简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XXXI
My home, then, when I at last find a home, -- is a cottage; alittle room with whitewashed walls and a sanded floor, containingfour painted chairs and a table, a clock, a cupboard, with two orthree plates and dishes, and a set of tea-things in delf. Above, achamber of the same dimensions as the kitchen, with a deal bedsteadand chest of drawers; small, yet too large to be filled with myscanty wardrobe: though the kindness of my gentle and generousfriends has increased that, by a modest stock of such things asare necessary.
It is evening. I have dismissed, with the fee of an orange, thelittle orphan who serves me as a handmaid. I am sitting alone onthe hearth. This morning, the village school opened. I had twentyscholars. But three of the number can read: none write or cipher.Several knit, and a few sew a little. They speak with the broadestaccent of the district. At present, they and I have a difficultyin understanding each other's language. Some of them are unmannered,rough, intractable, as well as ignorant; but others are docile,have a wish to learn, and evince a disposition that pleases me.I must not forget that these coarsely-clad little peasants are offlesh and blood as good as the scions of gentlest genealogy; andthat the germs of native excellence, refinement, intelligence, kindfeeling, are as likely to exist in their hearts as in those of thebest-born. My duty will be to develop these germs: surely I shallfind some happiness in discharging that office. Much enjoyment Ido not expect in the life opening before me: yet it will, doubtless,if I regulate my mind, and exert my powers as I ought, yield meenough to live on from day to day.
Was I very gleeful, settled, content, during the hours I passed inyonder bare, humble schoolroom this morning and afternoon? Not todeceive myself, I must reply -- No: I felt desolate to a degree. Ifelt -- yes, idiot that I am -- I felt degraded. I doubted I hadtaken a step which sank instead of raising me in the scale of socialexistence. I was weakly dismayed at the ignorance, the poverty,the coarseness of all I heard and saw round me. But let me not hateand despise myself too much for these feelings; I know them to bewrong -- that is a great step gained; I shall strive to overcomethem. To-morrow, I trust, I shall get the better of them partially;and in a few weeks, perhaps, they will be quite subdued. In afew months, it is possible, the happiness of seeing progress, anda change for the better in my scholars may substitute gratificationfor disgust.
Meantime, let me ask myself one question -- Which is better? -- Tohave surrendered to temptation; listened to passion; made no painfuleffort -- no struggle; -- but to have sunk down in the silken snare;fallen asleep on the flowers covering it; wakened in a southernclime, amongst the luxuries of a pleasure villa: to have beennow living in France, Mr. Rochester's mistress; delirious with hislove half my time -- for he would -- oh, yes, he would have lovedme well for a while. He DID love me -- no one will ever love me soagain. I shall never more know the sweet homage given to beauty,youth, and grace -- for never to any one else shall I seem topossess these charms. He was fond and proud of me -- it is whatno man besides will ever be. -- But where am I wandering, and whatam I saying, and above all, feeling? Whether is it better, I ask,to be a slave in a fool's paradise at Marseilles -- fevered withdelusive bliss one hour -- suffocating with the bitterest tears ofremorse and shame the next -- or to be a village-schoolmistress,free and honest, in a breezy mountain nook in the healthy heart ofEngland?
Yes; I feel now that I was right when I adhered to principle andlaw, and scorned and crushed the insane promptings of a frenziedmoment. God directed me to a correct choice: I thank His providencefor the guidance!
Having brought my eventide musings to this point, I rose, wentto my door, and looked at the sunset of the harvest-day, and atthe quiet fields before my cottage, which, with the school, wasdistant half a mile from the village. The birds were singingtheir last strains -
"The air was mild, the dew was balm. "
yes, the heart of a politician, of a .
While I looked, I thought myself happy, and was surprised to findmyself ere long weeping -- and why? For the doom which had reftme from adhesion to my master: for him I was no more to see; forthe desperate grief and fatal fury -- consequences of my departure --which might now, perhaps, be dragging him from the path of right,too far to leave hope of ultimate restoration thither. At thisthought, I turned my face aside from the lovely sky of eve and lonelyvale of Morton -- I say LONELY, for in that bend of it visible tome there was no building apparent save the church and the parsonage,half-hid in trees, and, quite at the extremity, the roof of ValeHall, where the rich Mr. Oliver and his daughter lived. I hid myeyes, and leant my head against the stone frame of my door; butsoon a slight noise near the wicket which shut in my tiny gardenfrom the meadow beyond it made me look up. A dog -- old Carlo,Mr. Rivers' pointer, as I saw in a moment -- was pushing the gatewith his nose, and St. John himself leant upon it with folded arms;his brow knit, his gaze, grave almost to displeasure, fixed on me.I asked him to come in.
"No, I cannot stay; I have only brought you a little parcel mysisters left for you. I think it contains a colour-box, pencils,and paper. "
I approached to take it: a welcome gift it was. He examined myface, I thought, with austerity, as I came near: the traces oftears were doubtless very visible upon it.
"Have you found your first day's work harder than you expected?"he asked.
"Oh, no! On the contrary, I think in time I shall get on with myscholars very well. "
"But perhaps your accommodations -- your cottage -- your furniture-- have disappointed your expectations? They are, in truth,scanty enough; but -- " I interrupted -
"My cottage is clean and weather-proof; my furniture sufficientand commodious. All I see has made me thankful, not despondent.I am not absolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret theabsence of a carpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeksago I had nothing -- I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now Ihave acquaintance, a home, a business. I wonder at the goodnessof God; the generosity of my friends; the bounty of my lot. I donot repine. "
"But you feel solitude an oppression? The little house there behindyou is dark and empty. "
"I have hardly had time yet to enjoy a sense of tranquillity, muchless to grow impatient under one of loneliness. "
"Very well; I hope you feel the content you express: at any rate,your good sense will tell you that it is too soon yet to yield tothe vacillating fears of Lot's wife. What you had left before Isaw you, of course I do not know; but I counsel you to resist firmlyevery temptation which would incline you to look back: pursue yourpresent career steadily, for some months at least. "
"It is what I mean to do, " I answered. St. John continued -
"It is hard work to control the workings of inclination and turnthe bent of nature; but that it may be done, I know from experience.God has given us, in a measure, the power to make our own fate;and when our energies seem to demand a sustenance they cannot get-- when our will strains after a path we may not follow -- we needneither starve from inanition, nor stand still in despair: wehave but to seek another nourishment for the mind, as strong as theforbidden food it longed to taste -- and perhaps purer; and to hewout for the adventurous foot a road as direct and broad as the oneFortune has blocked up against us, if rougher than it.
"A missionary I resolved to be. From that moment my state of mindchanged; the fetters dissolved and dropped from every faculty,leaving nothing of bondage but its galling soreness -- which timeonly can heal. My father, indeed, imposed the determination,but since his death, I have not a legitimate obstacle to contendwith; some affairs settled, a successor for Morton provided, anentanglement or two of the feelings broken through or cut asunder-- a last conflict with human weakness, in which I know I shallovercome, because I have vowed that I WILL overcome -- and I leaveEurope for the East. "
He said this, in his peculiar, subdued, yet emphatic voice; looking,when he had ceased speaking, not at me, but at the setting sun, atwhich I looked too. Both he and I had our backs towards the pathleading up the field to the wicket. We had heard no step on thatgrass-grown track; the water running in the vale was the one lullingsound of the hour and scene; we might well then start whena gay voice, sweet as a silver bell, exclaimed -
"Good evening, Mr. Rivers. And good evening, old Carlo. Your dogis quicker to recognise his friends than you are, sir; he prickedhis ears and wagged his tail when I was at the bottom of the field,and you have your back towards me now. "
It was true. Though Mr. Rivers had started at the first of thosemusical accents, as if a thunderbolt had split a cloud over his head,he stood yet, at the close of the sentence, in the same attitudein which the speaker had surprised him -- his arm resting on thegate, his face directed towards the west. He turned at last, withmeasured deliberation. A vision, as it seemed to me, had risen athis side. There appeared, within three feet of him, a form cladin pure white -- a youthful, graceful form: full, yet fine incontour; and when, after bending to caress Carlo, it lifted up itshead, and threw back a long veil, there bloomed under his glancea face of perfect beauty. Perfect beauty is a strong expression;but I do not retrace or qualify it: as sweet features as ever thetemperate clime of Albion moulded; as pure hues of rose and lilyas ever her humid gales and vapoury skies generated and screened,justified, in this instance, the term. No charm was wanting, nodefect was perceptible; the young girl had regular and delicatelineaments; eyes shaped and coloured as we see them in lovelypictures, large, and dark, and full; the long and shadowy eyelashwhich encircles a fine eye with so soft a fascination; the pencilledbrow which gives such clearness; the white smooth forehead, whichadds such repose to the livelier beauties of tint and ray; thecheek oval, fresh, and smooth; the lips, fresh too, ruddy, healthy,sweetly formed; the even and gleaming teeth without flaw; thesmall dimpled chin; the ornament of rich, plenteous tresses -- alladvantages, in short, which, combined, realise the ideal of beauty,were fully hers. I wondered, as I looked at this fair creature:I admired her with my whole heart. Nature had surely formed herin a partial mood; and, forgetting her usual stinted step-motherdole of gifts, had endowed this, her darling, with a grand-dame'sbounty.
What did St. John Rivers think of this earthly angel? I naturallyasked myself that question as I saw him turn to her and look ather; and, as naturally, I sought the answer to the inquiry in hiscountenance. He had already withdrawn his eye from the Peri, andwas looking at a humble tuft of daisies which grew by the wicket.
"A lovely evening, but late for you to be out alone, " he said, ashe crushed the snowy heads of the closed flowers with his foot.
"Oh, I only came home from S-" (she mentioned the name of a largetown some twenty miles distant) "this afternoon. Papa told me youhad opened your school, and that the new mistress was come; andso I put on my bonnet after tea, and ran up the valley to see her:this is she?" pointing to me.
"It is, " said St. John.
"Do you think you shall like Morton?" she asked of me, with a directand naive simplicity of tone and manner, pleasing, if child-like.
"I hope I shall. I have many inducements to do so. "
"Did you find your scholars as attentive as you expected?"
"Quite. "
"Do you like your house?"
"Very much. "
"Have I furnished it nicely?"
"Very nicely, indeed. "
"And made a good choice of an attendant for you in Alice Wood?"
"You have indeed. She is teachable and handy. " (This then, I thought,is Miss Oliver, the heiress; favoured, it seems, in the gifts offortune, as well as in those of nature! What happy combination ofthe planets presided over her birth, I wonder?)
"I shall come up and help you to teach sometimes, " she added. "Itwill be a change for me to visit you now and then; and I like achange. Mr. Rivers, I have been SO gay during my stay at S-. Lastnight, or rather this morning, I was dancing till two o'clock. The-th regiment are stationed there since the riots; and the officersare the most agreeable men in the world: they put all our youngknife-grinders and scissor merchants to shame. "
It seemed to me that Mr. St. John's under lip protruded, and hisupper lip curled a moment. His mouth certainly looked a good dealcompressed, and the lower part of his face unusually stern andsquare, as the laughing girl gave him this information. He liftedhis gaze, too, from the daisies, and turned it on her. An unsmiling,a searching, a meaning gaze it was. She answered it with a secondlaugh, and laughter well became her youth, her roses, her dimples,her bright eyes.
As he stood, mute and grave, she again fell to caressing Carlo."Poor Carlo loves me, " said she. "HE is not stern and distant tohis friends; and if he could speak, he would not be silent. "
As she patted the dog's head, bending with native grace before hisyoung and austere master, I saw a glow rise to that master's face.I saw his solemn eye melt with sudden fire, and flicker withresistless emotion. Flushed and kindled thus, he looked nearly asbeautiful for a man as she for a woman. His chest heaved once, asif his large heart, weary of despotic constriction, had expanded,despite the will, and made a vigorous bound for the attainment ofliberty. But he curbed it, I think, as a resolute rider would curba rearing steed. He responded neither by word nor movement to thegentle advances made him.
"Papa says you never come to see us now, " continued Miss Oliver,looking up. "You are quite a stranger at Vale Hall. He is alonethis evening, and not very well: will you return with me and visithim?"
"It is not a seasonable hour to intrude on Mr. Oliver, " answeredSt. John.
"Not a seasonable hour! But I declare it is. It is just the hourwhen papa most wants company: when the works are closed and hehas no business to occupy him. Now, Mr. Rivers, DO come. Why areyou so very shy, and so very sombre?" She filled up the hiatushis silence left by a reply of her own.
"I forgot!" she exclaimed, shaking her beautiful curled head, asif shocked at herself. "I am so giddy and thoughtless! DO excuseme. It had slipped my memory that you have good reasons to beindisposed for joining in my chatter. Diana and Mary have leftyou, and Moor House is shut up, and you are so lonely. I am sureI pity you. Do come and see papa. "
"Not to-night, Miss Rosamond, not to-night. "
Mr. St. John spoke almost like an automaton: himself only knewthe effort it cost him thus to refuse.
"Well, if you are so obstinate, I will leave you; for I dare notstay any longer: the dew begins to fall. Good evening!"
She held out her hand. He just touched it. "Good evening!" herepeated, in a voice low and hollow as an echo. She turned, butin a moment returned.
"Are you well?" she asked. Well might she put the question: hisface was blanched as her gown.
"Quite well, " he enunciated; and, with a bow, he left the gate.She went one way; he another. She turned twice to gaze after himas she tripped fairy-like down the field; he, as he strode firmlyacross, never turned at all.
This spectacle of another's suffering and sacrifice rapt my thoughtsfrom exclusive meditation on my own. Diana Rivers had designatedher brother "inexorable as death. " She had not exaggerated.