简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XXVIII Page 2
My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor-edge,vanishing amidst the wildest scenery, when at one dim point, farin among the marshes and the ridges, a light sprang up. "That isan ignis fatuus, " was my first thought; and I expected it wouldsoon vanish. It burnt on, however, quite steadily, neither recedingnor advancing. "Is it, then, a bonfire just kindled?" I questioned.I watched to see whether it would spread: but no; as it did notdiminish, so it did not enlarge. "It may be a candle in a house, "I then conjectured; "but if so, I can never reach it. It is muchtoo far away: and were it within a yard of me, what would it avail?I should but knock at the door to have it shut in my face. "
The light was yet there, shining dim but constant through the rain.I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towardsit. It led me aslant over the hill, through a wide bog, whichwould have been impassable in winter, and was splashy and shakingeven now, in the height of summer. Here I fell twice; but as oftenI rose and rallied my faculties. This light was my forlorn hope:I must gain it.
Having crossed the marsh, I saw a trace of white over the moor.I approached it; it was a road or a track: it led straight up tothe light, which now beamed from a sort of knoll, amidst a clumpof trees -- firs, apparently, from what I could distinguish of thecharacter of their forms and foliage through the gloom. My starvanished as I drew near: some obstacle had intervened betweenme and it. I put out my hand to feel the dark mass before me: Idiscriminated the rough stones of a low wall -- above it, somethinglike palisades, and within, a high and prickly hedge. I gropedon. Again a whitish object gleamed before me: it was a gate --a wicket; it moved on its hinges as I touched it. On each sidestood a sable bush-holly or yew.
Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a houserose to view, black, low, and rather long; but the guiding lightshone nowhere. All was obscurity. Were the inmates retired torest? I feared it must be so. In seeking the door, I turned anangle: there shot out the friendly gleam again, from the lozengedpanes of a very small latticed window, within a foot of the ground,made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creepingplant, whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the housewall in which it was set. The aperture was so screened and narrow,that curtain or shutter had been deemed unnecessary; and when Istooped down and put aside the spray of foliage shooting over it,I could see all within. I could see clearly a room with a sandedfloor, clean scoured; a dresser of walnut, with pewter platesranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowingpeat-fire. I could see a clock, a white deal table, some chairs.The candle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on the table; andby its light an elderly woman, somewhat rough-looking, but scrupulouslyclean, like all about her, was knitting a stocking.
I noticed these objects cursorily only -- in them there was nothingextraordinary. A group of more interest appeared near the hearth,sitting still amidst the rosy peace and warmth suffusing it. Twoyoung, graceful women -- ladies in every point -- sat, one in a lowrocking-chair, the other on a lower stool; both wore deep mourningof crape and bombazeen, which sombre garb singularly set off veryfair necks and faces: a large old pointer dog rested its massivehead on the knee of one girl -- in the lap of the other was cushioneda black cat.
A strange place was this humble kitchen for such occupants! Whowere they? They could not be the daughters of the elderly personat the table; for she looked like a rustic, and they were alldelicacy and cultivation. I had nowhere seen such faces as theirs:and yet, as I gazed on them, I seemed intimate with every lineament.I cannot call them handsome -- they were too pale and grave forthe word: as they each bent over a book, they looked thoughtfulalmost to severity. A stand between them supported a second candleand two great volumes, to which they frequently referred, comparingthem, seemingly, with the smaller books they held in their hands,like people consulting a dictionary to aid them in the task oftranslation. This scene was as silent as if all the figures hadbeen shadows and the firelit apartment a picture: so hushed wasit, I could hear the cinders fall from the grate, the clock tickin its obscure corner; and I even fancied I could distinguish theclick-click of the woman's knitting-needles. When, therefore, avoice broke the strange stillness at last, it was audible enoughto me.
"Listen, Diana, " said one of the absorbed students; "Franz andold Daniel are together in the night-time, and Franz is telling adream from which he has awakened in terror -- listen!" And in alow voice she read something, of which not one word was intelligibleto me; for it was in an unknown tongue -- neither French nor Latin.Whether it were Greek or German I could not tell.
"That is strong, " she said, when she had finished: "I relish it. "The other girl, who had lifted her head to listen to her sister,repeated, while she gazed at the fire, a line of what had beenread. At a later day, I knew the language and the book; therefore,I will here quote the line: though, when I first heard it, it wasonly like a stroke on sounding brass to me -- conveying no meaning:-
"'Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehen wie die Sternen Nacht. ' Good!good!" she exclaimed, while her dark and deep eye sparkled. "Thereyou have a dim and mighty archangel fitly set before you! Theline is worth a hundred pages of fustian. 'Ich wage die Gedankenin der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meinesGrimms. ' I like it!"
Both were again silent.
"Is there ony country where they talk i' that way?" asked the oldwoman, looking up from her knitting.
"Yes, Hannah -- a far larger country than England, where they talkin no other way. "
present, sister. Try if she can speak now -- ask.
"Well, for sure case, I knawn't how they can understand t' onet'other: and if either o' ye went there, ye could tell what theysaid, I guess?"
"We could probably tell something of what they said, but not all --for we are not as clever as you think us, Hannah. We don't speakGerman, and we cannot read it without a dictionary to help us. "
"And what good does it do you?"
"We mean to teach it some time -- or at least the elements, as theysay; and then we shall get more money than we do now. "
"Varry like: but give ower studying; ye've done enough for to-night. "
"I think we have: at least I'm tired. Mary, are you?"
"Mortally: after all, it's tough work fagging away at a languagewith no master but a lexicon. "
"It is, especially such a language as this crabbed but gloriousDeutsch. I wonder when St. John will come home. "
"Surely he will not be long now: it is just ten (looking at alittle gold watch she drew from her girdle). It rains fast, Hannah:will you have the goodness to look at the fire in the parlour?"
The woman rose: she opened a door, through which I dimly sawa passage: soon I heard her stir a fire in an inner room; shepresently came back.
"Ah, childer!" said she, "it fair troubles me to go into yond'room now: it looks so lonesome wi' the chair empty and set backin a corner. "
She wiped her eyes with her apron: the two girls, grave before,looked sad now.
"But he is in a better place, " continued Hannah: "we shouldn'twish him here again. And then, nobody need to have a quieter deathnor he had. "
"You say he never mentioned us?" inquired one of the ladies.
"He hadn't time, bairn: he was gone in a minute, was your father.He had been a bit ailing like the day before, but naught to signify;and when Mr. St. John asked if he would like either o' ye to besent for, he fair laughed at him. He began again with a bit of aheaviness in his head the next day -- that is, a fortnight sin' --and he went to sleep and niver wakened: he wor a'most stark whenyour brother went into t' chamber and fand him. Ah, childer!that's t' last o' t' old stock -- for ye and Mr. St. John is likeof different soart to them 'at's gone; for all your mother wor michi' your way, and a'most as book-learned. She wor the pictur' o'ye, Mary: Diana is more like your father. "
I thought them so similar I could not tell where the old servant(for such I now concluded her to be) saw the difference. Both werefair complexioned and slenderly made; both possessed faces full ofdistinction and intelligence. One, to be sure, had hair a shadedarker than the other, and there was a difference in their styleof wearing it; Mary's pale brown locks were parted and braidedsmooth: Diana's duskier tresses covered her neck with thick curls.The clock struck ten.
"Ye'll want your supper, I am sure, " observed Hannah; "and so willMr. St. John when he comes in. "
And she proceeded to prepare the meal. The ladies rose; theyseemed about to withdraw to the parlour. Till this moment, I hadbeen so intent on watching them, their appearance and conversationhad excited in me so keen an interest, I had half-forgotten my ownwretched position: now it recurred to me. More desolate, moredesperate than ever, it seemed from contrast. And how impossibledid it appear to touch the inmates of this house with concern onmy behalf; to make them believe in the truth of my wants and woes-- to induce them to vouchsafe a rest for my wanderings! As Igroped out the door, and knocked at it hesitatingly, I felt thatlast idea to be a mere chimera. Hannah opened.
"What do you want?" she inquired, in a voice of surprise, as shesurveyed me by the light of the candle she held.
"May I speak to your mistresses?" I said.
"You had better tell me what you have to say to them. Where doyou come from?"
"I am a stranger. "
"What is your business here at this hour?"
"I want a night's shelter in an out-house or anywhere, and a morselof bread to eat. "
Distrust, the very feeling I dreaded, appeared in Hannah's face."I'll give you a piece of bread, " she said, after a pause; "but wecan't take in a vagrant to lodge. It isn't likely. "
"Do let me speak to your mistresses. "
"No, not I. What can they do for you? You should not be rovingabout now; it looks very ill. "
"But where shall I go if you drive me away? What shall I do?"
"Oh, I'll warrant you know where to go and what to do. Mindyou don't do wrong, that's all. Here is a penny; now go -- "
"A penny cannot feed me, and I have no strength to go farther.Don't shut the door:- oh, don't, for God's sake!"
"I must; the rain is driving in -- "
"Tell the young ladies. Let me see them- "
rain is driving in -- "other, and there?
"Indeed, I will not. You are not what you ought to be, or youwouldn't make such a noise. Move off. "
"But I must die if I am turned away. "
!" And in alow voice she read something, of which .
"Not you. I'm fear'd you have some ill plans agate, that bring youabout folk's houses at this time o' night. If you've any followers-- housebreakers or such like -- anywhere near, you may tell themwe are not by ourselves in the house; we have a gentleman, anddogs, and guns. " Here the honest but inflexible servant clappedthe door to and bolted it within.
This was the climax. A pang of exquisite suffering -- a throeof true despair -- rent and heaved my heart. Worn out, indeed, Iwas; not another step could I stir. I sank on the wet doorstep: Igroaned -- I wrung my hands -- I wept in utter anguish. Oh, thisspectre of death! Oh, this last hour, approaching in such horror!Alas, this isolation -- this banishment from my kind! Not only theanchor of hope, but the footing of fortitude was gone -- at leastfor a moment; but the last I soon endeavoured to regain.
"I can but die, " I said, "and I believe in God. Let me try to waitHis will in silence. "
These words I not only thought, but uttered; and thrusting back allmy misery into my heart, I made an effort to compel it to remainthere -- dumb and still.
"All men must die, " said a voice quite close at hand; "but allare not condemned to meet a lingering and premature doom, such asyours would be if you perished here of want. "
"Who or what speaks?" I asked, terrified at the unexpected sound,and incapable now of deriving from any occurrence a hope of aid. Aform was near -- what form, the pitch-dark night and my enfeebledvision prevented me from distinguishing. With a loud long knock,the new-comer appealed to the door.
"Is it you, Mr. St. John?" cried Hannah.
"Yes -- yes; open quickly. "
"Well, how wet and cold you must be, such a wild night as it is!Come in -- your sisters are quite uneasy about you, and I believethere are bad folks about. There has been a beggar-woman --I declare she is not gone yet! -- laid down there. Get up! forshame! Move off, I say!"
"Hush, Hannah! I have a word to say to the woman. You have doneyour duty in excluding, now let me do mine in admitting her. I wasnear, and listened to both you and her. I think this is a peculiarcase -- I must at least examine into it. Young woman, rise, andpass before me into the house. "
With difficulty I obeyed him. Presently I stood within thatclean, bright kitchen -- on the very hearth -- trembling, sickening;conscious of an aspect in the last degree ghastly, wild, andweather-beaten. The two ladies, their brother, Mr. St. John, theold servant, were all gazing at me.
"St. John, who is it?" I heard one ask.
"I cannot tell: I found her at the door, " was the reply.
"She does look white, " said Hannah.
"As white as clay or death, " was responded. "She will fall: lether sit. "
And indeed my head swam: I dropped, but a chair received me. Istill possessed my senses, though just now I could not speak.
"Perhaps a little water would restore her. Hannah, fetch some.But she is worn to nothing. How very thin, and how very bloodless!"
"A mere spectre!"
"Is she ill, or only famished?"
"Famished, I think. Hannah, is that milk? Give it me, and a pieceof bread. "
Diana (I knew her by the long curls which I saw drooping betweenme and the fire as she bent over me) broke some bread, dipped itin milk, and put it to my lips. Her face was near mine: I sawthere was pity in it, and I felt sympathy in her hurried breathing.In her simple words, too, the same balm-like emotion spoke: "Tryto eat. "
"Yes -- try, " repeated Mary gently; and Mary's hand removed mysodden bonnet and lifted my head. I tasted what they offered me:feebly at first, eagerly soon.
"Not too much at first -- restrain her, " said the brother; "shehas had enough. " And he withdrew the cup of milk and the plate ofbread.
"A little more, St. John -- look at the avidity in her eyes. "
"No more at present, sister. Try if she can speak now -- ask herher name. "
I felt I could speak, and I answered -- "My name is Jane Elliott. "Anxious as ever to avoid discovery, I had before resolved to assumean ALIAS.
"And where do you live? Where are your friends?"
I was silent.
difference. Both werefair complexioned and slenderly!
"Can we send for any one you know?"
lether sit. " drive me away? What shall I do?"to.
I shook my head.
"What account can you give of yourself?"
Somehow, now that I had once crossed the threshold of this house,and once was brought face to face with its owners, I felt no longeroutcast, vagrant, and disowned by the wide world. I dared to putoff the mendicant -- to resume my natural manner and character.I began once more to know myself; and when Mr. St. John demandedan account -- which at present I was far too weak to render-- I said after a brief pause -
"Sir, I can give you no details to-night. "
"But what, then, " said he, "do you expect me to do for you?"
"Nothing, " I replied. My strength sufficed for but shortanswers. Diana took the word -
"Do you mean, " she asked, "that we have now given you what aid yourequire? and that we may dismiss you to the moor and the rainynight?"
I looked at her. She had, I thought, a remarkable countenance,instinct both with power and goodness. I took sudden courage.Answering her compassionate gaze with a smile, I said -- "I willtrust you. If I were a masterless and stray dog, I know that youwould not turn me from your hearth to-night: as it is, I reallyhave no fear. Do with me and for me as you like; but excuse mefrom much discourse -- my breath is short -- I feel a spasm whenI speak. " All three surveyed me, and all three were silent.
"Hannah, " said Mr. St. John, at last, "let her sit there atpresent, and ask her no questions; in ten minutes more, give herthe remainder of that milk and bread. Mary and Diana, let us gointo the parlour and talk the matter over. "
They withdrew. Very soon one of the ladies returned -- I couldnot tell which. A kind of pleasant stupor was stealing over me asI sat by the genial fire. In an undertone she gave some directionsto Hannah. Ere long, with the servant's aid, I contrived to mounta staircase; my dripping clothes were removed; soon a warm, drybed received me. I thanked God -- experienced amidst unutterableexhaustion a glow of grateful joy -- and slept.