简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER IV Page 1
From my discourse with Mr. Lloyd, and from the above reportedconference between Bessie and Abbot, I gathered enough of hope tosuffice as a motive for wishing to get well: a change seemed near,-- I desired and waited it in silence. It tarried, however: daysand weeks passed: I had regained my normal state of health, butno new allusion was made to the subject over which I brooded. Mrs.Reed surveyed me at times with a severe eye, but seldom addressedme: since my illness, she had drawn a more marked line of separationthan ever between me and her own children; appointing me a smallcloset to sleep in by myself, condemning me to take my mealsalone, and pass all my time in the nursery, while my cousins wereconstantly in the drawing-room. Not a hint, however, did she dropabout sending me to school: still I felt an instinctive certaintythat she would not long endure me under the same roof with her;for her glance, now more than ever, when turned on me, expressedan insuperable and rooted aversion.
Eliza and Georgiana, evidently acting according to orders, spoketo me as little as possible: John thrust his tongue in his cheekwhenever he saw me, and once attempted chastisement; but as Iinstantly turned against him, roused by the same sentiment of deepire and desperate revolt which had stirred my corruption before, hethought it better to desist, and ran from me tittering execrations,and vowing I had burst his nose. I had indeed levelled at thatprominent feature as hard a blow as my knuckles could inflict;and when I saw that either that or my look daunted him, I had thegreatest inclination to follow up my advantage to purpose; but he wasalready with his mama. I heard him in a blubbering tone commencethe tale of how "that nasty Jane Eyre" had flown at himlike a mad cat: he was stopped rather harshly -
"Don't talk to me about her, John: I told you not to go near her;she is not worthy of notice; I do not choose that either you oryour sisters should associate with her. "
Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out suddenly,and without at all deliberating on my words -
"They are not fit to associate with me. "
Mrs. Reed was rather a stout woman; but, on hearing this strangeand audacious declaration, she ran nimbly up the stair, swept melike a whirlwind into the nursery, and crushing me down on the edgeof my crib, dared me in an emphatic voice to rise from that place,or utter one syllable during the remainder of the day.
"What would Uncle Reed say to you, if he were alive?" was myscarcely voluntary demand. I say scarcely voluntary, for it seemedas if my tongue pronounced words without my will consenting to theirutterance: something spoke out of me over which I had no control.
"What?" said Mrs. Reed under her breath: her usually cold composedgrey eye became troubled with a look like fear; she took her handfrom my arm, and gazed at me as if she really did not know whetherI were child or fiend. I was now in for it.
"My Uncle Reed is in heaven, and can see all you do and think; andso can papa and mama: they know how you shut me up all day long,and how you wish me dead. "
Mrs. Reed soon rallied her spirits: she shook me most soundly,she boxed both my ears, and then left me without a word. Bessiesupplied the hiatus by a homily of an hour's length, in which sheproved beyond a doubt that I was the most wicked and abandoned childever reared under a roof. I half believed her; for I felt indeedonly bad feelings surging in my breast.
November, December, and half of January passed away. Christmasand the New Year had been celebrated at Gateshead with the usualfestive cheer; presents had been interchanged, dinners and eveningparties given. From every enjoyment I was, of course, excluded: myshare of the gaiety consisted in witnessing the daily apparellingof Eliza and Georgiana, and seeing them descend to the drawing-room,dressed out in thin muslin frocks and scarlet sashes, with hairelaborately ringletted; and afterwards, in listening to the soundof the piano or the harp played below, to the passing to and froof the butler and footman, to the jingling of glass and china asrefreshments were handed, to the broken hum of conversation as thedrawing-room door opened and closed. When tired of this occupation,I would retire from the stairhead to the solitary and silent nursery:there, though somewhat sad, I was not miserable. To speak truth,I had not the least wish to go into company, for in company I wasvery rarely noticed; and if Bessie had but been kind and companionable,I should have deemed it a treat to spend the evenings quietly withher, instead of passing them under the formidable eye of Mrs. Reed,in a room full of ladies and gentlemen. But Bessie, as soon asshe had dressed her young ladies, used to take herself off to thelively regions of the kitchen and housekeeper's room, generallybearing the candle along with her. I then sat with my doll on myknee till the fire got low, glancing round occasionally to makesure that nothing worse than myself haunted the shadowy room; andwhen the embers sank to a dull red, I undressed hastily, tuggingat knots and strings as I best might, and sought shelter from coldand darkness in my crib. To this crib I always took my doll; humanbeings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objectsof affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishinga faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzlesme now to remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on thislittle toy, half fancying it alive and capable of sensation. Icould not sleep unless it was folded in my night-gown; and when itlay there safe and warm, I was comparatively happy, believing itto be happy likewise.
Long did the hours seem while I waited the departure of the company, andlistened for the sound of Bessie's step on the stairs: sometimesshe would come up in the interval to seek her thimble or herscissors, or perhaps to bring me something by way of supper -- abun or a cheese-cake -- then she would sit on the bed while I ateit, and when I had finished, she would tuck the clothes round me,and twice she kissed me, and said, "Good night, Miss Jane. " Whenthus gentle, Bessie seemed to me the best, prettiest, kindest beingin the world; and I wished most intensely that she would alwaysbe so pleasant and amiable, and never push me about, or scold, ortask me unreasonably, as she was too often wont to do. Bessie Leemust, I think, have been a girl of good natural capacity, for shewas smart in all she did, and had a remarkable knack of narrative;so, at least, I judge from the impression made on me by her nurserytales. She was pretty too, if my recollections of her face andperson are correct. I remember her as a slim young woman, with blackhair, dark eyes, very nice features, and good, clear complexion;but she had a capricious and hasty temper, and indifferent ideasof principle or justice: still, such as she was, I preferred herto any one else at Gateshead Hall.
It was the fifteenth of January, about nine o'clock in the morning:Bessie was gone down to breakfast; my cousins had not yet beensummoned to their mama; Eliza was putting on her bonnet and warmgarden-coat to go and feed her poultry, an occupation of which shewas fond: and not less so of selling the eggs to the housekeeperand hoarding up the money she thus obtained. She had a turn fortraffic, and a marked propensity for saving; shown not only in thevending of eggs and chickens, but also in driving hard bargainswith the gardener about flower-roots, seeds, and slips of plants;that functionary having orders from Mrs. Reed to buy of his younglady all the products of her parterre she wished to sell: andEliza would have sold the hair off her head if she could have madea handsome profit thereby. As to her money, she first secretedit in odd corners, wrapped in a rag or an old curl-paper; but someof these hoards having been discovered by the housemaid, Eliza,fearful of one day losing her valued treasure, consented to intrustit to her mother, at a usurious rate of interest -- fifty or sixtyper cent. ; which interest she exacted every quarter, keeping heraccounts in a little book with anxious accuracy.
Georgiana sat on a high stool, dressing her hair at the glass, andinterweaving her curls with artificial flowers and faded feathers,of which she had found a store in a drawer in the attic. I wasmaking my bed, having received strict orders from Bessie to get itarranged before she returned (for Bessie now frequently employed meas a sort of under-nurserymaid, to tidy the room, dust the chairs,&c. ). Having spread the quilt and folded my night-dress, I wentto the window-seat to put in order some picture-books and doll'shouse furniture scattered there; an abrupt command from Georgianato let her playthings alone (for the tiny chairs and mirrors, thefairy plates and cups, were her property) stopped my proceedings;and then, for lack of other occupation, I fell to breathing on thefrost-flowers with which the window was fretted, and thus clearinga space in the glass through which I might look out on the grounds,where all was still and petrified under the influence of a hardfrost.
From this window were visible the porter's lodge and the carriage-road, and just as I had dissolved so much of the silver-white foliageveiling the panes as left room to look out, I saw the gates thrownopen and a carriage roll through. I watched it ascending the drivewith indifference; carriages often came to Gateshead, but none everbrought visitors in whom I was interested; it stopped in front ofthe house, the door-bell rang loudly, the new-comer was admitted.All this being nothing to me, my vacant attention soon found livelierattraction in the spectacle of a little hungry robin, which came andchirruped on the twigs of the leafless cherry-tree nailed againstthe wall near the casement. The remains of my breakfast of breadand milk stood on the table, and having crumbled a morsel of roll,I was tugging at the sash to put out the crumbs on the window-sill, when Bessie came running upstairs into the nursery.
"Miss Jane, take off your pinafore; what are you doing there? Haveyou washed your hands and face this morning?" I gave another tugbefore I answered, for I wanted the bird to be secure of its bread:the sash yielded; I scattered the crumbs, some on the stone sill,some on the cherry-tree bough, then, closing the window, I replied -
"No, Bessie; I have only just finished dusting. "
"Troublesome, careless child! and what are you doing now? Youlook quite red, as if you had been about some mischief: what wereyou opening the window for?"
I was spared the trouble of answering, for Bessie seemed in too greata hurry to listen to explanations; she hauled me to the washstand,inflicted a merciless, but happily brief scrub on my face and handswith soap, water, and a coarse towel; disciplined my head with abristly brush, denuded me of my pinafore, and then hurrying me tothe top of the stairs, bid me go down directly, as I was wanted inthe breakfast-room.
I would have asked who wanted me: I would have demanded ifMrs. Reed was there; but Bessie was already gone, and had closedthe nursery-door upon me. I slowly descended. For nearly threemonths, I had never been called to Mrs. Reed's presence; restrictedso long to the nursery, the breakfast, dining, and drawing-roomswere become for me awful regions, on which it dismayed me to intrude.
I now stood in the empty hall; before me was the breakfast-roomdoor, and I stopped, intimidated and trembling. What a miserablelittle poltroon had fear, engendered of unjust punishment, made ofme in those days! I feared to return to the nursery, and fearedto go forward to the parlour; ten minutes I stood in agitatedhesitation; the vehement ringing of the breakfast-room bell decidedme; I MUST enter.
"Who could want me?" I asked inwardly, as with both hands I turnedthe stiff door-handle, which, for a second or two, resisted myefforts. "What should I see besides Aunt Reed in the apartment?-- a man or a woman?" The handle turned, the door unclosed,and passing through and curtseying low, I looked up at -- a blackpillar! -- such, at least, appeared to me, at first sight, thestraight, narrow, sable-clad shape standing erect on the rug: thegrim face at the top was like a carved mask, placed above the shaftby way of capital.
Mrs. Reed occupied her usual seat by the fireside; she made asignal to me to approach; I did so, and she introduced me to thestony stranger with the words: "This is the little girl respectingwhom I applied to you. "
HE, for it was a man, turned his head slowly towards where I stood,and having examined me with the two inquisitive-looking grey eyeswhich twinkled under a pair of bushy brows, said solemnly, and ina bass voice, "Her size is small: what is her age?"
"Ten years. "
"So much?" was the doubtful answer; and he prolonged his scrutinyfor some minutes. Presently he addressed me -- "Your name, littlegirl?"
"Jane Eyre, sir. "
In uttering these words I looked up: he seemed to me a tall gentleman;but then I was very little; his features were large, and they andall the lines of his frame were equally harsh and prim.
"Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?"
Impossible to reply to this in the affirmative: my little worldheld a contrary opinion: I was silent. Mrs. Reed answered for meby an expressive shake of the head, adding soon, "Perhaps the lesssaid on that subject the better, Mr. Brocklehurst. "
"Sorry indeed to hear it! she and I must have some talk;" andbending from the perpendicular, he installed his person in the arm-chair opposite Mrs. Reed's. "Come here, " he said.
I stepped across the rug; he placed me square and straight beforehim. What a face he had, now that it was almost on a levelwith mine! what a great nose! and what a mouth! and what largeprominent teeth!
"No sight so sad as that of a naughty child, " he began, "especially anaughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?"
"They go to hell, " was my ready and orthodox answer.
"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"
"A pit full of fire. "
"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning therefor ever?"
"No, sir. "
"What must you do to avoid it?"
I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable:"I must keep in good health, and not die. "
"How can you keep in good health? Children younger than you diedaily. I buried a little child of five years old only a day ortwo since, -- a good little child, whose soul is now in heaven.It is to be feared the same could not be said of you were you tobe called hence. "
Not being in a condition to remove his doubt, I only cast my eyesdown on the two large feet planted on the rug, and sighed, wishingmyself far enough away.
"I hope that sigh is from the heart, and that you repent of everhaving been the occasion of discomfort to your excellent benefactress. "
"Benefactress! benefactress!" said I inwardly: "they all callMrs. Reed my benefactress; if so, a benefactress is a disagreeablething. "
"Do you say your prayers night and morning?" continued myinterrogator.
"Yes, sir. "
"Do you read your Bible?"
"Sometimes. "
"I like Revelations, and the book of Daniel, and Genesis and Samuel,and a little bit of Exodus, and some parts of Kings and Chronicles,and Job and Jonah. "
meby an expressive shake of the head, adding.
"And the Psalms? I hope you like them?"
"No, sir. "
"No? oh, shocking! I have a little boy, younger than you, whoknows six Psalms by heart: and when you ask him which he wouldrather have, a gingerbread-nut to eat or a verse of a Psalm tolearn, he says: 'Oh! the verse of a Psalm! angels sing Psalms;'says he, 'I wish to be a little angel here below;' he then getstwo nuts in recompense for his infant piety. "
"Psalms are not interesting, " I remarked.
"That proves you have a wicked heart; and you must pray to God tochange it: to give you a new and clean one: to take away yourheart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. "
I was about to propound a question, touching the manner in whichthat operation of changing my heart was to be performed, when Mrs.Reed interposed, telling me to sit down; she then proceeded tocarry on the conversation herself.
"Mr. Brocklehurst, I believe I intimated in the letter which Iwrote to you three weeks ago, that this little girl has not quitethe character and disposition I could wish: should you admit herinto Lowood school, I should be glad if the superintendent andteachers were requested to keep a strict eye on her, and, aboveall, to guard against her worst fault, a tendency to deceit. Imention this in your hearing, Jane, that you may not attempt toimpose on Mr. Brocklehurst. "
Well might I dread, well might I dislike Mrs. Reed; for it washer nature to wound me cruelly; never was I happy in her presence;however carefully I obeyed, however strenuously I strove to pleaseher, my efforts were still repulsed and repaid by such sentencesas the above. Now, uttered before a stranger, the accusation cutme to the heart; I dimly perceived that she was already obliteratinghope from the new phase of existence which she destined me toenter; I felt, though I could not have expressed the feeling, thatshe was sowing aversion and unkindness along my future path; I sawmyself transformed under Mr. Brocklehurst's eye into an artful,noxious child, and what could I do to remedy the injury?
"Nothing, indeed, " thought I, as I struggled to repress a sob, andhastily wiped away some tears, the impotent evidences of my anguish.
"Deceit is, indeed, a sad fault in a child, " said Mr. Brocklehurst;"it is akin to falsehood, and all liars will have their portion inthe lake burning with fire and brimstone; she shall, however, bewatched, Mrs. Reed. I will speak to Miss Temple and the teachers. "
"I should wish her to be brought up in a manner suiting her prospects, "continued my benefactress; "to be made useful, to be kept humble:as for the vacations, she will, with your permission, spend themalways at Lowood. "
"Your decisions are perfectly judicious, madam, " returned Mr.Brocklehurst. "Humility is a Christian grace, and one peculiarlyappropriate to the pupils of Lowood; I, therefore, direct thatespecial care shall be bestowed on its cultivation amongst them.I have studied how best to mortify in them the worldly sentimentof pride; and, only the other day, I had a pleasing proof of mysuccess. My second daughter, Augusta, went with her mama to visitthe school, and on her return she exclaimed: 'Oh, dear papa,how quiet and plain all the girls at Lowood look, with their haircombed behind their ears, and their long pinafores, and those littleholland pockets outside their frocks -- they are almost like poorpeople's children! and, ' said she, 'they looked at my dress andmama's, as if they had never seen a silk gown before. '"
"This is the state of things I quite approve, " returned Mrs.Reed; "had I sought all England over, I could scarcely have founda system more exactly fitting a child like Jane Eyre. Consistency,my dear Mr. Brocklehurst; I advocate consistency in all things. "