out-manoeuvred me, or Providence has checked me, -- perhaps the last.I am little better than a devil at this moment; and, as my pastorthere would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judgments ofGod, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm. Gentlemen,my plan is broken up:- what this lawyer and his client say is true:I have been married, and the woman to whom I was married lives!You say you never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at the house up yonder,Wood; but I daresay you have many a time inclined your ear to gossipabout the mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Somehave whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some,my cast-off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whomI married fifteen years ago, -- Bertha Mason by name; sister ofthis resolute personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs andwhite cheeks, showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheerup, Dick! -- never fear me! -- I'd almost as soon strike a womanas you. Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family; idiotsand maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole,was both a madwoman and a drunkard! -- as I found out after I hadwed the daughter: for they were silent on family secrets before.Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both points.I had a charming partner -- pure, wise, modest: you can fancy Iwas a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my experiencehas been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe you no furtherexplanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you all to come up tothe house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and MY WIFE! You shallsee what sort of a being I was cheated into espousing, and judgewhether or not I had a right to break the compact, and seek sympathywith something at least human. This girl, " he continued, lookingat me, "knew no more than you, Wood, of the disgusting secret:she thought all was fair and legal and never dreamt she was goingto be entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch,already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner! Come all ofyou -- follow!"
Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentlemencame after. At the front door of the hall we found the carriage.
"Take it back to the coach-house, John, " said Mr. Rochester coolly;"it will not be wanted to-day. "
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adele, Sophie, Leah, advanced tomeet and greet us.
"To the right-about -- every soul!" cried the master; "away withyour congratulations! Who wants them? Not I! -- they are fifteenyears too late!"
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand, andstill beckoning the gentlemen to follow him, which they did. Wemounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded tothe third storey: the low, black door, opened by Mr. Rochester'smaster-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its great bedand its pictorial cabinet.
"You know this place, Mason, " said our guide; "she bit and stabbedyou here. "
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second door:this, too, he opened. In a room without a window, there burnt afire guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp suspended fromthe ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over the fire, apparentlycooking something in a saucepan. In the deep shade, at the fartherend of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What itwas, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight,tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growledlike some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing,and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its headand face.
"Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!" said Mr. Rochester. "How are you? andhow is your charge to-day?"
"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you, " replied Grace, lifting theboiling mess carefully on to the hob: "rather snappish, but not'rageous. "
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: theclothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet.
"Ah! sir, she sees you!" exclaimed Grace: "you'd better notstay. "
"Only a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments. "
"Take care then, sir! -- for God's sake, take care!"
The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage,and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purpleface, -- those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced.
"Keep out of the way, " said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside:"she has no knife now, I suppose, and I'm on my guard. "
"One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is notin mortal discretion to fathom her craft. "
"We had better leave her, " whispered Mason.
"Go to the devil!" was his brother-in-law's recommendation.
"'Ware!" cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously.Mr. Rochester flung me behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappledhis throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: theystruggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling herhusband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in thecontest -- more than once she almost throttled him, athletic ashe was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow; buthe would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he masteredher arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he pinioned them behindher: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair.The operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the mostconvulsive plunges. Mr. Rochester then turned to the spectators:he looked at them with a smile both acrid and desolate.
"That is MY WIFE, " said he. "Such is the sole conjugal embraceI am ever to know -- such are the endearments which are to solacemy leisure hours! And THIS is what I wished to have" (laying hishand on my shoulder): "this young girl, who stands so grave andquiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols ofa demon, I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout.Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyeswith the red balls yonder -- this face with that mask -- this formwith that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of thelaw, and remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged!Off with you now. I must shut up my prize. "
We all withdrew. Mr. Rochester stayed a moment behind us, to givesome further order to Grace Poole. The solicitor addressed me ashe descended the stair.
"You, madam, " said he, "are cleared from all blame: your unclewill be glad to hear it -- if, indeed, he should be still living-- when Mr. Mason returns to Madeira. "
"My uncle! What of him? Do you know him?"
"Mr. Mason does. Mr. Eyre has been the Funchal correspondent ofhis house for some years. When your uncle received your letterintimating the contemplated union between yourself and Mr. Rochester,Mr. Mason, who was staying at Madeira to recruit his health, on hisway back to Jamaica, happened to be with him. Mr. Eyre mentionedthe intelligence; for he knew that my client here was acquaintedwith a gentleman of the name of Rochester. Mr. Mason, astonishedand distressed as you may suppose, revealed the real state ofmatters. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, is now on a sick bed; fromwhich, considering the nature of his disease -- decline -- and thestage it has reached, it is unlikely he will ever rise. He couldnot then hasten to England himself, to extricate you from the snareinto which you had fallen, but he implored Mr. Mason to lose notime in taking steps to prevent the false marriage. He referredhim to me for assistance. I used all despatch, and am thankfulI was not too late: as you, doubtless, must be also. Were I notmorally certain that your uncle will be dead ere you reach Madeira,I would advise you to accompany Mr. Mason back; but as it is, Ithink you had better remain in England till you can hear further,either from or of Mr. Eyre. Have we anything else to stay for?"he inquired of Mr. Mason.
"No, no -- let us be gone, " was the anxious reply; and withoutwaiting to take leave of Mr. Rochester, they made their exit atthe hall door. The clergyman stayed to exchange a few sentences,either of admonition or reproof, with his haughty parishioner; thisduty done, he too departed.
covered with clothing,and a quantity.
I heard him go as I stood at the half-open door of my own room, towhich I had now withdrawn. The house cleared, I shut myself in,fastened the bolt that none might intrude, and proceeded -- not toweep, not to mourn, I was yet too calm for that, but -- mechanicallyto take off the wedding dress, and replace it by the stuff gown Ihad worn yesterday, as I thought, for the last time. I then satdown: I felt weak and tired. I leaned my arms on a table, andmy head dropped on them. And now I thought: till now I had onlyheard, seen, moved -- followed up and down where I was led or dragged-- watched event rush on event, disclosure open beyond disclosure:but NOW, I THOUGHT.
The morning had been a quiet morning enough -- all except the briefscene with the lunatic: the transaction in the church had not beennoisy; there was no explosion of passion, no loud altercation, nodispute, no defiance or challenge, no tears, no sobs: a few wordshad been spoken, a calmly pronounced objection to the marriagemade; some stern, short questions put by Mr. Rochester; answers,explanations given, evidence adduced; an open admission of thetruth had been uttered by my master; then the living proof had beenseen; the intruders were gone, and all was over.
I was in my own room as usual -- just myself, without obviouschange: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me. Andyet where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday? -- where was her life?-- where were her prospects?
Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman -- almosta bride, was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale; herprospects were desolate. A Christmas frost had come at midsummer;a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripeapples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield laya frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers,to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, whichtwelve hours since waved leafy and flagrant as groves between thetropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintryNorway. My hopes were all dead -- struck with a subtle doom, suchas, in one night, fell on all the first-born in the land of Egypt.I looked on my cherished wishes, yesterday so blooming and glowing;they lay stark, chill, livid corpses that could never revive. Ilooked at my love: that feeling which was my master's -- which hehad created; it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in acold cradle; sickness and anguish had seized it; it could not seekMr. Rochester's arms -- it could not derive warmth from his breast.Oh, never more could it turn to him; for faith was blighted-- confidence destroyed! Mr. Rochester was not to me what he hadbeen; for he was not what I had thought him. I would not ascribevice to him; I would not say he had betrayed me; but the attributeof stainless truth was gone from his idea, and from his presence Imust go: THAT I perceived well. When -- how -- whither, I couldnot yet discern; but he himself, I doubted not, would hurry me fromThornfield. Real affection, it seemed, he could not have for me;it had been only fitful passion: that was balked; he would want meno more. I should fear even to cross his path now: my view mustbe hateful to him. Oh, how blind had been my eyes! How weak myconduct!
My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swimround me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow.Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid medown in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosenedin remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had nowill, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead.One idea only still throbbed life-like within me -- a remembranceof God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wanderingup and down in my rayless mind, as something that shouldbe whispered, but no energy was found to express them -
"Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help. "
It was near: and as I had lifted no petition to Heaven to avert it-- as I had neither joined my hands, nor bent my knees, nor movedmy lips -- it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured overme. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, myhope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty aboveme in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: intruth, "the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I feltno standing; I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me. "