Chapter 1
THERE was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed. The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group; saying, 'She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner- something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were- she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.' 'What does Bessie say I have done?' I asked.'Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.'  A small breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement. Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast. I returned to my book- Bewick's History of British Birds: the letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank. They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of 'the solitary rocks and promontories' by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape- 'Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked, melancholy isles   Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.'Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with 'the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space,- that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights, surround the pole and concentre the multiplied rigours of extreme cold.' Of these death-white realms I formed an idea of my own: shadowy, like all the half-comprehended notions that float aim through children's brains, but strangely impressive. The words in these introductory pages connected themselves with the succeeding vignettes, and gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghastly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking. I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quite solitary churchyard, with its inscribed headstone; its gate, its two trees, its low horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly-risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide. The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms. The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed over quickly: it was an object of terror. So was the black horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying a distant crowd surrounding a gallows. Each picture told a story; mysterious often to my undeveloped understanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever profoundly interesting: as interesting as the tales Bessie sometimes narrated on winter evenings, when she chanced to be in good humour; and when, having brought her ironing-table to the nursery hearth, she allowed us to sit about it, and while she got up Mrs. Reed's lace frills, and crimped her nightcap borders, fed our eager attention with passages of love and adventure taken from old fairy tales and other ballads; or (as at a later period I discovered) from the pages of Pamela, and Henry, Earl of Moreland. With Bewick on my knee, I was then happy: happy at least in my way. I feared nothing but interruption, and that came too soon. The breakfast-room door opened.
'Boh! Madam Mope!' cried the voice of John Reed; then he paused: he found the room apparently empty.
'Where the dickens is she!' he continued. 'Lizzy! Georgy! (calling to his sisters) Joan is not here: tell mama she is run out into the rain- bad animal!'
'It is well I drew the curtain,' thought I; and I wished fervently he might not discover my hiding-place: nor would John Reed have found it out himself; he was not 
quick either of vision or conception; but Eliza just put her head in at the door, and said at once-
'She is in the window-seat, to be sure, Jack.'
And I came out immediately, for I trembled at the idea of being dragged forth by the said Jack.
'What do you want?' I asked, with awkward diffidence.
'Say, "What do you want, Master Reed?"' was the answer. 'I want you to come here;' and seating himself in an armchair, he intimated by a gesture that I was to approach and stand before him.
John Reed was a schoolboy of fourteen years old; four years older than I, for I was but ten: large and stout for his age, with a dingy and unwholesome skin; thick lineaments in a spacious visage, heavy limbs and large extremities. He gorged himself habitually at table, which made him bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared eye and flabby cheeks. He ought now to have been at school; but his mama had taken him home for a month or two, 'on account of his delicate health.' Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother's heart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined rather to the more refined idea that John's sallowness was owing to over-application and, perhaps, to pining after home.
John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever against either his menaces or his inflictions; the servants did not like to offend their young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Reed was blind and deaf on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence, more frequently, however, behind her back. 
Habitually obedient to John, I came up to his chair: he spent some three minutes in thrusting out his tongue at me as far as he could without damaging the roots: I knew he would soon strike, and while dreading the blow, I mused on the disgusting and ugly appearance of him who would presently deal it. I wonder if he read that notion in my face; for, all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly and strongly. I tottered, and on regaining my equilibrium retired back a step or two from his chair.
'That is for your impudence in answering mama awhile since,' said he, 'and for your sneaking way of getting behind curtains, and for the look you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat!' 
Accustomed to John Reed's abuse, I never had an idea of replying to it; my care was how to endure the blow which would certainly follow the insult.
'What were you doing behind the curtain?' he asked.
'I was reading.'
'Show the book.'
I returned to the window and fetched it thence.
'You have no business to take our books; you are a dependant, mama says; you have no money; your father left you none; you ought to beg, and not to live here with gentlemen's children like us, and eat the same meals we do, and wear clothes at our mama's expense. Now, I'll teach you to rummage my bookshelves: for they are mine; all the house belongs to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand by the door, out of the way of the mirror and the windows.'I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but when I saw him lift and poise the book and stand in act to hurl it, I instinctively started aside with a cry of alarm: not soon enough, however; the volume was flung, it hit me, and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it. The cut bled, the pain was sharp: my terror had passed its climax; other feelings succeeded.
'Wicked and cruel boy!' I said. 'You are like a murderer- you are like a slave-driver- you are like the Roman emperors!'
I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome, and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, etc. Also I had drawn parallels in silence, which I never thought thus to have declared aloud.
'What! what!' he cried. 'Did she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana? Won't I tell mama? but first-' He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, a murderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle down my neck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent suffering: these sensations for the time predominated over fear, and I received him in frantic sort. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he called me 'Rat! Rat!' and bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him: Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs: she now came upon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were parted: I heard the words-
'Dear! dear! What a fury to fly at Master John!'
'Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion!'
Then Mrs. Reed subjoined-
'Take her away to the red-room, and lock her in there.' Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.
那天，出去散步是不可能了。其实，早上我们还在光秃秃的灌木林中溜达了一个小时，但从午饭时起（无客造访时，里德太太很早就用午饭）便刮起了冬日凛冽的寒风，随后阴云密布，大雨滂沱，室外的活动也就只能作罢了。
我倒是求之不得。我向来不喜欢远距离散步，尤其在冷飕飕的下午。试想，阴冷的薄暮时分回得家来，手脚都冻僵了，还要受到保姆贝茵的数落，又自觉体格不如伊丽莎、约翰和乔治亚娜，心里既难过又惭愧，那情形委实可怕。
此时此刻，刚才提到的伊丽莎、约翰和乔治亚娜都在客厅里，簇拥着他们的妈妈。她则斜倚在炉边的沙发上，身旁坐着自己的小宝贝们（眼下既未争吵也未哭叫），一副安享天伦之乐的神态。
而我呢，她恩准我不必同他们坐在一起了，说是她很遗憾，不得不让我独个儿在一旁呆着。要是没有亲耳从贝茜那儿听到，并且亲眼看到，我确实在尽力养成一种比较单纯随和的习性，活泼可爱的举止，也就是更开朗、更率直、更自然些，那她当真不让我享受那些只配给予快乐知足的孩子们的特权了。
“贝茵说我干了什么啦？”我问。
“简，我不喜欢吹毛求疵或者刨根究底的人，更何况小孩子家这么跟大人顶嘴实在让人讨厌。找个地方去坐着，不会和气说话就别张嘴。”
客厅的隔壁是一间小小的餐室，我溜了进去。里面有一个书架。不一会儿，我从上面拿下一本书来，特意挑插图多的，爬上窗台，缩起双脚，像土耳其人那样盘腿坐下，将红色的波纹窗帘几乎完全拉拢，把自己加倍隐蔽了起来。
在我右侧，绯红色窗幔的皱褶档住了我的视线；左侧，明亮的玻璃窗庇护着我，使我既免受十一月阴沉天气的侵害，又不与外面的世界隔绝，在翻书的间隙，我抬头细看冬日下午的景色。只见远方白茫茫一片云雾，近处湿漉漉一块草地和受风雨袭击的灌木。一阵持久而凄厉的狂风，驱赶着如注的暴雨，横空归过。
我重又低头看书，那是本比尤伊克的《英国鸟类史》。文字部份我一般不感兴趣，但有几页导言，虽说我是孩子，却不愿当作空页随手翻过。内中写到了海鸟生息之地；写到了只有海鸟栖居的“孤零零的岩石和海岬”；写到了自南端林纳斯尼斯，或纳斯，至北角都遍布小岛的挪威海岸：
那里，北冰洋掀起的巨大漩涡，咆哮在极地光秃凄凉约小岛四周。而大西洋的汹涌波涛，泻入了狂暴的赫布里底群岛。
还有些地方我也不能看都不看，一翻而过，那就是书中提到的拉普兰、西伯利亚、斯匹次卑尔根群岛、新地岛、冰岛和格陵兰荒凉的海岸。“广袤无垠的北极地带和那些阴凄凄的不毛之地，宛若冰雪的储存库。千万个寒冬所积聚成的坚冰，像阿尔卑斯山的层层高峰，光滑晶莹，包围着地极，把与日俱增的严寒汇集于一处。”我对这些死白色的地域，已有一定之见，但一时难以捉摸，仿佛孩子们某些似懂非懂的念头，朦朦胧胧浮现在脑际，却出奇地生动，导言中的这几页文字，与后面的插图相配，使兀立于大海波涛中的孤岩，搁浅在荒凉海岸上的破船，以及透过云带俯视着沉船的幽幽月光，更加含义隽永了。
我说不清一种什么样的情调弥漫在孤寂的墓地：刻有铭文的墓碑、一扇大门、两棵树、低低的地平线、破败的围墙。一弯初升的新月，表明时候正是黄昏。
两艘轮船停泊在水波不兴的海面上，我以为它们是海上的鬼怪。
魔鬼从身后按住窃贼的背包，那模样实在可怕，我赶紧翻了过去。
一样可怕的是，那个头上长角的黑色怪物，独踞于岩石之上，远眺着一大群人围着绞架。
每幅画都是一个故事、由于我理解力不足，欣赏水平有限，它们往往显得神秘莫测，但无不趣味盎然，就像某些冬夜，贝茜碰巧心情不错时讲述的故事一样。遇到这种时候，贝茵会把烫衣桌搬到保育室的壁炉旁边，让我们围着它坐好。她一面熨里德太太的网眼饰边，把睡帽的边沿烫出褶裥来，一面让我们迫不及待地倾听她一段段爱情和冒险故事，这些片段取自于古老的神话传说和更古老的歌谣，或者如我后来所发现，来自《帕美拉》和《莫兰伯爵亨利》。
当时，我膝头摊着比尤伊克的书，心里乐滋滋的，至少是自得其乐，就怕别人来打扰。但打扰来得很快，餐室的门开了。
“嘘！苦恼小姐！”约翰.里德叫唤着，随后又打住了，显然发觉房间里空无一人。
“见鬼，上哪儿去了呀？”他接着说。“丽茜！乔琪！”（喊着他的姐妹）“琼不在这儿呐，告诉妈妈她窜到雨地里去了，这个坏畜牲！”
“幸亏我拉好了窗帘，”我想。我真希望他发现不了我的藏身之地。约翰.里德自己是发现不了的，他眼睛不尖，头脑不灵。可惜伊丽莎从门外一探进头来，就说：
“她在窗台上，准没错，杰克。”
我立即走了出来，因为一想到要被这个杰克硬拖出去，身子便直打哆嗦。
什么事呀？”我问，既尴尬又不安。
“该说，什么事呀，里德‘少爷？’”便是我得到的回答。“我要你到这里来，”他在扶手椅上坐下，打了个手势，示意我走过去站到他面前。
约翰.里德是个十四岁的小学生，比我大四岁，因为我才十岁。论年龄，他长得又大又胖，但肤色灰暗，一付病态。脸盘阔，五官粗，四肢肥，手膨大。还喜欢暴饮暴食，落得个肝火很旺，目光迟钝，两颊松弛。这阵子，他本该呆在学校里，可是他妈把他领了回来，住上—、两个月，说是因为“身体虚弱”。但他老师迈尔斯先生却断言，要是家里少送些糕点糖果去，他会什么都很好的，做母亲的心里却讨厌这么刻薄的话，而倾向于一种更随和的想法，认为约翰是过于用功，或许还因为想家，才弄得那么面色蜡黄的。
约翰对母亲和姐妹们没有多少感情，而对我则很厌恶。他欺侮我，虐待我，不是一周三两次，也不是一天一两回，而是经常如此。弄得我每根神经都怕他，他一走运，我身子骨上的每块肌肉都会收缩起来。有时我会被他吓得手足无措，因为面对他的恐吓和欺侮，我无处哭诉。佣人们不愿站在我一边去得罪他们的少爷，而里德太太则装聋作哑，儿子打我骂我，她熟视无睹，尽管他动不动当着她的面这样做，而背着她的时候不用说就更多了。
我对约翰已惯于逆来顺受，因此便走到他椅子跟前。他费了大约三分钟，拼命向我伸出舌头，就差没有绷断舌根。我明白他会马上下手，一面担心挨打，一面凝视着这个就要动手的人那付令人厌恶的丑态。我不知道他看出了我的心思没有，反正他二话没说，猛然间狠命揍我。我一个踉跄，从他椅子前倒退了一两步才站稳身子。
“这是对你的教训，谁叫你刚才那么无礼跟妈妈顶嘴，”他说，“谁叫你鬼鬼祟祟躲到窗帘后面，谁叫你两分钟之前眼光里露出那付鬼样子，你这耗子！”
我已经习惯于约翰.里德的谩骂，从来不愿去理睬，一心只想着加何去忍受辱骂以后必然接踪而来的殴打。
“你躲在窗帘后面干什么？”他问。
“在看书。”
“把书拿来。”
我走回窗前把书取来。
“你没有资格动我们的书。妈妈说的，你靠别人养活你，你没有钱，你爸爸什么也没留给你，你应当去讨饭，而不该同像我们这样体面人家的孩子一起过日子，不该同我们吃一样的饭，穿妈妈掏钱给买的衣服。现在我要教训你，让你知道翻我们书架的好处。这些书都是我的，连整座房子都是，要不过几年就归我了。滚，站到门边去，离镜子和窗子远些。”
我照他的话做了，起初并不知道他的用意。但是他把书举起，拿稳当了，立起身来摆出要扔过来的架势时，我一声惊叫，本能地往旁边一闪，可是晚了、那本书己经扔过来，正好打中了我，我应声倒下，脑袋撞在门上，碰出了血来，疼痛难忍。我的恐惧心理已经越过了极限，被其他情感所代替。
“你是个恶毒残暴的孩子！”我说。“你像个杀人犯——你是个奴隶监工——你像罗马皇帝！”
我读过哥尔斯密的《罗马史》，时尼禄、卡利古拉等人物已有自己的看法，并暗暗作过类比，但决没有想到会如此大声地说出口来。
“什么！什么！”他大叫大嚷。“那是她说的吗？伊丽莎、乔治亚娜，你们可听见她说了？我会不去告诉妈妈吗？不过我得先——”
他向我直冲过来，我只觉得他抓住了我的头发和肩膀，他跟一个拼老命的家伙扭打在一起了。我发现他真是个暴君，是个杀人犯。我觉得一两滴血从头上顺着脖子淌下来，感到一阵热辣辣的剧痛。这些感觉一时占了上风，我不再畏惧，而发疯似地同他对打起来。我不太清楚自己的双手到底干了什么，只听得他骂我“耗子！耗子！”一面杀猪似地嚎叫着。他的帮手近在咫尺，伊丽莎和乔治亚娜早已跑出去讨救兵，里德太太上了楼梯，来到现场，后面跟随着贝茜和女佣艾博特。她们我们拉开了，我只听见她们说：
“哎呀！哎呀！这么大的气出在约翰少爷身上：”
“谁见过那么火冒三丈的！”
随后里德太太补充说：
“带她到红房子里去，关起来。”于是马上就有两双手按住了我，把我推上楼去。
Chapter 2
I RESISTED all the way: a new thing for me, and a circumstance which greatly strengthened the bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbot were disposed to entertain of me. The fact is, I was a trifle beside myself; or rather out of myself, as the French would say: I was conscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved, in my desperation, to go all lengths.'Hold her arms, Miss Abbot: she's like a mad cat.'
'For shame! for shame!' cried the lady's-maid. 'What shocking conduct, Miss Eyre, to strike a young gentleman, your benefactress's son! Your young master.''Master! How is he my master? Am I a servant?'
'No; you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness.'
They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated by Mrs. Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to rise from it like a spring; their two pair of hands arrested me instantly.
'If you don't sit still, you must be tied down,' said Bessie. 'Miss Abbot, lend me your garters; she would break mine directly.'
Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of the necessary ligature. This preparation for bonds, and the additional ignominy it inferred, took a little of the excitement out of me.
'Don't take them off,' I cried; 'I will not stir.'
In guarantee whereof, I attached myself to my seat by my hands.
'Mind you don't,' said Bessie; and when she had ascertained that I was really subsiding, she loosened her hold of me; then she and Miss Abbot stood with folded arms, looking darkly and doubtfully on my face, as incredulous of my sanity.
'She never did so before,' at last said Bessie, turning to the Abigail.
'But it was always in her,' was the reply. 'I've told Missis often my opinion about the child, and Missis agreed with me. She's an underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of her age with so much cover.'
Bessie answered not; but ere long, addressing me, she said- 'You ought to be aware, Miss, that you are under obligations to Mrs. Reed: she keeps you: if she were to turn you off, you would have to go to the poorhouse.'
I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me: my very first recollections of existence included hints of the same kind.
This reproach of my dependence had become a vague sing-song in my ear: very painful and crushing, but only half intelligible. Miss Abbot joined in-
'And you ought not to think yourself on an equality with the Misses Reed and Master Reed, because Missis kindly allows you to be brought up with them. They will have a great deal of money, and you will have none: it is your place to be humble, and to try to make yourself agreeable to them.'
'What we tell you is for your good,' added Bessie, in no harsh voice; 'you should try to be useful and pleasant, then, perhaps, you would have a home here; but if you become passionate and rude, Missis will send you away, I am sure.'
'Besides,' said Miss Abbot, 'God will punish her: He might strike her dead in the midst of her tantrums, and then where would she go? Come, Bessie, we will leave her: I wouldn't have her heart for anything. Say your prayers, Miss Eyre, when you are by yourself; for if you don't repent, something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away.'
They went, shutting the door, and locking it behind them. The red-room was a square chamber, very seldom slept in, I might say never, indeed, unless when a chance influx of visitors at Gateshead Hall rendered it necessary to turn to account all the accommodation it contained: yet it was one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion. A bed supported on massive pillars of mahogany, hung with curtains of deep red damask, stood out like a tabernacle in the centre; the two large windows, with their blinds always drawn down, were half shrouded in festoons and falls of similar drapery; the carpet was red; the table at the foot of the bed was covered with a crimson cloth; the walls were a soft fawn colour with a blush of pink in it; the wardrobe, the toilet-table, the chairs were of darkly polished old mahogany. Out of these deep surrounding shades rose high, and glared white, the piled-up mattresses and pillows of the bed, spread with a snowy Marseilles counterpane. Scarcely less prominent was an ample cushioned easy-chair near the head of the bed, also white, with a footstool before it; and looking, as I thought, like a pale throne.
This room was chill, because it seldom had a fire; it was silent, because remote from the nursery and kitchen; solemn, because it was known to be so seldom entered. The housemaid alone came here on Saturdays, to wipe from the mirrors and the furniture a week's quiet dust: and Mrs. Reed herself, at far intervals, visited it to review the contents of a certain secret drawer in the wardrobe, where were stored divers parchments, her jewel-casket, and a miniature of her deceased husband; and in those last words lies the secret of the red-room- the spell which kept it so lonely in spite of its grandeur.
Mr. Reed had been dead nine years: it was in this chamber he breathed his last; here he lay in state; hence his coffin was borne by   the undertaker's men; and, since that day, a sense of dreary consecration had guarded it from frequent intrusion.
My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left me riveted, was a low ottoman near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rose before me; to my right hand there was the high, dark wardrobe, with subdued, broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels; to my left were the muffled windows; a great looking-glass between them repeated the vacant majesty of the bed and room. I was not quite sure whether they had locked the door; and when I dared move, I got up and went to see. Alas! yes: no jail was ever more secure. Returning, I had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality: and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: I thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers. I returned to my stool.
Superstition was with me at that moment; but it was not yet her hour for complete victory: my blood was still warm; the mood of the revolted slave was still bracing me with its bitter vigour; I had to stem a rapid rush of retrospective thought before I quailed to the dismal present.
All John Reed's violent tyrannies, all his sisters' proud indifference, all his mother's aversion, all the servants' partiality, turned up in my disturbed mind like a dark deposit in a turbid well.
Why was I always suffering, always browbeaten, always accused, for ever condemned? Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win any one's favour? Eliza, who, was headstrong and selfish, was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and insolent carriage, was universally indulged. Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who, looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault.
John no one thwarted, much less punished; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the conservatory: he called his mother 'old girl,' too; sometimes reviled her for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly disregarded her wishes; not unfrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still 'her own darling.' I dared commit no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and I was termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning to noon, and from noon to night.
My head still ached and bled with the blow and fall I had received:
no one had reproved John for wantonly striking me; and because I had turned against him to avert farther irrational violence, I was loaded with general opprobrium.
'Unjust!- unjust!' said my reason, forced by the agonising stimulus into precocious though transitory power: and Resolve, equally wrought up, instigated some strange expedient to achieve escape from insupportable oppression- as running away, or, if that could not be effected, never eating or drinking more, and letting myself die.
What a consternation of soul was mine that dreary afternoon! How all my brain was in tumult, and all my heart in insurrection! Yet in what darkness, what dense ignorance, was the mental battle fought! I could not answer the ceaseless inward question- why I thus suffered; now, at the distance of- I will not say how many years, I see it clearly.
I was a discord in Gateshead Hall: I was like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen vassalage. If they did not love me, in fact, as little did I love them. They were not bound to regard with affection a thing that could not sympathise with one amongst them; a heterogeneous thing, opposed to them in temperament, in capacity, in propensities; a useless thing, incapable of serving their interest, or adding to their pleasure; a noxious thing, cherishing the germs of indignation at their treatment, of contempt of their judgment. I know that had I been a sanguine, brilliant, careless, exacting, handsome, romping child- though equally dependent and friendless- Mrs. Reed would have endured my presence more complacently; her children would have entertained for me more of the cordiality of fellow-feeling; the servants would have been less prone to make me the scapegoat of the nursery.
Daylight began to forsake the red-room; it was past four o'clock, and the beclouded afternoon was tending to drear twilight. I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window, and the wind howling in the grove behind the hall; I grew by degrees cold as a stone, and then my courage sank. My habitual mood of humiliation, self-doubt, forlorn depression, fell damp on the embers of my decaying ire. All said I was wicked, and perhaps I might be so; what thought had I been but just conceiving of starving myself to death? That certainly was a crime: and was I fit to die? Or was the vault under the chancel of Gateshead Church an inviting bourne? In such vault I had been told did Mr. Reed lie buried; and led by this thought to recall his idea, I dwelt on it with gathering  dread. I could not remember him; but I knew that he was my own uncle- my mother's brother- that he had taken me when a parentless infant to his house; and that in his last moments he had required a promise of Mrs. Reed that she would rear and maintain me as one of her own children. Mrs. Reed probably considered she had kept this promise; and so she had, I dare say, as well as her nature would permit her; but how could she really like an interloper not of her race, and unconnected with her, after her husband's death, by any tie? It must have been most irksome to find herself bound by a hard-wrung pledge to stand in the stead of a parent to a strange child she could not love, and to see an uncongenial alien permanently intruded on her own family group. 
A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not- never doubted-that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls-occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly gleaming mirror- I began to recall what I had heard of dead men, troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes, revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs of his sister's child, might quit its abode- whether in the church vault or in the unknown world of the departed- and rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort me, or elicit from the gloom some haloed face, bending over me with strange pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt would be terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it-I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray from the moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No; moonlight was still, and this stirred; while I gazed, it glided up to the ceiling and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me; I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along the outer passage; the key turned, Bessie and Abbot entered.
'Miss Eyre, are you ill?' said Bessie.
'What a dreadful noise! it went quite through me!' exclaimed Abbot.
'Take me out! Let me go into the nursery!' was my cry.
'What for? Are you hurt? Have you seen something?' again demanded Bessie.
'Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost would come.' I had now got hold of Bessie's hand, and she did not snatch it from me.
'She has screamed out on purpose,' declared Abbot, in some disgust.
'And what a scream! If she had been in great pain one would have excused it, but she only wanted to bring us all here: I know her naughty tricks.'
'What is all this?' demanded another voice peremptorily; and Mrs. Reed came along the corridor, her cap flying wide, her gown rustling stormily. 'Abbot and Bessie, I believe I gave orders that Jane Eyre should be left in the red-room till I came to her myself.'
'Miss Jane screamed so loud, ma'am,' pleaded Bessie.
'Let her go,' was the only answer. 'Loose Bessie's hand, child: you cannot succeed in getting out by these means, be assured. I abhor artifice, particularly in children; it is my duty to show you that tricks will not answer: you will now stay here an hour longer, and it is only on condition of perfect submission and stillness that I shall liberate you then.'
'O aunt! have pity! forgive me! I cannot endure it- let me be punished some other way! I shall be killed if-' 'Silence! This violence is all most repulsive:' and so, no doubt, she felt it. I was a precocious actress in her eyes; she sincerely.
looked on me as a compound of virulent passions, mean spirit, and dangerous duplicity.
Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs. Reed, impatient of my now frantic anguish and wild sobs, abruptly thrust me back and locked me in, without farther parley. I heard her sweeping away; and soon after she was gone, I suppose I had a species of fit: unconsciousness closed the scene.
我一路反抗，在我，这还是破天荒第一次。于是大大加深了贝茜和艾博特小姐对我的恶感。我确实有点儿难以自制，或者如法国人所说，失常了。我意识到，因为一时的反抗，会不得不遭受古怪离奇的惩罚。于是，像其他造反的奴隶一样，我横下一条心，决计不顾一切了。
“抓住她的胳膊，艾博特小姐，她像一只发了疯的猫。”
“真丢脸！真丢脸！”这位女主人的侍女叫道，“多可怕的举动，爱小姐，居然打起小少爷来了，他是你恩人的儿子：你的小主人！”
“主人，他怎么会是我主人，难道我是仆人不成？”
“不，你连仆人都不如。你不干事，吃白食。喂，坐下来，好好想一想你有多坏。”
这时候她们已把我拖进了里德太太所指的房间，推操到一条矮凳上，我不由自主地像弹簧一样跳起来，但立刻被两双手按住了。
“要是你不安安稳稳坐着，我们可得绑住你了，”贝茜说，“艾博特小姐，把你的袜带借给我，我那付会被她一下子绷断的。”
艾博特小姐转而从她粗壮的腿上，解下那条必不可少的带子。捆绑前的准备工作以及由此而额外蒙受的耻辱，略微消解了我的激动情绪。
“别解啦，”我叫道，“我不动就是了。”
作为保证，我让双手紧挨着凳子。
“记住别动，”贝茜说，知道我确实已经平静下去，便松了手。随后她和艾博特小姐抱臂而立，沉着脸，满腹狐疑地瞪着我，不相信我的神经还是正常似的。
“她以前从来没有这样过，”末了，贝茜转身对那位艾比盖尔说。
“不过她生性如此，”对方回答，“我经常跟太太说起我对这孩子的看法，太太也同意。这小东西真狡猾，从来没见过像她这样年纪的小姑娘，有那么多鬼心眼的。”
贝茜没有搭腔，但不一会便对我说：
“小姐，你该明白，你受了里德太太的恩惠，是她养着你的。要是她把你赶走，你就得进贫民院了。”
对她们这番活，我无话可说，因为听起来并不新鲜。我生活的最早记忆中就包含着类似的暗示，这些责备我赖别人过活的话，己成了意义含糊的老调，叫人痛苦，让人难受，但又不太好懂。艾博特小姐答话了：
“你不能因为太太好心把你同里德小姐和少爷一块抚养大，就以为自己与他们平等了。他们将来会有很多很多钱，而你却一个子儿也不会有。你得学谦恭些，尽量顺着他们，这才是你的本份。”
“我们同你说的全是为了你好，”贝茜补充道，口气倒并不严厉，“你做事要巴结些，学得乖一点，那样也许可以把这当个家住下去，要是你意气用事，粗暴无礼，我敢肯定，太太会把你撵走。”
“另外，”艾博特小姐说，“上帝会惩罚她，也许会在她耍啤气时，把她处死，死后她能上哪儿呢，来，贝茜，咱们走吧，随她去。反正我是无论如何打动不了她啦。爱小姐，你独个儿呆着的时候，祈祷吧。要是你不忏悔，说不定有个坏家伙会从烟囱进来，把你带走。”
她们走了，关了门，随手上了锁。
红房子是间空余的卧房，难得有人在里面过夜。其实也许可以说，从来没有。除非盖茨黑德府上偶而拥进一大群客人时，才有必要动用全部房间。但府里的卧室，数它最宽敞、最堂皇了。—张红木床赫然立于房间正中，粗大的床柱上，罩着深红色锦缎帐幔，活像一个帐篷。两扇终日窗帘紧闭的大窗，半掩在清一色织物制成的流苏之中。地毯是红的，床脚边的桌子上铺着深红色的台布，墙呈柔和的黄褐色，略带粉红。大橱、梳妆台和椅子都是乌黑发亮的红木做的。床上高高地叠着褥垫和枕头，上面铺着雪白的马赛布床罩，在周围深色调陈设的映衬下，白得眩目。几乎同样显眼的是床头边一把铺着坐垫的大安乐椅，一样的白色，前面还放着一只脚凳，在我看来，它像一个苍白的宝座。
房子里难得生火，所以很冷；因为远离保育室和厨房，所以很静；又因为谁都知道很少有人进去，所以显得庄严肃穆。只有女佣每逢星期六上这里来，把一周内静悄悄落在镜子上和家具上的灰尘抹去。还有里德太太本人，隔好久才来一次，查看大橱里某个秘密抽屉里的东西。这里存放着各类羊皮文件，她的首饰盒，以及她已故丈夫的肖像。上面提到的最后几句话，给红房子带来了一种神秘感，一种魔力，因而它虽然富丽堂皇，却显得分外凄清。
里德先生死去已经九年了，他就是在这间房子里咽气的，他的遗体在这里让人瞻仰，他的棺材由殡葬工人从这里抬走。从此之后，这里便始终弥漫着一种阴森森的祭奠氛围，所以不常有人闯进来。
里德先生死去已经九年了，他就是在这间房子里咽气的，他的遗体在这里让人瞻仰，他的棺材由殡葬工人从这里抬走。从此之后，这里便始终弥漫着一种阴森森的祭奠氛围，所以不常有人闯进来。
贝茜和刻薄的艾博特小姐让我一动不动坐着的，是一条软垫矮凳，摆在靠近大理石壁炉的地方。我面前是高耸的床，我右面是黑漆漆的大橱，橱上柔和、斑驳的反光，使镶板的光泽摇曳变幻。
我左面是关得严严实实的窗子，两扇窗子中间有一面大镜子，映照出床和房间的空旷和肃穆。我吃不准他们锁了门没有，等到敢于走动时，便起来看个究竟。哎呀，不错，比牢房锁得还紧呐。
返回原地时，我必须经过大镜子跟前。我的目光被吸引住了，禁不住探究起镜中的世界来。在虚幻的映像中，一切都显得比现实中更冷落、更阴沉。那个陌生的小家伙瞅着我，白白的脸上和胳膊上都蒙上了斑驳的阴影，在—切都凝滞时，唯有那双明亮恐惧的眼睛在闪动，看上去真像是一个幽灵。我觉得她像那种半仙半人的小精灵，恰如贝茵在夜晚的故事中所描绘的那样，从沼泽地带山蕨丛生的荒谷中冒出来，现身于迟归的旅行者眼前。我回到丁我的矮凳上。
这时候我相信起迷信来了，但并没有到了完全听凭摆布的程度，我依然热血沸腾，反叛的奴隶那种苦涩情绪依然激励着我。往事如潮、在我脑海中奔涌，如果我不加以遏制，我就不会对阴暗的现实屈服。
约翰.里德的专横霸道、他姐妹的高傲冷漠、他母亲的厌恶、仆人们的偏心，像一口混沌的水井中黑色的沉淀物，一古脑儿泛起在我烦恼不安的心头。
为什么我总是受苦，总是遭人白眼，总是让人告状，永远受到责备呢？为什么我永远不能讨人喜欢？为什么我尽力博取欢心，却依然无济于事呢？伊丽莎自私任性，却受到尊敬；乔治亚娜好使性子，心肠又毒，而且强词夺理目空一切，偏偏得到所有人的纵容。她的美貌，她红润的面颊，金色的卷发，使得她人见人爱，一俊便可遮百丑。至于约翰，没有人同他顶撞，更不用说教训他了，虽然他什么坏事都干：捻断鸽子的头颈，弄死小孔雀，放狗去咬羊，采摘温室中的葡萄，掐断暖房上等花木的嫩芽。有时还叫他母亲“老姑娘”，又因为她皮肤黝黑像他自己而破口大骂。
他蛮横地与母亲作对，经常撕毁她的丝绸服装，而他却依然是“她的宝贝蛋”。而我不敢有丝毫闪失，干什么都全力以赴，人家还是骂我淘气鬼，讨厌坯，骂我阴丝丝，贼溜溜，从早上骂到下午，从下午骂到晚上。
我因为挨了打、跌了交，头依然疼痛，依然流着血。约翰肆无忌惮地打我，却不受责备，而我不过为了免遭进一步无理殴打，反抗了一下，便成了众矢之的。
“不公呵，不公！”我的理智呼喊着。在痛苦的刺激下我的理智变得早熟，化作了一种短暂的力量。决心也同样鼓动起来，激发我去采取某种奇怪的手段，来摆脱难以忍受的压迫，譬如逃跑，要是不能奏效，那就不吃不喝，活活饿死。
那个阴沉的下午，我心里多么惶恐不安！我的整个脑袋如一团乱麻，我的整颗心在反抗：然而那场内心斗争又显得多么茫然，多么无知啊！我无法回答心底那永无休止的问题——为什么我要如此受苦。此刻，在相隔——我不说多少年以后，我看清楚了。
我在盖茨黑德府上格格不入。在那里我跟谁都不像。同里德太太、她的孩子、她看中的家仆，都不融洽。他们不爱我，说实在我也一样不爱他们。他们没有必要热情对待一个与自已合不来的家伙，一个无论是个性、地位，还是嗜好都同他们泾渭分明的异己；一个既不能为他们效劳，也不能给他们增添欢乐的废物；一个对自己的境界心存不满而又蔑视他们想法的讨厌家伙。我明白，如果我是一个聪明开朗、漂亮顽皮、不好侍候的孩子，即使同样是寄人篱下，同样是无亲无故，里德太太也会对我的处境更加宽容忍让；她的孩子们也会对我亲切热情些；佣人们也不会一再把我当作保育室的替罪羊了。
红房子里白昼将尽。时候已是四点过后，暗沉沉的下午正转为凄凉的黄昏。我听见雨点仍不停地敲打着楼梯的窗户，狂风在门厅后面的树丛中怒号。我渐渐地冷得像块石头，勇气也烟消云 散。往常那种屈辱感，那种缺乏自信、孤独沮丧的情绪，浇灭了我将消未消的怒火，谁都说我坏，也许我确实如此吧。我不是一心谋划着让自己饿死吗？这当然是一种罪过。而且我该不该死呢？
或者，盖茨黑德教堂圣坛底下的墓穴是个令人向往的归宿吗？听说里德先生就长眠在这样的墓穴里。这一念头重又勾起了我对他的回忆，而越往下细想，就越害怕起来。我已经不记得他了，只知道他是我舅父——我母亲的哥哥——他收养了我这个襁褓中的孤儿，而且在弥留之际，要里德太太答应，把我当作她自己的孩子来抚养。里德太太也许认为自己是信守诺言的。而我想就她本性而论，也确是实践了当初的许诺。可是她怎么能真心喜欢一个不属于她家的外姓、一个在丈夫死后同她已了却一切干系的人呢？她发现自己受这勉为其难的保证的约束，充当一个自己所无法喜爱的陌生孩子的母亲，眼睁睁看着一位不相投合的外人永远硬挤在自己的家人中间。对她来说，这想必是件最恼人的事情了。
我忽然闪过一个古怪的念头。我不怀疑—一也从来没有怀疑过——里德先生要是在世，一定会待我很好。此刻，我坐着，一面打量着白白的床和影影绰绰的墙，不时还用经不住诱惑的目光，瞟一眼泛着微光的镜子，不由得忆起了关于死人的种种传闻。据说由于人们违背了他们临终的嘱托，他们在坟墓里非常不安，于是便重访人间，严惩发假誓的人，并为受压者报仇。我思忖，里德先生的幽灵为外甥女的冤屈所动，会走出居所，不管那是教堂的墓穴，还是死者无人知晓的世界，来到这间房子，站在我面前。我抹去眼泪，忍住哭泣，担心嚎啕大哭会惊动什么不可知的声音来抚慰我，或者在昏暗中召来某些带光环的面孔，露出奇异怜悯的神色，俯身对着我。这念头听起来很令人欣慰，不过要是真的做起来，想必会非常可怕。我使劲不去想它，抬起头来，大着胆子环顾了一下暗洞洞的房间。就在这时，墙上闪过一道亮光。我问自己，会不会是一缕月光，透过百叶窗的缝隙照了进来？不，月光是静止的，而这透光却是流动的。停晴一看，这光线滑到了天花板上，在我头顶上抖动起来。现在我会很自然地联想到，那很可能是有人提着灯笼穿过草地时射进来的光。但那会儿，我脑子里尽往恐怖处去想，我的神经也由于激动而非常紧张，我认为那道飞快掠过的光，是某个幽灵从另一个世界到来的先兆。我的心怦怦乱跳，头脑又热又胀，耳朵里呼呼作响，以为那是翅膀拍击声，好像什么东西已经逼近我了。我感到压抑，感到窒息，我的忍耐力崩溃了，禁不住发疯似地大叫了一声，冲向大门，拼命摇着门锁。外面们廊上响起了飞跑而来的脚步声，钥匙转动了，贝茜和艾博特走进房间。
“啊！我看到了一道光，想必是鬼来了。”这时，我拉住了贝茜的手，而她并没有抽回去。
“她是故意乱叫乱嚷的，”艾博特厌烦地当着我的面说，“而且叫得那么凶！要是真痛得厉害，倒还可以原谅，可她只不过要把我们骗到这里来，我知道她的诡计。”
“到底是怎么回事？”一个咄咄逼人的声音问道。随后，里德太太从走廊里走过来，帽子飘忽着被风鼓得大大的，睡袍悉悉簌簌响个不停。“艾博特，贝茜，我想我吩咐过，让简.爱呆在红房子里，由我亲自来过问。”
“简小姐叫得那么响，夫人，”贝茵恳求着。
“放开她，”这是唯一的回答。“松开贝茵的手，孩子。你尽可放心，靠这些办法，是出不去的，我讨厌耍花招，尤其是小孩子，我有责任让你知道，鬼把戏不管用。现在你要在这里多呆一个小时，而且只有服服贴贴，一动不动，才放你出来。”
“啊，舅妈，可怜可怜我吧：饶恕我吧！我实在受不了啦，用别的办法惩罚我吧！我会憋死的，要是——”
“住嘴！这么闹闹嚷嚷讨厌透了。”她无疑就是这么感觉的。在她眼里我是个早熟的演员，她打心底里认为，我是个本性恶毒、灵魂卑劣、为人阴险的货色。
贝茜和艾博特退了出去。里德太太对我疯也似的痛苦嚎叫很不耐烦，无意再往下谈了，蓦地把我往后一推，锁上了门。我听见她堂而皇之地走了。她走后不久，我猜想我便一阵痉挛，昏了过去，结束了这场吵闹。
Chapter 3
THE next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if I had had a frightful nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible red glare, crossed with thick black bars. 
I heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating sense of terror confused my faculties. Ere long, I became aware that some one was handling me; lifting me up and sup worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reeds were there, they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama. Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she moved hither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers, addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite them agreeably.
Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a t?;B?of Abbot, for instance, would have been), I scrutinised the face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary, sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were ailing: for herself and the children she employed a physician.
'Well, who am I?' he asked.
I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my hand: he took it, smiling and saying, 'We shall do very well by and by.' Then he laid me down, and addressing Bessie, charged her to be very careful that I was not disturbed during the night. Having given some further directions, and intimated that he should call again the next day, he departed; to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him, all the room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness weighed it down.
'Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?' asked Bessie, rather softly.
Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might  be rough. 'I will try.'
'Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?'
'No, thank you, Bessie.'
'Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock; but you may call me if you want anything in the night.' Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question.
'Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?'
'You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room with crying; you'll be better soon, no doubt.'
Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment, which was near. I heard her say-
'Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren't for my life be alone with that poor child tonight: she might die; it's such a strange thing she should have that fit: I wonder if she saw anything. Missis was rather too hard.'
Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half an hour before they fell asleep. I caught scraps of their conversation, from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed.
'Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished'- 'A great black dog behind him'- 'Three loud raps on the chamber door'- 'A light in the churchyard just over his grave,' etc., etc.
At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel.
No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the reverberation to this day. Yes, Mrs. Reed, to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental suffering, but I ought to forgive you, for you knew not what you did: while rending my heart-strings, you thought you were only uprooting my bad propensities.
Next day, by noon, I was up and dressed, and sat wrapped in a shawl by the nursery hearth. I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reeds were there, they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama. Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she moved hither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers, addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite them agreeably.
Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate, whose bird of paradise, nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds, had been wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand in order to examine it more closely, but had always hitherto been deemed unworthy of such a privilege. This precious vessel was now placed on my knee, and I was cordially invited to eat the circlet of delicate pastry upon it. Vain favour! coming, like most other favours long deferred and often wished for, too late! I could not eat the tart; and the plumage of the bird, the tints of the flowers, seemed strangely faded: I put both plate and tart away. Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word book acted as a transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch Gulliver's Travels from the library. This book I had again and again perused with delight. I considered it a narrative of facts, and discovered in it a vein of interest deeper than what I found in fairy tales: for as to the elves, having sought them in vain among fox-glove leaves and bells, under mushrooms and beneath the ground-ivy mantling old wall-nooks, I had at length made up my mind to the sad truth, that they were all gone out of England to some savage country where the woods were wilder and thicker, and the population more scant; whereas, Lilliput and Brobdingnag being, in my creed, solid parts of the earth's surface, I doubted not that I might one day, by taking a long voyage, see with my own eyes the little fields, houses, and trees, the diminutive people, the tiny cows, sheep, and birds of the one realm; and the corn-fields, forest-high, the mighty mastiffs, the monster cats, the tower-like men and women, of the other. 
Yet, when this cherished volume was now placed in my hand- when I turned over its leaves, and sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I had, till now, never failed to find- all was eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fearful imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread and dangerous regions. I closed the book, which I dared no longer peruse, and put it on the table, beside the untasted tart.
Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, and having washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was- 'In the days when we were gipsying, A long time ago.'
I had often heard the song before, and always with lively delight; for Bessie had a sweet voice,- at least, I thought so. But now, though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody an indescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work, she sang the refrain very low, very lingeringly; 'A long time ago' came out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn. She passed into another ballad, this time a really doleful one.
'My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary; Long is the way, and the mountains are wild; Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary Over the path of the poor orphan child. Why did they send me so far and so lonely, Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled? Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child. Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing, Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild, God, in His mercy, protection is showing, Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.
Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing, Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled, Still will my Father, with promise and blessing, Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.
There is a thought that for strength should avail me, Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled; Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail me; God is a friend to the poor orphan child.'
'Come, Miss Jane, don't cry,' said Bessie as she finished. She might as well have said to the fire, 'don't burn!' but how could she divine the morbid suffering to which I was a prey? In the course of the morning Mr. Lloyd came again.
'What, already up!' said he, as he entered the nursery. 'Well, nurse, how is she?'
Bessie answered that I was doing very well.
'Then she ought to look more cheerful. Come here, Mis Jane: your name is Jane, is it not?'
'Yes, sir, Jane Eyre.'
'Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me what about? Have you any pain?'
'No, sir.'
'Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out with Missis in the carriage,' interposed Bessie.
'Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness.'
I thought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by the false charge, I answered promptly, 'I never cried for such a thing in my life: I hate going out in the carriage. I cry because I am miserable.'
'Oh fie, Miss!' said Bessie.
The good apothecary appeared a little puzzled. I was standing before him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey; not very bright, but I daresay I should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured looking face. Having considered me at leisure, he said- 
'What made you ill yesterday?'
'She had a fall,' said Bessie, again putting in her word.
'Fall! why, that is like a baby again! Can't she manage to walk at her age? She must be eight or nine years old.'
'I was knocked down,' was the blunt explanation, jerked out of me by another pang of mortified pride; 'but that did not make me ill,'
I added; while Mr. Lloyd helped himself to a pinch of snuff.
As he was returning the box to his waistcoat pocket, a loud bell rang for the servants' dinner; he knew what it was. 'That's for you, nurse,' said he; 'you can go down; I'll give Miss Jane a lecture till you come back.'
Bessie would rather have stayed, but she was obliged to go, because punctuality at meals was rigidly enforced at Gates-head Hall. 
'The fall did not make you ill; what did, then?' pursued Mr.Lloyd when Bessie was gone.
'I was shut up in a room where there is a ghost till after dark.'
I saw Mr. Lloyd smile and frown at the same time. 'Ghost! What, you are a baby after all! You are afraid of ghosts?'
'Of Mr. Reed's ghost I am: he died in that room, and was laid out there. Neither Bessie nor any one else will go into it at night, if they can help it; and it was cruel to shut me up alone without a candle,- so cruel that I think I shall never forget it.'
'Nonsense! And is it that makes you so miserable? Are you afraid now in daylight?'
'No: but night will come again before long: and besides,- I am unhappy,- very unhappy, for other things.'
'What other thingury Gothic" size="2">it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life.
'I should indeed like to go to school,' was the audible conclusion of my musings.
'Well, well! who knows what may happen?' said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. 'The child ought to have change of air and scene,' he added, speaking to himself; 'nerves not in a good state.'
Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk.
'Is that your mistress, nurse?' asked Mr. Lloyd. 'I should like to speak to her before I go.'
Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way our??me up in the red-room.'
Mr. Lloyd a second time produced his snuff-box.
'Don't you think Gateshead Hall a very beautiful house?' asked he. 'Are you not very thankful to have such a fine place to live at?'
'It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says I have less right to be here than a servant.'
'Pooh! you can't be silly enough to wish to leave such a splendid place?'
'If I had anywhere else to go, I should be glad to leave it; but I can never get away from Gateshead till I am a woman.'
'Perhaps you may- who knows? Have you any relations besides Mrs. Reed?'
'I think not, sir.'
'None belonging to your father?'
'I don't know: I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly I might have some poor, low relations called Eyre, but she knew nothing about them.'
'If you had such, would you like to go to them?'
I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown people; still more so to children: they have not much idea of industrious, working, respectable poverty; they think of the word only as connected with ragged clothes, scanty food, fireless grates, rude manners, and debasing vices: poverty for me was synonymous with degradation.
'No; I should not like to belong to poor people,' was my reply.
'Not even if they were kind to you?'
I shook my head: I could not see how poor people had the means of being kind; and then to learn to speak like them, to adopt their manners, to be uneducated, to grow up like one of the poor women I saw sometimes nursing their children or washing their clothes at the cottage doors of the village of Gateshead: no, I was not heroic enough to purchase liberty at the price of caste.
'But are your relatives so very poor? Are they working people?'
'I cannot tell; Aunt Reed says if I have any, they must be a beggarly set: I should not like to go a-begging.'
'Would you like to go to school?'
Again I reflected: I scarcely knew what school was: Bessie sometimes spoke of it as a place where young ladies sat in the stocks, wore backboards, and were expected to be exceedingly genteel and precise: John Reed hated his school, and abused his master; but John Reed's tastes were no rule for mine, and if Bessie's accounts of school-discipline (gathered from the young ladies of a family where she had lived before coming to Gateshead) were somewhat appalling, her details of certain accomplishments attained by these same young ladies were, I thought, equally attractive. She boasted of beautiful paintings of landscapes and flowers by them executed; of songs they could sing and pieces they could play, of purses they could net, of French books they could translate; till my spirit was moved to emulation as I listened. Besides, school would be a complete change:it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life.
'I should indeed like to go to school,' was the audible conclusion of my musings.
'Well, well! who knows what may happen?' said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. 'The child ought to have change of air and scene,' he added, speaking to himself; 'nerves not in a good state.'
Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk.
'Is that your mistress, nurse?' asked Mr. Lloyd. 'I should like to speak to her before I go.'
Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way out. In the interview which followed between him and Mrs. Reed, I presume, from after-occurrences, that the apothecary ventured to recommend my being sent to school; and the recommendation was no doubt readily enough adopted; for as Abbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when both sat sewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as they thought, asleep, 'Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand.' Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
On that same occasion I learned, for the first time, from Miss Abbot's communications to Bessie, that my father had been a poor clergyman; that my mother had married him against the wishes of her friends, who considered the match beneath her; that my grandfather Reed was so irritated at her disobedience, he cut her off without a shilling; that after my mother and father had been married a year, the latter caught the typhus fever while visiting among the poor of a large manufacturing town where his curacy was situated, and where that disease was then prevalent: that my mother took the infection from him, and both died within a month of each other.
Bessie, when she heard this narrative, sighed and said, 'Poor Miss Jane is to be pitied too, Abbot.'
'Yes,' responded Abbot; 'if she were a nice, pretty child, one might compassionate her forlornness; but one really cannot care for such a little toad as that.'
'Not a great deal, to be sure,' agreed Bessie: 'at any rate, a beauty like Miss Georgiana would be more moving in the same condition.'
'Yes, I doat on Miss Georgiana!' cried the fervent Abbot. 'Little darling!- with her long curls and her blue eyes, and such a sweet colour as she has; just as if she were painted!- Bessie, I could fancy a Welsh rabbit for supper.'
'So could I- with a roast onion. Come, we'll go down.' They went.
我随后记得，醒过来时仿佛做了一场可怕的恶梦，看到眼前闪烁着骇人的红光，被一根根又粗又黑的条子所隔断。我还听到了沉闷的说话声，仿佛被一阵风声或水声盖住了似的。激动不安以及压倒一切的恐怖感，使我神智模糊了。不久，我明白有人在摆弄我，把我扶起来，让我靠着他坐着。我觉得以前从来没有被人这么轻乎轻脚地抱起过，我把头倚在一个枕头上或是一条胳膊上，感到很舒服。
五分钟后，心头的疑云消散了。我完全明白我在自己的床上，那红光是保育室的炉火。时候是夜间，桌上燃着蜡烛。贝茵端着脸盆站在床脚边，一位老先生坐在我枕边的椅子上，俯身向着我。
我知道房间里有一个生人，一个不属于盖茨黑德府、也不与里德太太拈亲带故的人。这时，我感到了一种难以言表的宽慰，一种确徐堂啊，永远是归宿和安息之所，上帝是可怜孤儿的朋友。
“来吧，简小姐，别哭了，”贝茜唱完了说。其实，她无异于对火说“你别燃烧！”不过，她怎么能揣度出我被极度的痛苦所折磨？早上劳埃德先生又来了。
“怎么，己经起来了！”他一进保育室就说，“嗨，保姆、她怎么样了？”
贝茜回答说我情况很好。
“那她应该高兴才是。过来、简小姐，你的名字叫简，是不是？”
“是，先生，叫简.爱。”
“瞧，你一直在哭，简.爱小姐，你能告诉我为什么吗？哪儿疼吗？”
“不疼，先生。”
“啊，我想是因为不能跟小姐们一起坐马车出去才哭的，”贝茜插嘴说。
“当然不是罗！她那么大了，不会为这点小事闹别扭的。”
这恰恰也是我的想法。而她这么冤枉我伤了我的自尊，所以我当即回答，“我长得这么大从来没有为这种事哭过，而且我又讨厌乘马车出去。我是因为心里难受才哭的。”
“嘿，去去，小姐！”贝茜说。P葸o嗝幢虮蛴欣癜。∮谑俏掖笞诺ㄗ游柿烁鑫侍狻?br> “贝茜，我怎啦？病了吗？”
“你是病了，猜想是在红房子里哭出病来的，肯定很快就会好的。”
贝茵走进了附近佣人的卧房。我听见她说：
“萨拉，过来同我一起睡在保育室吧，今儿晚上，就是要我命，我也不敢同那个可怜孩子单独过夜了。她说不定会死的。真奇怪她竟会昏过去。不知道她看见了什么没有。里德太太也太狠心了。”
萨拉跟着她回来了，两人都上了床，嘁嘁喳喳讲了半个小时才睡着。我只听到了片言只语，但我可以清楚地推断出她们讨论的主题。
“有个东西从她身边经过，一身素装，转眼就不见了”——“一条大黑狗跟在后面”——“在房门上砰砰砰”敲了三下——“墓地里一道白光正好掠过他坟墓”等等等等。
最后，两人都睡着了，炉火和烛光也都熄灭。我就这么可怕地醒着挨过了漫漫长夜，害怕得耳朵、眼睛和头脑都紧张起来，这种恐俱是只有儿童才能感受到的，
红房子事件并没有给我身体留下严重或慢性的后遗症，它不过使我的神经受了惊吓，对此我至今记忆犹新。是的，里德太太，你让我领受了可怕的精神创伤，但我应当原谅你、因为你并不明白自己干了些什么，明明是在割断我的心弦，却自以为无非是要根除我的恶习。
第二天中午，我起来穿好衣服，裹了块浴巾，坐在保育室壁炉旁边。我身体虚弱，几乎要垮下来。但最大的痛楚却是内心难以言传的苦恼，弄得我不断地暗暗落泪。才从脸颊上抹去一滴带咸味的泪水，另一滴又滚落下来。不过，我想我应当高兴，因为里德一家人都不在，他们都坐了车随妈妈出去了。艾博特也在另一间屋里做针线活。而贝茵呢，来回忙碌着，一面把玩具收拾起来，将抽屉整理好，一面还不时地同我说两句少有的体贴话。对我来说，过惯了那种成天挨骂、辛辛苦苦吃力不讨好的日子后，这光景该好比是平静的乐园。然而，我的神经己被折磨得痛苦不堪，终于连平静也抚慰不了我，欢乐也难以使我兴奋了。
贝茜下楼去了一趟厨房，端上来一个小烘饼，放在一个图案鲜艳的瓷盘里，图案上画的是一只极乐鸟，偎依在一圈旋花和玫瑰花苞上。这幅画曾激起我热切的羡慕之情。我常常恳求让我端一端这只盘子，好仔细看个究竟，但总是被认为不配享受这样的特权。此刻，这只珍贵的器皿就搁在我膝头上，我还受到热诚邀请，品尝器皿里一小圈精美的糕点。徒有虚名的垂爱啊！跟其他久拖不予而又始终期待着的宠爱一样，来得太晚了！我已无意光顾这烘饼，而且那鸟的羽毛和花卉的色泽也奇怪地黯然无光了。我把盘子和烘饼挪开。贝茜问我是否想要一本书。“书”字产生了瞬间的刺激，我求她去图书室取来一本《格列佛游记》。我曾兴致勃动地反复细读过这本书，认为书中叙述的都实有其事，因而觉得比童话中写的有趣。至于那些小精灵们，我在毛地黄叶子与花冠之间，在蘑菇底下和爬满老墙角落的长春藤下遍寻无着之后，终于承认这悲哀的事实：他们都己逃离英国到某个原始的乡间去了，那儿树林更荒凉茂密，人口更为稀少。而我虔信，小人国和大人国都是地球表面实实在在的一部份。我毫不怀疑有朝一日我会去远航，亲眼看一看一个王国里小小的田野、小小的房子、小小的树木；看一看那里的小人、小牛、小羊和小鸟们；目睹一下另一个王国里如森林一般高耸的玉米地、硕大的猛犬、巨大无比的猫以及高塔一般的男男女女。然而，此刻当我手里捧着这本珍爱的书，一页页翻过去，从精妙的插图中寻觅以前每试必爽的魅力时，我找到的只是怪异和凄凉。巨人成了憔悴的妖怪，矮子沦为恶毒可怖的小鬼，而格列佛则已是陷身于险境的孤独的流浪者了。我不敢往下看了，合上书，把它放在桌上一口未尝的小烘饼旁边。
我以前常听这首歌，而且总觉得它欢快悦耳，因为贝茜的嗓子很甜，至少我认为如此。而此刻，虽然她甜蜜的嗓子依旧，但歌里透出了一种难以言喻的悲哀。有时，她干活出了神，把迭句唱得很低沉，拖得很长。一句“很久很久以前”唱出来，如同挽歌中最哀伤的调子。她接着又唱起一首民谣来，这回可是真的哀怨凄恻了。
我的双脚酸痛啊四肢乏力，前路漫漫啊大山荒芜。没有月光啊天色阴凄，暮霭沉沉啊笼罩着可怜孤儿的旅途。
为什么要让我孤苦伶丁远走他乡，流落在荒野连绵峭岩重叠的异地。人心狠毒啊，唯有天使善良，关注着可怜孤儿的足迹。
从远处吹来了柔和的夜风，晴空中繁星闪烁着温煦的光芒。仁慈的上帝啊，你赐福于万众，可怜的孤儿得到了保护、安慰和希望。
哪怕我走过断桥失足坠落，或是在迷茫恍惚中误入泥淖。天父啊，你带着祝福与许诺，把可怜的孤儿搂入你怀抱。
哪怕我无家可归无亲无故，一个给人力量的信念在我心头。天堂啊，永远是归宿和安息之所，上帝是可怜孤儿的朋友。
“来吧，简小姐，别哭了，”贝茜唱完了说。其实，她无异于对火说“你别燃烧！”不过，她怎么能揣度出我被极度的痛苦所折磨？早上劳埃德先生又来了。
“怎么，己经起来了！”他一进保育室就说，“嗨，保姆、她怎么样了？”
贝茜回答说我情况很好。
“那她应该高兴才是。过来、简小姐，你的名字叫简，是不是？”
“是，先生，叫简.爱。”
“瞧，你一直在哭，简.爱小姐，你能告诉我为什么吗？哪儿疼吗？”
“不疼，先生。”
“啊，我想是因为不能跟小姐们一起坐马车出去才哭的，”贝茜插嘴说。
“当然不是罗！她那么大了，不会为这点小事闹别扭的。”
这恰恰也是我的想法。而她这么冤枉我伤了我的自尊，所以我当即回答，“我长得这么大从来没有为这种事哭过，而且我又讨厌乘马车出去。我是因为心里难受才哭的。”
“嘿，去去，小姐！”贝茜说。
好心的药剂师似乎有些莫明其妙。我站在他面前，他目不转睛地看着我。他灰色的小眼睛并不明亮，但现在想来也许应当说是非常锐利的。他的面相既严厉而又温厚，他从从容容地打量了我一番后说：
“昨天你怎么得病的呢？”
“她跌了一跤。”贝茜又插嘴了。
“跌交：又耍娃娃脾气了！她这样年纪还不会走路？八九岁总有了吧。”
“我是被人给打倒的，”我脱口而出。由于自尊心再次受到伤害，引起了一阵痛楚，我冒昧地作了这样的辩解。“但光那样也不会生病。”我趁劳埃德先生取了一撮鼻烟吸起来时说。
他把烟盒放入背心口袋。这时，铃声大作，叫佣人们去吃饭。他明白是怎么回事。“那是叫你的，保姆，”他说，“你可以下去啦，我来开导开导简小姐，等着你回来，”
贝茜本想留着，但又不得不走，准时吃饭是盖茨黑德府的一条成规。
“你不是以为跌了跤才生病吧？那么因为什么呢？”贝茜一走，劳埃德先生便追问道。
“他们把我关在一间闹鬼的房子里，直到天黑。”
我看到劳埃德先生微微一笑，同时又皱起眉头来，“鬼？瞧，你毕竟还是个娃娃！你怕鬼吗？”
里德先生的鬼魂我是怕的，他就死在那同房子里，还在那里停过棂。无论贝茜，还是别人，能不进去，是不在夜里进那房间的。多狠心呀，把我一个人关在里面，连支蜡烛也不点。心肠那么狠，我一辈子都忘不了。”
“瞎说！就因为这个使你心里难受，现在大白天你还怕吗？”
“现在不怕，不过马上又要到夜里了。另外，我不愉快，很不愉快，为的是其他事情。”
“其他什么事？能说些给我听听吗？”
我多么希望能原原本本回答这个问题！要作出回答又何其困难：孩子们能够感觉，但无法分析自己的情感，即使部分分折能够意会，分析的过程也难以言传。但是我又担心失去这第一次也是唯一一次吐苦水的机会。所以局促不安地停了一停之后，便琢磨出一个虽不详尽却相当真实的回答。
“一方面是因为我没有父母，没有兄弟姐妹的缘故。”
“可是你有一位和蔼可亲的舅母，还有表兄妹们。”
我又顿了顿，随后便笨嘴笨舌地说：
“可是约翰.里德把我打倒了，而舅妈又把我关在红房子里。”
劳埃德先生再次掏出了鼻烟盒。
“你不觉得盖茨黑德府是座漂亮的房子吗？”他问，“让你住那么好一个地方，你难道不感激？”
“这又不是我的房子，先生。艾博特还说我比这儿的佣人还不如呢。”
“去！你总不至于傻得想离开这个好地方吧。”
“要是我有地方去，我是乐意走的。可是不等到长大成人我休想摆脱盖茨黑德。”
“也许可以——谁知道？除了里德太太，你还有别的亲戚吗？”
“我想没有了，先生。”
“你父亲那头也没有了吗？”
“我不知道，有一回我问过舅妈，她说可能有些姓爱的亲戚，人又穷，地位又低，她对他们的情况一无所知。”
“要是有这样的亲戚，你愿意去吗？”
我陷入了沉思，在成年人看来贫困显得冷酷无情，孩子则尤其如此。至于勤劳刻苦、令人钦敬的贫困，孩子们不甚了了。在他们心目中，这个字眼始终与衣衫槛褴褛、食品匿乏、壁炉无火、行为粗鲁以及低贱的恶习联系在一起。对我来说，贫困就是堕落的别名。
“不，我不愿与穷人为伍，”这就是我的回答。
“即使他们待你很好也不愿意？”
我摇了摇头，不明白穷人怎么会有条件对人仁慈，更不说我还得学他们的言谈举止，同他们一样没有文化，长大了像有时见到的那种贫苦女人一样，坐在盖茨黑德府茅屋门口，奶孩子或者搓洗衣服。不，我可没有那样英雄气概，宁愿抛却身份来换取自由。
“但是你的亲戚就那么穷，都是靠干活过日子的么？”
“我说不上来。里德舅妈说，要是我有亲戚，也准是一群要饭的，我可不愿去要饭。”
“你想上学吗？”
我再次沉思起来。我几乎不知道学校是什么样子。光听贝茜有时说起过，那个地方，年轻女子带足枷坐着，戴着脊骨矫正板，还非得要十分文雅和规矩才行。约翰.里德对学校恨之入骨，还大骂教师。不过他的感受不足为凭。如果贝茜关于校纪的说法（她来盖茨黑德之前，从她主人家一些年轻小姐那儿收集来的）有些骇人听闻，那么她细说的关于那些小姐所学得的才艺，我想也同样令人神往。她绘声绘色地谈起了她们制作的风景画和花卉画；谈起了她们能唱的歌，能弹的曲，能编织的钱包，能翻译的法文书，一直谈得我听着听着就为之心动，跃跃欲试。更何况上学也是彻底变换环境，意味着一次远行，意味着同盖茨黑德完全决裂，意味着踏上新的生活旅程。
“我真的愿意去上学，”这是我三思之后轻声说出的结论。
“唉，唉，谁知道会发生什么呢？”劳埃德先生立起身来说。“这孩子应当换换空气，换换地方，”他自言自语地补充说，“神经不很好。”
这时，贝茜回来了，同时听得见砂石路上响起了滚滚而来的马车声。
“是你们太太吗，保姆？”劳埃德先生问道。“走之前我得跟她谈一谈。”
贝茜请他进早餐室，并且领了路。从以后发生的情况推测，药剂师在随后与里德太太的会见中，大胆建议送我进学校。无疑，这个建议被欣然采纳了。一天夜里，艾博特和贝茜坐在保育室里，做着针钱活儿，谈起了这件事。那时，我已经上床，她们以为我睡着了。艾博特说：“我想太太一定巴不得摆脱这样一个既讨厌、品质又不好的孩子，她那样子就好像眼睛老盯着每个人，暗地里在搞什么阴谋似的。”我想艾博特准相信我是幼年的盖伊.福克斯式人物了。
就是这一回，我从艾博特与贝茜的文谈中第一次获悉，我父亲生前是个牧师，我母亲违背了朋友们的意愿嫁给了他，他们认为这桩婚事有失她的身份。我的外祖父里德，因为我母亲不听话而勃然大怒，一气之下同她断绝了关系，没留给她一个子儿。我父母亲结婚才一年，父亲染上了斑疹伤寒，因为他奔走于副牧师供职地区、一个大工业城镇的穷人中间，而当时该地流行着斑疹伤寒。我母亲从父亲那儿染上了同一疾病，结果父母双双故去，前后相距下到一个月。
贝茜听了这番话便长叹一声说：“可怜的简小姐也是值得同情呐，艾博特。”
“是呀，”艾博特回答，“她若是漂亮可爱，人家倒也会可怜她那么孤苦伶仃的，可是像她那样的小东西，实在不讨人喜欢。”
“确实不大讨人喜欢，”贝茜表示同意，“至少在同样处境下，乔治亚娜这样的美人儿会更惹人喜爱。”
“是呀，我就是喜欢乔治亚娜小姐!”狂热的艾博特嚷道，“真是个小宝贝——长长的卷发，蓝蓝的眼睛，还有那么可爱的肤色，简直像画出来的一股！——贝茜，晚餐我真想吃威尔士兔子。”
“我也一样——外加烤洋葱。来吧，我们下楼去。”她们走了。
Chapter 4
FROM my discourse with Mr. Lloyd, and from the above reported conference between Bessie and Abbot, I gathered enough of hope to suffice as a motive for wishing to get well: a change seemed near,- I desired and waited it in silence. It tarried, however: days and weeks passed: I had regained my normal state of health, but no new allusion was made to the subject over which I brooded. Mrs. Reed surveyed me at times with a severe eye, but seldom addressed me: since my illness, she had drawn a more marked line of separation than ever between me and her own children; appointing me a small closet to sleep in by myself, condemning me to take my meals alone, and pass all my time in the nursery, while my cousins were constantly in the drawing-room. Not a hint, however, did she drop about sending me to school: still I felt an instinctive certainty that she would not long endure me under the same roof w with my doll on my knee till the fire got low, glancing round occasionally to make sure that nothing worse than myself haunted the shadowy room; and when the embers sank to a dull red, I undressed hastily, tugging at knots and strings as I best might, and sought shelter from cold and darkness in my crib. To this crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, v?粥which had stirred my corruption before, he thought it better to desist, and ran from me uttering execrations, and vowing I had burst his nose. I had indeed levelled at that prominent feature as hard a blow as my knuckles could inflict; and when I saw that either that or my look daunted him, I had the greatest inclination to follow up my advantage to purpose; but he was already with his mama. I heard him in a blubbering tone commence the tale of how 'that nasty Jane Eyre' had flown at him like 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 or your 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 strange and audacious declaration, she ran nimbly up the stair, swept me like a whirlwind into the nursery, and crushing me down on the edge of 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 my scarcely voluntary demand. I say scarcely voluntary, for it seemed as if my tongue pronounced words, without my will consenting to their utterance: something spoke out of me over which I had no control.
'What?' said Mrs. Reed under her breath: her usually cold composed grey eye became troubled with a look like fear; she took her hand from my arm, and gazed at me as if she really did not know whether I were child or fiend. I was now in for it.
'My Uncle Reed is in heaven, and can see all you do and think; and so 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. Bessie supplied the hiatus by a homily of an hour's length, in which she proved beyond a doubt that I was the most wicked and abandoned child ever reared under a roof. I half believed her; for I felt indeed only bad feelings surging in my breast.
November, December, and half of January passed away. Christmas and the New Year had been celebrated at Gateshead with the usual festive cheer; presents had been interchanged, dinners and evening parties given. From every enjoyment I was, of course, excluded: my share of the gaiety consisted in witnessing the daily apparelling of Eliza and Georgiana, and seeing them descend to the drawing-room, dressed out in thin muslin frocks and scarlet sashes, with hair elaborately ringleted; and afterwards, in listening to the sound of the piano or the harp played below, to the passing to and fro of the butler and footman, to the jingling of glass and china as refreshments were handed, to the broken hum of conversation as the drawing-room door opened and closed. When tired of this occupation, I would retire from the stair-head 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 was very rarely noticed; and if Bessie had but been kind and companionable, I should have deemed it a treat to spend the evenings quietly with her, instead of passing them under the formidable eye of Mrs. 
Reed, in a room full of ladies and gentlemen. But Bessie, as soon as she had dressed her young ladies, used to take herself off to the lively regions of the kitchen and housekeeper's room, generally bearing the candle along with her. I then sat with my doll on my knee till the fire got low, glancing round occasionally to make sure that nothing worse than myself haunted the shadowy room; and when the embers sank to a dull red, I undressed hastily, tugging at knots and strings as I best might, and sought shelter from cold and darkness in my crib. To this crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me now to remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy, half fancying it alive and capable of sensation. I could not sleep unless it was folded in my night-gown; and when it lay there safe and warm, I was comparatively happy, believing it to be happy likewise.
Long did the hours seem while I waited the departure of the company, and listened for the sound of Bessie's step on the stairs: sometimes she would come up in the interval to seek her thimble or her scissors, or perhaps to bring me something by way of supper- a bun or a cheese-cake- then she would sit on the bed while I ate it, and when I had finished, she would tuck the clothes round me, and twice she kissed me, and said, 'Good night, Miss Jane.' When thus gentle, Bessie seemed to me the best, prettiest, kindest being in the world; and I wished most intensely that she would always be so pleasant and amiable, and never push me about, or scold, or task me unreasonably, as she was too often wont to do. Bessie, Lee must, I think, have been a girl of good natural capacity, for she was 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 nursery tales. She was pretty too, if my recollections of her face and person are correct. I remember her as a slim young woman, with black hair, dark eyes, very nice features, and good, clear complexion; but she had a capricious and hasty temper, and indifferent ideas of principle or justice:
still, such as she was, I preferred her to 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 been summoned to their mama; Eliza was putting on her bonnet and warm garden-coat to go and feed her poultry, an occupation of which she was fond: and not less so of selling the eggs to the housekeeper and hoarding up the money she thus obtained. She had a turn for traffic, and a marked propensity for saving; shown not only in the vending of eggs and chickens, but also in driving hard bargains with the gardener about flower-roots, seeds, and slips of plants; that functionary having orders from Mrs. Reed to buy of his young lady all the products of her parterre she wished to sell: and Eliza would have sold the hair off her head if she could have made a handsome profit thereby. As to her money, she first secreted it in odd corners, wrapped in a rag or an old curl-paper; but some of these hoards having been discovered by the housemaid, Eliza, fearful of one day losing her valued treasure, consented to intrust it to her mother, at a usurious rate of interest- fifty or sixty per cent.; which interest she exacted every quarter, keeping her accounts in a little book with anxious accuracy.
Georgiana sat on a high stool, dressing her hair at the glass, and interweaving her curls with artificial flowers and faded feathers, of which she had found a store in a drawer in the attic. I was making my bed, having received strict orders from Bessie to get it arranged before she returned, (for Bessie now frequently employed me as a sort of under-nurserymaid, to tidy the room, dust the chairs, etc.). Having spread the quilt and folded my night-dress, I went to the window-seat to put in order some picture-books and doll's house furniture scattered there; an abrupt command from Georgiana to let her playthings alone (for the tiny chairs and mirrors, the fairy plates and cups, were her property) stopped my proceedings; and then, for lack of other occupation, I fell to breathing on the frost-flowers with which the window was fretted, and thus clearing a space in the glass through which I might look out on the grounds, where all was still and petrified under the influence of a hard frost.
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 foliage veiling the panes as left room to look out, I saw the gates thrown open and a carriage roll through. I watched it ascending the drive with indifference; carriages often came to Gateshead, but none ever brought visitors in whom I was interested; it stopped in front of the house, the door-bell rang loudly, the new-comer was admitted.
All this being nothing to me, my vacant attention soon found livelier attraction in the spectacle of a little hungry robin, which came and chirruped on the twigs of the leafless cherry-tree nailed against the wall near the casement. The remains of my breakfast of bread and 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? Have you washed your hands and face this morning?' I gave another tug before 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? You look quite red, as if you have been about some mischief: what were you opening the window for?'
I was spared the trouble of answering, for Bessie seemed in too great a hurry to listen to explanations; she hauled me to the washstand, inflicted a merciless, but happily brief  scrub on my face and hands with soap, water, and a coarse towel; disciplined my head with a bristly brush, denuded me of my pinafore, and then hurrying me to the top of the stairs, bid me go down directly, as I was wanted in the breakfast-room.
I would have asked who wanted me: I would have demanded if Mrs. Reed was there; but Bessie was already gone, and had closed the nursery-door upon me. I slowly descended. For nearly three months, I had never been called to Mrs. Reed's presence; restricted so long to the nursery, the breakfast, dining, and drawing-rooms were become for me awful regions, on which it dismayed me to intrude.
I now stood in the empty hall; before me was the breakfast-room door, and I stopped, intimidated and trembling. What a miserable little poltroon had fear, engendered of unjust punishment, made of me in those days! I feared to return to the nursery, and feared to go forward to the parlour; ten minutes I stood in agitated hesitation; the vehement ringing of the breakfast-room bell decided me; I must enter.
'Who could want me?' I asked inwardly, as with both hands I turned the stiff door-handle, which, for a second or two, resisted my efforts. '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 black pillar!- such, at least, appeared to me, at first sight, the straight, narrow, sable-clad shape standing erect on the rug: the grim face at the top was like a carved mask, placed above the shaft by way of capital.
Mrs. Reed occupied her usual seat by the fireside; she made a signal to me to approach; I did so, and she introduced me to the stony stranger with the words: 'This is the little girl respecting whom 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 eyes which twinkled under a pair of bushy brows, said solemnly, and in a bass voice, 'Her size is small: what is her age?'
'Ten years.'
'So much?' was the doubtful answer; and he prolonged his scrutiny for some minutes. Presently he addressed me- 'Your name, little girl?'
'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 and all 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 world held a contrary opinion: I was silent. Mrs. Reed answered for me by an expressive shake of the head, adding soon, 'Perhaps the less said on that subject the better, Mr. Brocklehurst.'
'Sorry indeed to hear it! she and I must have some talk;' and bending 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 before him. What a face he had, now that it was almost on a level with mine! what a great nose! and what a mouth! and what large prominent teeth!
'No sight so sad as that of a naughty child,' he began, 'especially a naughty 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 there for 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 die daily. I buried a little child of five years old only a day or two 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 to be called hence.'
Not being in a condition to remove his doubt, I only cast my eyes down on the two large feet planted on the rug, and sighed, wishing myself far enough away.
'I hope that sigh is from the heart, and that you repent of ever having been the occasion of discomfort to your excellent benefactress.'
'Benefactress! benefactress!' said I inwardly: 'they all call  Mrs. Reed my benefactress; if so, a benefactress is a disagreeable thing.'
'Do you say your prayers night and morning?' continued my interrogator.
'Yes, sir.'
'Do you read your Bible?'
'Sometimes.'
'With pleasure? Are you fond of it?'
'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.'
'And the Psalms? I hope you like them?'
'No, sir.'
'No? oh, shocking! I have a little boy, younger than you, who knows six Psalms by heart: and when you ask him which he would rather have, a gingerbread-nut to eat or a verse of a Psalm to learn, he says: "Oh! the verse of a Psalm! angels sing Psalms;" says he, "I wish to be a little angel here below;" he then gets two 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 to change it: to give you a new and clean one: to take away your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.'
I was about to propound a question, touching the manner in which that operation of changing my heart was to be performed, when Mrs. Reed interposed, telling me to sit down; she then proceeded to carry on the conversation herself.
'Mr. Brocklehurst, I believe I intimated in the letter which I wrote to you three weeks ago, that this little girl has not quite the character and disposition I could wish: should you admit her into Lowood school, I should be glad if the superintendent and teachers were requested to keep a strict eye on her, and, above all, to guard against her worst fault, a tendency to deceit. I mention this in your hearing, Jane, that you may not attempt to impose on Mr. Brocklehurst.'
Well might I dread, well might I dislike Mrs. Reed; for it was her nature to wound me cruelly; never was I happy in her presence; however carefully I obeyed, however strenuously I strove to please her, my efforts were still repulsed and repaid by such sentences as the above. Now, uttered before a stranger, the accusation cut me to the heart; I dimly perceived that she was already obliterating hope from the new phase of existence which she destined me to enter; I felt, though I could not have expressed the feeling, that she was sowing aversion and unkindness along my future path; I saw myself 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, and hastily 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 in the lake burning with fire and 
brimstone; she shall, however, be watched, 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 them always at Lowood.'
'Your decisions are perfectly judicious, madam,' returned Mr. Brocklehurst. 'Humility is a Christian grace, and one peculiarly appropriate toonhmine, her fingers at the same time suspended their nimble movements. 
'Go out of the room; return to the nursery,' was her marride; and, only the other day, I had a pleasing proof of my success. My second daughter, Augusta, went with her mama to visit the school, and on her return she exclaimed: "Oh, dear papa, how quiet and plain all the girls at Lowood look, with their hair combed behind their ears, and their long pinafores, and those little holland pockets outside their frocks- they are almost like poor people's children! and," said she, "they looked at my dress and mama'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 found a system more exactly fitting a child like Jane Eyre. Consistency, my dear Mr. Brocklehurst; I advocate consistency in all things.'
'Consistency, madam, is the first of Christian duties; and it has been observed in every arrangement connected with the establishment of Lowood: plain fare, simple attire, unsophisticated accommodations, hardy and active habits; such is the order of the day in the house and its inhabitants.'
'Quite right, sir. I may then depend upon this child being received as a pupil at Lowood, and there being trained in conformity to her position and prospects?'
'Madam, you may: she shall be placed in that nursery of chosen plants, and I trust she will show herself grateful for the inestimable privilege of her election.'
'I will send her, then, as soon as possible, Mr. Brocklehurst; for, I assure you, I feel anxious to be relieved of a responsibility that was becoming too irksome.'
'No doubt, no doubt, madam; and now I wish you good morning. I shall return to Brocklehurst Hall in the course of a week or two: my good friend, the Archdeacon, will not permit me to leave him sooner. I shall send Miss Temple notice that she is to expect a new girl, so that there will be no difficulty about receiving her. Good-bye.'
'Good-bye, Mr. Brocklehurst; remember me to Mrs. and Miss Brocklehurst, and to Augusta and Theodore, and Master Broughton Brocklehurst.'
'I will, madam. Little girl, here is a book entitled the Child's Guide; read it with prayer, especially that part containing "An addicted to falsehood and deceit."'
With these words Mr. Brocklehurst put into my hand a thin pamphlet sewn in a cover, and having rung for his carriage, he departed.
Mrs. Reed and I were left alone: some minutes passed in silence; she was sewing, I was watching her. Mrs. Reed might be at that time some six or seven and thirty; she was a woman of robust frame, square-shouldered and strong-limbed, not tall, and, though stout, not obese: she had a somewhat large face, the under jaw being much developed and very solid; her brow was low, her chin large and prominent, mouth and nose sufficiently regular; under her light eyebrows glimmered an eye devoid of ruth; her skin was dark and opaque, her hair nearly flaxen; her constitution was sound as a bell- illness never came near her; she was an exact, clever manager; her household and tenantry were thoroughly under her control; her children only at times defied her authority and laughed it to scorn; she dressed well, and had a presence and port calculated to set off handsome attire.
Sitting on a low stool, a few yards from her arm-chair, I examined her figure; I perused her features. In my hand I held the tract containing the sudden death of the Liar, to which narrative my attention had been pointed as to an appropriate warning. What had just passed; what Mrs. Reed had said concerning me to Mr. Brocklehurst; the whole tenor of their conversation, was recent, raw, and stinging in my mind; I had felt every word as acutely as I had heard it plainly, and a passion of resentment fomented now within me.
Mrs. Reed looked up from her work; her eye settled on mine, her fingers at the same time suspended their nimble movements. 
'Go out of the room; return to the nursery,' was her mandate. My look or something else must have struck her as offensive, for she spoke with extreme though suppressed irritation. I got up, I went to the door; I came back again; I walked to the window, across the room, then close up to her.
Speak I must: I had been trodden on severely, and must turn: but how? What strength had I to dart retaliation at my antagonist? I gathered my energies and launched them in this blunt sentence- 'I am not deceitful: if I were, I should say I loved you; but I declare I do not love you: I dislike you the worst of anybody in the world except John Reed; and this book about the liar, you may give to your girl, Georgiana, for it is she who tells lies, and not I.'
Mrs. Reed's hands still lay on her work inactive: her eye of ice continued to dwell freezingly on mine.
'What more have you to say?' she asked, rather in the tone in which a person might address an opponent of adult age than such as is ordinarily used to a child.
That eye of hers, that voice stirred every antipathy I had. Shaking from head to foot, thrilled with ungovernable excitement, I continued- 'I am glad you are no relation of mine: I will never call you aunt again so long as I live. I will never come to see you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty.'
'How dare you affirm that, Jane Eyre?'
'How dare I, Mrs. Reed? How dare I? Because it is the truth. You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back- roughly and violently thrust me back- into the red-room, and locked me up there, to my dying day; though I was in agony; though I cried out, while suffocating with distress, "Have mercy! Have mercy, Aunt Reed!" And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me- knocked me down for nothing.
I will tell anybody who asks me questions, this exact tale. People think you a good woman, but you are bad, hard-hearted. You are deceitful!'
Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty. Not without cause was this sentiment: Mrs. Reed looked frightened; her work had slipped from her knee; she was lifting up her hands, rocking herself to and fro, and even twisting her face as if she would cry.
'Jane, you are under a mistake: what is the matter with you? Why do you tremble so violently? Would you like to drink some water?'
'No, Mrs. Reed.'
'Is there anything else you wish for, Jane? I assure you, I desire to be your friend.'
'Not you. You told Mr. Brocklehurst I had a bad character, a deceitful disposition; and I'll let everybody at Lowood know what you are, and what you have done.'
'Jane, you don't understand these things: children must be corrected for their faults.'
'Deceit is not my fault!' I cried out in a savage, high voice.
'But you are passionate, Jane, that you must allow: and now return to the nursery- there's a dear- and lie down a little.'
'I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.'
'I will indeed send her to school soon,' murmured Mrs. Reed sotto voce; and gathering up her work, she abruptly quitted the apartment.
I was left there alone- winner of the field. It was the hardest battle I had fought, and the first victory I had gained: I stood awhile on the rug, where Mr. 
Brocklehurst had stood, and I enjoyed my conqueror's solitude. First, I smiled to myself and felt elate; but this fierce pleasure subsided in me as fast as did the accelerated throb of my pulses. A child cannot quarrel with its elders, as I had done; cannot give its furious feelings uncontrolled play, as I had given mine, without experiencing afterwards the pang of remorse and the chill of reaction. A ridge of lighted heath, alive, glancing, devouring, would have been a meet emblem of my mind when I accused and menaced Mrs. Reed: the same ridge, black and blasted after the flames are dead, would have represented as meetly my subsequent condition, when half an hour's silence and reflection had shown me the madness of my conduct, and the dreariness of my hated and hating position.
Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned. 
Willingly would I now have gone and asked Mrs. Reed's pardon; but I knew, partly from experience and partly from instinct, that was the way to make her repulse me with double scorn, thereby re-exciting every turbulent impulse of my nature.
I would fain exercise some better faculty than that of fierce speaking; fain find nourishment for some less fiendish feeling than that of sombre indignation. I took a book- some Arabian tales; I sat down and endeavoured to read. I could make no sense of the subject; my own thoughts swam always between me and the page I had usually found fascinating. I opened the glass-door in the breakfast-room: the shrubbery was quite still: the black frost reigned, unbroken by sun or breeze, through the grounds. I covered my head and arms with the skirt of my frock, and went out to walk in a part of the plantation which was quite sequestered; but I found no pleasure in the silent trees, the falling fir-cones, the congealed relics of autumn, russet leaves, swept by past winds in heaps, and now stiffened together. I leaned against a gate, and looked into an empty field where no sheep were feeding, where the short grass was nipped and blanched. It was a very grey day; a most opaque sky, 'onding on snaw,' canopied all; thence flakes fell at intervals, which settled on the hard path and on the hoary lea without melting. I stood, a wretched child enough, whispering to myself over and over again, 'What shall I do?- what shall I do?'
All at once I heard a clear voice call, 'Miss Jane! where are you? Come to lunch!'
It was Bessie, I knew well enough; but I did not stir; her light step came tripping down the path.
'You naughty little thing!' she said. 'Why don't you come when you are called?'
Bessie's presence, compared with the thoughts over which I had been brooding, seemed cheerful; even though, as usual, she was somewhat cross. The fact is, after my conflict with and victory over Mrs. Reed, I was not disposed to care much for the nursemaid's transitory anger; and I was disposed to bask in her youthful lightness of heart. I just put my two arms round her and said, 'Come, Bessie! don't scold.'
The action was more frank and fearless than any I was habituated to indulge in: somehow it pleased her. 
'You are a strange child, Miss Jane,' she said, as she looked down at me; 'a little roving, solitary thing: and you are going to school, I suppose?'
I nodded.
'And won't you be sorry to leave poor Bessie?'
'What does Bessie care for me? She is always scolding me.'
'Because you're such a queer, frightened, shy little thing. You should be bolder.'
'What! to get more knocks?'
'Nonsense! But you are rather put upon, that's certain. My mother said, when she came to see me last week, that she would not like a little one of her own to be in your place.- Now, come in, and I've some good news for you.'
'I don't think you have, Bessie.'
'Child! what do you mean? What sorrowful eyes you fix on me! Well, but Missis and the young ladies and Master John are going out to tea this afternoon, and you shall have tea with me. I'll ask cook to bake you a little cake, and then you shall help me to look over your drawers; for I am soon to pack your trunk. Missis intends you to leave Gateshead in a day or two, and you shall choose what toys you like to take with you.'
'Bessie, you must promise not to scold me any more till I go.'
'Well, I will; but mind you are a very good girl, and don't be afraid of me. Don't start when I chance to speak rather sharply; it's so provoking.'
'I don't think I shall ever be afraid of you again, Bessie, because I have got used to you, and I shall soon have another set of people to dread.'
'If you dread them they'll dislike you.'
'As you do, Bessie?'
'I don't dislike you, Miss: I believe I am fonder of you than of all the others.'
'You don't show it.'
'You little sharp thing! you've got quite a new way of talking. What makes you so venturesome and hardy?'
'Why, I shall soon be away from you, and besides'- I was going to say something about what had passed between me and Mrs. Reed, but on second thoughts I considered it better to remain silent on that head. 
'And so you're glad to leave me?'
'Not at all, Bessie; indeed, just now I'm rather sorry.'
'Just now! and rather! How coolly my little lady says it! I daresay now if I were to ask you for a kiss you wouldn't give it me: you'd say you'd rather not.'
'I'll kiss you and welcome: bend your head down.' Bessie stooped;
we mutually embraced, and I followed her into the house quite comforted. That afternoon lapsed in peace and harmony; and in the evening Bessie told me some of her most enchaining stories, and sang me some of her sweetest songs. Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
我同劳埃德先生的一番交谈，以及上回所述贝茜和艾博特之间的议论，使我信心倍增，动力十足，盼着自己快些好起来。看来，某种变动已近在眼前，我默默地期待着。然而，它迟迟未来。一天天、一周周过去了、我已体健如旧，但我朝思暮想的那件事，却并没有重新提起。里德太太有时恶狠狠地打量我，但很少理睬我。自我生病以来，她已把我同她的孩子截然分开，指定我独自睡一个小房间，罚我单独用餐，整天呆在保育室里，而我的表兄妹们却经常在客厅玩耍。她没有丝毫暗示要送我上学，但我有一种很有把握的直觉，她不会长期容忍我与她同在一个屋檐下生活。因为她把目光投向我时，眼神里越来越表露出一种无法摆脱、根深蒂固的厌恶。
伊丽莎和乔治亚娜分明是按吩咐行事，尽量少同我搭讪。而约翰一见我就装鬼脸，有—回竟还想对我动武。像上次一样，我怒不可遏、忍无可忍，激起了一种犯罪的本性，顿时扑了上去。他一想还是住手的好，便逃离了我，一边破口大骂，诬赖我撕裂了他的鼻子。我的拳头确实瞄准了那个隆起的器官，出足力气狠狠一击。当我看到这一招或是我的目光使他吓破了胆时，我真想乘胜追击，达到目的，可是他已经逃到他妈妈那里了。我听他哭哭啼啼，开始讲述“那个讨厌的简.爱”如何像疯猫一样扑向他的故事。但他的哭诉立即被厉声喝住了。
别跟我提起她了，约翰。我同你说过不要与她接近，她不值得理睬。我不愿意你或者你妹妹同她来往，”
这时，我扑出栏杆，突然不假思索地大叫了一声：
“他们还不配同我交往呢。”
尽管里德太太的体态有些臃肿，但—听见我这不可思议的大胆宣告，便利索地登登登跑上楼梯，一阵风似地把我拖进保育室，按倒在小床的床沿上，气势汹汹地说，谅我那天再也不敢从那里爬起来，或是再吭一声了。
“要是里德先生还活着，他会同你说什么？”我几乎无意中问了这个问题。我说几乎无意，是因为我的舌头仿佛不由自主地吐出了这句话，完全是随意倾泻，不受控制。
“什么，”里德太太咕哝着说。她平日冷漠平静的灰色眸子显得惶惶不安，露出了近乎恐惧的神色。她从我的胳膊中抽回手，死死盯着我，仿佛真的弄不明白我究竟是个孩童还是魔鬼。这时，我骑虎难下了。
“里德舅舅在天堂里，你做的和想的，他都看得清清楚楚。我爸爸妈妈也看得清清楚楚。他们知道你把我关了一整天，还巴不得我死掉。”
里德太太很快便定下神来，狠命推搡我，扇我耳光，随后二话没说扔下我就走。在留下的空隙里，贝茜喋喋不休进行了长达一个小时的说教，证实我无疑是家里养大的最坏、最放任的孩子，弄得我也有些半信半疑。因为我确实觉得，在我胸膛里翻腾的只有恶感。
十一月、十二月和一月的上半月转眼已逝去。在盖茨黑德，圣诞节和元旦照例喜气洋洋地庆祝一番，相互交换礼物，举行圣诞晚餐和晚会，当然，这些享受一概与我无缘，我的那份乐趣是每天眼睁睁瞧着伊丽莎和乔治亚娜的装束，看她们着薄纱上衣，系大红腰带，披着精心制作的卷发下楼到客厅去。随后倾听楼下弹奏钢琴和竖琴的声音，管家和仆人来来往往的脚步声，上点心时杯盘磕碰的叮咚声，随着客厅门启闭时断时续传来的谈话声，听腻了。我会离开楼梯口，走进孤寂的保育室。那里尽管也有些许 悲哀，但心里并不难受，说实话，我绝对无意去凑热闹，因为就是去了，也很少有人理我，要是贝茜肯好好陪我，我觉得与她相守，安静地度过多夜晚倒也一种享受，强似在满屋少爷小姐、太太先生中间、里德太太令人生畏的目光下，挨过那些时刻，但是，贝茜往往把小姐们一打扮停当，便抽身上厨房、女管家室等热闹场所去了，还总把蜡烛也带走。随后，我把玩偶放在膝头枯坐着，直至炉火渐渐暗淡，还不时东张西望，弄清楚除了我没有更可怕的东西光顾这昏暗的房间，待到余烬褪为暗红色，我便急急忙忙、拿出吃奶的劲来，宽衣解带，钻进小床，躲避寒冷与黑暗，我常把玩偶随身带到床上，人总得爱点什么，在缺乏更值得爱的东西的时候，我便设想以珍爱一个褪了色的布偶来获得愉快，尽管这个玩偶已经破烂不堪，活像个小小的稻草人，此刻忆起这件往事，也令我迷惑不解，当时，我是带着何等荒谬的虔诚来溺爱这小玩具的呀！我还有点相信它有血有肉有感觉，只有把它裹进了睡袍我才能入睡，一旦它暖融融安然无恙地躺在那里，我便觉得愉快多了，而且这玩偶也有同感。
我似乎要等很久很久客人们才散去，才候着贝茜上楼的脚步声，有时她会在中间上楼来，找顶针或剪刀，或者端上一个小面包、奶酪饼什么的当作我的晚餐。她会坐在床上看我吃。我一吃完，她会替我把被子塞好，亲了我两下，说：“晚安，简小姐。”贝茜和颜悦色的时候，我就觉得她是人世间最好、最漂亮、最善良的人，我热切希望她会总是那么讨人喜欢，那么和蔼可亲，不要老是支使我，骂我，无理责备我，我现在想来，贝茜.李一定是位很有天赋的姑娘，因为她干什么都在行，还有善讲故事的惊人诀窍，至少保育室故事留给我的印象，让我可以作出这样的判断。如果我对她的脸蛋和身材没有记错，那她还长得很漂亮。在我的记忆中，她是个身材苗条的少妇，有着墨色的头发，乌黑的眸子，端正的五官和光洁的皮肤，但她任性急躁，缺乏原则性和正义感。尽管加此，在盖茨黑德府的人中、我最喜欢她。
那是一月十五日早上九点。贝茜已下楼去用早餐，我的表兄妹们还没有被叫唤到他们妈妈身边。伊丽莎正戴上宽边帽，穿上暖和的园艺服，出喂她的家禽。这活儿她百做不厌，并不逊于把鸡鱼类给女管家，把所得钱藏匿起来，她有做买卖的才干，有突出的聚财癖，不仅表现在兜售鸡蛋和鸡方面，而且也在跟园艺工就花茎、花籽和插枝而拼命讨价还价上显露出来，里德太太曾吩咐园艺工，凡是伊丽莎想卖掉的花圃产品，他都得统统买下。而要是能赚大钱，伊丽莎连出售自己的头发也心甘情愿。至于所得的钱，起初她用破布或陈旧的卷发纸包好，藏在偏僻的角落里。但后来其中一些秘藏物被女佣所发现，她深怕有一天丢失她值钱的宝藏，同意由她母亲托管，收取近乎高利贷的利息——百分之五十或六十，一个季度索讨一次。她还把帐记在一个小本子上，算得分毫不差。
乔治亚娜坐在一条高脚凳上，对镜梳理着自己的头发。她把一朵朵人造花和一根根褪色的羽毛插到卷发上，这些东西是她在阁楼上的一个抽屉里找到的。我正在铺床，因为根据贝茜的严格指令，我得在她回来之前把一切都收拾停当（贝茜现在常常把我当作保育室女佣下手来使唤，吩咐我整理房间、擦掉椅子上的灰尘等等），我摊开被子，叠好睡衣后，便走向窗台，正把散乱的图画书和玩偶家具放好，却突然传来了乔治亚娜指手划脚的吆喝不许我动她的玩具（因为这些椅子、镜子、小盘子和小杯子都是她的财产），于是只好歇手。一时无所事事，便开始往凝结在窗上的霜花哈气，在玻璃上化开了一小块地方，透过它可以眺望外面 的院落，那里的一切在严霜的威力之下，仿佛凝固了似的寂然不动。
从这扇窗子后得清门房和马车道。我在蒙着—簇簇银白色霜花的窗玻璃上，正哈出—块可以往外窥视的地方时，只见大门开了，一辆马车驶了进来，我毫不在意地看着它爬上小道，因为尽管马车经常光临盖茨黑德府，却从未进来一位我所感兴趣的客人。这辆车在房子前面停下，门铃大作，来客被请进了门，既然这种事情与我无关，百无聊赖之中，我便被一种更有生气的景象所吸引了。那是一只小小的、饿坏了的知更鸟，从什么地方飞来，落 在紧贴靠窗的墙上一棵光秃秃的樱桃树枝头，叽叽喳喳叫个不停。这时，桌上放着我早饭吃剩的牛奶和面包，我把一小块面包弄碎，并正推窗把它放到窗沿上时，贝茜奔上楼梯，走进了保育室。
“简小姐、把围涎脱掉。你在那儿干什么呀？今天早上抹了脸，洗了手了吗？”
我先没有回答，顾自又推了一下窗子，因为我要让这鸟儿万无一失地吃到面包。窗子终于松动了，我撒出了面包屑，有的落在石头窗沿上，有的落在樱桃树枝上。随后我关好窗，一面回答说：
“没有呢，贝茜，我才掸好灰尘。”
“你这个粗心大意的淘气鬼！这会儿在干什么呀？你的脸通红通红，好像干了什么坏事似的，你开窗干啥？”
贝茜似乎很匆忙，已等不及听我解释，省却了我回答的麻烦。她将我一把拖到洗脸架前，不由分说往我脸上、手上擦了肥皂，抹上水，用一块粗糙的毛巾一揩，虽然重手重脚，倒也干脆爽快。
她又用一把粗毛刷子，把我的头清理了一番，脱下我的围涎，急急忙忙把我带到楼梯口，嘱我径直下楼去，说是早餐室有人找我。
我本想问她是谁在找我，打听一下里德太太是不是在那里。可是贝茜己经走了，还在我身后关上了保育室的门，我慢吞吞地走下楼梯。近三个月来，我从未被叫到里德太太跟前。由于在保育室里禁锢了那么久，早餐室、餐室和客厅都成了令我心寒的地方，一跨进去便惶惶不安。
此刻，我站在空空荡荡的大厅里，面前就是餐室的门。我停住了脚步，吓得直打哆嗦，可怜的胆小鬼，那时候不公的惩罚竟使她怕成了这付样子！我既不敢退后返回保育室，又怕往前走向客厅。我焦虑不安、犹犹豫豫地站了十来分钟，直到早餐室一阵喧闹的铃声使我横下了心来：我非进去不可了。
“谁会找我呢？”我心里有些纳闷，一面用两只手去转动僵硬的门把手，足有一两秒钟，那把手纹丝不动，“除了里德舅妈之外，我还会在客厅里见到谁呢？——男人还是女人？”把手转动了一下，门开了。我进去行了一个低低的屈膝礼，抬起来头竟看见了一根黑色的柱子！至少猛一看来是这样。那笔直、狭小裹着貂皮的东西直挺挺立在地毯上，那张凶神恶煞般的脸，像是雕刻成的假面，置于柱子顶端当作柱顶似的。
里德太太坐在壁炉旁往常所坐的位置上，她示意我走近她。我照着做了。她用这样的话把我介绍给那个毫无表情的陌生人：“这就是我跟你谈起过的小女孩。”
他——因为是个男人——缓缓地把头转向我站立的地方，用他那双浓眉下闪着好奇的目光的灰色眼睛审视着我，随后响起了他严肃的男低音：
“她个子很小，几岁了？”
“十岁。”
“这么大了，”他满腹狐疑地问道。随后又细细打量了我几分钟，马上跟我说起话来。
“你叫什么名字，小姑娘？”
“简.爱，先生。”
说完，我抬起头来，我觉得他是位身材高大的斗士，不过，那时我自己是个小不点。他的五官粗大、每个部位以及骨架上的每根线条，都是同样的粗糙和刻板。
“瞧，简.爱，你是个好孩子吗？”
我不可能回答说“是的”，我那个小天地里的人都持有相反的意见，于是我沉默不语。里德太太使劲摇了一下头，等于是替我作了回答，并立即补充说：“这个话题也许还是少谈为炒。布罗克赫斯特先生。”
“很遗憾听你这么说：我同她必须谈一谈。”他俯下原本垂直的身子，一屁股坐进里德太太对面的扶手椅里。“过来，”他说。
我走过地毯，他让我面对面笔直站在他面前，这时他的脸与我的几乎处在同一个水平面上，那是一张多怪的脸呀！多大的鼻子，多难看的嘴巴！还有那一口的大板牙？
“一个淘气孩子的模样最让人痛心，”他开始说，“尤其是不听话的小姑娘。你知道坏人死后到哪里去吗？”
“他们下地狱，”我的回答既现成又正统。
“地狱是什么地方？能告诉我吗？”
“是个火坑。”
“你愿意落到那个火坑里，永远被火烤吗？”
“不，先生。”
“那你必须怎样才能避免呢？”
我细细思忖了一会，终于作出了令人讨厌的回答：“我得保持健康，不要死掉。”
“你怎么可能保持健康呢？比你年纪小的孩子，每天都有死掉的。一两天前我才埋葬过一个只有五岁的孩子，一个好孩子，现在他的灵魂已经上了天，要是你被召唤去的话，恐怕很难说能同他一样了。”
我无法消除他的疑虑，便只好低下头去看他那双站立在地毯上的大脚，还叹了一口气，巴不得自己离得远一些。
“但愿你的叹息是发自内心的，但愿你已后悔不该给你的大恩人带来烦恼。”
“恩人！恩人！”我心里嘀咕着，“他们都说里德太太是我的恩人，要真是这样，那么恩人倒是个讨厌的家伙。”
“你早晚都祷告吗？”我的询问者继续说。
“是的，先生。”
“你读《圣经》吗？”
“有时候读。”
“高兴读吗？喜欢不喜欢？”
“我喜欢《启示录》、《但以理书》、《创世纪》和《撒母耳记》，《出埃及记》的一小部分，《列王记》和《历代志》的几个部分，还有《约伯》和《约拿书》。”
“还有《诗篇》呢？我想你也喜欢吧。”
“不喜欢，先生。”
“不喜欢？哎呀，真让人吃惊！有个小男孩，比你年纪还小，却能背六首赞美诗。你要是问他，愿意吃姜饼呢，不是背一首赞美诗，他会就‘啊，背赞美诗！因为天使也唱。’还说‘我真希望
当一个人间的小天使，’随后他得到了两块姜饼，作为他小小年纪就那么虔诚的报偿。”
“赞美诗很乏味，”我说。
“这说明你心很坏，你应当祈求上帝给你换一颗新的纯洁的心，把那颗石头般的心取走，赐给你一颗血肉之心。”
我正要问他换心的手术怎样做时，里德太太插嘴了，吩咐我坐下来，随后她接着话题谈了下去。
“布罗克赫斯特先生，我相信三个星期以前我给你的信中曾经提到，这个小姑娘缺乏我所期望的人品与气质。如果你准许她进罗沃德学校，我乐意恭请校长和教师们对她严加看管，尤其要提防她身上最大的毛病，一种爱说谎的习性。我当着你的面说这件事，简，目的是让你不好再瞒骗布罗克赫斯特先生。”
我满有理由害怕里德太太，讨厌她，因为她生性就爱刻毒地伤害我，在她面前我从来不会愉快。不管我怎样陪着小心顺从好，千方百计讨她喜心，我的努力仍然受到鄙夷，并被报之以上述这类言词。她当着陌生人的面，竟如此指控我，实在伤透了我的心。我依稀感到，她抹去了我对新生活所怀的希望，这种生活是她特意为我安排的。尽管我不能表露自己的感情，但我感到，她在通向我未来的道路上，播下了反感和无情的种子。我看到自己在布罗克赫斯特先生的眼睛里，已变成了一个工于心计、令人讨厌的孩子，我还能有什么办法来弥合这种伤痕呢？
“说实在，没有，”我思忖道。一面竭力忍住哭泣，急忙擦掉几滴泪水，我无可奈何的痛苦的见证。
“在孩子身上，欺骗是一种可悲的缺点，”布罗克赫斯特先生说，“它近乎于说谎，而所有的说谎者，都有份儿落到燃烧着硫磺烈火的湖里。不过，我们会对她严加看管的，我要告诉坦普尔小姐和教师们。”
“我希望根据她的前程来培育她，”我的恩人继续说，“使她成为有用之材，永远保持谦卑。至于假期嘛，要是你许可，就让她一直在罗沃德过吧。”
“你的决断无比英明，太太，”布罗克赫斯特先生回答。谦恭是基督教徒的美德，对罗沃德的学生尤其适用。为此我下了指令，要特别注重在学生中培养这种品质。我己经探究过如何最有效地抑制他们世俗的骄情。前不久，我还得到了可喜的依据，证明我获得了成功。我的第二个女儿奥古斯塔随同她妈妈访问了学校，一回来她就嚷嚷着说：‘啊，亲爱的爸爸，罗沃德学校的姑娘都显得好文静，好朴实呀！头发都梳到了耳后，都戴着长长的围涎，上衣外面都有一个用亚麻细布做的小口袋，他们几乎就同穷人家的孩子一样！还有’，她说，‘她们都瞧着我和妈妈的装束，好像从来没有看到过一件丝裙似的。”
“这种状况我十分赞赏，”里德太太回答道，“就是找遍整个英国，也很难找到一个更适合像简.爱这样孩子呆的机构了。韧性，我亲爱的布罗克赫斯特先生，我主张干什么都要有韧性。”
“夫人，韧性是基督徒的首要职责。它贯串于罗沃德学校的一切安排之中：吃得简单，穿得朴实，住得随便，养成吃苦耐劳、做事巴结的习惯。在学校里，在寄宿者中间，这一切都已蔚然成风。”
“说得很对，先生。那我可以相信这孩子已被罗沃德学校收为学生，并根据她的地位和前途加以训导了，是吗？”
“太太、你可以这么说。她将被放在培植精选花草的苗圃里，我相信她会因为无比荣幸地被选中而感激涕零的。”
“既然这样，我会尽快送她来的，布罗克赫斯特先生，因为说实在，我急于开卸掉这付令人厌烦的担子呢。”
“的确，的确是这样，太太。现在我就向你告辞了。一两周之后我才回到布罗克赫斯特府去，我的好朋友一位副主教不让我早走。我会通知坦普尔小姐，一位新来的姑娘要到。这样，接待她也不会有什么困难了。再见。”
“再见，布罗克赫斯特先生。请向布罗克赫斯特太太和小姐，向奥古斯塔、西奥多和布劳顿.布罗克赫斯特少爷问好。”
“一定，太太。小姑娘，这里有本书，题目叫《儿童指南》，祷告后再读，尤其要注意那个部分，说的是‘一个满口谎言、欺骗成性的淘气鬼，玛莎.格××暴死的经过’。"
说完，布罗克赫斯特先生把一本装有封皮的薄薄小册子塞进我手里，打铃让人备好马车，便离去了。
房间里只剩下了里德太太和我，在沉默中过了几分钟。她在做针钱活，我在打量着她，当时里德太太也许才三十六七岁光景，是个体魄强健的女人，肩膀宽阔，四肢结实，个子不高，身体粗壮但并不肥胖，她的下鄂很发达也很壮实，所以她的脸也就有些大了。她的眉毛很低，下巴又大又突出，嘴巴和鼻子倒是十分匀称的。在她浅色的眉毛下，闪动着一双没有同情心的眼睛。她的皮肤黝黑而灰暗，头发近乎亚麻色。她的体格很好，疾病从不染身。她是一位精明干练的总管，家庭和租赁的产业都由她一手控制。只有她的孩子间或蔑视她的权威，嗤之以鼻。她穿着讲究，她的风度和举止有助于衬托出她漂亮的服饰。
我坐在一条矮凳上，离她的扶手椅有几码远、打量着她的身材。仔细端详着她的五宫。我手里拿着那本记述说谎者暴死经过的小册子，他们曾把这个故事作为一种恰当的警告引起我注意。刚才发生的一幕，里德太太跟布罗克赫斯特先生所说的关于我的话，他们谈话的内容，仍在耳边回响，刺痛劳我的心扉。每句话都听得明明白白，每句话都那么刺耳。此刻，我的内心正燃起一腔不满之情。
里德太太放下手头的活儿，抬起头来，眼神与我的目光相遇，她的手指也同时停止了飞针走线的活动。
“出去，回到保育室去，”她命令道。我的神情或者别的什么想必使她感到讨厌，因为她说话时尽管克制着，却仍然极其恼怒。我立起身来，走到门边，却又返回，穿过房间到了窗前，一直走到她面前。
我非讲不可，我被践踏得够了，我必须反抗。可是怎么反抗呢，我有什么力量来回击对手呢？我鼓足勇气，直截了当地发动了进攻：
“我不骗人，要是我骗，我会说我爱你。但我声明，我不爱你，除了约翰.里德，你是世上我最不喜欢的人，这本写说谎者的书，你尽可以送给你的女儿乔治亚娜，因为说谎的是她，不是我。”
里德太太的手仍一动不动地放在她的活儿上，冷冰冰的目光，继续阴丝丝地凝视着我。
“你还有什么要说？”她问，那种口气仿佛是对着一个成年对手在讲话，对付孩子通常是不会使用的。
她的眸子和嗓音，激起了我极大的反感，我激动得难以抑制，直打哆嗦，继续说了下去：
“我很庆幸你不是我亲戚，今生今世我再也不会叫你舅妈了。长大了我也永远不会来看你，要是有人问起我喜欢不喜欢你，你怎样待我，我会说，一想起你就使我讨厌，我会说，你对我冷酷得到了可耻的地步。”
“你怎么敢说这话，简.爱？”
“我怎么敢，里德太太，我怎么敢，因为这是事实，你以为我没有情感，以为我不需要一点抚爱或亲情就可以打发日子，可是我不能这么生活。还有，你没有怜悯之心，我会记住你怎么推搡我，粗暴地把我弄进红房子，锁在里面，我到死都不会忘记，尽管我很痛苦，尽管我一面泣不成声，一面叫喊，‘可怜可怜吧！可怜可怜我吧，里德舅妈！’还有你强加于我的惩罚。完全是因为你那可恶的孩子打了我，无缘无故把我打倒在地，我要把事情的经过，原原本本告诉每个问我的人。人们满以为你是个好女人，其实你很坏，你心肠很狠。你自己才骗人呢！”
我还没有回答完，内心便已开始感到舒畅和喜悦了，那是一种前所未有的奇怪的自由感和胜利感，无形的束缚似乎己被冲破，我争得了始料未及的自由，这种情感不是无故泛起的，因为里德太太看来慌了神，活儿从她的膝头滑落，她举起双手，身子前后摇晃着，甚至连脸也扭曲了，她仿佛要哭出来了。
“简，你搞错了，你怎么了？怎么抖得那么厉害？想喝水吗？”
“不，里德太太。”
“你想要什么别的吗，简，说实在的，我希望成为你的朋友。”
“你才不会呢。你对布罗克赫斯待先生说我品质恶劣，欺骗成性，那我就要让罗沃德的每个人都知道你的为人和你干的好事。”
“简，这些事儿你不理解，孩子们有缺点应该得到纠正。”
“欺骗不是我的缺点！”我发疯似的大叫一声。
“但是你好意气用事，简，这你必须承认。现在回到保育室去吧，乖乖，躺一会儿。”
“我不是你乖乖，我不能躺下，快些送我到学校去吧，里德太太，因为我讨厌住在这儿。”
“我真的要快送她去上学了，”里德太太轻声嘀咕着，收拾好针线活，蓦地走出出了房间。
我孤零零地站那里，成了战场上的胜利者。这是我所经历的最艰难的—场战斗，也是我第一次获得胜利。我在布罗克赫斯特先生站站过的地毯上站了一会，沉缅于征服者的孤独。我先是暗自发笑，感到十分得意。但是这种狂喜犹如一时加快的脉膊会迅速递减一样，很快就消退了。一个孩子像我这样跟长辈斗嘴，像我这样毫无顾忌地发泄自己的怒气，事后必定要感到悔恨和寒心。我在控诉和恐吓里德太太时，内心恰如一片点燃了的荒野，火光闪烁，来势凶猛，但经过半小时的沉默和反思，深感自己行为的疯狂和自己恨人又被人嫉恨的处境的悲凉时，我内心的这片荒地，便已灰飞烟灭，留下的只有黑色的焦土了。
我第一次尝到了复仇的滋味。犹如芬芳的美酒，喝下时热辣辣好受，但回味起来却又苦又涩，给人有中了毒的感觉。此刻，我很乐意去求得里德太太的宽恕，但经验和直觉告诉我，那只会使她以加倍的蔑视讨厌我，因而会重又激起我天性中不安份的冲动。
我愿意发挥比说话刻薄更高明的才能，也愿意培养比郁愤更好的情感。我取了一本阿拉伯故事书，坐下来很想看看，却全然不知所云，我的思绪飘忽在我自己与平日感到引人入胜的书页之间。
我打开早餐室的玻璃门，只见灌木丛中一片—沉寂，虽然风和日丽，严霜却依然覆盖着大地。我撩起衣裙裹住脑袋和胳膊，走出门去，漫步在一片僻静的树林里。但是沉寂的树木、掉下的杉果，以及那凝固了的秋天的遗物，被风吹成一堆如今又冻结了的行褐色树叶，都没有给我带来愉快。我倚在一扇大门上，凝望着空空的田野，那里没有觅食的羊群，只有冻坏了的苍白的浅草。这是一个灰蒙蒙的日子，降雪前的天空一片混沌，间或飘下一些雪片。落在坚硬的小径上，从在灰白的草地上，没有融化。我站立着，一付可怜巴巴的样子，一遍又一遍悄悄对自己说：“我怎么办呢？我怎么办呢？”
我愿意发挥比说话刻薄更高明的才能，也愿意培养比郁愤更好的情感。我取了一本阿拉伯故事书，坐下来很想看看，却全然不知所云，我的思绪飘忽在我自己与平日感到引人入胜的书页之间。
我打开早餐室的玻璃门，只见灌木丛中一片—沉寂，虽然风和日丽，严霜却依然覆盖着大地。我撩起衣裙裹住脑袋和胳膊，走出门去，漫步在一片僻静的树林里。但是沉寂的树木、掉下的杉果，以及那凝固了的秋天的遗物，被风吹成一堆如今又冻结了的行褐色树叶，都没有给我带来愉快。我倚在一扇大门上，凝望着空空的田野，那里没有觅食的羊群，只有冻坏了的苍白的浅草。这是一个灰蒙蒙的日子，降雪前的天空一片混沌，间或飘下一些雪片。落在坚硬的小径上，从在灰白的草地上，没有融化。我站立着，一付可怜巴巴的样子，一遍又一遍悄悄对自己说：“我怎么办呢？我怎么办呢？”
突然我听一个清晰的嗓音在叫唤，“简小姐，你在哪儿？快来吃中饭！”
是贝茜在叫，我心里很明白，不过我没有动弹。她步履轻盈地沿小径走来。
“你这个小淘气！”她说，“叫你为什么不来？”
比之刚才萦回脑际的念头，贝茜的到来似乎是令人愉快的，尽管她照例又有些生气。其实，同里德太太发生冲突。并占了上风之后，我并不太在乎保姆一时的火气，倒是希望分享她那充满活力、轻松愉快的心情。我只是用胳膊抱住了她，说：“得啦，贝茜别骂我了。”
这个动作比我往常所纵情的任何举动都要直率大胆，不知怎地，倒使贝茜高兴了。
“你是个怪孩子，简小姐，”她说，低头看着我：“一个喜欢独来独往的小东西。你要去上学了，我想是不是？”
我点了点头。
“离开可怜的贝茜你不难过吗？”
“贝茜在乎我什么呢？她老是骂我。”
“谁叫你是那么个古怪、胆小、怕难为情的小东西，你应该胆大一点。”
“什么！好多挨几顿打？”
“瞎说！不过你常受欺侮，那倒是事实。上星期我母亲来看我的时候说，她希望自己哪一个小家伙也不要像你一样。好吧，进去吧，我有个好消息告诉你，”
“我想你没有，贝茜。”
“孩子！你这是什么意思？你盯着我的那双眼睛多么忧郁！瞧！太太、小姐和约翰少爷今天下午都出去用茶点了，你可以跟我一起吃茶点。我会叫厨师给你烘一个小饼，随后你要帮我检查一下你抽屉，因为我马上就要为你整理箱子了。太太想让你一两天内离开盖茨黑德，你可以拣你喜欢的玩具随身带走。”
“贝茜，你得答应我在走之前不再骂我了。”
“好吧，我答应你，不过别忘了做个好孩子，而且也别怕我。要是我偶然说话尖刻了些，你别吓一大跳，因为那很使人恼火。”
“我想我再也不怕你了，贝茜，因为我已经习惯了，很快我又有另外一批人要怕了。”
“如果你怕他们，他们会不喜欢你的。”
“像你一样吗，贝茜？”
“我并不是不喜欢你，小姐，我相信，我比其他人都要喜欢你。”
“你没有表现出来。”
“你这狡猾的小东西：你说话的口气不一样了，怎么会变得那么大胆和鲁莽呢？”
“呵，我不久就要离开你了，再说——”我正想谈谈我与里德太太之间发生的事，但转念一想，还是不说为好。
“那么你是乐意离开我了？”
“没有那回事，贝茜，说真的，现在我心里有些难过。”
“‘现在’，‘有些’，我的小姐说得多冷静！我想要是我现在要求吻你一下，你是不会答应的，你会说，还是不要吧。”
“我来吻你，而且我很乐意，把你的头低下来。”贝茜弯下了腰，我们相互拥抱着，我跟着她进了屋子，得到了莫大安慰。下午在和谐平静中过去了。晚上，贝茜给我讲了一些最动人的故事，给我唱了几支她最动听的歌，即便是对我这样的人来说，生活中也毕竟还有几缕阳光呢。
Chapter 5
FIVE o'clock had hardly struck on the morning of the 19th of January, when Bessie brought a candle into my closet and found me already up and nearly dressed. I had risen half an hour before her entrance, and had washed my face, and put on my clothes by the light of a half-moon just setting, whose rays streamed through the narrow window near my crib. I was to leave Gateshead that day by a coach which passed the lodge gates at six A.M. Bessie was the only person yet risen; she had lit a fire in the nursery, where she now proceeded to make my breakfast. Few children can eat when excited with the thoughts of a journey; nor could I. Bessie, having pressed me in vain to take a few spoonfuls of the boiled milk and bread she had prepared for me, wrapped up some biscuits in a paper and put them into my bag; then she helped me on with my pelisse and bonnet, and wrapping herself in a shawl, she and I left the nursery. As we passed Mrs. Reed's bedroom, she said, 'Will you go in and bid Missis good-bye?' 'No, Bessie: she came to my crib last night when you were gone down to supper, and said I need not disturb her in the morning, or my cousins either; and she told me to remember that she had always been my best friend, and to speak of her and be grateful to her accordingly.'
'What did you say, Miss?'
'Nothing: I covered my face with the bedclothes, and turned from her to the wall.'
'That was wrong, Miss Jane.'
'It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has not been my friend: she has been my foe.'
'O Miss Jane! don't say so!'
'Good-bye to Gateshead!' cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door.
The moon was set, and it was very dark; Bessie carried a lantern, whose light glanced on wet steps and gravel road sodden by a recent thaw. Raw and chill was the winter morning: my teeth chattered as I hastened down the drive. There was a light in the porter's lodge: when we reached it, we found the porter's wife just kindling her fire: my trunk, which had been carried down the evening before, stood corded at the door. It wanted but a few minutes of six, and shortly after that hour had struck, the distant roll of wheels announced the coming coach; I went to the door and watched its lamps approach rapidly through the gloom.
'Is she going by herself?' asked the porter's wife.
'Yes.'
'And how far is it?'
'Fifty miles.'
'What a long way! I wonder Mrs. Reed is not afraid to trust her so far alone.'
The coach drew up; there it was at the gates with its four horses and its top laden with passengers: the guard and coachman loudly urged haste; my trunk was hoisted up; I was taken from Bessie's neck, to which I clung with kisses.
'Be sure and take good care of her,' cried she to the guard, as he lifted me into the inside.
'Ay, ay!' was the answer: the door was slapped to, a voice exclaimed 'All right,' and on we drove. Thus was I severed from Bessie and Gateshead; thus whirled away to unknown, and, as I then deemed, remote and mysterious regions.
I remember but little of the journey; I only know that the day seemed to me of a preternatural length, and that we appeared to travel over hundreds of miles of road. We passed through several towns, and in one, a very large one, the coach stopped; the horses were taken out, and the passengers alighted to dine. I was carried into an inn, where the guard wanted me to have some dinner; but, as I had no appetite, he left me in an immense room with a fireplace at each end, a chandelier pendent from the ceiling, and a little red gallery high up against the wall filled with musical instruments. Here I walked about for a long time, feeling very strange, and mortally apprehensive of some one coming in and kidnapping me; for I believed in kidnappers, their exploits having frequently figured in Bessie's fireside chronicles. At last the guard returned; once more I was stowed away in the coach, my protector mounted his own seat, sounded The afternoon came on wet and somewhat misty: as it waned into dusk, I began to feel that we were getting very far indeed from Gateshead: we ceased to pass through towns; the country changed; great grey hills heaved up round the horizon: as twilight deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night had overclouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.
Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped asleep; I had not long slumbered when the sudden cessation of motion awoke me; the coach-door was open, and a person like a servant was standing at it: I saw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.
'Is there a little girl called Jane Eyre here?' she asked. I answered 'Yes', and was then lifted out; my trunk was handed down, and the coach instantly drove away.
I was stiff with long sitting, and bewildered with the noise and motion of the coach: gathering my faculties, I looked about me.
Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air; nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall before me and a door open in it; through this door I passed with my new guide: she shut and locked it behind her. There was now visible a house or houses- for the building spread far- with many windows, and lights burning in some; we went up a broad pebbly path, splashing wet, and were admitted at a door; then the servant led me through a passage into a room with a fire, where she left me alone.
I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze, then I looked round; there was no candle, but the uncertain light from the hearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains, shining mahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious or splendid as the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. I was puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, when the door opened, and an individual carrying a light entered; another followed close behind.
The first was a tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, and a pale and large forehead; her figure was partly enveloped in a shawl, her countenance was grave, her bearing erect.
'The child is very young to be sent alone,' said she, putting her candle down on the table. She considered me attentively for a minute or two, then further added- 'She had better be put to bed soon; she looks tired: are you tired?' she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.
'A little, ma'am.'
'And hungry too, no doubt: let her have some supper before she goes to bed, Miss Miller. Is this the first time you have left your parents to come to school, my little girl?'
I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead: then how old I was, what was my name, whether I could read, write, and sew a little: then she touched my cheek gently with her forefinger, and saying, 'She hoped I should be a good child,' dismissed me along with Miss Miller.
The lady I had left might be about twenty-nine; the one who went with me appeared some years younger: the first impressed me by her voice, look, and air. Miss Miller was more ordinary; ruddy in complexion, though of a careworn countenance; hurried in gait and action, like one who had always a multiplicity of tasks on hand: she looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, an under-teacher. Led by her, I passed from compartment to compartment, from passage to passage, of a large and irregular building; till, emerging from the total and somewhat dreary silence pervading that portion of the house we had traversed, we came upon the hum of many voices, and presently entered a wide, long room, with great deal tables, two at each end, on each of which burnt a pair of candles, and seated all round on benches, a congregation of girls of every age, from nine or ten to twenty. Seen by the dim light of the dips, their number to me appeared countless, though not in reality exceeding eighty; they were uniformly dressed in brown stuff frocks of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores. It was the hour of study; they were engaged in conning over their to-morrow's task, and the hum I had heard was the combined result of their whispered repetitions.
Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door, then walking up to the top of the long room she cried out- 'Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put them away!' 
Four tall girls arose from different tables, and going round, gathered the books and removed them. Miss Miller again gave the word of command-
'Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!'
The tall girls went out and returned presently, each bearing a tray, with portions of something, I knew not what, arranged thereon, and a pitcher of water and mug in the middle of each tray. The portions were handed round; those who liked took a draught of the water, the mug being common to all. When it came to my turn, I drank, for I was thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatigue rendering me incapable of eating; I now saw, however, that it was a thin oaten cake shared into fragments.
The meal over, prayers were read by Miss Miller, and the classes filed off, two and two, upstairs. Overpowered by this time with weariness, I scarcely noticed what sort of a place the bedroom was, except that, like the schoolroom, I saw it was very long. To-night I was to be Miss Miller's bed-fellow; she helped me to undress: when laid down I glanced at the long rows of beds, each of which was quickly filled with two occupants; in ten minutes the single light was extinguished, and amidst silence and complete darkness I fell asleep.
The night passed rapidly: I was too tired even to dream; I only once awoke to hear the wind rave in furious gusts, and the rain fall in torrents, and to be sensible that Miss Miller had taken her place by my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud bell was ringing; the girls were up and dressing; day had not yet begun to dawn, and a rushlight or two burned in the room. I too rose reluctantly; it was bitter cold, and I dressed as well as I could for shivering, and washed when there was a basin at liberty, which did not occur soon, as there was but one basin to six girls, on the stands down the middle of the room. Again the bell rang; all formed in file, two and two, and in that order descended the stairs and entered the cold and dimly lit schoolroom: here prayers were read by Miss Miller; afterwards she called out-'Form classes!'
A great tumult succeeded for some minutes, during which Miss Miller repeatedly exclaimed, 'Silence!' and 'Order!' When it subsided, I saw them all drawn up in four semicircles, before four chairs, placed at the four tables; all held books in their hands, and a great book, like a Bible, lay on each table, before the vacant seat. A pause of some seconds succeeded, filled up by the low, vague hum of numbers; Miss Miller walked from class to class, hushing this indefinite sound.
A distant bell tinkled: immediately three ladies entered the room, each walked to a table and took her seat; Miss Miller assumed the fourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the door, and around which the smallest of the children were assembled: to this inferior class I was called, and placed at the bottom of it.
Business now began: the day's Collect was repeated, then certain texts of Scripture were said, and to these succeeded a protracted reading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted an hour. By the time that exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. The indefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time: the classes were marshalled and marched into another room to breakfast: how glad I was to behold a prospect of getting something to eat! I was now nearly sick from inanition, having taken so little the day before.
The refectory was a great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two long tables smoked basins of something hot, which, however, to my dismay, sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw a universal manifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met the nostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of the procession, the tall girls of the first class, rose the whispered words- 'Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!'
'Silence!' ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one of the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed, but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top of one table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I looked in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was not visible: Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat, and a strange, foreign-looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, as I afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board. A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.
Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burnt porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished.
Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom. 
I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one, whispered-'Abominable stuff! How shameful!'
A quarter of an hour passed before lessons again began, during which the schoolroom was in a glorious tumult; for that space of time it seemed to be permitted to talk loud and more freely, and they used their privilege. The whole conversation ran on the breakfast, which one and all abused roundly. Poor things! it was the sole consolation they had. Miss Miller was now the only teacher in the room: a group of great girls standing about her spoke with serious and sullen gestures. I heard the name of Mr. Brocklehurst pronounced by some lips; at which Miss Miller shook her head disapprovingly; but she made no great effort to check the general wrath; doubtless she shared in it.
A clock in the schoolroom struck nine; Miss Miller left her circle, and standing in the middle of the room, cried- 'Silence! To your seats!'
Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order, and comparative silence quelled the Babel clamour of tongues. The upper teachers now punctually resumed their posts: but still, all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches down the sides of the room, the eighty girls sat motionless and erect; a quaint assemblage they appeared, all with plain locks combed from their faces, not a curl visible; in brown dresses, made high and surrounded by a narrow tucker about the throat, with little pockets of holland (shaped something like a Highlander's purse) tied in front of their frocks, and destined to serve the purpose of a work-bag: all, too, wearing woollen stockings and country-made shoes, fastened with brass buckles.
Above twenty of those clad in this costume were full-grown girls, or rather young women; it suited them ill, and gave an air of oddity even to the prettiest.
I was still looking at them, and also at intervals examining the teachers- none of whom precisely pleased me; for the stout one was a little coarse, the dark one not a little fierce, the foreigner harsh and grotesque, and Miss Miller, poor thing! looked purple, weather-beaten, and over-worked- when, as my eye wandered from face to face, the whole school rose simultaneously, as if moved by a common spring.
What was the matter? I had heard no order given: I was puzzled. Ere I had gathered my wits, the classes were again seated: but as all eyes were now turned to one point, mine followed the general direction, and encountered the personage who had received me last night. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth; for there was a fire at each end; she surveyed the two rows of girls silently and gravely.
Miss Miller, approaching, seemed to ask her a question, and having received her answer, went back to her place, and said aloud- 'Monitor of the first class, fetch the globes!'
While the direction was being executed, the lady consulted moved slowly up the room. I suppose I have a considerable organ of veneration, for I retain yet the sense of admiring awe with which my eyes traced her steps. Seen now, in broad day-light, she looked tall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant light in their irids, and a fine pencilling of long lashes round, relieved the whiteness of her large front; on each of her temples her hair, of a very dark brown, was clustered in round curls, according to the fashion of those times, when neither smooth bands nor long ringlets were in vogue; her dress, also in the mode of the day, was of purple cloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming of black velvet; a gold watch (watches were not so common then as now) shone at her girdle. Let the reader add, to complete the picture, refined features; a complexion, if pale, clear; and a stately air and carriage, and he will have, at least, as clearly as words can give it, a correct idea of the exterior of Miss Temple- Maria Temple, as I afterwards saw the name written in a prayer-book intrusted to me to carry to church.
The superintendent of Lowood (for such was this lady) having taken her seat before a pair of globes placed on one of the tables, summoned the first class round her, and commenced giving a lesson on geography; the lower classes were called by the teachers:
repetitions in history, grammar, etc., went on for an hour; writing and arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons were given by Miss Temple to some of the elder girls. 
The duration of each lesson was measured by the clock, which at last struck twelve. The superintendent rose-
'I have a word to address to the pupils,' said she.
The tumult of cessation from lessons was already breaking forth, but it sank at her voice. She went on-
'You had this morning a breakfast which you could not eat; you must be hungry:- I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all.'
The teachers looked at her with a sort of surprise.
'It is to be done on my responsibility,' she added, in an explanatory tone to them, and immediately afterwards left the room. 
The bread and cheese was presently brought in and distributed, to the high delight and refreshment of the whole school. The order was now given 'To the garden!' Each put on a coarse straw bonnet, with strings of coloured calico, and a cloak of grey frieze, I was similarly equipped, and, following the stream, I made my way into the open air.
The garden was a wide enclosure, surrounded with walls so high as to exclude every glimpse of prospect; a covered verandah ran down one side, and broad walks bordered a middle space divided into scores of little beds: these beds were assigned as gardens for the pupils to cultivate, and each bed had an owner. When full of flowers they would doubtless look pretty; but now, at the latter end of January, all was wintry blight and brown decay. I shuddered as I stood and looked round me: it was an inclement day for outdoor exercise; not positively rainy, but darkened by a drizzling yellow fog; all under foot was still soaking wet with the floods of yesterday. The stronger among the girls ran about and engaged in active games, but sundry pale and thin ones herded together for shelter and warmth in the verandah; and amongst these, as the dense mist penetrated to their shivering frames, I heard frequently the sound of a hollow cough.
As yet I had spoken to no one, nor did anybody seem to take notice of me; I stood lonely enough: but to that feeling of isolation I was accustomed; it did not oppress me much. I leant against a pillar of the verandah, drew my grey mantle close about me, and, trying to forget the cold which nipped me without, and the unsatisfied hunger which gnawed me within, delivered myself up to the employment of watching and thinking. My reflections were too undefined and fragmentary to merit record: I hardly yet knew where I was; Gateshead and my past life seemed floated away to an immeasurable distance; the present was vague and strange, and of the future I could form no conjecture. I looked round the convent-like garden, and then up at the house- a large building, half of which seemed grey and old, the other half quite new. The new part, containing the schoolroom and dormitory, was lit by mullioned and latticed windows, which gave it a church-like aspect; a stone tablet over the door bore this inscription-Brocklehurst, of Brocklehurst Hall, in this county.' 'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'- St. Matt. v. 16.
I read these words over and over again: I felt that an explanation belonged to them, and was unable fully to penetrate their import. I was still pondering the signification of 'Institution', and endeavouring to make out a connection between the first words and the verse of Scripture, when the sound of a cough close behind me made me turn my head. I saw a girl sitting on a stone bench near; she was bent over a book, on the perusal of  which she seemed intent: from where I stood I could see the title- it was Rasselas; a name that struck me as strange, and consequently attractive. In turning a leaf she happened to look up, and I said to her directly-'Is your book interesting?' I had already formed the intention of asking her to lend it to me some day.
'I like it,' she answered, after a pause of a second or two, during which she examined me.
'What is it about?' I continued. I hardly know where I found the hardihood thus to open a conversation with a stranger; the step was contrary to my nature and habits: but I think her occupation touched a chord of sympathy somewhere; for I too liked reading, though of a frivolous and childish kind; I could not digest or comprehend the serious or substantial.
'You may look at it,' replied the girl, offering me the book.
I did so; a brief examination convinced me that the contents were less taking than the title: Rasselas looked dull to my trifling taste;
I saw nothing about fairies, nothing about genii; no bright variety seemed spread over the closely-printed pages. I returned it to her; 
she received it quietly, and without saying anything she was about to relapse into her former studious mood: again I ventured to disturb her-
'Can you tell me what the writing on that stone over the door means? What is Lowood Institution?'
'This house where you are come to live.'
'And why do they call it Institution? Is it in any way different from other schools?'
'It is partly a charity-school: you and I, and all the rest of us, are charity-children. I suppose you are an orphan: are not either your father or your mother dead?'
'Both died before I can remember.'
'Well, all the girls here have lost either one or both parents, and this is called an institution for educating orphans.'
'Do we pay no money? Do they keep us for nothing?'
'We pay, or our friends pay, fifteen pounds a year for each.'
'Then why do they call us charity-children?'
'Because fifteen pounds is not enough for board and teaching, and the deficiency is supplied by subscription.'
'Who subscribes?'
'Different benevolent-minded ladies and gentlemen in this neighbourhood and in London.'
'Who was Naomi Brocklehurst?'
'The lady who built the new part of this house as that tablet records, and whose son overlooks and directs everything here.' 
'Why?'
'Because he is treasurer and manager of the establishment.'
'Then this house does not belong to that tall lady who wears a watch, and who said we were to have some bread and cheese?'
'To Miss Temple? Oh, no! I wish it did: she has to answer to Mr. Brocklehurst for all she does. Mr. Brocklehurst buys all our food and all our clothes.'
'Does he live here?'
'No- two miles off, at a large hall.'
'Is he a good man?'
'He is a clergyman, and is said to do a great deal of good.'
'Did you say that tall lady was called Miss Temple?'
'Yes.'
'And what are the other teachers called?'
'The one with red cheeks is called Miss Smith; she attends to the work, and cuts out- for we make our own clothes, our frocks, and pelisses, and everything; the little one with black hair is Miss Scatcherd; she teaches history and grammar, and hears the second class repetitions; and the one who wears a shawl, and has a pocket-handkerchief tied to her side with a yellow ribband, is Madame Pierrot: she comes from Lisle, in France, and teaches French.'
'Do you like the teachers?'
'Well enough.'
'Do you like the little black one, and the Madame-? -I cannot pronounce her name as you do.'
'Miss Scatcherd is hasty- you must take care not to offend her; Madame Pierrot is not a bad sort of person.'
'But Miss Temple is the best- isn't she?'
'Miss Temple is very good and very clever; she is above the rest, because she knows far more than they do.'
'Have you been long here?'
'Two years.'
'Are you an orphan?'
'My mother is dead.'
'Are you happy here?'
'You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough for the present: now I want to read.'
But at that moment the summons sounded for dinner; all re-entered the house. The odour which now filled the refectory was scarcely more appetising than that which had regaled our nostrils at breakfast: the dinner was served in two huge tin-plated vessels, whence rose a strong steam redolent of rancid fat. I found the mess to consist of indifferent potatoes and strange shreds of rusty meat, mixed and cooked together. Of this preparation a tolerably abundant plateful was apportioned to each pupil. I ate what I could, and wondered within myself whether every day's fare would be like this.
After dinner, we immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessons recommenced, and were continued till five o'clock.
The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girl with whom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace by Miss Scatcherd from a history class, and sent to stand in the middle of the large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a high degree ignominious, especially for so great a girl- she looked thirteen or upwards. I expected she would show signs of great distress and shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed, though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes.
'How can she bear it so quietly- so firmly?' I asked of myself.
'Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me up. She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond her punishment- beyond her situation: of something not round her nor before her. I have heard of day-dreams- is she in a day-dream now? Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it- her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart:
she is looking at what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present. I wonder what sort of a girl she is- whether good or naughty.'
Soon after five P.M. we had another meal, consisting of a small mug of coffee, and half a slice of brown bread. I devoured my bread and drank my coffee with relish; but I should have been glad of as much more- I was still hungry. Half an hour's recreation succeeded, then study; then the glass of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers, and bed. Such was my first day at Lowood. 
一月十九日早晨，还没到五点钟贝茜就端了蜡烛来到我房间，看见我己经起身，并差不多梳理完毕。她进来之前半小时，我就已起床。一轮半月正在下沉、月光从床边狭窄的窗户泻进房间，我借着月光洗了脸，穿好了衣服，那天我就要离开盖茨黑德，乘坐早晨六点钟经过院子门口的马车，只有贝茜己经起来了。她在保育室里生了火，这会儿正动手给我做早饭。孩子们想到出门而兴奋不已，是很少能吃得下饭的，我也是如此，贝茜硬劝我吃几口为我准备的热牛奶和面包，但白费工夫，只得用纸包了些饼干，塞进了我兜里。随后她帮我穿上长外衣，戴上宽边帽，又用披巾把她自己包裹好，两人便离开了保育室，经过里德太太卧房时，她说：“想进去同太太说声再见吗。”
“算啦，贝茜，昨天晚上你下楼去吃晚饭的时候，她走到我床边，说是早晨我不必打搅她或表妹们了，她让我记住，她永远是我最好的朋友，让我以后这么谈起她，对她感激万分。”
“你怎么回答她呢，小姐？”
“我什么也没说，只是用床单蒙住脸，转过身去对着墙壁，”
“那就是你的不是了，简小姐。”
“我做得很对，贝茜。你的太太向来不是我的朋友，她是我的敌人。”
“简小姐！别这样说！”
“再见了盖茨黑德！”我路过大厅走出前门时说。
月亮已经下沉，天空一片漆黑。贝茜打着灯，灯光闪烁在刚刚解冻而湿漉漉的台阶和砂石路上。冬天的清晨阴湿寒冷。我匆匆沿着车道走去，牙齿直打哆棘，看门人的卧室亮着灯光。到了那里，只见他妻子正在生火。前一天晚上我的箱子就已经拿下楼，捆好绳子放在门边。这时离六点还差几分。不一会钟响了，远处传来辚辚的车声，宣告马车已经到来。我走到门边，凝望着车灯迅速冲破黑暗，渐渐靠近。
“她一个人走吗？”门房的妻子问。
“是呀。”
“离这儿多远？”
“五十英里。”
“多远啊！真奇怪，里德太太竟让她一个人走得那么远，却一点也不担心。”
马车停了下来，就在大门口，由四匹马拖着，车顶上坐满了乘客。车夫和护车的大声催促我快些上车，我的箱子给递了上去，我自己则从贝茜的脖子上被拖下来带走，因为我正贴着她脖子亲吻呢。
“千万好好照应她呀，”护车人把我提起来放进车里时，贝茜对他说。
“行啊，行啊！”那人回答。车门关上了，“好啦，”一声大叫，我们便上路了。就这样我告别了贝茜和盖茨黑德，一阵风似地被卷往陌生的、当时看来遥远和神秘的地方。
一路行程，我已记得不多。只知道那天长得出奇，而且似乎赶了几百里路。我们经过几个城镇，在其中很大的一个停了下来。车夫卸了马，让乘客们下车吃饭。我被带进一家客找，护车人要我吃些中饭，我却没有胃口，他便扔下我走了，让我留在—个巨大无比的房间里，房间的两头都有一个火炉，天花板上悬挂着一盏枝形吊灯，高高的墙上有一个小小的红色陈列窗，里面放满了乐器。我在房间里来回走了很久，心里很不自在，害怕有人会进来把我拐走。我相信确有拐子，他们所干的勾当常常出现在贝茜火炉旁所讲的故事中。护车人终于回来了，我再次被塞进马车，我的保护人登上座位，吹起了闷声闷气的号角，车子一阵丁当，驶过了Ｌ镇的“石子街”。
下午，天气潮湿，雾气迷蒙。白昼溶入黄昏时，我开始感到离开盖茨黑德真的很远了。我们再也没有路过城镇，乡村的景色也起了变化，一座座灰色的大山耸立在地平线上。暮色渐浓，车子驶进一个山谷，那里长着黑乎乎一片森林。夜幕遮盖了一切景物之后很久，我听见狂风在林中呼啸。
那声音仿佛像催眠曲，我终于倒头睡着了。没过多久，车子突然停了下来，我被惊醒了。马车的门开着，一个仆人模样的人站在门边。藉着灯光，我看得清她的面容和衣装。“有个叫简.爱的小姑娘吗？”她问。我回答了，声“有”之后便被抱了出去，箱子也卸了下来，随后马车立即驶走了。
因为久坐，我身子都发僵了，马车的喧声和震动弄得我迷迷糊糊，我定下神来，环顾左右。只见雨在下，风在刮，周围一片黑暗。不过我隐约看到面前有一堵墙，墙上有一扇门，新来的向导领我进去，把门关上，随手上了锁。这时看得见一间，也许是几间房子，因为那建筑物铺展得很开，上面有很多窗子，其中几扇里亮着灯。我们踏上一条水沫飞溅的宽阔石子路，后来又进了一扇门。接着仆人带我穿过一条过道，进了一个生着火的房间，撇下我走了。
我站着，在火上烘着冻僵了的手指。我举目四顾，房间里没有蜡烛，壁炉中摇曳的火光，间或照出了糊过壁纸的墙、地毯、窗帘、闪光的红木家具。这是一间客厅，虽不及盖茨黑德客厅宽敞堂皇，却十分舒服。我正迷惑不解地猜测着墙上一幅画的画意时，门开了，进来了一个人，手里提着一盏灯，后面紧跟着另一个人。
先进门的是个高个子女人、黑头发，黑眼睛，白皙宽大的额角。她半个身子裹在披巾里，神情严肃，体态挺直。
“这孩子年纪这么小，真不该让她独个儿来，”她说着，把蜡烛放在桌子上，细细端详了我一两分钟，随后补充道。
“还是快点送她上床吧，她看来累了，你累吗？”她把手放在我肩上问道。
“有点累，太太。”
“肯定也饿了。米勒小姐，让她睡前吃些晚饭。你是第一次离开父母来上学吗，我的小姑娘？”
我向她解释说我没有父母。她问我他们去世多久了，还问我自已几岁，叫什么名字，会不会一点读、写和缝纫，随后用食指轻轻碰了碰我脸颊说，但愿我是一个好孩子，说完便打发我与米勒小姐走了。
那位刚离开的小姐约摸二十九岁，跟我一起走的那位比她略小几岁，前者的腔调、目光和神态给我印象很深，而米勒小姐比较平淡无奇，显得身心交瘁，但面色却还红润。她的步态和动作十分匆忙，仿佛手头总有忙不完的事情。说真的好看上去像个助理教师，后来我发现果真如此，我被她领着在一个形状不规则的大楼里，走过一个又一个房间，穿过一条又一条过道，这些地方都是那么悄无声息，甚至还有几分凄切。后来我们突然听到嗡嗡的嘈杂的人声，顷刻之间便走进了一个又阔又长的房间，两头各摆着两张大木板桌。每张桌子上点着两支蜡烛，一群年龄在九岁、十岁到二十岁之间的姑娘，围着桌子坐在长凳上。在昏暗的烛光下，我感到她们似乎多得难以计数，尽管实际上不会超过八十人。她们清一色地穿着式样古怪的毛料上衣，系着长长的亚麻细布围涎。那正是学习时间，他们正忙于默记第二天的功课，我所听的的嗡嗡之声，正是集体小声读书所发出来的。
米勒小姐示意我坐在门边的长凳上，随后走到这个长房间的头上，大声嚷道：
“班长们，收好书本，放到一边！”
四位个子很高的姑娘从各张桌子旁站起来，兜了一圈，把书收集起来放好。米勒小姐再次发布命令。
“班长们，去端晚饭盘子！”
高个子姑娘们走了出去，很快又回来了，每人端了个大盘子， 盘子里放着一份份不知什么东西，中间是一大罐水和一只大杯子。那一份份东西都分发了出去，高兴喝水的人还喝了口水，那大杯子是公用的。轮到我的时候，因为口渴，我喝了点水、但没有去碰食品，激动和疲倦已使我胃口全无。不过我倒是看清楚了，那是一个薄薄的燕麦饼，平均分成了几小块。
吃完饭，米勒小姐念了祷告，各班鱼贯而出，成双成对走上楼梯。这时我己经疲惫不堪，几乎没有注意到寝室的模样，只看清了它像教室一样很长。今晚我同米勒小姐同睡一张床，她帮我脱掉衣服，并让我躺下。这时我瞥了一眼一长排一长排床，每张床很快睡好了两个人，十分钟后那仅有的灯光也熄灭了，在寂静无声与一片漆黑中，我沉沉睡去。
夜很快逝去了，我累得连梦也没有做，只醒来过一次，听见狂风阵阵，大雨倾盆，还知道米勒小姐睡在我身边。我再次睁开眼睛时，只听见铃声喧嚷，姑娘们已穿衣起身。天色未明，房间里燃着一两支灯心草蜡烛。我也无可奈何地起床了。天气冷得刺骨，我颤抖着尽力把衣服穿好，等脸盆空着时洗了脸。但我并没有马上等到，因为六个姑娘才合一个脸盆，摆在楼下房间正中的架子上。铃声再次响起，大家排好队，成双成对地走下搂梯，进了冷飕飕暗洞洞的教室。米勒小姐读了祷告，随后便大声唱：
“按班级集中！”
接着引起了一阵几分钟的大骚动，米勒小姐反复叫喊着：“不要作声！”“遵守秩序！”喧闹声平息下来之后，我看到她们排成了四个半园形，站在四把椅子前面，这四把椅子分别放在四张桌子旁边。每人手里都拿着书，有一本《圣经》模样的大书，搁在空椅子跟前的每张桌子上。几秒钟肃静之后，响起了低沉而含糊的嗡嗡声，米勒小姐从—个班兜到另一个班，把这种模糊的喧声压下去。
远处传来了叮咚的铃声，立刻有三位小姐进了房间，分别走向一张桌子，并在椅子上就座。米勒小姐坐了靠门最近的第四把空椅子，椅子周围是一群年龄最小的孩子，我被叫到了这个低级班，安排在末位。
这时，功课开始了。先是反复念诵那天的短祷告、接着读了几篇经文，最后是慢声朗读《圣经》的章节，用了一个小时。这项议程结束时，天色已经大亮，不知疲倦的钟声第四次响起，各个班级整好队伍，大步走进另一个房间去吃早饭。想到马上有东西可以裹腹，我是何等高兴啊！由于前一天吃得大少，这时我简直饿坏了。
饭厅是个又低又暗的大房间，两张长桌上放着两大盆热气腾腾的东西。但令人失望的是，散发出来的气味却并不诱人，它一钻进那些非嘟樱?饪榈乇环指畛杉甘?鲂⌒〉拿缙裕?闶腔ㄔ埃?峙涓???桥嘀不ú荩?扛雒缙远加幸桓鲋魅耍?驶ㄅ?攀苯冢?庑┟缙砸欢ㄊ?直曛拢??巯乱辉陆?。?黄??湛莼频蛄愕木跋蟆Ｎ艺驹谀抢铮?饭怂闹埽?痪醮蛄烁龊?洌?馓斓幕?饣疃??炱?窳樱?涫挡⒚挥邢掠辏??阏懔ちさ幕粕?眦埃?固焐?涞没野担唤畔乱蛭?蛱斓暮樗?廊凰???硖灞冉辖∽车募肝还媚锎芾幢既ィ?斐；钤荆坏??胁园资萑醯墓媚锒技吩谧呃壬隙阌旰腿∨?Ｅㄎ砩?附?怂?遣?蹲诺那?澹?也皇碧??簧??湛取?br> 我没有同人说过话，也似乎没有人注意到我。我孤零零地站着，但己经习惯于那种孤独感，并不觉得十分压抑，我倚在游廊的柱子上，将灰色的斗篷拉得紧紧地裹着自己，竭力忘却身外刺骨的严寒，忘却肚子里折磨着我的饥馑，全身心去观察和思考。我的思索含含糊糊，零零碎碎，不值得落笔。我几乎不知道自己身居何处。盖茨黑德和往昔的生活似乎已经流逝，与现时现地已有天壤之隔。现实既模糊又离奇，而未来又不是我所能想象。我朝四周看了看修道院一般的花园，又抬头看了看建筑。这是幢大楼，一半似乎灰暗古旧，另一半却很新。新的襴Q监卸鞯桓妫?晕颐敲挥械玫降亩?鞅硎靖行唬??被钩?说诙?自廾朗??幼疟憷肟?吞?浇淌胰ァＮ沂亲詈笠慌?叩模???妥朗保?醇?晃唤淌σ?艘煌胫啵?⒘艘怀ⅲ?挚戳丝雌渌?耍??橇成隙悸冻隽
瞬豢斓纳裆??渲幸桓雠峙值慕淌λ担?br> “讨厌的东西！真丢脸？”
一刻钟以后才又开始上课。这一刻钟，教室里沸沸扬扬，乱成了一团。在这段时间里，似乎允许自由自在地大声说话，大家便利用了这种特殊待遇，整个谈话的内容都围绕着早餐，个个都狠狠骂了一通。可怜的人儿啊！这就是她们仅有的安慰。此刻米勒小姐是教室里唯一的一位教师，一群大姑娘围着她，悻悻然做着手势同她在说话。我听见有人提到了布罗克赫斯特先生的名字，米勒小姐一听便不以为然地摇了摇头，但她无意去遏制这种普遍的愤怒，无疑她也有同感。
教室里的钟敲到了九点，米勒小姐离开了她的圈子，站到房间正中叫道：
“安静下来，回到你们自己的位置上去！”
纪律起了作用。五分钟工夫，混乱的人群便秩序井然了。相对的安静镇住了嘈杂的人声。高级教师们都准时就位，不过似乎所有的人都仍在等待着。八十个姑娘坐在屋子两边的长凳上，身子笔直，一动不动。她们似是一群聚集在一起的怪人，头发都平平淡淡地从脸上梳到后头，看不见一绺卷发。穿的是褐色衣服，领子很高，脖子上围着一个窄窄的拆卸领，罩衣前胸都系着一个亚麻布做的口袋，形状如同苏格兰高地人的钱包，用作工作口袋，所有的人都穿着羊毛长袜和乡下人做的鞋子，鞋上装着铜扣。二十多位这身打扮的人已完全是大姑娘了，或者颇像少女。这套装束对她们极不相称，因此即使是最漂亮的样子也很怪。
我仍旧打量着她们，间或也仔细审视了一下教师——确切地说没有一个使人赏心悦目。胖胖的一位有些粗俗；黑黑的那个很凶；那位外国人苛刻而怪僻；而米勒小姐呢，真可怜，脸色发紫，一付饱经风霜、劳累过度的样子，我的目光正从一张张脸上飘过时，全校学生仿佛被同一个弹簧带动起来似的，都同时起立了。
这是怎回事，并没有听到谁下过命令，真把人搞糊涂了。我还没有定下神来，各个班级又再次坐下。不过所有的眼睛都转向了一点，我的目光也跟踪大伙所注意的方向，看到了第一天晚上接待我的人，她站在长房子顶端的壁炉边上，房子的两头都生了火，她一声不吭神情严肃地审视着两排姑娘。米勒小姐走近她，好像问了个问题，得到了回答后，又回到原来的地方，人声说道：“第一班班长，去把地球仪拿来！”
这个指示正在执行的时候，那位被请示过的小姐馒慢地从房间的一头走过来。我猜想自己专司敬重的器言特别发达，因为我至今仍保持着一种敬畏之情，当时带着这种心情我的目光尾随着她的脚步。这会儿大白天，她看上去高挑个子，皮肤白皙，身材匀称，棕色的眸子透出慈祥的目光、细长似画的睫毛，衬托出了她又白又大的前额，两鬓的头发呈暗棕色，按一流行式洋、束成圆圆的卷发，当时光滑的发辫和长长的卷发，并没有成为时尚。她的服装，也很时髦，紫颜色布料，用一种黑丝绒西班牙饰边加以烘托。一只金表（当时手表不像如今这么普通）在她腰带上闪光。
要使这幅画像更加完整，读者们还尽可补充：她面容清丽，肤色苍白却明澈，仪态端庄。这样至少有文字所能清楚表达的范围内，可以得出了坦普尔小姐外貌的正确印象了。也就是玛丽亚.坦普尔，这个名字，后来我是在让我送到教党去的祈祷书上看到的。
这位罗沃德学校的校长（这就是这个女士的职务）在放在一张桌上的两个地球仪前面坐了下来，把第一班的人叫到她周围，开始上起地理课来。低班学生被其他教师叫走，反复上历史呀，语法呀等课程，上了一个小时。接着是写作和数学，坦普尔小姐还给大一点的姑娘教了音乐，每堂课是以钟点来计算的，那钟终于敲了十二下，校长站了起来。
“我有话要跟学生们讲，”她说。
课一结束，骚动便随之而来，但她的话音刚落，全校又复归平静，她继续说：
“今天早晨的早饭，你们都吃不下去，大家一定饿坏了，我己经吩咐给大家准备了面包和乳酪当点心，”
教师们带着某种惊异的目光看着她。
“这事由我负责，”她带着解释的口气向她们补充道。随后马上走了出去。
面包和乳酪立刻端了进来，分发给大家，全校都欢欣鼓舞，精神振奋。这时来了命令，“到花园里去！”每个人都戴上一个粗糙的草帽，帽子上拴着用染色白布做成的带子，同时还披上了黑粗绒料子的斗篷。我也是一付同样的装束，跟着人流，迈步走向户外。
这花园是一大片圈起来的场地，四周围墙高耸，看不到外面的景色。一边有—条带顶的回廓，还有些宽阔的走道，与中间的一块地相接，这块地被分割成几十个小小的苗圃，算是花园，分配给学生们培植花草，每个苗圃都有一个主人，鲜花怒放时节，这些苗圃一定十分标致，但眼下一月将尽，一片冬日枯黄凋零的景象。我站在那里，环顾四周，不觉打了个寒噤，这天的户外活动，天气恶劣，其实并没有下雨，但浙浙沥沥的黄色雾霭，使天色变得灰暗；脚下因为昨天的洪水依然水湿，身体比较健壮的几位姑娘窜来奔去，异常活跃；但所有苍白瘦弱的姑娘都挤在走廊上躲雨和取暖。浓雾渗透进了她们颤抖着的躯体，我不时听见一声声空咳。
我没有同人说过话，也似乎没有人注意到我。我孤零零地站着，但己经习惯于那种孤独感，并不觉得十分压抑，我倚在游廊的柱子上，将灰色的斗篷拉得紧紧地裹着自己，竭力忘却身外刺骨的严寒，忘却肚子里折磨着我的饥馑，全身心去观察和思考。我的思索含含糊糊，零零碎碎，不值得落笔。我几乎不知道自己身居何处。盖茨黑德和往昔的生活似乎已经流逝，与现时现地已有天壤之隔。现实既模糊又离奇，而未来又不是我所能想象。我朝四周看了看修道院一般的花园，又抬头看了看建筑。这是幢大楼，一半似乎灰暗古旧，另一半却很新。新的一半里安排了教室和寝室，直棂格子窗里灯火通明，颇有教堂气派。门上有一块石头牌子，上面刻着这样的文字：
“罗沃德学校——这部份由本郡布罗克赫斯特府的内奥米.布罗克赫斯特重建于公元××××年。”“你们的光也当这样照在人前，叫他们看见你们的好行为，便将荣耀归给你们在天上的父。
”——《马太福音》第五章第十六节。
我一遍遍读着这些字，觉得它们应该有自己的解释，却无法充分理解其内涵。我正在思索“学校”一字的含义，竭力要找出开首几个字与经文之间的联系，却听得身后一声咳嗽，便回过头去，看到一位姑娘坐在近处的石凳上，正低头聚精会神地细读着一本书。从我站着的地方可以看到，这本书的书名是《拉塞拉斯》。这名字听来有些陌生，因而也就吸引了彩缤纷我。她翻书的时候，碰巧抬起头来，于是我直截了当地说：
“你这本书有趣吗？”我己经起了某一天向她借书的念头。
“我是喜欢的，”她顿了一两秒钟，打量了我一下后回答道。
“它说些什么？”我继续问。我自己也不知道哪里来的胆子，居然同一个陌生人说起话来。这回我的性格与积习相悖，不过她的专注兴许打动了我，因为我也喜欢读书，尽管是浅薄幼稚的一类。对那些主题严肃内存充实的书，我是无法消化或理解的。
“你可以看一下，”这姑娘回答说，一面把书递给我。
我看了看。粗粗—翻，我便确信书的内容不像书名那么吸引人。以我那种琐细的口味来说，“拉塞拉斯”显得很枯燥。我看不到仙女，也看不到妖怪，密密麻麻印着字的书页中，没有鲜艳夺目丰富多彩的东西。我把书递还给她，她默默地收下了，二话没说又要回到刚才苦用功的心境中去，我却再次冒昧打扰了她：
“能告诉我们门上那块石匾上的字是什么意思吗？罗沃德学校是什么？”
“就是你来住宿的这所房子。”
“他们为什么叫它‘学校’呢？与别的学校有什么不同吗？”
“这是个半慈善性质的学校，你我以及所有其他人都是慈善学校的孩子。我猜想你也是个孤儿，你父亲或者母亲去世了吗？”
“我能记事之前就都去世了。”
“是呀，这里的姑娘们不是夫去了爹或妈，便是父母都没有了，这儿叫作教育孤儿的学校。”
“我们不付钱吗？他们免费护养我们吗？”
“我们自己，或者我们的朋友付十五英镑一年。”
“那他们为什么管我们叫慈善学校的孩子？”
“因为十五英镑不够付住宿货和学费，缺额由捐款来补足。”
“谁捐呢？”
“这里附近或者伦敦心肠慈善的太太们和绅士们。”
“内奥米.布罗克赫斯特是谁？”
“就像匾上写着的那样，是建造大楼新区部份的太太，她的儿子监督和指挥这里的一切。”
“为什么？”
“因为他是这个学校的司库和管事。”
“那这幢大楼不属于那位戴着手表、告诉我们可以吃面包和乳酪的高个子女人了？”
“属于坦普尔小姐？啊，不是！但愿是属于她的。她所做的一切要对布罗克赫斯特先生负责，我们吃的和穿的都是布罗克赫斯特先生买的。”
“他住在这儿吗？”
“不——住在两路外，一个大庄园里。”
“他是个好人吗？”
“他是个牧师，据说做了很多好事。”
“你说那个高个子女人叫坦普尔小姐？”
“不错。”
“其他教师的名字叫什么？”
“脸颊红红的那个叫史密斯小姐，她管劳作，负责裁剪——因为我们自己做衣服、罩衣、外衣，什么都做。那个头发黑黑的小个子叫做斯卡查德小姐，她教历史、语法，听第二班的朗诵。那位戴披巾用黄缎带把一块手帕拴在腰上的人叫皮埃罗夫人，她来自法国里尔，教法语。”
你喜欢这些教师吗？”
“够喜欢的。”
“你喜欢那个黑乎乎的小个子和××太太吗？——我没法把她的名字读成像你读的那样。”
“斯卡查德小姐性子很急，你可得小心，别惹她生气；皮埃罗太太倒是不坏的。”
“不过坦普尔小姐最好，是不是？”
“坦普尔小姐很好，很聪明，她在其余的人之上，因为懂得比她们多得多。”
“你来这儿很久了吗？”
“两年了。”
“你是孤儿吗？”
“我母亲死了。”
“你在这儿愉快吗？”
“你问得太多了。我给你的回答已经足够，现在我可要看书了。”
但这时候吃饭铃响了，大家再次进屋去，弥漫在餐厅里的气味并行比早餐时扑鼻而来的味儿更诱人。午餐盛放在两十大白铁桶里，热腾腾冒出一股臭肥肉的气味。我发现这乱糟糟的东西，是烂土豆和几小块不可思议的臭肉搅在一起煮成的，每个学生都分到了相当满的一盘。我尽力而吃。心里暗自纳闷，是否每天的饭食都是这付样子。
吃罢午饭，我们立则去教室，又开始上课，一直到五点钟。
下午只有一件事引人注目，我看到了在游廊上跟我交谈过的姑娘丢了脸，被斯卡查德小姐逐出历史课，责令站在那个大教室当中，在我看来，这种惩罚实在是奇耻大辱，特别是对像她这样一个大姑娘来说——她看上去有十三岁了，或许还更大，我猜想她会露出伤心和害臊的表情。但使我诧异的是，她既没哭泣，也没脸红，她在众目睽睽之下，站在那里，虽然神情严肃，却非常镇定。“她怎么能那么默默地而又坚定地忍受呢？”我暗自思忖。“要是我，巴不得地球会裂开，把我吞下去。而她看上去仿佛在想惩罚之外的什么事，与她处境无关的事情，某种既不在她周围也不在她眼的的东西，我听说过白日梦、难道她在做白日梦，她的眼晴盯着地板，但可以肯定她视而不见，她的目光似乎是向内的，直视自己的心扉。我想她注视着记忆中的东西，而不是眼前确实存在的事物、我不明白她属于哪一类姑娘，好姑娘，还是淘气鬼。”
五分钟刚过，我们又用了另一顿饭，吃的是一小杯咖啡和半片黑面包。我狼吞虎咽地吃了面，喝了咖啡，吃得津津有味，不过要是能再来一份，我会非常高兴，因为我仍然很饿，吃完饭后是半小时的娱乐活动，然后是学习，再后是一杯水，一个燕麦饼，祷告，上床，这就是我在罗沃德第一天的生活。
Chapter 6
THE next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing by rushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with the ceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen. A change had taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keen north-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroom windows all night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and turned the contents of the ewers to ice.Before the long hour and a half of prayers and Bible-reading was over, I felt ready to perish with cold. Breakfast-time came at last, and this morning the porridge was not burnt; the quality was eatable, the quantity small. How small my portion seemed! I wished it had been doubled.
In the course of the day I was enrolled a member of the fourth class, and regular tasks and occupations were assigned me: hitherto, I had only been a spectator of the proceedings at Lowood; I was now to become an actor therein. At first, being little accustomed to learn by heart, the lessons appeared to me both long and difficult; the frequent change from task to task, too, bewildered me; and I was glad when, about three o'clock in the afternoon, Miss Smith put into my hands a border of muslin two yards long, together with needle, thimble, etc., and sent me to sit in a quiet corner of the schoolroom, with directions to hem the same. At that hour most of the others were sewing likewise; but one class still stood round Miss Scatcherd's chair reading, and as all was quiet, the subject of their lessons could be heard, together with the manner in which each girl acquitted herself, and the animadversions or commendations of Miss Scatcherd on the performance. It was English history: among the readers I observed my acquaintance of the verandah: at the commencement of the lesson, her place had been at the top of the class, but for some error of pronunciation, or some inattention to stops, she was suddenly sent to the very bottom. Even in that obscure position, Miss Scatcherd continued to make her an object of constant notice; she was continually addressing to her such phrases as the following:-'Burns' (such it seems was her name: the girls here were all called by their surnames, as boys are elsewhere), 'Burns, you are standing on the side of your shoe; turn your toes out immediately.' 'Burns, you poke your chin most unpleasantly; draw it in.' 'Burns, I insist on your holding your head up; I will not have you before me in that attitude,' etc. etc.
A chapter having been read through twice, the books were closed and the girls examined. The lesson had comprised part of the reign of Charles I, and there were sundry questions about tonnage and poundage and ship-money, which most of them appeared unable to answer; still, every little difficulty was solved instantly when it reached  Burns: her memory seemed to have retained the substance of the whole lesson, and she was ready with answers on every point. I kept expecting that Miss Scatcherd would praise her attention; but, instead of that, she suddenly cried out- 'You dirty, disagreeable girl! you have never cleaned your nails this morning!'
Burns made no answer: I wondered at her silence.
'Why,' thought I, 'does she not explain that she could neither clean her nails nor wash her face, as the water was frozen?'
My attention was now called off by Miss Smith desiring me to hold a skein of thread: while she was winding it, she talked to me from time to time, asking whether I had ever been at school before, whether I could mark, stitch, knit, etc.; till she dismissed me, I could not pursue my observations on Miss Scatcherd's movements. When I returned to my seat, that lady was just delivering an order of which I did not catch the import; but Burns immediately left the class, and going into the small inner room where the books were kept, returned in half a minute, carrying in her hand a bundle of twigs tied together at one end. This ominous tool she presented to Miss Scatcherd with a respectful curtsey; then she quietly, and without being told, unloosed her pinafore, and the teacher instantly and sharply inflicted on her neck a dozen strokes with the bunch of twigs. Not a tear rose to Burns's eye; and, while I paused from my sewing, because my fingers quivered at this spectacle with a sentiment of unavailing and impotent anger, not a feature of her pensive face altered its ordinary expression.
'Hardened girl!' exclaimed Miss Scatcherd; 'nothing can correct you of your slatternly habits: carry the rod away.'
Burns obeyed: I looked at her narrowly as she emerged from the book-closet; she was just putting back her handkerchief into her pocket, and the trace of a tear glistened on her thin cheek.
The play-hour in the evening I thought the pleasantest fraction of the day at Lowood: the bit of bread, the draught of coffee swallowed at five o'clock had revived vitality, if it had not satisfied hunger: the long restraint of the day was slackened; the schoolroom felt warmer than in the morning- its fires being allowed to burn a little more brightly, to supply, in some measure, the place of candles, not yet introduced: the ruddy gloaming, the licenseduproar, the confusion of many voices gave one a welcome sense of liberty.
On the evening of the day on which I had seen Miss Scatcherd flog her pupil, Burns, I wandered as usual among the forms and tables and laughing groups without a companion, yet not feeling lonely: when I passed the windows, I now and then lifted a blind, and looked out; it snowed fast, a drift was already forming against the lower panes; putting my ear close to the window, I could distinguish from the gleeful tumult within, the disconsolate moan of the wind outside.
Probably, if I had lately left a good home and kind parents, this would have been the hour when I should most keenly have regretted the separation; that wind would then have saddened my heart, this obscure chaos would have disturbed my peace! as it was, I derived from both a strange excitement, and reckless and feverish, I wished the wind to howl more wildly, the gloom to deepen to darkness, and the confusion to rise to clamour.
Jumping over forms, and creeping under tables, I made my way to one of the fire-places; there, kneeling by the high wire fender, I found Burns, absorbed, silent, abstracted from all round her by the companionship of a book, which she read by the dim glare of the embers.
'Is it still Rasselas?' I asked, coming behind her. 
'Yes,' she said, 'and I have just finished it.'
And in five minutes more she shut it up. I was glad of this.
'Now,' thought I, 'I can perhaps get her to talk.' I sat down by her on the floor.
'What is your name besides Burns?'
'Helen.'
'Do you come a long way from here?'
'I come from a place farther north, quite on the borders of Scotland.'
'Will you ever go back?'
'I hope so; but nobody can be sure of the future.'
'You must wish to leave Lowood?'
'No! why should I? I was sent to Lowood to get an education; and it would be of no use going away until I have attained that object.'
'But that teacher, Miss Scatcherd, is so cruel to you?'
'Cruel? Not at all! She is severe: she dislikes my faults.'
'And if I were in your place I should dislike her; I should resist her. If she struck me with that rod, I should get it from her hand; I should break it under her nose.'
'Probably you would do nothing of the sort: but if you did, Mr. Brocklehurst would expel you from the school; that would be a great grief to your relations. It is far better to endure patiently a smart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty action whose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you; and besides, the Bible bids us return good for evil.'
'But then it seems disgraceful to be flogged, and to be sent to stand in the middle of a room full of people; and you are such a great girl: I am far younger than you, and I could not bear it.'
'Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.'
I heard her with wonder: I could not comprehend this doctrine of endurance; and still less could I understand or sympathise with the forbearance she expressed for her chastiser. Still I felt that Helen Burns considered things by a light invisible to my eyes. I suspected she might be right and I wrong; but I would not ponder the matter deeply; like Felix, I put it off to a more convenient season.
'You say you have faults, Helen: what are they? To me you seem very good.'
'Then learn from me, not to judge by appearances: I am, as Miss Scatcherd said, slatternly; I seldom put, and never keep, things in order; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn my lessons; I have no method; and sometimes I say, like you, I cannot bear to be subjected to systematic arrangements. This is all very provoking to Miss Scatcherd, who is naturally neat, punctual, and particular.'
'And cross and cruel,' I added; but Helen Burns would not admit my addition: she kept silence.
'Is Miss Temple as severe to you as Miss Scatcherd?'
At the utterance of Miss Temple's name, a soft smile flitted over her grave face.
'Miss Temple is full of goodness; it pains her to be severe to any one, even the worst in the school: she sees my errors, and tells me of them gently; and if I do anything worthy of praise, she gives me my meed liberally. One strong proof of my wretchedly defective nature is, that even her expostulations, so mild, so rational, have no influence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though I value it most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care and foresight.'
'That is curious,' said I, 'it is so easy to be careful.'
'For you I have no doubt it is. I observed you in your class this morning, and saw you were closely attentive: your thoughts never seemed to wander while Miss Miller explained the lesson and questioned you. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often I lose the very sound of her voice; I fall into a sort of dream.
Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and that the noises I hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs through Deepden, near our house;- then, when it comes to my turn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read for listening to the visionary brook, I have no answer ready.'
'Yet how well you replied this afternoon.'
'It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading had interested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I was wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly and unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he had but been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the age was tending! Still, I like Charles- I respect him- I pity him, poor murdered king! Yes, his enemies were the worst: they shed blood they had no right to shed. How dared they kill him!'
Helen was talking to herself now: she had forgotten I could not very well understand her- that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of the subject she discussed. I recalled her to my level.
'And when Miss Temple teaches you, do your thoughts wander then?'
'No, certainly, not often: because Miss Temple has generally something to say which is newer than my own reflections; her language is singularly agreeable to me, and the information she communicates is often just what I wished to gain.'
'Well, then, with Miss Temple you are good?'
'Yes, in a passive way: I make no effort; I follow as inclination guides me. There is no merit in such goodness.'
'A great deal: you are good to those who are good to you. It is all I ever desire to be. If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should- so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again.' 
'You will change your mind, I hope, when you grow older: as yet you are but a little untaught girl.' 
'But I feel this, Helen; I must dislike those who, whatever I do to please them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punish me unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved.'
'Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christians and civilised nations disown it.'
'How? I don't understand.'
'It is not violence that best overcomes hate- nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury.'
'What then?'
'Read the New Testament, and observe what Christ says, and how He acts; make His word your rule, and His conduct your example.'
'What does He say?'
'Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you and despitefully use you.'
'Then I should love Mrs. Reed, which I cannot do; I should bless her son John, which is impossible.'
In her turn, Helen Burns asked me to explain, and I proceeded forthwith to pour out, in my own way, the tale of my sufferings and resentments. Bitter and truculent when excited, I spoke as I felt, without reserve or softening.
Helen heard me patiently to the end: I expected she would then make a remark, but she said nothing. 
'Well,' I asked impatiently, 'is not Mrs. Reed a hard-hearted, bad woman?'
'She has been unkind to you, no doubt; because you see, she dislikes your cast of character, as Miss Scatcherd does mine; but how minutely you remember all she has done and said to you! What a singularly deep impression her injustice seems to have made on your heart! No ill-usage so brands its record on my feelings. Would you not be happier if you tried to forget her severity, together with the passionate emotions it excited? Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, and must be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world: but the time will soon come when, I trust, we shall put them off in putting off our corruptible bodies; when debasement and sin will fall from us with this cumbrous frame of flesh, and only the spark of the spirit will remain,- the impalpable principle of light and thought, pure as when it left the Creator to inspire the creature: whence it came it will return; perhaps again to be communicated to some being higher than man- perhaps to pass through gradations of glory, from the pale human soul to brighten to the seraph! Surely it Will never, on the contrary, be suffered to degenerate from man to fiend? No; I cannot believe that: I hold another creed: which no one ever taught me, and which I seldom mention; but in which I delight, and to which I cling: for it extends hope to all: it makes Eternity a rest- a mighty home, not a terror and an abyss. Besides, with this creed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime; I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last: with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low: I live in calm, looking to the end.'
Helen's head, always drooping, sank a little lower as she finished this sentence. I saw by her look she wished no longer to talk to me, but rather to converse with her own thoughts. She was not allowed much time for meditation: a monitor, a great rough girl, presently came up, exclaiming in a strong Cumberland accent- 'Helen Burns, if you don't go and put your drawer in order, and fold up your work this minute, I'll tell Miss Scatcherd to come and look at it!'
Helen sighed as her reverie fled, and getting up, obeyed the monitor without reply as without delay.
第二天开始了，同以前一样，穿衣起身还是借着灯草芯蜡烛的微光，不过今天早晨不得不放弃洗脸仪式了，因为罐里的水都结了冰。头一天夜里、天气变了，刺骨的东北风，透过寝室窗门的缝隙，彻夜呼呼吹着，弄得我们在床上直打哆嗦，罐子里的水也结起了冰。
一个半小时的祷告和圣经诵读还没结束，我已觉得快要冻死了。早餐时间终于到来，而且今天的粥没有烧焦，能够下咽，可惜量少。我的那份看上去多少呀！我真希望能增加一倍。
那天我被编入第四班，给布置了正规任务和作业。在此之前，我在罗沃德不过是静观一切进程的旁观者，而现在己成了其中的一名演员。起先，由于我不习惯背诵，觉得课文似乎又长又难，功课一门门不断变换，弄得我头昏脑胀。下午三点光景，史密斯小姐把一根两码长的平纹细布滚边塞到我手里，连同针和顶针之类的东西，让我坐在教室僻静的角落，根据指令依样画葫芦缝上滚边，我一时喜出望外。在那时刻，其他人也大多一样在缝，只有一个班仍围着斯卡查德小姐的椅子，站着读书。四周鸦雀无声，所以听得见她们功课的内容，也听得见每个姑娘读得怎样，听得见斯卡查德小姐对她们表现的责备和赞扬。这是一堂英国历史课，我注意到在读书的人中，有一位是我在游廊上相识的。开始上课时，她被安排在全班首位，可是由于某些发音错误及对句号的忽视，她突然被降到末尾去了。即使在这种不起眼的位置上，斯卡查德小姐也继续使她成为始终引人注目的对象，不断用这样的措词同她说话：
“彭斯，（这似乎就是她的名字，这儿的女孩像其他地方的男孩一样，都按姓来叫的）彭斯，你鞋子踩偏了，快把脚趾伸直。”“彭斯，你伸着下巴，多难看，把它收回去。”“彭斯，我要你抬起头来，我不允许你在我面前做出这付样子来”等等。
一章书从头到尾读了两遍，课本便合了起来，姑娘们受到了考问。这堂课讲的是查理一世王朝的一个时期，问的问题形形式式，船舶吨位税呀，按镑收税呀，造船税呀，大多数人似乎都无法回答，但是一到彭斯那里，每一道难题都迎刃而解。她像已经把整堂课的内容都记在脑子里了，任何问题都能应对自如。我一直以为斯卡查德小姐要称赞她专心致志了，谁知她突然大叫起来：“你这讨厌的邋遢姑娘？你早上根本没有洗过指甲？”
彭斯没有回答，我对她的沉默感到纳闷。
“为什么，”我想，“她不解释一下，水结冻了，脸和指甲都没法洗？”
此刻，史密斯小姐转移了我的注意力，她让我替她撑住一束线，一面绕，一面不时跟我说话。问我以前是否进过学校，能否绣花、缝纫、编织等，直到她打发我走，我才有可能进一步观察斯卡查德小姐的行动。我回到自己的座位上时，那女人正在发布一道命令，命令的内容我没有听清楚。但是彭斯立刻离开了班级，走进里面一个放书的小间，过了半分钟又返回来，手里拿着一束一头扎好的木条。她毕恭毕敬地行了个屈膝礼，把这个不祥的刑具递交给了斯卡查德小姐。随后，她不用吩咐，便默默地解开了罩衣，这位教师立刻用这束木条狠狠地在她脖子上揍了十几下，彭斯没有掉一滴眼泪。见了这种情景，我心头涌起了一种徒劳无益、无能为力的愤怒，气得手指都颤抖起来，而不得不停下手头的针线活。她那忧郁的面容毫不改色，依然保持着平日的表情。
“顽固不化的姑娘！”斯卡查德小姐嚷道，“什么都改不掉你邋遢的习性，把木条拿走。”
彭斯听从吩咐。她从藏书室里出来时，我细细打量了她，她正把手帕放回自己的口袋，瘦瘦的脸颊闪着泪痕。
晚间的玩耍时光，我想是罗沃德一天中最愉快的一丁点儿时间。五点钟吞下的一小块面包和几口咖啡，虽然没有消除饥饿感，却恢复了活力。一整天的清规戒律放松了；教室里比早上要暖和；炉火允许燃得比平时旺，多少代替了尚未点燃的蜡烛。红通通的火光，放肆的喧闹，嘈杂的人声，给人以一种值得欢迎的自由感。
在我看见斯卡查德小姐鞭打她的学生彭斯的那天晚上，我照例在长凳、桌子和笑声不绝的人群中间穿来穿去，虽然无人作伴，倒也并不寂寞。经过窗户时，我不时拉起百叶窗，向外眺望。雪下得很紧，下端的窗玻璃上已经积起了一层，我把耳朵贴在窗上，分辩得出里面轻快的喧哗和外面寒风凄厉的呻吟。
如果我刚离开了一个温暖的家和慈祥的双亲，这一时刻也许会非常后悔当初的离别；那风会使我伤心不已：这种模糊的混沌会打破我的平静，但实际上两者激起了我一莫名的兴奋，在不安和狂热之中，我盼望风会咆哮得更猛烈；天色会更加昏暗变得一团漆黑，嗡嗡的人声会进而成为喧嚣。
我跨过凳子钻过桌子，寻路来到一个壁炉跟前，跪在高高的铁丝防护板旁边，我发现彭斯有一本书作伴，全神贯注，沉默不语，忘掉了周围的一切，借着余火灰暗的闪光读着书。
“还是那本《拉塞拉斯》吗？”我来到她背后说。
“是的，”她说，“我刚读完它。”
过了五分钟她掩上了书。这正合我心意。
“现在，”我想，“我也许能使她开口了吧。”我—屁股坐在她旁边的地板上。
“除了彭斯，你还叫什么？”
“海伦。”
“你从很远的地方来吗？”
“我来自很靠北的一个地方，靠近苏格兰边界了。”
“你还回去吗？”
“我希望能这样，可是对未来谁也没有把握。”
“你想必很希望离开罗沃德，是吗？”
“不，干嘛要这样呢？送我到罗沃德来是接受教育的，没有达到这个目的就走才没有意思呢。”
“可是那位教师，就是斯卡查德小姐，对你那么凶狠。”
“凶狠？一点也没有！她很严格。她不喜欢我的缺点。”
“如果我是你，我会讨厌她的，我会抵制。要是她用那束木条打我，我会从她手里夺过来，当着她的面把它折断。”
“兴许你根本不会干那类事。但要是你干了，布罗克赫斯特先生会把你撵出学校的，那会使你的亲戚感到难过。耐心忍受只有自己感到的痛苦，远比草率行动，产生连累亲朋的恶果要好，更何况《圣经》上嘱咐我们要以德报怨。”
“可是挨鞭子，罚站在满屋子是人的房间当中，毕竟是丢脸的呀！而且你己经是那么个大姑娘了。我比你小得多还受不了呢。”
“不过，要是你无法避免，那你的职责就是忍受。如果你命里注定需要忍受，那么说自己不能忍受就是软弱，就是犯傻。”
我听了感到不胜惊讶。我不能理解这“忍受”信条，更无法明白或同情她对惩罚者所表现出的宽容。不过我仍觉得海伦.彭斯是根据一种我所看不见的眼光来考虑事情的。我怀疑可能她对，我不对。但是我对这事不想再去深究，像费利克斯一样，我将它推迟到以后方便的时候去考虑。
“你说你有缺陷，海伦，什么缺陷？我看你很好嘛。”
“那你就听我说吧，别以貌取人，像斯卡查德小姐说的那样，我很邋遢。我难得把东西整理好，永远那么乱糟糟。我很粗心，总把规则忘掉，应当学习功课时却看闲书。我做事没有条理。有时像你一样会说，我受不了那种井井有条的管束。这一桩桩都使斯卡查德小姐很恼火，她天生讲究整洁，遵守时刻，一丝不苟。”
“而且脾气急躁，强横霸道，”我补充说，但海论并没有附和，却依然沉默不语。
“坦普尔小姐跟斯卡查德小姐对你一样严厉吗？”
一提到坦普尔小姐的名字，她阴沉的脸上便掠过了一丝温柔的微笑。
“坦普尔小姐非常善良，不忍心对任何人严厉，即使是校里最差的学生。她看到我的错误，便和颜悦色地向我指出。要是我做了值得称赞的事情，她就慷慨地赞扬我。我的本性有严重缺陷，一个有力的证据是，尽管她的规劝那么恰到好处，那么合情合理，却依旧治不了我那些毛病。甚至她的赞扬，虽然我非常看重，却无法激励我始终小心谨慎，高瞻远瞩。”
“那倒是奇怪的，”我说，“要做到小心还不容易。”
“对你说来无疑是这样。早上我仔细观察了你上课时的情形，发现你非常专心。米勒小姐讲解功课，问你问题时，你思想从不开小差。而我的思绪却总是飘忽不定，当我应该听斯卡查德小姐讲课，应该用心把她讲的记住时，我常常连她说话的声音都听不见了。我进入了一种梦境，有时我以为自己到了诺森伯兰郡，以为周围的耳语声，是我家附近流过深谷那条小溪源源的水声，于是轮到我回答时，我得从梦境中被唤醒。而因为倾听着想象中的溪流声，现实中便什么也没有听到，我也就回答不上来了。”
“可是你今天，下午回答得多好！”
“那只是碰巧，因为我对我们读的内容很感兴趣，今天下午我没有梦游深谷，我在纳闷，一个像查理一世那样希望做好事的人，怎么有时会干出那么不义的蠢事来，我想这多可惜，那么正直真诚的人竟看不到皇权以外的东西。要是他能看得远些，看清了所谓时代精神的走向该多好！虽然这样，我还是喜欢查理一世，我尊敬他，我怜惜他，这位可怜的被谋杀的皇帝。不错，他的仇敌最坏，他们让自己没有权利伤害的人流了血，竟敢杀害了他！”
此刻海伦在自言自语了，她忘了我无法很好理解她的话，忘了我对她谈论的话题一无所知，或者差不多如此。我把她拉回到我的水准上来。
“那么坦普尔小姐上课的时候，你也走神吗？”
“当然不是，不常这样。因为坦普尔小姐总是有比我的想法更富有新意的东西要说。她的语言也特别让我喜欢，她所传授的知识常常是我所希望获得的。”
“这么看来，你在坦普尔小姐面前表现很好罗。”
“是的，出于被动。我没有费力气，只是随心所欲而己，这种表现好没有什么了不起。”
“很了不起，别人待你好，你待别人也好。我就一直希望这样做。要是你对那些强横霸道的人，总是客客气气，说啥听啥，那坏人就会为所欲为，就会天不怕地不怕，非但永远不会改，而且会愈变愈坏。要是无缘无故挨打，那我们就要狠狠地回击，肯定得这样，狠到可以教训那个打我们的人，让他再也洗手不干了。”
“我想，等你长大了你的想法会改变的，现在你不过是个没有受过教育的小姑娘。”
“可我是这么感觉的，海伦，那些不管我怎样讨他们欢心，硬是讨厌我的人，我必定会厌恶的。我必须反抗那些无理惩罚我的人。同样自然的是，我会爱那些爱抚我的人，或者当我认为自己该受罚的时候，我会心甘情愿去承受。”
“那是异教徒和野蛮宗族的信条，基督教徒和开化的民族不信这一套。”
“怎么会呢？我不懂。”
“暴力不是消除仇恨的最好办法——同样，报复也绝对医治不了伤害。”
“那么是什么呢？”
“读一读《新约全书》，注意一下基督的言行，把他的话当作你的准绳，把他的行为当你的榜样吧。”
“他怎么说？”
“你们的仇敌要爱他，咒诅你们的要为他祝福，恨你们、凌辱你们的要待他好。”
“那我应当爱里德太太了，这我可做不到；我应当祝福他儿子约翰了，但那根本不可能。”
这回轮到海伦.彭斯要求我解释明白了。我便以自己特有的方式，一五一十地向她诉说了自己的痛苦和愤懑。心里一激动，说话便尖酸刻薄，但我怎么感觉就怎么说，毫不保留，语气也不婉转。
海伦耐心地听完了我的话，我以为她会发表点感想，但她什么也没说。
“好吧，”我耐不住终于问，“难道里德太太不是一个冷酷无情的坏女人吗？”
“毫无疑问，她对你不客气。因为你瞧，她不喜欢你的性格，就像斯卡查德小姐不喜欢我的脾性一样，可是她的言行你却那么耿耿于怀！她的不公好像已经在你心坎里留下了特别深刻的印象！
无论什么虐待都不会在我的情感上烙下这样的印记。要是你忘掉她对你的严厉，忘掉由此而引起的愤慨，你不就会更愉快吗？对我来说，生命似乎太短暂了，不应用来结仇和记恨。人生在世，谁都会有一身罪过，而且必定如此，但我相信，很快就会有这么一天，我们在摆脱腐坏躯体的同时，也会摆脱这些罪过。到那时，堕落与罪过将会随同累赘的肉体离开我们，只留下精神的火花——生命和思想的本源，它像当初离开上帝使万物具有生命时那么纯洁，它从哪里来就回到哪里去，也许又会被传递给比人类更高级的东西一—也许会经过各个荣耀的阶段，从照亮人类的苍白灵魂，到照亮最高级的六翼天使。相反它决不会允许从人类坠落到魔鬼，是吧？是的，我不相信会这样。我持有另一种信条，这种信条没有人教过我，我也很少提起，但我为此感到愉快，我对它坚信不渝，因为它给所有的人都带来了希望。它使永恒成为一种安息，一个宏大的家，而并非恐惧和深渊。此外，有了这个信条，我能够清楚地分辨罪犯和他的罪孽，我可以真诚地宽恕前者，而对后者无比憎恶，有了这个信条，复仇永不会使我操心，坠落不会让我感到过份深恶痛绝，不公平不会把我完全压倒，我平静地生活，期待着末日。”
海伦向来耷拉着脑袋，而讲完这句话时她把头垂得更低了。从她的神态上我知道她不想跟我再谈下去了，而情愿同自己的思想交流。她也没有很多时间可以沉思默想了，马上就来了一位班长，一个又大又粗的姑娘，带着很重的昆布兰口音叫道：
“海伦.彭斯，要是这会儿你不去整理抽屉，收拾你的针线活儿，我要告诉斯卡查德小姐，请她来看看了。”
海伦的幻想烟消云散，她长叹一声，站了起来，没有回答，也没有耽搁，便服从了这位班长。
Chapter 7
MY first quarter at Lowood seemed an age; and not the golden age either; it comprised an irksome struggle with difficulties in habituating myself to new rules and unwonted tasks. The fear of failure in these points harassed me worse than the physical hardships of my lot; though these were no trifles. During January, February, and part of March, the deep snows, and, after their melting, the almost impassable roads, prevented our stirring beyond the garden walls, except to go to church; but within these limits we had to pass an hour every day in the open air. Our clothing was insufficient to protect us from the severe cold: we had no boots, the snow got into our shoes and melted there: our ungloved hands became numbed and covered with chilblains, as were our feet: I remember well the distracting irritation I endured from this cause every evening, when my feet inflamed; and the torture of thrusting the swelled, raw, and stiff toes into my shoes in the morning. Then the scanty supply of food was distressing: with the keen appetites of growing children, we had scarcely sufficient to keep alive a delicate invalid. 
From this deficiency of nourishment resulted an abuse, which pressed hardly on the younger pupils: whenever the famished great girls had an opportunity, they would coax or menace the little ones out of their portion. Many a time I have shared between two claimants the precious morsel of brown bread distributed at teatime; and after relinquishing to a third half the contents of my mug of coffee, I have swallowed the remainder with an accompaniment of secret tears, forced from me by the exigency of hunger.
Sundays were dreary days in that wintry season. We had to walk two miles to Brocklebridge Church, where our patron officiated. We set out cold, we arrived at church colder: during the morning service we became almost paralysed. It was too far to return to dinner, and an allowance of cold meat and bread, in the same penurious proportion observed in our ordinary meals, was served round between the services.
At the close of the afternoon service we returned by an exposed and hilly road, where the bitter winter wind, blowing over a range of snowy summits to the north, almost flayed the skin from our faces.
I can remember Miss Temple walking lightly and rapidly along our drooping line, her plaid cloak, which the frosty wind fluttered, gathered close about her, and encouraging us, by precept and example, to keep up our spirits, and march forward, as she said, 'like stalwart soldiers.' The other teachers, poor things, were generally themselves too much dejected to attempt the task of cheering others.
How we longed for the light and heat of a blazing fire when we got back! But, to the little ones at least, this was denied: each hearth in the schoolroom was immediately surrounded by a double row of great girls, and behind them the younger children crouched in groups, wrapping their starved arms in their pinafores.
A little solace came at tea-time, in the shape of a double ration of bread- a whole, instead of a half, slice- with the delicious addition of a thin scrape of butter: it was the hebdomadal treat to which we all looked forward from Sabbath to Sabbath. I generally contrived to reserve a moiety of this bounteous repast for myself; but the remainder I was invariably obliged to part with.
The Sunday evening was spent in repeating, by heart, the Church Catechism, and the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of St. Matthew; and in listening to a long sermon, read by Miss Miller, whose irrepressible yawns attested her weariness. A frequent interlude of these performances was the enactment of the part of Eutychus by some half-dozen of little girls, who, overpowered with sleep, would fall down, if not out of the third loft, yet off the fourth form, and be taken up half dead. The remedy was, to thrust them forward into the centre of the schoolroom, and oblige them to stand there till the sermon was finished. Sometimes their feet failed them, and they sank together in a heap; they were then propped up with the monitors' high stools.
I have not yet alluded to the visits of Mr. Brocklehurst; and indeed that gentleman was from home during the greater part of the first month after my arrival; perhaps prolonging his stay with his friend the archdeacon: his absence was a relief to me. I need not say that I had my own reasons for dreading his coming: but come he did at last.
One afternoon (I had then been three weeks at Lowood), as I was sitting with a slate in my hand, puzzling over a sum in long division, my eyes, raised in abstraction to the window, caught sight of a figure just passing: I recognised almost instinctively that gaunt outline; and when, two minutes after, all the school, teachers included, rose en masse, it was not  necessary for me to look up in order to ascertain whose entrance they thus greeted. A long stride measured the schoolroom, and presently beside Miss Temple, who herself had risen, stood the same black column which had frowned on me so ominously from the hearthrug of Gateshead. I now glanced sideways at this piece of architecture. Yes, I was right: it was Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned up in a surtout, and looking longer, narrower, and more rigid than ever.
I had my own reasons for being dismayed at this apparition; too well I remembered the perfidious hints given by Mrs. Reed about my disposition, etc.; the promise pledged by Mr. Brocklehurst to apprise Miss Temple and the teachers of my vicious nature. All along I had been dreading the fulfilment of this promise,- I had been looking out daily for the 'Coming Man,' whose information respecting my past life and conversation was to brand me as a bad child for ever: now there he was.
He stood at Miss Temple's side; he was speaking low in her ear: I did not doubt he was making disclosures of my villainy; and I watched her eye with painful anxiety, expecting every moment to see its dark orb turn on me a glance of repugnance and contempt. I listened too; and as I happened to be seated quite at the top of the room, I caught most of what he said: its import relieved me from immediate apprehension.
'I suppose, Miss Temple, the thread I bought at Lowton will do; it struck me that it would be just of the quality for the calico chemises, and I sorted the needles to match. You may tell Miss Smith that I forgot to make a memorandum of the darning needles, but she shall have some papers sent in next week; and she is not, on any account, to give out more than one at a time to each pupil: if they have more, they are apt to be careless and lose them. And, O ma'am! I wish the woollen stockings were better looked to!- when I was here last, I went into the kitchen-garden and examined the clothes drying on the line; there was a quantity of black hose in a very bad state of repair: from the size of the holes in them I was sure they had not been well mended from time to time.' He paused.
'Your directions shall be attended to, sir,' said Miss Temple. 'And, ma'am,' he continued, 'the laundress tells me some of the girls have two clean tuckers in the week: it is too much; the rules limit them to one.'
'I think I can explain that circumstance, sir. Agnes and Catherine Johnstone were invited to take tea with some friends at Lowton last Thursday, and I gave them leave to put on clean tuckers for the occasion.'
Mr. Brocklehurst nodded.
'Well, for once it may pass; but please not to let the circumstance occur too often. And there is another thing which surprised me; I find, in settling accounts with the housekeeper, that a lunch, consisting of bread and cheese, has twice been served out to the girls during the past fortnight. How is this? I looked over the regulations, and I find no such meal as lunch mentioned. Who introduced this innovation? and by what authority?'
'I must be responsible for the circumstance, sir,' replied Miss Temple: 'the breakfast was so ill prepared that the pupils could not possibly eat it; and I dared not allow them to remain fasting till dinner-time.'
'Madam, allow me an instant. You are aware that my plan in bringing up these girls is, not to accustom them to habits of luxury and indulgence, but to render them hardy, patient, self-denying. Should any little accidental disappointment of the appetite occur, such as the spoiling of a meal, the under or the over dressing of a dish, the incident ought not to be neutralised by replacing with something more delicate the comfort lost, thus pampering the body and obviating the aim of this institution; it ought to be improved to the spiritual edification of the pupils, by encouraging them to evince fortitude under the temporary privation. A brief address on those occasions would not be mistimed, wherein a judicious instructor would take the opportunity of referring to the sufferings of the primitive Christians; to the torments of martyrs; to the exhortations of our blessed Lord Himself, calling upon His disciples to take up their cross and follow Him; to His warnings that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God; to His divine consolations, "If ye suffer hunger or thirst for My sake, happy are ye." Oh, madam, when you put bread and cheese, instead of burnt porridge, into these children's mouths, you may indeed feed their vile bodies, but you little think how you starve their immortal souls!'
Mr. Brocklehurst again paused- perhaps overcome by his feelings. Miss Temple had looked down when he first began to speak to her; but she now gazed straight before her, and her face, naturally pale as marble, appeared to be assuming also the coldness and fixity of that material; especially her mouth, closed as if it would have required a sculptor's chisel to open it, and her brow settled gradually into petrified severity.
Meantime, Mr. Brocklehurst, standing on the hearth with his hands behind his back, majestically surveyed the whole school. Suddenly his eye gave a blink, as if it had met something that either dazzled or shocked its pupil; turning, he said in more rapid accents than he had hitherto used-
'Miss Temple, Miss Temple, what- what is that girl with curled hair? Red hair, ma'am, curled- curled all over?' And extending his cane he pointed to the awful object, his hand shaking as he did so. 
'It is Julia Severn,' replied Miss Temple, very quietly.
'Julia Severn, ma'am! And why has she, or any other, curled hair? Why, in defiance of every precept and principle of this house, does she conform to the world so openly- here in an evangelical, charitable establishment- as to wear her hair one mass of curls?'
'Julia's hair curls naturally,' returned Miss Temple, still more quietly.
'Naturally! Yes, but we are not to conform to nature; I wish these girls to be the children of Grace: and why that abundance? I have again and again intimated that I desire the hair to be arranged closely, modestly, plainly. Miss Temple, that girl's hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber tomorrow: and I see others who have far too much of the excrescence- that tall girl, tell her to turn round. Tell all the first form to rise up and direct their faces to the wall.'
Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips, as if to smooth away the involuntary smile that curled them; she gave the order, however, and when the first class could take in what was required of them, they obeyed. Leaning a little back on my bench, I could see the looks and grimaces with which they commented on this manoeuvre: it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see them too; he would perhaps have felt that, whatever he might do with the outside of the cup and platter, the inside was further beyond his interference than he imagined. 
He scrutinised the reverse of these living medals some five minutes, then pronounced sentence. These words fell like the knell of doom-
'All those top-knots must be cut off.'
Miss Temple seemed to remonstrate.
'Madam,' he pursued, 'I have a Master to serve whose kingdom is not of this world: my mission is to mortify in these girls the lusts of the flesh; to teach them to clothe themselves with shame-facedness and sobriety, not with braided hair and costly apparel; and each of the young persons before us has a string of hair twisted in plaits which vanity itself might have woven; these, I repeat, must be cut off; think of the time wasted, of-' Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered the room. They ought to have come a little sooner to have heard his lecture on dress, for they were splendidly attired in velvet, silk, and furs. The two younger of the trio (fine girls of sixteen and seventeen) had grey beaver hats, then in fashion, shaded with ostrich plumes, and from under the brim of this graceful head-dress fell a profusion of light tresses, elaborately curled; the elder lady was enveloped in a costly velvet shawl, trimmed with ermine, and she wore a false front of French curls.
These ladies were deferentially received by Miss Temple, as Mrs. and the Misses Brocklehurst, and conducted to seats of honour at the top of the room. It seems they had come in the carriage with their reverend relative, and had been conducting a rummaging scrutiny of the room upstairs, while he transacted business with the housekeeper, questioned the laundress, and lectured the superintendent. They now proceeded to address divers remarks and reproofs to Miss Smith, who was charged with the care of the linen and the inspection of the dormitories: but I had no time to listen to what they said; other matters called off and enchained my attention.
Hitherto, while gathering up the discourse of Mr. Brocklehurst and Miss Temple, I had not, at the same time, neglected precautions to secure my personal safety; which I thought would be effected, if I could only elude observation. To this end, I had sat well back on the form, and while seeming to be busy with my sum, had held my slate in such a manner as to conceal my face: I might have escaped notice, had not my treacherous slate somehow happened to slip from my hand, and falling with an obtrusive crash, directly drawn every eye upon me; I knew it was all over now, and, as I stooped to pick up the two fragments of slate, I rallied my forces for the worst. It came.
'A careless girl!' said Mr. Brocklehurst, and immediately after- 'It is the new pupil, I perceive.' And before I could draw breath, 'I must not forget I have a word to say respecting her.' Then aloud: how loud it seemed to me! 'Let the child who broke her slate come forward!'
Of my own accord I could not have stirred; I was paralysed: but the two great girls who sat on each side of me, set me on my legs and pushed me towards the dread judge, and then Miss Temple gently assisted me to his very feet, and I caught her whispered counsel-
'Don't be afraid, Jane, I saw it was an accident; you shall not be punished.'The kind whisper went to my heart like a dagger. 
'Another minute, and she will despise me for a hypocrite,' thought I; and an impulse of fury against Reed, Brocklehurst, and Co. bounded in my pulses at the conviction. 
I was no Helen Burns.
'Fetch that stool,' said Mr. Brocklehurst, pointing to a very high one from which a monitor had just risen: it was brought. 'Place the child upon it.'
And I was placed there, by whom I don't know: I was in no condition to note particulars; I was only aware that they had hoisted me up to the height of Mr. Brocklehurst's nose, that he was within a yard of me, and that a spread of shot orange and purple silk pelisses and a cloud of silvery plumage extended and waved below me.
Mr. Brocklehurst hemmed.
'Ladies,' said he, turning to his family, 'Miss Temple, teachers, and children, you all see this girl?'
Of course they did; for I felt their eyes directed like burning-glasses against my scorched skin.
'You see she is yet young; you observe she possesses the ordinary form of childhood; God has graciously given her the shape that He has given to all of us; no signal deformity points her out as a marked character. Who would think that the Evil One had already found a servant and agent in her? Yet such, I grieve to say, is the case.'
A pause- in which I began to steady the palsy of my nerves, and to feel that the Rubicon was passed; and that the trial, no longer to be shirked, must be firmly sustained.
'My dear children,' pursued the black marble clergyman, with pathos, 'this is a sad, a melancholy occasion; for it becomes my duty to warn you, that this girl, who might be one of God's own lambs, is a little castaway: not a member of the true flock, but evidently an interloper and an alien. You must be on your guard against her; you must shun her example; if necessary, avoid her company, exclude her from your sports, and shut her out from your converse. Teachers, you must watch her: keep your eyes on her movements, weigh well her words, scrutinise her actions, punish her body to save her soul: if, indeed, such salvation be possible, for (my tongue falters while I tell it) this girl, this child, the native of a Christian land, worse than many a little heathen who says its prayers to Brahma and kneels before Juggernaut- this girl is- a liar!'
Now came a pause of ten minutes, during which I, by this time in perfect possession of my wits, observed all the female Brocklehursts produce their pocket-handkerchiefs and apply them to their optics, while the elderly lady swayed herself to and fro, and the two younger ones whispered, 'How shocking!'
Mr. Brocklehurst resumed.
'This I learned from her benefactress; from the pious and charitable lady who adopted her in her orphan state, reared her as her own daughter, and whose kindness, whose generosity the unhappy girl repaid by an ingratitude so bad, so dreadful, that at last her excellent patroness was obliged to separate her from her own young ones, fearful lest her vicious example should contaminate their purity: she has sent her here to be healed, even as the Jews of old sent their diseased to the troubled pool of Bethesda; and, teachers, superintendent, I beg of you not to allow the waters to stagnate round her.'
With this sublime conclusion, Mr. Brocklehurst adjusted the top button of his surtout, muttered something to his family, who rose, bowed to Miss Temple, and then all the great people sailed in state from the room. Turning at the door, my judge said- 'Let her stand half an hour longer on that stool, and let no one speak to her during the remainder of the day.'
There was I, then, mounted aloft; I, who had said I could not bear the shame of standing on my natural feet in the middle of the room, was now exposed to general view on a pedestal of infamy. What my sensations were, no language can describe; but just as they all rose, stifling my breath and constricting my throat, a girl came up and passed me: in passing, she lifted her eyes. What a strange light inspired them! What an extraordinary sensation that ray sent through me! How the new feeling bore me up! It was as if a martyr, a hero, had passed a slave or victim, and imparted strength in the transit. I mastered the rising hysteria, lifted up my head, and took a firm stand on the stool. Helen Burns asked some slight questions about her work of Miss Smith, was chidden for the triviality of the inquiry, returned to her place, and smiled at me as she again went by. What a smile! I remember it now, and I know that it was the effluence of fine intellect, of true courage; it lit up her marked lineaments, her thin face, her sunken grey eye, like a reflection from the aspect of an angel. Yet at that moment Helen Burns wore on her arm 'the untidy badge;' scarcely an hour ago I had heard her condemned by Miss Scatcherd to a dinner of bread and water on the morrow because she had blotted an exercise in copying it out. 
Such is the imperfect nature of man! such spots are there on the disc of the clearest planet; and eyes like Miss Scatcherd's can only see those minute defects, and are blind to the full brightness of the orb. 
在罗沃德度过的一个季度，仿佛是一个时代，而且并不是黄金时代。我得经历一场恼人的搏斗，来克服困难，适应新的规矩和不熟悉的工作。我担心这方面出错。为此所受的折磨，甚过于我命里注定肉体上要承受的艰苦，虽说艰苦也并不是小事。
在一月、二月和三月的部分日子里，由于厚厚的积雪，以及化雪后道路几乎不通，我们的活动除了去教堂，便被困在花园的围墙之内了。但就在这个牢笼内，每天仍得在户外度过一小时。我们的衣服不足以御寒。大家没有靴子，雪灌进了鞋子，并在里面融化。我们没有手套，手都冻僵了，像脚上一样，长满了冻疮。每晚我的双脚红肿，早上又得把肿胀、疼痛和僵硬的脚趾伸进鞋子，一时痛痒难熬，至今记忆犹新。食品供应不足也令人沮丧，这些孩子都正是长身体的年纪，胃口很好，而吃的东西却难以养活一个虚弱的病人。营养缺乏带来了不良习气，这可苦了年纪较小的学生。饥肠辘辘的大龄女生一有机会，便连哄带吓，从幼小学生的份里弄到点吃的。有很多回，我在吃茶点时把那一口宝贵的黑面包分给两位讨食者，而把半杯咖啡给了第三位，自己便狼吞虎唱地把剩下的吃掉，一面因为饿得发慌而暗暗落泪。
冬季的星期日沉闷乏味。我们得走上两里路，到保护人所主持的布罗克布里奇教堂去。出发的时候很冷，到达的时刻就更冷了。早祷时我们几乎都已冻僵，这儿离校太远，不能回去用饭，两次祷告之间便吃一份冷肉和面包，份量也跟平时的饭食一样，少得可怜。
下午的祷告结束以后，我们沿着一条无遮无拦的山路回校。刺骨的寒风，吹过大雪覆盖的山峰，刮向北边来，几乎要从我们的脸上刮去一层皮。
我至今仍然记得，坦普尔小姐轻快地走在我们萎靡不振的队伍旁边，寒风吹得她的花呢斗篷紧贴在身上。她一面训导，一面以身作则，鼓励我们振作精神，照她所说的，“像不屈不挠的战士”那样奋勇前进。可怜的其他教师，大都自己也十分颓丧，更不想为别人鼓劲了。
回校以后，我们多么渴望熊熊炉火发出的光和热！但至少对年幼学生来说，并没有这福份。教室里的每个壁炉立刻被两排大姑娘围住，小一点的孩子只好成群蹲在她们身后，用围涎裹着冻僵了的胳膊。
吃茶点时，我们才得到些许安慰，发给了双份面包——一整片而不是半片——附加薄薄一层可口的黄油，这是一周一次的享受，一个安息日复一个安息日，大家都翘首企盼着。通常我只能把这美餐的一部分留给自己，其余的便总是不得不分给别人。
星期天晚上我们要背诵教堂的教义问答和《马太福音》的第五、六、七章，还要听米勒小姐冗长的讲道，她禁不住哈欠连天，证明她也倦了。在这些表演中间，经常有一个插曲，六、七个小姑娘总要扮演犹推古的角色，她们因为困倦不堪，虽然不是从三楼上而是从第四排长凳上摔下来，扶起来时也已经半死了。补救办法是把她们硬塞到教室的中间，迫使她们一直站着，直至讲道结束。有时她们的双脚不听使唤，瘫下来缩作一团，于是便不得不用班长的高凳把她们支撑起来。
我还没有提到布罗克赫斯特先生的造访，其实这位先生在我抵达后第一个月的大部分日子里，都不在家，也许他在朋友副主教那里多逗留了些时间。他不在倒使我松了口气，不必说我自有怕他来的理由，但他终究还是来了。
一天下午（那时我到罗沃德已经三星期了），我手里拿了块写字板坐着，正为长除法中的一个总数发窘，眼睛呆呆地望着窗外，看到有一个人影闪过。我几乎本能地认出了这瘦瘦的轮廓。因此两分钟后，整个学校的人，包括教师在内都全体起立时，我没有必要抬起头来后过究竟，便知道他们在迎接谁进屋了。这人大步流星走进教室。眨眼之间，在早已起立的坦普尔小姐身边，便竖起了同一根黑色大柱，就是这根柱子曾在盖茨黑德的壁炉地毯上不祥地对我皱过眉。这时我侧目瞟了一眼这个建筑物。对，我没有看错，就是那个布罗克赫斯特先生，穿着紧身长外衣，扣紧了钮扣，看上去越发修长、狭窄和刻板了。
见到这个幽灵，我有理由感到丧气。我记得清清楚楚，里德太太曾恶意地暗示过我的品行等等，布罗克赫斯特先生曾答应把我的恶劣本性告诉坦普尔小姐和教师们。我一直害怕这一诺言会得到实现——每天都提防着这个“行将到来的人”。他的谈话和对我往事的透露，会使我一辈子落下个坏孩子的恶名，而现在他终于来了。他站在坦普尔小姐身旁，跟她在小声耳语。毫无疑问他在说我坏话，我急切而痛苦地注视着她的目光，无时无刻不期待着她乌黑的眸子转向我，投来厌恶与蔑视的一瞥。我也细听着，因为碰巧坐在最靠房子头上的地方，所以他说的话，一大半都听得见。谈话的内容消除了我眼前的忧虑。
“坦普尔小姐，我想在洛顿买的线是管用的，质地正适合做白布衬衣用，我还挑选了同它相配的针。请你告诉史密斯小姐，我忘掉了买织补针的事。不过下星期我会派人送些纸来，给每个学生的一次不得超过一张，给多了，她们容易粗枝大叶，把它们弄丢了。啊，小姐！但愿你们的羊毛袜子能照看得好些！上次我来这里的时候到菜园子里转了一下，仔细瞧了瞧晾在绳子上的衣服，看见有不少黑色长袜都该补了，从破洞的大小来看，肯定一次次都没有好好修补。”
他顿了一下。
“你的指示一定执行，先生，”坦普尔小姐说。
“还有，小姐，”他继续说下去，“洗衣女工告诉我，有些姑娘一周用两块清洁的领布。这太多了，按规定，限制在一块。”
“我想这件事我可以解释一下，先生。上星期四，艾格妮丝和凯瑟琳.约翰斯通应朋友邀请，上洛顿去用茶点，我允许她们在这种场合戴上干净的领布。”
布罗克赫斯特先生点了点头。
“好吧，这一次就算了，但是请不要让这种情况经常发生。还有另一件事也叫我吃惊，我跟管家结帐，发现上两个星期，两次给姑娘们供应了点心，吃了面包奶酪，这是怎么回事？我查了一下规定，没有发现里面提到过点心之类的饭食。是谁搞的改革？又得到了谁的批准？”
“我必须对这一情况负责，先生，”坦普尔小姐回答说。“早饭烧得很糟糕，学生们都咽不下去。我不敢让她们一直饿看肚子到吃中饭。”
“小姐，请允许我说上片刻——你该清楚，我培养这些姑娘，不是打算让她们养成娇奢纵欲的习惯，而是使她们刻苦耐劳，善于忍耐，严于克己，要是偶尔有不合胃口的小事发生，譬如一顿饭烧坏了，一个菜作料加少了或者加多了，不应当用更可口的东西代替失去的享乐，来加以补救。那样只会娇纵肉体，偏离这所学校的办学目的。这件事应当用来在精神上开导学生，鼓励她们在暂时困难情况下，发扬坚韧不拔的精神。在这种场合，该不失时宜地发表一个简短的讲话。一位有识见的导师会抓住机会，说一下早期基督徒所受的苦难；说一下殉道者经受的折磨；说一下我们神圣的基督本人的规劝，召唤使徒们背起十字架跟他走；说一下他给予的警告：人活着不是单靠食物，乃是靠上帝口里所说出的一切话；说一下他神圣的安慰‘饥渴慕义的人有福了。’啊，小姐，当你不是把烧焦的粥，而是把面包和奶酪放进孩子们嘴里的时候，你也许是在喂她们邪恶的肉体，而你却没有想到，你在使她们不朽的灵魂挨饿！”
布罗克赫斯特先生又顿了一下，也许是感情太冲动的缘故。他开始讲话时，坦普尔小姐一直低着头，但这会儿眼睛却直视前方。她生来白得像大理石的脸，似乎透出了大理石所特有的冷漠与坚定，尤其是她的嘴巴紧闭着，仿佛只有用雕刻家的凿子才能把它打开，眉宇间渐渐地蒙上了一种凝固了似的严厉神色。
与此同时，布罗克赫斯特先生倒背着双手站在炉子跟前，威风凛凛地审视着全校。突然他眼睛眨了一下，好像碰上了什么耀眼刺目的东西，转过身来，用比刚才更急促的语调说：“坦普尔小姐，坦普尔小姐，那个，那个卷发姑娘是怎么回事？红头发，小姐，怎么卷过了，满头都是卷发？”他用鞭子指着那可怕的东西，他的手抖动着。
“那是朱莉娅.塞弗恩，”坦普尔小姐平静地回答。
“朱利娅.塞弗恩，小姐！为什么她，或是别人，烫起卷发来了？她竟然在我们这个福音派慈善机构里，无视学校的训戒和原则，公开媚俗，烫了一头卷发，这是为什么？”
“朱莉娅的头发天生就是卷的，”坦普尔小姐更加平静地回答。
“天生！不错，但我们不能迁就天性。我希望这些姑娘是受上帝恩惠的孩子，再说何必要留那么多头发？我一再表示我希望头发要剪短，要朴实，要简单。坦普尔小姐，那个姑娘的头发必须统统剪掉，明天我会派个理发匠来。我看见其他人头上的那个累赘物也太多了——那个高个子姑娘，叫她转过身来。叫第一班全体起立，转过脸去朝墙站着。”
坦普尔小姐用手帕揩了一下嘴唇，仿佛要抹去嘴角上情不自禁的笑容。不过她还是下了命令。第一班学生弄明白对她们的要求之后，也都服从了。我坐在长凳上，身子微微后仰，可以看得见大家挤眉弄眼，做出各种表情，对这种调遣表示了不满。可惜布罗克赫斯特先生没有能看到，要不然他也许会感受到，他纵然可以摆布杯盘的外表，但其内部，却远非他所想的那样可以随意干涉了。
他把这些活奖章的背面细细打量了大约五分钟，随后宣布了判决，他的话如丧钟般响了起来：
“头上的顶髻都得剪掉。”
坦普尔小姐似乎在抗辩。
“小姐”他进而说，“我要为主效劳，他的王国并不是这个世界。我的使命是节制这些姑娘的肉欲，教导她们衣着要谦卑克制，不梳辫子，不穿贵重衣服。而我们面前的每个年轻人，出于虚荣都把一束束头发编成了辫子。我再说一遍，这些头发必须剪掉，想一想为此而浪费的时间，想……”
布罗克赫斯特先生说到这儿被打断了。另外三位来访者，都是女的，此刻进了房间。他们来得再早一点就好了，赶得上聆听他关于服饰的高论。她们穿着华丽，一身丝绒、绸缎和毛皮。二位中的两位年轻的（十六、七岁的漂亮姑娘）戴着当时十分时鳍一笑。多好的微笑！我至今还记得，而且知道，这是睿智和真正的勇气的流露，它像天使脸上的反光一样，照亮了她富有特征的面容、瘦削的脸庞和深陷的灰眼睛。然而就在那一刻，海伦.彭斯的胳膊上还佩戴着“不整洁标记”；不到一小时之前我听见斯卡查德小姐罚她明天中饭只吃面包和清水，就因为她在抄写习题时弄脏了练习簿。人的天性就是这样的不完美！即使是最明亮的行星也有这类黑斑，而斯卡查德小姐这样的眼睛只能看到细微的缺陷，却对星球的万丈光芒视而不见。 
“好粗心的姑娘！”布罗克赫斯特先生说，随后立刻又说，“是个新来的学生，我看出来了，”我还没喘过气来，他又说下去，“我可别忘了，有句关于她的话要说，”随后大着嗓门说。在我听来，那声音有多响啊！“让那个打破写字板的孩子到前面来！”
我自己已经无法动弹了，我瘫了下来。可是坐在我两边的两个大姑娘，扶我站了起来，把我推向那位可怖的法官。随后坦普尔小姐轻轻地搀着我来到他的脚跟前，我听见她小声地劝导我：
“别怕，简，我知道这不是故意的，你不会受罚。”
这善意的耳语像匕首一样直刺我心扉。
“再过一分钟，她就会把我当作伪君子而瞧不起我了，”我想。一想到这点，心中便激起了一腔怒火，冲着里德太太和布罗克赫斯特一伙们，我可不是海伦.彭斯。
“把那条凳子拿来，”布罗克赫斯特先生指着一条很高的凳子说一位班长刚从那儿站起来。凳子给端来了。
“把这孩子放上去。”
我被抱到了凳子上，是谁抱的，我并不知道，我已经不可能去注意细枝末节了。我只知道他们把我摆到了跟布罗克赫斯特先生鼻子一般高的地方；知道他离我只有一码远；知道在我下面，一片桔黄色和紫色的闪缎饰皮外衣和浓雾般银色的羽毛在扩展，在飘拂。
布罗克赫斯特先生清了清嗓子。
“女士们，”他说着转向他的家人，“坦普尔小姐，教师们和孩子们，你们都看到了这个女孩子了吧？”
她们当然是看到了。我觉到她们的眼睛像凸透镜那样对准了我烧灼的皮肤。
“你们瞧，她还很小。你们看到了，她的外貌与一般孩子没有什么两样，上帝仁慈地把赐与我们大家的外形，一样赐给了她，没有什么明显的残疾表明她是个特殊人物。谁能想到魔鬼已经在她身上找到了一个奴仆和代理人呢？而我痛心地说，这就是事实。”
他又停顿了一下。在这间隙，我开始让自己紧张的神经稳定下来，并觉得鲁比孔河已经渡过，既然审判已无法回避，那就只得硬着头去忍受了。
“我的可爱的孩子们，”这位黑大理石般的牧师悲切地继续说下去，“这是一个悲哀而令人忧伤的场合，因为我有责任告诫大家，这个本可以成为上帝自己羔羊的女孩子，是个小小的被遗弃者，不属于真正的羊群中的一员，而显然是一个闯入者，一个异己。你们必须提防她，不要学她样子。必要的话避免与她作伴，不要同她一起游戏，不要与她交谈。教师们，你们必须看住她，注意她的行踪，掂量她的话语，监视她的行动，惩罚她的肉体以拯救她的灵魂，如果有可能挽救的话，因为（我实在说不出口），这个姑娘，这个孩子，基督国土上的本地子民，比很多向梵天祈祷，向讫里什那神像跪拜的小异教徒还坏，这个女孩子是一个——说谎者！”
这时开始了十分钟的停顿。而此时我己经镇定自若，看到布罗克赫斯特家的三个女人都拿出了手帕，揩了揩眼镜，年长的一位身子前后摇晃着，年轻的两位耳语着说：“多可怕！”
布罗克赫斯特先生继续说。
“我是从她的恩人，一位廉诚慈善的太太那儿知道的。她成了孤儿的时候，是这位太太收养了她，把她作为亲生女儿来养育。这位不幸的姑娘竟以忘恩负义来报答她的善良和慷慨。这种行为那么恶劣，那么可怕，那位出色的恩主终于不得不把她同自己幼小的孩子们分开，生怕她的坏样子会沾污他们的纯洁。她被送到这里来治疗，就像古时的犹太人把病人送往毕士大搅动着的池水中一样。教师们，校长们，我请求你们不要让她周围成为一潭死水。”
说了这样精彩的结语以后，布罗克赫斯特先生整了一下长大衣最上头的一个钮扣，同他的家属嘀咕了几句，后者站起来，向坦普尔小姐鞠了一躬。随后所有的大人物都堂而皇之地走出了房间。
在门边拐弯时，我的这位法官说：
“让她在那条凳子上再站半个小时，在今天的其余时间里，不要同她说话。”
于是我就这么高高地站着。而我曾说过，我不能忍受双脚站立于房间正中的耻辱，但此刻我却站在耻辱台上示众。我的感触非语言所能形容。但是正当全体起立，使我呼吸困难，喉头紧缩的时候，一位姑娘走上前来，从我身边经过。她在走过时抬起了眼睛。那双眼睛闪着多么奇怪的光芒！那道光芒使我浑身充满了一种多么异乎寻常的感觉！这种新感觉给予我多大的支持！仿佛一位殉道者、一个英雄走过一个奴隶或者牺牲者的身边，刹那之间把力量也传给了他。我控制住了正待发作的歇斯底里，抬起头来，坚定地站在凳子上。海伦.彭斯问了史密斯小姐某个关于她作业的小问题，因为问题琐碎而被申斥了一通。她回到自己的位置上去时，再次走过我，对我微微一笑。多好的微笑！我至今还记得，而且知道，这是睿智和真正的勇气的流露，它像天使脸上的反光一样，照亮了她富有特征的面容、瘦削的脸庞和深陷的灰眼睛。然而就在那一刻，海伦.彭斯的胳膊上还佩戴着“不整洁标记”；不到一小时之前我听见斯卡查德小姐罚她明天中饭只吃面包和清水，就因为她在抄写习题时弄脏了练习簿。人的天性就是这样的不完美！即使是最明亮的行星也有这类黑斑，而斯卡查德小姐这样的眼睛只能看到细微的缺陷，却对星球的万丈光芒视而不见。 
Chapter 8
ERE the half-hour ended, five o'clock struck; school was dismissed, and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I now ventured to descend: it was deep dusk; I retired into a corner and sat down on the floor. The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sank prostrate with my face to the ground. Now I wept: Helen Burns was not here; nothing sustained me; left to myself I abandoned myself, and my tears watered the boards. I had meant to be so good, and to do so much at Lowood: to make so many friends, to earn respect and win affection. Already I had made visible progress; that very morning I had reached the head of my class; Miss Miller had praised me warmly; Miss Temple had smiled approbation; she had promised to teach me drawing, and to let me learn French, if I continued to make similar improvement two months longer: and then I was well received by my fellow-pupils; treated as an equal by those of my own age, and not molested by any; now, here I lay again crushed and trodden on; and could I ever rise more?'Never,' I thought; and ardently I wished to die. While sobbing out this wish in broken accents, some one approached: I started up- again Helen Burns was near me; the fading fires just showed her coming up the long, vacant room; she brought my coffee and bread.
'Come, eat something,' she said; but I put both away from me, feeling as if a drop or a crumb would have choked me in my present condition. Helen regarded me, probably with surprise: I could not now abate my agitation, though I tried hard; I continued to weep aloud. She sat down on the ground near me, embraced her knees with her arms, and rested her head upon them; in that attitude she remained silent as an Indian. I was the first who spoke-
'Helen, why do you stay with a girl whom everybody believes to be a liar?'
'Everybody, Jane? Why, there are only eighty people who have heard you called so, and the world contains hundreds of millions.'
'But what have I to do with millions? The eighty, I know, despise me.'
'Jane, you are mistaken: probably not one in the school either despises or dislikes you: many, I am sure, pity you much.'
'How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said?'
'Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired man; he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself liked. Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies, declared or covert, all around you; as it is, the greater number would offer you sympathy if they dared.
Teachers and pupils may look coldly on you for a day or two, but friendly feelings are concealed in their hearts; and if you persevere in doing well, these feelings will ere long appear so much the more evidently for their temporary suppression. Besides, Jane'- she paused.
'Well, Helen?' said I, putting my hand into hers: she chafed my fingers gently to warm them, and went on-'If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.'
'No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don't love me I would rather die than live- I cannot bear to be solitary and hated, Helen. 
Look here; to gain some real affection from you, or Miss Temple, or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest-'
'Hush, Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you are too impulsive, too vehement; the sovereign hand that created your frame, and put life into it, has provided you with other resources than your feeble self, or than creatures feeble as you.
Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognise our innocence (if innocent we be: as I know you are of this chargewhich Mr. Brocklehurst has weakly and pompously repeated at secondhand from Mrs. Reed; for I read a sincere nature in your ardent eyes and on your clear front), and God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward. Why, then, should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon over, and death is so certain an entrance to happiness- to glory?'
I was silent; Helen had calmed me; but in the tranquillity she imparted there was an alloy of inexpressible sadness. I felt the impression of woe as she spoke, but I could not tell whence it came; and when, having done speaking, she breathed a little fast and  coughed a short cough, I momentarily forgot my own sorrows to yield to a vague concern for her.
Resting my head on Helen's shoulder, I put my arms round her waist; she drew me to her, and we reposed in silence. We had not sat long thus, when another person came in. Some heavy clouds, swept from the sky by a rising wind, had left the moon bare; and her light, streaming in through a window near, shone full both on us and on the approaching figure, which we at once recognised as Miss Temple.
'I came on purpose to find you, Jane Eyre,' said she; 'I want you in my room; and as Helen Burns is with you, she may come too.' 
We went; following the superintendent's guidance, we had to thread some intricate passages, and mount a staircase before we reached her apartment; it contained a good fire, and looked cheerful. Miss Temple told Helen Burns to be seated in a low arm-chair on one side of the hearth, and herself taking another, she called me to her side.
'Is it all over?' she asked, looking down at my face. 'Have you cried your grief away?'
'I am afraid I never shall do that.'
'Why?'
'Because I have been wrongly accused; and you, ma'am, and everybody else, will now think me wicked.'
'We shall think you what you prove yourself to be, my child.
Continue to act as a good girl, and you will satisfy us.'
'Shall I, Miss Temple?'
'You will,' said she, passing her arm round me. 'And now tell me who is the lady whom Mr. Brocklehurst called your benefactress?'
'Mrs. Reed, my uncle's wife. My uncle is dead, and he left me to her care.'
'Did she not, then, adopt you of her own accord?'
'No, ma'am; she was sorry to have to do it: but my uncle, as I have often heard the servants say, got her to promise before he died that she would always keep me.'
'Well now, Jane, you know, or at least I will tell you, that when a criminal is accused, he is always allowed to speak in his own defence.
You have been charged with falsehood; defend yourself to me as well as you can. Say whatever your memory suggests as true; but add nothing and exaggerate nothing.'
I resolved, in the depth of my heart, that I would be most moderate- most correct; and, having reflected a few minutes in order to arrange coherently what I had to say, I told her all the story of my sad childhood. Exhausted by emotion, my language was more subdued than it generally was when it developed that sad theme; and mindful of Helen's warnings against the indulgence of resentment, I infused into the narrative far less of gall and wormwood than ordinary. Thus restrained and simplified, it sounded more credible: I felt as I went on that Miss Temple fully believed me.
In the course of the tale I had mentioned Mr. Lloyd as having come to see me after the fit: for I never forgot the, to me, frightful episode of the red-room: in detailing which, my excitement was sure, in some degree, to break bounds; for nothing could soften in my recollection the spasm of agony which clutched my heart when Mrs. Reed spurned my wild supplication for pardon, and locked me a second time in the dark and haunted chamber. 
I had finished: Miss Temple regarded me a few minutes in silence; 
she then said-'I know something of Mr. Lloyd; I shall write to him; if his reply agrees with your statement, you shall be publicly cleared from every imputation; to me, Jane, you are clear now.'
She kissed me, and still keeping me at her side (where I was well contented to stand for I derived a child's pleasure from the contemplation of her face, her dress, her one or two ornaments, her white forehead, her clustered and shining curls, and beaming dark eyes), she proceeded to address Helen Burns.
'How are you to-night, Helen? Have you coughed much to-day?'
'Not quite so much, I think, ma'am.'
'And the pain in your chest?'
'It is a little better.'
Miss Temple got up, took her hand and examined her pulse; then she returned to her own seat: as she resumed it, I heard her sigh low. She was pensive a few minutes, then rousing herself, she said cheerfully-'But you two are my visitors to-night; I must treat you as such.' She rang her bell.
'Barbara,' she said to the servant who answered it, 'I have not yet had tea; bring the tray and place cups for these two young ladies.' 
And a tray was soon brought. How pretty, to my eyes, did the china cups and bright teapot look, placed on the little round table near the fire! How fragrant was the steam of the beverage, and the scent of the toast! of which, however, I, to my dismay (for I was beginning to be hungry), discerned only a very small portion: Miss Temple discerned it too.
'Barbara,' said she, 'can you not bring a little more bread and butter? There is not enough for three.'
Barbara went out: she returned soon-'Madam, Mrs. Harden says she has sent up the usual quantity.' Mrs. Harden, be it observed, was the housekeeper: a woman after Mr. Brocklehurst's own heart, made up of equal parts of whalebone and iron.
'Oh, very well!' returned Miss Temple; 'we must make it do, Barbara, I suppose.' And as the girl withdrew she added, smiling, 'Fortunately, I have it in my power to supply deficiencies for this once.'
Having invited Helen and me to approach the table, and placed before each of us a cup of tea with one delicious but thin morsel of toast, she got up, unlocked a drawer, and taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper, disclosed presently to our eyes a good-sized seed-cake.
'I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you,' said she, 'but as there is so little toast, you must have it now,' and she proceeded to cut slices with a generous hand.
We feasted that evening as on nectar and ambrosia; and not the least delight of the entertainment was the smile of gratification with which our hostess regarded us, as we satisfied our famished appetites on the delicate fare she liberally supplied.
Tea over and the tray removed, she again summoned us to the fire; we sat one on each side of her, and now a conversation followed between her and Helen, which it was indeed a privilege to be admitted to hear.
Miss Temple had always something of serenity in her air, of state in her mien, of refined propriety in her language, which precluded deviation into the ardent, the excited, the eager: something which chastened the pleasure of those who looked on her and listened to her, by a controlling sense of awe; and such was my feeling now: but as to Helen Burns, I was struck with wonder.
The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness of her beloved instructress, or, perhaps, more than all these, something in her own unique mind, had roused her powers within her. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright tint of her cheek, which till this hour I had never seen but pale and bloodless; then they shone in the liquid lustre of her eyes, which had suddenly acquired a beauty more singular than that of Miss Temple's- a beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance. Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence? Such was the characteristic of Helen's discourse on that, to me, memorable evening; her spirit seemed hastening to live within a very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence.
They conversed of things I had never heard of; of nations and times past; of countries far away; of secrets of nature discovered or guessed at: they spoke of books: how many they had read! What stores of knowledge they possessed! Then they seemed so familiar with French names and French authors: but my amazement reached its climax when Miss Temple asked Helen if she sometimes snatched a moment to recall the Latin her father had taught her, and taking a book from a shelf, bade her read and construe a page of Virgil; and Helen obeyed, my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line. She had scarcely finished ere the bell announced bedtime! no delay could be admitted; Miss Temple embraced us both, saying, as she drew us to her heart-
'God bless you, my children!'
Helen she held a little longer than me: she let her go more reluctantly; it was Helen her eye followed to the door; it was for her she a second time breathed a sad sigh; for her she wiped a tear from her cheek.
On reaching the bedroom, we heard the voice of Miss Scatcherd: she was examining drawers; she had just pulled out Helen Burns's, and when we entered Helen was greeted with a sharp reprimand, and told that to-morrow she should have half a dozen of untidily folded articles pinned to her shoulder.
'My things were indeed in shameful disorder,' murmured Helen to me, in a low voice: 'I intended to have arranged them, but I forgot.'
Next morning, Miss Scatcherd wrote in conspicuous characters on a piece of pasteboard the word 'Slattern,' and bound it like a phylactery round Helen's large, mild, intelligent, and benign-looking forehead. She wore it till evening, patient, unresentful, regarding it as a deserved punishment. The moment Miss Scatcherd withdrew after afternoon school, I ran to Helen, tore it off, and thrust it into the fire: the fury of which she was incapable had been burning in my soul all day, and tears, hot and large, had continually been scalding my cheek; for the spectacle of her sad resignation gave me an intolerable pain at the heart. 
About a week subsequently to the incidents above narrated, Miss Temple, who had written to Mr. Lloyd, received his answer: it appeared that what he said went to corroborate my account. Miss Temple, having assembled the whole school, announced that inquiry had been made into the charges alleged against Jane Eyre, and that she was most happy to be able to pronounce her completely cleared from every imputation. The teachers then shook hands with me and kissed me, and a murmur of pleasure ran through the ranks of my companions.
Thus relieved of a grievous load, I from that hour set to work afresh, resolved to pioneer my way through every difficulty: I toiled hard, and my success was proportionate to my efforts; my memory, not naturally tenacious, improved with practice; exercise sharpened my wits; in a few weeks I was promoted to a higher class; in less than two months I was allowed to commence French and drawing. I learned the first two tenses of the verb Etre, and sketched my first cottage (whose walls, by the bye, outrivalled in slope those of the leaning tower of Pisa), on the same day. That night, on going to bed, I forgot to prepare in imagination the Barmecide supper of hot roast potatoes, or white bread and new milk, with which I was wont to amuse my inward cravings: I feasted instead on the spectacle of ideal drawings, which I saw in the dark; all the work of my own hands: freely pencilled houses and trees, picturesque rocks and ruins, Cuyp-like groups of cattle, sweet paintings of butterflies hovering over unblown roses, of birds picking at ripe cherries, of wrens' nests enclosing pearl-like eggs, wreathed about with young ivy sprays. I examined, too, in thought, the possibility of my ever being able to translate currently a certain little French story which Madame Pierrot had that day shown me; nor was that problem solved to my satisfaction ere I fell sweetly asleep. 
Well has Solomon said- 'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.'
I would not now have exchanged Lowood with all its privations for Gateshead and its daily luxuries.
半个小时不到，钟就敲响了五点。散课了，大家都进饭厅去吃茶点，我这才大着胆走下凳子。这时暮色正浓，我躲进一个角落，在地板上坐了下来。一直支撑着我的魔力消失了，被不良反应所取代。我伤心不已，脸朝下扑倒在地，嚎啕大哭起来。海伦.彭斯不在，没有东西支撑我。孤身独处，我难以自制，眼泪洒到了地板上。我曾打算在罗沃德表现那么出色，做那么多事情，交那么多朋友，博得别人的尊敬，赢得大家的爱护，而且已经取得了明显的进步。就在那天早上，我在班上己经名列前矛，米勒小姐热情夸奖我，坦普尔小姐微笑着表 示 赞许，还答应教我绘画，让我学法文、只要我在两个月之内继续取得同样的进步，此外，我也深受同学们的欢迎，同我年龄相仿的人也对我平等相待，我已不再受人欺悔。然而此刻，我又被打倒在地，遭人践踏。我还有翻身之日吗？
“永远没有了，”我想，满心希望自己死掉。正当我泣不成声地吐出了这个心愿时，有人走近了我，我惊跳了起来，又是海伦.彭斯靠近了我，渐暗的炉火恰好照亮她走过空空荡荡的长房间她给我端来了咖啡和面包。
“来，吃点东西，”她说，可是我们把咖啡和面包都从我面前推开了，只觉得仿佛眼下一滴咖啡或一口面包就会把我噎住似的。海伦凝视着我，也许很惊奇，这时我虽已竭尽全力，却仍无法抑制内心的激动，仍然一个劲儿号啕着，她在我身旁的地上坐下，胳膊抱着双膝，把头靠在膝头上，她就那么坐着，不言不语，像一个印度人。倒是我第一个开了腔：
“海伦，你怎么会跟一个人人都相信她会说谎的人呆在一起呢？”
“是人人吗，简？瞧，只有八十个人听见叫你撒谎者，而世界上有千千万万的人呢。”
“可是我跟那千千万万的人有什么关系呢？我认识的八十个人瞧不起我。”
“简，你错啦，也许学校里没有一个人会瞧不起你，或者讨厌你，我敢肯定，很多人都那么同情你。”
“布罗克赫斯特先生说了话以后，她们怎么可能同情我呢。”
“布罗克赫斯特先生不是神，也不是一个值得钦佩的伟人。这里人不喜欢他。他也不想法让人喜欢他。要是他把你看成他的宠儿，你倒会处处树敌，公开的，或者暗地里的都会有。而现在这样，大多数胆子大一点的人是会同情你的。而要是你继续努力，好好表现，这些感情正因为暂时的压抑，不久就会更加明显地表露出来。此外，简”她刹住了话头。
“怎样。海伦？”我说着把自己手塞到了她手里，她轻轻地揉着我的手指，使它们暖和过来，随后又说下去：
“即使整个世界恨你，并且相信你很坏，只要你自己问心无愧，知道你是清白的，你就不会没有朋友。”
“不，我明白我觉得自己不错，但这还不够，要是别人不爱我， 那么与其活着还不如死去——我受不了孤独和别人的厌恶，海伦。瞧，为了从你那儿，或者坦普尔小姐，或是任何一个我确实所爱的人那儿，得到真正的爱，我会心甘情愿忍受胳膊骨被折断，或者愿让一头公牛把我悬空抛起，或者站在一匹蹶腿的马后面，任马蹄踢向我胸膛——”
“嘘，简！你太看重人的爱了，你的感情太冲动你的情绪太激烈了。一只至高无上的手创造了你的躯体，又往里面注入了生命，这只手除了造就了你脆弱的自身，或者同你一样脆弱的创造物之外，还给你提供了别的财富。在地球和人类之外，还有一个看不见的世界，一个精灵王国。这个世界包围着我们，无所不在。那些精灵们注视着我们，奉命守护我们。要是我们在痛苦和耻辱中死去；要是来自四面八方的鄙视刺伤了我们；要是仇恨压垮了我们，天使们会看到我们遭受折磨，会承认我们清白无辜（如果我们确实清白无辜，我知道你受到了布罗克赫斯特先生指控，但这种指控软弱无力，夸大其词，不过是从里德太太那儿转手得来的，因为我从你热情的眼睛里，从你明净的前额上，看到了诚实的本性），上帝只不过等待灵魂与肉体分离，以赐予我们充分酬报。当生命很快结束，死亡必定成为幸福与荣耀的入口时，我们为什么还要因为忧伤而沉沦呢？”
我默不作声。海伦已经使我平静下来了，但在她所传递的宁静里，混杂着一种难以言传的悲哀。她说话时我感受到了这种悲哀，但不知道它从何而来。话一讲完，她开始有点气急，短短地咳了几声，我立刻忘掉了自己的苦恼，隐隐约约地为她担起心来。
我把头靠在海伦的肩上，双手抱住了她的腰，她紧紧搂住我，两人默默地偎依着。我们没坐多久，另外一个人进来了。这时，一阵刚起的风，吹开了沉重的云块，露出了月亮，月光泻进近旁的窗户，清晰地照亮了我们两人和那个走近的身影，我们立刻认出来，那是坦普尔小姐。
“我是特地来找你的，简.爱，”她说，“我要你到我房间里去，既然海伦.彭斯也在，那她也一起来吧。”
我们去了。在这位校长的带领下，我们穿过了一条条复杂的过道，登上一座楼梯，才到她的寓所。房间里炉火正旺，显得很惬意。坦普尔小姐叫海伦.彭斯坐在火炉一边的低靠手椅里，她自己在另一条靠手椅上坐下，把我叫到她身边。
“全都过去了吗？”她俯身瞧着我的脸问。“把伤心都哭光了？”
“恐怕我永远做不到。”
“为什么？”
“因为我被冤枉了，小姐，你，还有所有其他人，都会认为我很坏。”
“孩子，我们会根据你的表现来看待你的。继续做个好姑娘，你会使我满意的。”
“我会吗，坦普尔小姐？”
“你会的，”她说着用胳膊搂住我。“现在你告诉我，被布罗克赫斯特称为你的恩人的那位太太是谁？”
“里德太太，我舅舅的妻子。我舅舅去世了，他把我交给她照顾。”
“那他不是自己主动要抚养你了？”
“不是，小姐。她感到很遗憾，不得不抚养我。但我常听仆人们说，我舅舅临终前要她答应，永远抚养我。”
“好吧，简，你知道，或者至少我要让你知道，罪犯在被起诉时，往往允许为自己辩护。你被指责为说谎，那你就在我面前尽力为自己辩护吧，凡是你记得的事实你都说，可别加油添醋，夸大其词。”
我暗下决心，要把话说得恰如其分，准确无误。我思考了几分钟，把该说的话理出了个头绪，便一五一十地向她诉说了我悲苦的童年。我己激动得精疲力尽，所以谈到这个伤心的话题时，说话比平时要克制。我还记住了海伦的告诫，不一味沉溺于怨词，叙述时所掺杂的刻薄与恼恨比往日少得多，而且态度收敛，内容简明，听来更加可信。我觉得，我往下说时，坦普尔小姐完全相信我的话。
我在叙述自己的经历时，还提到了劳埃德先生，说他在我昏厥后来看过我。我永远忘不了可怕的红房子事件，有详细诉说时，我的情绪有点失态，因为当里德太太断然拒绝我发疯似的求饶，把我第二次关进黑洞洞闹鬼的房子时，那种阵阵揪心的痛苦，在记忆中是什么也抚慰不了的。
我讲完了。坦普尔小姐默默地看了我几分钟，随后说：
“劳埃德先生我有些认识，我会写信给他的。要是他的答复同你说的相符，我们会公开澄清对你的诋毁。对我来说，简，现在你说的相符，我们会公开澄清对你的诋毁。对我来说，简，现在你已经清白了。”
她吻了吻我，仍旧让我呆在她身边（我很乐意站在那里，因为我端详着她的面容、她的装束、她的一、二件饰品、她那白皙的额头、她那一团团闪光的卷发和乌黑发亮的眼睛时，得到了一种孩子般的喜悦）。她开始同海伦.彭斯说话了。
“今晚你感觉怎么样，海伦？你今天咳得厉害吗？”
“我想不太厉害，小姐。”
“胸部的疼痛呢？”
“好一点了。”
坦普尔小姐站起来，拉过她的手，按了按脉搏，随后回到了自己的座位上。坐定以后，我听她轻声叹了口气。她沉思了一会，随后回过神来，高兴地说：
“不过今晚你们俩是我的客人，我必须按客人相待，”她按了下铃。
“巴巴拉，”她对应召而来的佣人说，“我还没有用茶呢，你把盘子端来，给两位小姐也放上杯子。”
盘子很快就端来了，在我的目光中，这些放在火炉旁小园桌上的瓷杯和亮晃晃的茶壶多么漂亮！那饮料的热气和烤面包的味儿多香！但使我失望的是（因为我已开始觉得饿了），我发现那份儿很小，坦普尔小姐也同样注意到了，
“巴巴拉，”她说，“不能再拿点面包和黄油来吗？这不够三个人吃呀。”
巴巴拉走了出去，但很快又回来了。
“小姐，哈登太太说已经按平时的份量送来了。”
得说明一下，哈登太太是个管家，这个女人很合布罗克赫斯特先生的心意，两人的心一样都是铁铸的。
“啊，好吧，”坦普尔小姐回答，“我想我们只好将就了，巴巴拉。”等这位姑娘一走，她便笑着补充说：“幸好我自己还能够弥补这次的欠缺。”
她邀海伦与我凑近桌子，在我们俩面前各放了一杯茶和一小片可口却很薄的烤面包，随后打开抽屉，从里面抽出一个纸包，我们眼前立刻出现了一个大果子饼。
“我本想让你们各自带一点儿回去，”她说，“但是因为烤面包这么少，你们现在就得吃掉了。”她很大方地把饼切成了厚片。
那天夜晚，我们吃了香甜的饮料和食品，享受了一次盛宴。当她慷慨提供的美食，满足了我们的辘辘饥肠时，我们的女主人面带满意的微笑，望着我们，那笑容也一样令人愉快。吃完茶点，端走了托盘后，她又招呼我们到火炉边去。我们两人一边一个坐在她身旁。这时，她与海伦开始了谈话，而我能被允许旁听，实在也是有幸。
坦普尔小姐向来神态安详，风度庄重，谈吐文雅得体，这使她不至于陷入狂热、激奋和浮躁，同样也使看着她和倾听她的人，出于一种敬畏心情，不会露出过份的喜悦，这就是我此刻的情感。
但海伦的情况却使我十分吃惊。
因为茶点振奋了精神，炉火在熊熊燃烧，因为亲爱的导师在场并待她很好，也许不止这一切，而是她独一无二的头脑中的某种东西，激发了她内在的种种力量。这些力量被唤醒了，被点燃了，起初闪烁在一向苍白而没有血色现在却容光焕发的脸上，随后显露在她水灵灵炯炯有神的眼睛里，这双眼睛突然之间获得了一种比坦普尔小姐的眼睛更为独特的美，它没有好看的色彩，没有长长的睫毛，没有用眉笔描过的眉毛，却那么意味深长，那么流动不息，那么光芒四射。随后她似乎心口交融，说话流畅。这些话从什么源头流出来，我无从判断。一个十四岁的女孩有这样活跃、这样宽大的胸怀，装得下这纯洁、充盈、炽热的雄辩之泉么？这就是那个使我难以忘怀的夜晚海伦谈话的特色。她的心灵仿佛急于要在短暂的片刻中，过得与众多长期苟活的人一样充实。
她们谈论着我从未听说过的事情，谈到了逝去的民族和时代，谈到了遥远的国度；谈到了被发现或臆测到的自然界的奥秘，还谈到了书籍。她们看过的书真多啊！她们掌握的知识真丰富！随后她们似乎对法国人名和法国作者了如指掌。但最使我惊讶的是，这时坦普尔小姐问海伦是不是抽空在复习她爸爸教她的拉丁文，还从书架上取了一本书，吩咐她朗读和解释维吉尔①的一页著作，海伦照着做了。我每听一行朗朗的诗句，对她也就愈加肃然起敬。她几乎还没有读完，上床铃就响了，已不允许任何拖延。坦普尔小姐拥抱了我们俩，她把我们搂到怀里时说：
“上帝保佑你们，我的孩子们！”
她拥抱海伦比拥抱我要长些，更不情愿放她走。她一直目送海伦到门边，为了海伦，她再次伤心地叹了口气；为了海伦，她从脸上抹去了一滴眼泪，
到了寝室，我们听见了斯卡查德小姐的嗓音，她正在检查抽屉，而且刚好已把海伦的抽屉拉出来。我们一走进房间，海伦便当头挨了一顿痛骂。她告诉海伦，明天要把五六件叠得乱七八糟的东西别在她的肩上。
“我的东西乱糟糟的真丢脸，”海伦喃喃地同我说，“我是想把它们放整齐的，可总是忘了。”
第二早上，斯卡查德小姐在一块纸牌上写下了十分醒目的两个字“邋遢”，像经文护符匣一样，把它系在海伦那宽大、温顺、聪颖、一付善相的额头上。她那么耐心而毫无怨言地佩戴着它，视之为应得的惩罚，一直戴到晚上。下午放学以后，斯卡查德小姐一走，我便跑到海伦那儿，一把撕下这块牌子，把它扔进火里。她所不会有的火气，整天在我心中燃烧着，大滴大滴热泪，一直烧灼着我的脸颊，她那付悲哀的、听天由命的样子，使我心里痛苦得难以忍受。
上述事件发生后大约一周，坦普尔小姐写给劳埃德先生的信有了回音。他在信中所说的，进一步证实了我的自述。坦普尔小姐把全校师生召集起来，当众宣布，对简.爱所受的指责己经作了调查，而且很高兴地声明对简.爱的诋毁己彻底澄清。教师们随后同我握了手，吻了我，一阵欢悦的低语，迥荡在我同伴的队伍之中。
这样我便卸下了一个沉重的包袱。我打算从头努力，决心排除万难披荆斩棘地前进。我拼命苦干，付出几分努力，便获得几分成功。我的记忆力虽然不是生来很强，但经过实干有了改进，而反复练习使我的头脑更为机敏。几周之后，我被升到了高班，不到两个月我被允许学习法文和绘画。我学了动词Ｅtre的最基本的两个时态；同一天我作了第一幅茅屋素描（顺便说一句，屋子墙壁的倾斜度可与比萨斜塔相媲美）。那天夜里上床时，我忘了在遐想中准备有热的烤土豆或白面包与新鲜牛奶的巴米赛德晚餐了，往常我是以此来解馋的。而现在，我在黑暗中所见到的理想画面成了我的盛宴。所有的画作都是出自我的手笔，潇洒自如的房屋、树木铅笔画，别致的岩石和废墟，克伊普式的牛群，以及各种可爱的画：有蝴蝶在含苞的玫瑰上翩翩起舞；有鸟儿啄着成熟的樱桃；有藏着珍珠般鸟蛋的鹪鹩巢穴，四周还绕着一圈嫩绿的长春藤。我还在脑子里掂量了一下，有没有可能把那天皮埃罗太太给我看的薄薄的法文故事书，流利地翻译出来。这个问题还没有满意解决，我便甜甜地睡着了。
所罗门说得好：“吃素菜，彼此相爱，强如吃肥牛，彼此相恨。”
现在，我决不会拿贫困的罗沃德去换取终日奢华的盖茨黑德。
Chapter 9
BUT the privations, or rather the hardships, of Lowood lessened. Spring drew on: she was indeed already come; the frosts of winter had ceased; its snows were melted, its cutting winds ameliorated. My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden: sometimes on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant and genial, and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.Flowers peeped out amongst the leaves; snowdrops, crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies. On Thursday afternoons (half-holidays) we now took walks, and found still sweeter flowers opening by the wayside, under the hedges.
I discovered, too, that a great pleasure, an enjoyment which the horizon only bounded, lay all outside the high and spike-guarded walls of our garden: this pleasure consisted in prospect of noble summits girdling a great hill-hollow, rich in verdure and shadow; in a bright beck, full of dark stones and sparkling eddies. How different had this scene looked when I viewed it laid out beneath the iron sky of winter, stiffened in frost, shrouded with snow!- when mists as chill as death wandered to the impulse of east winds along those purple peaks, and rolled down 'ing' and holm till they blended with the frozen fog of the beck! That beck itself was then a torrent, turbid and curbless: it tore asunder the wood, and sent a raving sound through the air, often thickened with wild rain or whirling sleet; and for the forest on its banks, that showed only ranks of skeletons.
April advanced to May: a bright, serene May it was; days of blue sky, placid sunshine, and soft western or southern gales filled up its duration. And now vegetation matured with vigour; Lowood shook loose its tresses; it became all green, all flowery; its great elm, ash, and oak skeletons were restored to majestic life; woodland plants sprang up profusely in its recesses; unnumbered varieties of moss filled its hollows, and it made a strange ground-sunshine out of the wealth of its wild primrose plants: I have seen their pale gold gleam in overshadowed spots like scatterings of the sweetest lustre. All this I enjoyed often and fully, free, unwatched, and almost alone: for this unwonted liberty and pleasure there was a cause, to which it now becomes my task to advert.
Have I not described a pleasant site for a dwelling, when I speak of it as bosomed in hill and wood, and rising from the verge of a stream? Assuredly, pleasant enough: but whether healthy or not is another question.
That forest-dell, where Lowood lay, was the cradle of fog and fog-bred pestilence; which, quickening with the quickening spring, crept into the Orphan Asylum, breathed typhus through its crowded schoolroom and dormitory, and, ere May arrived, transformed the seminary into an hospital.
Semi-starvation and neglected colds had predisposed most of the pupils to receive infection: forty-five out of the eighty girls lay ill at one time. Classes were broken up, rules relaxed. The few who continued well were allowed almost unlimited license; because the medical attendant insisted on the necessity of frequent exercise to keep them in health: and had it been otherwise, no one had leisure to watch or restrain them. Miss Temple's whole attention was absorbed by the patients: she lived in the sick-room, never quitting it except to snatch a few hours' rest at night. The teachers were fully occupied with packing up and making other necessary preparations for the departure of those girls who were fortunate enough to have friends and relations able and willing to remove them from the seat of contagion. Many, already smitten, went home only to die: some died at the school, and were buried quietly and quickly, the nature of the malady forbidding delay.
While disease had thus become an inhabitant of Lowood, and death its frequent visitor; while there was gloom and fear within its walls;   while its rooms and passages steamed with hospital smells, the drug and the pastille striving vainly to overcome the effluvia of mortality, that bright May shone unclouded over the bold hills and beautiful woodland out of doors. Its garden, too, glowed with flowers: hollyhocks had sprung up tall as trees, lilies had opened, tulips and roses were in bloom; the borders of the little beds were gay with pink thrift and crimson double daisies; the sweetbriars gave out, morning and evening, their scent of spice and apples; and these fragrant treasures were all useless for most of the inmates of Lowood, except to furnish now and then a handful of herbs and blossoms to put in a coffin.
But I, and the rest who continued well, enjoyed fully the beauties of the scene and season; they let us ramble in the wood, like gipsies, from morning till night; we did what we liked, went where we liked: we lived better too. Mr. Brocklehurst and his family never came near Lowood now: household matters were not scrutinised into; the cross housekeeper was gone, driven away by the fear of infection; her successor, who had been matron at the Lowton Dispensary, unused to the ways of her new abode, provided with comparative liberality.
Besides, there were fewer to feed; the sick could eat little; our breakfast-basins were better filled; when there was no time to prepare a regular dinner, which often happened, she would give us a large piece of cold pie, or a thick slice of bread and cheese, and this we carried away with us to the wood, where we each chose the spot we liked best, and dined sumptuously.
My favourite seat was a smooth and broad stone, rising white and dry from the very middle of the beck, and only to be got at by wading through the water; a feat I accomplished barefoot. The stone was just broad enough to accommodate, comfortably, another girl and me, at that time my chosen comrade- one Mary Ann Wilson; a shrewd, observant personage, whose society I took pleasure in, partly because she was witty and original, and partly because she had a manner which set me at my ease. Some years older than I, she knew more of the world, and could tell me many things I liked to hear: with her my curiosity found gratification: to my faults also she gave ample indulgence, never imposing curb or rein on anything I said. She had a turn for narrative, I for analysis; she liked to inform, I to question; so we got on swimmingly together, deriving much entertainment, if not much improvement, from our mutual intercourse.
And where, meantime, was Helen Burns? Why did I not spend these sweet days of liberty with her? Had I forgotten her? or was I so worthless as to have grown tired of her pure society? Surely the Mary Ann Wilson I have mentioned was inferior to my first acquaintance: she could only tell me amusing stories, and reciprocate any racy and pungent gossip I chose to indulge in; while, if I have spoken truth of Helen, she was qualified to give those who enjoyed the privilege of her converse a taste of far higher things.
True, reader; and I knew and felt this: and though I am a defective being, with many faults and few redeeming points, yet I never tired of Helen Burns; nor ever ceased to cherish for her a sentiment of attachment, as strong, tender, and respectful as any that ever animated my heart. How could it be otherwise, when Helen, at all times and under all circumstances, evinced for me a quiet and faithful friendship, which ill-humour never soured, nor irritation never troubled? But Helen was ill at present: for some weeks she had been removed from my sight to I knew not what room upstairs. She was not, I was told, in the hospital portion of the house with the fever patients; for her complaint was consumption, not typhus: and by consumption I, in my ignorance, understood something mild, which time and care would be sure to alleviate.
I was confirmed in this idea by the fact of her once or twice coming downstairs on very warm sunny afternoons, and being taken by Miss Temple into the garden; but, on these occasions, I was not allowed to go and speak to her; I only saw her from the schoolroom window, and then not distinctly; for she was much wrapped up, and sat at a distance under the verandah.
One evening, in the beginning of June, I had stayed out very late with Mary Ann in the wood; we had, as usual, separated ourselves from the others, and had wandered far; so far that we lost our way, and had to ask it at a lonely cottage, where a man and woman lived, who looked after a herd of half-wild swine that fed on the mast in the wood. When we got back, it was after moonrise: a pony, which we knew to be the surgeon's, was standing at the garden door. Mary Ann remarked that she supposed some one must be very ill, as Mr. Bates had been sent for at that time of the evening. She went into the house;I stayed behind a few minutes to plant in my garden a handful of roots I had dug up in the forest, and which I feared would wither if I left them till the morning. This done, I lingered yet a little longer: the flowers smelt so sweet as the dew fell; it was such a pleasant evening, so serene, so warm; the still glowing west promised so fairly another fine day on the morrow; the moon rose with such majesty in the grave east. I was noting these things and enjoying them as a child might, when it entered my mind as it had never done before:-'How sad to be lying now on a sick bed, and to be in danger of dying! This world is pleasant- it would be dreary to be called from it, and to have to go who knows where?'
And then my mind made its first earnest effort to comprehend what had been infused into it concerning heaven and hell; and for the first time it recoiled, baffled; and for the first time glancing behind, on each side, and before it, it saw all round an unfathomed gulf: it felt the one point where it stood- the present; all the rest was formless cloud and vacant depth; and it shuddered at the thought of tottering, and plunging amid that chaos. While pondering this new idea, I heard the front door open; Mr. Bates came out, and with him was a nurse. After she had seen him mount his horse and depart, she was about to close the door, but I ran up to her.
'How is Helen Burns?'
'Very poorly,' was the answer. 
'Is it her Mr. Bates has been to see?'
'Yes.'
'And what does he say about her?'
'He says she'll not be here long.'
This phrase, uttered in my hearing yesterday, would have only conveyed the notion that she was about to be removed to Northumberland, to her own home. I should not have suspected that it meant she was dying; but I knew instantly now! It opened clear on my comprehension that Helen Burns was numbering her last days in this world, and that she was going to be taken to the region of spirits, if such region there were. I experienced a shock of horror, then a strong thrill of grief, then a desire- a necessity to see her; and I asked in what room she lay.
'She is in Miss Temple's room,' said the nurse.
'May I go up and speak to her?'
'Oh no, child! It is not likely; and now it is time for you to come in; you'll catch the fever if you stop out when the dew is falling.' 
The nurse closed the front door; I went in by the side entrance which led to the schoolroom: I was just in time; it was nine o'clock, and Miss Miller was calling the pupils to go to bed. 
It might be two hours later, probably near eleven, when I- not having been able to fall asleep, and deeming, from the perfect silence of the dormitory, that my companions were all wrapt in profound repose- rose softly, put on my frock over my night-dress, and, without shoes, crept from the apartment, and set off in quest of Miss Temple's room. It was quite at the other end of the house; but I knew my way; and the light of the unclouded summer moon, entering here and there at passage windows, enabled me to find it without difficulty. An odour of camphor and burnt vinegar warned me when I came near the fever room: and I passed its door quickly, fearful lest the nurse who sat up all night should hear me. I dreaded being discovered and sent back; for I must see Helen,- I must embrace her before she died,- I must give her one last kiss, exchange with her one last word.
Having descended a staircase, traversed a portion of the house below, and succeeded in opening and shutting, without noise, two doors, I reached another flight of steps; these I mounted, and then just opposite to me was Miss Temple's room. A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity. Coming near, I found the door slightly ajar; probably to admit some fresh air into the close abode of sickness. Indisposed to hesitate, and full of impatient impulses- soul and senses quivering with keen throes- I put it back and looked in. My eye sought Helen, and feared to find death.
Close by Miss Temple's bed, and half covered with its white curtains, there stood a little crib. I saw the outline of a form under the clothes, but the face was hid by the hangings: the nurse I had spoken to in the garden sat in an easy-chair asleep; an unsnuffed candle burnt dimly on the table. Miss Temple was not to be seen: I knew afterwards that she had been called to a delirious patient in the fever-room. I advanced; then paused by the crib side: my hand was on the curtain, but I preferred speaking before I withdrew it. I still recoiled at the dread of seeing a corpse.
'Helen!' I whispered softly, 'are you awake?'
She stirred herself, put back the curtain, and I saw her face, pale, wasted, but quite composed: she looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated.
'Can it be you, Jane?' she asked, in her own gentle voice. 
'Oh!' I thought, 'she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she could not speak and look so calmly if she were.'
I got on to her crib and kissed her: her forehead was cold, and her cheek both cold and thin, and so were her hand and wrist; but she smiled as of old.
'Why are you come here, Jane? It is past eleven o'clock: I heard it strike some minutes since.'
'I came to see you, Helen: I heard you were very ill, and I could not sleep till I had spoken to you.'
'You came to bid me good-bye, then: you are just in time probably.'
'Are you going somewhere, Helen? Are you going home?'
'Yes; to my long home- my last home.'
'No, no, Helen!' I stopped, distressed. While I tried to devour my tears, a fit of coughing seized Helen; it did not, however, wake the nurse; when it was over, she lay some minutes exhausted; then she whispered-
'Jane, your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt.'
I did so: she put her arm over me, and I nestled close to her.
After a long silence, she resumed, still whispering- 
'I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married, and will not miss me. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings. 
I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world: I should have been continually at fault.'
'But where are you going to, Helen? Can you see? Do you know?'
'I believe; I have faith: I am going to God.'
'Where is God? What is God?'
'My Maker and yours, who will never destroy what He created. I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to Him, reveal Him to me.'
'You are sure, then, Helen, that there is such a place as heaven, and that our souls can get to it when we die?'
'I am sure there is a future state; I believe God is good; I can resign my immortal part to Him without any misgiving. God is my father; God is my friend: I love Him; I believe He loves me.'
'And shall I see you again, Helen, when I die?'
'You will come to the same region of happiness: be received by the same mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear Jane.'
Again I questioned, but this time only in thought. 'Where is that region? Does it exist?' And I clasped my arms closer around Helen; she seemed dearer to me than ever; I felt as if I could not let her go;I lay with my face hidden on her neck. Presently she said, in the sweetest tone-
'How comfortable I am! That last fit of coughing has tired me a little; I feel as if I could sleep: but don't leave me, Jane; I like to have you near me.'
'I'll stay with you, dear Helen: no one shall take me away.'
'Are you warm, darling?'
'Yes.'
'Good-night, Jane.'
'Good-night, Helen.'
She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon slumbered.
When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about; no explanation was afforded then to my many questions; but a day or two afterwards I learned that Miss Temple, on returning to her own room at dawn, had found me laid in the little crib; my face against Helen Burns's shoulder, my arms round her neck. I was asleep, and Helen was-dead.
Her grave is in Brocklebridge churchyard: for fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a grey marble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and the word 'Resurgam.'
然而，罗沃德的贫困，或者不如说艰辛，有所好转。春天即将来临，实际上已经到来，冬季的严寒过去了。积雪已融化，刺骨的寒风不再那般肆虐，在四月和风的吹拂下，我那双曾被一月的寒气剥去了一层皮，红肿得一拐一拐的可怜的脚，已开始消肿和痊愈。夜晚和清晨不再出现加拿大式的低气温，险些把我们血管里的血冻住。现在我们己受得了花园中度过的游戏的时刻。有时逢上好日子，天气甚至变得温暖舒适。枯黄的苗圃长出了一片新绿，一天比一天鲜嫩，使人仿佛觉得希望之神曾在夜间走过，每天清晨留下她愈来愈明亮的足迹。花朵从树叶丛中探出头来，有雪花莲呀、藏红花呀、紫色的报春花和金眼三色紫罗兰。每逢星期四下午（半假日）、我们都出去散步，看到不少更加可爱的花朵，盛开在路边的篱笆下。
我还发现，就在顶端用尖铁防范着的花园高墙之外，有着一种莫大的愉快和享受，它广阔无垠，直达天际，那种愉快来自宏伟的山峰环抱着的一个树木葱笼绿荫盖地的大山谷；也来自满是黑色石子和闪光漩涡的明净溪流。这景色与我在冬日铁灰色的苍穹下，冰霜封冻、积雪覆盖时看到的情景多么不同呀！那时候，死一般冷的雾气被东风驱赶着，飘过紫色的山峰，滚下草地与河滩，直至与溪流上凝结的水气融为一体。那时，这条小溪是一股混浊不堪、势不可挡的急流，它冲决了树林，在空中发出咆哮，那声音在夹杂着暴雨和旋转的冻雨时，听来常常更加沉闷。至于两岸的树木，都己成了一排排死人的骨骼。
四月己逝，五月来临。这是一个明媚宁静的五月，日复一日，都是蔚蓝的天空，和煦的阳光，轻柔的西风和南风。现在，草木茁壮成长起来。罗沃德抖散了它的秀发，处处叶绿，遍地开花。榆树、岑树和橡树光秃秃的高大树干，恢复了生气勃勃的雄姿，林间植物在幽深处茂密生长，无数种类的苔鲜填补了林中的空谷。众多的野樱草花，就像奇妙地从地上升起的阳光。我在林荫深处曾见过它们淡谈的金色光芒，犹如点点散开的可爱光斑。这一切我常常尽情享受着，无拘无束，无人看管，而且几乎总是独自一人。这种自由与乐趣所以这么不同寻常，是有其原因的、而说清楚这个原委，就成了我现在的任务。
我在说这个地方掩映在山林之中，坐落在溪流之畔时，不是把它描绘成一个舒适的住处吗？的确，舒适倒是够舒适的，但有益于健康与否，却是另一回事了。
罗沃德所在的林间山谷，是大雾的摇篮，是雾气诱发的病疫的滋生地。时疫随着春天急速的步伐，加速潜入孤儿院，把斑疹伤寒传进了它拥挤的教室和寝室，五月未到，就己把整所学校变成了医院。
学生们素来半饥半饱，得了感冒也无人过问，所以大多容易受到感染。八十五个女生中四十五人一下子病倒了。班级停课，纪律松懈。少数没有得病的，几乎已完全放任自流，因为医生认为他们必须经常参加活动，保持身体健康。就是不这样，也无人顾得上去看管她们了。坦普尔小姐的全部注意力已被病人所吸引，她住在病房里，除了夜间抓紧几小时休息外，寸步不离病人，教师们全力以赴，为那些幸而有亲戚朋友，能够并愿意把她们从传染地带走的人，打铺盖和作好动身前的必要准备。很多已经染病的回家去等死；有些人死在学校里，悄悄地草草埋掉算数，这种病的特性决定了容不得半点拖延。
就这样，疾病在罗沃德安了家，死亡成了这里的常客；围墙之内笼罩着阴郁和恐怖；房间里和过道上散发着医院的气味，香锭徒劳地挣扎着要镇住死亡的恶臭。与此同时，五月的明媚阳光从万里无云的天空，洒向陡峭的小山和美丽的林地。罗沃德的花园花儿盛开，灿烂夺目。一丈红拔地而起，高大如林，百合花已开，郁金香和玫瑰争妍斗艳，粉红色的海石竹和深红的双瓣雏菊，把小小花坛的边缘装扮得十分鲜艳。香甜的欧石南，在清晨和夜间散发着香料和苹果的气味。但这些香气扑鼻的宝贝，除了时时提供一捧香草和鲜花放进棺材里，对罗沃德的人来说已毫无用处。
不过我与其余仍然健康的人，充分享受着这景色和季节的美妙动人之处。他们让我们像吉卜赛人一样，从早到晚在林中游荡，爱干什么就干什么，爱上哪里就上哪里。我们的生活也有所改善。
布罗克赫斯特先生和他的家人现在已从不靠近罗沃德，家常事也无人来有问，啤气急躁的管家己逃之夭夭，生怕受到传染。她的后任原本是洛顿诊所的护士长，并未习惯于新地方的规矩，因此给得比较大方。此外，用饭的人少了，病人又吃得不多，于是我们早饭碗里的东西也就多了一些。新管家常常没有时间准备正餐，干脆就给我们一个大冷饼，或者一厚片面包和乳酪，我们会把这些东西随身带到树林里，各人找个喜欢的地方，来享受一顿盛宴。
我最喜欢坐在一块光滑的大石头上。这块石头儿立在小溪正中，又白又干燥，要淌水过河才到得那里，我每每赤了脚来完成这一壮举。这块石头正好够舒舒服服地坐上两个人，我和另一位姑娘。她是我当时选中的伙伴，名叫玛丽.安.威尔逊，这个人聪明伶俐，目光敏锐。我喜欢同她相处，一半是因为她机灵而有头脑，一半是因为她的神态使人感到无拘无束。她比我大几岁，更了解世情，能告诉我很多我乐意听的东西，满足我的好奇心。对我的缺陷她也能宽容姑息，从不对我说的什么加以干涉。她擅长叙述，我善于分析；她喜欢讲，我喜欢问，我们两个处得很融洽，就是得不到很大长进，也有不少乐趣。
与此同时，海伦.彭斯哪儿去了呢？为什么我没有同她共度这些自由自在的舒心日子？是我把她忘了，还是我本人不足取，居然对她纯洁的交往感到了厌倦？当然我所提及的玛丽.安.威尔逊要逊于我的第一位相识。她只不过能给我讲些有趣的故事，回对一些我所津津乐道的辛辣活泼的闲聊。而海伦呢，要是我没有说错，她足以使有幸听她谈话的人品味到高级得多的东西。
确实如此，读者，我明白，并感觉到了这一点。尽管我是一个很有缺陷的人，毛病很多，长处很少，但我决不会嫌弃海伦，也不会不珍惜对她的亲情。这种亲情同激发我心灵的任何感情一样强烈，一样温柔，一样令人珍重。不论何时何地，海伦都向我证实了一种平静而忠实的友情，闹别扭或者发脾气都不会带来丝毫损害。可是海伦现在病倒了。她从我面前消失，搬到楼上的某一间房子，已经有好几周了。听说她不在学校的医院部同发烧病人在一起，因为她患的是肺病，不是斑疹伤寒。在我幼稚无知的心灵中，认为肺病比较和缓，待以时日并悉心照料，肯定是可以好转的。
我的想法得到了证实，因为她偶尔在风和日丽的下午下楼来，由坦普尔小姐带着步入花园。但在这种场合，她们不允许我上去同她说话。我只不过从教室的窗户中看到了她，而且又看不清楚，因为她裹得严严实实，远远地坐在回廊上。
六月初的一个晚上，我与玛丽.安在林子里逗留得很晚。像往常一样，我们又与别人分道扬镳，闲逛到了很远的地方，远得终于使我们迷了路，而不得不去一间孤零零的茅舍回路。那里住着一男一女，养了一群以林间山毛榉为食的半野的猪。回校时，己经是明月高挂。一匹我们知道是外科医生骑的小马，呆在花园门口。玛丽.安说她猜想一定是有人病得很重，所以才在晚间这个时候请贝茨先生来。她先进了屋，我在外面呆了几分钟，把才从森林里挖来的一把树根栽在花园里，怕留到第二天早晨会枯死。栽好以后，我又多耽搁了一会儿，沾上露水的花异香扑鼻。这是一个可爱的夜晚，那么宁静，又那么温煦。西边的天际依旧一片红光，预示着明天又是个好天。月亮从黯淡的东方庄严地升起。我注意着这一切，尽一个孩子所能欣赏着。这时我脑子里出现了一个从未有过的想法：
“这会儿躺在病床上，面临着死亡的威胁是多么悲哀呀！这个世界是美好的，把人从这里唤走，到一个谁都不知道的地方去，会是一件十分悲惨的事。”
随后我的脑袋第一次潜心来理解已被灌输进去的天堂和地狱的内涵，而且也第一次退缩了，迷惑不解了，也是第一次左右前后扫视着。它在自己的周围看到了无底的深渊，感到除了现在这一立足点之外，其余一切都是无形的浮云和空虚的深渊。想到自己摇摇晃晃要落入一片混乱之中，便不禁颤抖起来。我正细细咀嚼着这个新想法，却听得前门开了，贝茨先生走了出来，由一个护士陪同着。她目送贝茨先生上马离去后，正要关门，我一个箭步到了她跟前。
“海伦.彭斯怎么样了？”
“很不好，”回答说。
“贝茨先生是去看她的吗？”
“是的。”
“对她的病，他说了些什么呀？”
“他说她不会在这儿呆很久了。”
这句话要是昨天让我听到，它所表达的含义只能是，她将要搬到诺森伯兰郡自己家去了，我不会去怀疑它包含着“她要死了”的意思。但此刻我立即明白了。在我理解起来，这句话一清二楚，海伦在世的日子已屈指可数，她将被带往精灵的地域，要是这样的地域确实存在的话。我感到一阵恐怖，一种今人震颤的悲哀，随后是一种愿望，一种要见她的需要。我问她躺在哪一个房间。
“她在坦普尔小姐的屋里，”护士说。
“我可以上去同她说话吗？”
“啊，孩子！那不行。现在你该进来了，要是降了露水还呆在外面，你也会得热病的。”
护士关了前门，我从通往教室的边门溜了进去。我恰好准时，九点刚敲，米勒小姐正吩咐学生上床。
也许过了两小时，可能是将近十一点了，我难以入睡，而且从宿舍里一片沉寂推断，我的同伴们都已蒙头大睡。于是我便轻手轻脚地爬起来，在睡衣外面穿了件外衣，赤着脚从屋里溜了出来，去寻找坦普尔小姐的房间。它远靠房子的另外一头，不过我认得路。夏夜的皎洁月光，零零落落地洒进过道的窗户，使我毫不费力地找到了她的房间。一股樟脑味和烧焦的醋味，提醒我己走近了热病病房 。我停了下来，我的手伸向帷幔，但我宁愿在拉动之前开口说一下，我们人仍然畏缩不前，唯恐看到一具尸体。
“海伦！”我轻声耳语道，“你醒着吗？”
她动弹了一下，自己拉开帷幔，我后到了她的脸，苍白、憔悴，却十分镇静，她看上去没有什么变化，于是我的恐惧心理顿时消失了。
“真是你吗，简？”她以独特的柔和语调问。
“啊！”我想，“她不会死，她们搞错了，要是她活不了啦，她的言语和神色不会那么镇定自若。”
我上了她的小床，吻了她一下。她的额头冰冷，两颊也冰冷，而且还很消瘦，她的手和手腕也都冰冷，只有她那微笑依旧。
“你为什么到这儿来，简？已经过了十一点啦，几分钟前我听见敲的。”
“我来看你，海伦。我听说你病得很重，我不同你说句话就睡不着。”
“那你是来同我告别的了，也许许来得正是时候。”
“你上哪儿去吗，海伦？你要回家是不是？”
“是的，回到我永久的——我最后的家。”
“不，不，海伦，”我顿住了，心里很难过。我竭力咽下眼泪，这时海伦一阵咳嗽，不过没有吵醒护士。咳完以后，她精疲力尽地躺了几分钟，随后轻声说：
“简，你都光着你的小脚呢，躺下来吧，盖上我的被子。”
我照她的话做了。她用胳膊楼住我，我紧偎着她，在沉默了很久之后，她继续低声耳语着说：
“我很愉快，简，你听到我已经死了的时候，你可千万别悲伤。没有什么可以感到悲伤的。总有一天我们大家都得死去。现在正夺去我生命的疾病并不痛苦。既温和而又缓慢，我的心灵已经安息。我不会让任何人感到太悲痛，我只有一个父亲，他新近刚结婚，不会思念我。我那么年纪轻轻就死去，可以逃脱大苦大难。我没有会使自己在世上发迹的气质和才能。要是我活，我会一直错下去的。”
“可是你到哪儿去呢，海伦？你能看得见吗？你知道吗？”
“我相信，我有信仰，我去上帝那儿。”
“上帝在哪儿？上帝是什么？”
“我的创造者，也是你的。他不会永远毁坏他所创造的东西。我毫无保留地依赖他的力量，完全信任他的仁慈，我数着钟点，直至那个重要时刻到来，那时我又被送还给他，他又再次显现在我面前。”
“海伦，那你肯定认为有天堂这个地方，而且我们死后灵魂都到那儿去吗？”
“我敢肯定有一个未来的国度。我相信上帝是慈悲的。我可以毫无忧虑地把我不朽的部分托付给他，上帝是我的父亲，上帝是我的朋友，我爱他，我相信他也爱我。”
“海伦，我死掉后，还能再见到你吗？”
“你会来到同一个幸福的地域，被同一个伟大的、普天下共有的父亲所接纳，毫无疑问，亲爱的简。”
我又再次发问，不过这回只是想想而已。“这个地域在哪儿？它存在不存在？”我用胳膊把海伦楼得更紧了。她对我似乎比以往任何时候都要宝贵了，我仿佛觉得我不能让她走，我躺着把脸埋在她的颈窝里。她立刻用最甜蜜的嗓音说：
“我多么舒服啊！刚才那一阵子咳嗽弄得我有点儿累了，我好像是能睡着了，可是别离开我，简，我喜欢你在我身边。”
“我会同你呆在一起的，亲爱的海伦。谁也不能把我撵走。”
“你暖和吗，亲爱的？”
“是的。”
“晚安，简。”
“晚安，海伦。”
她吻了我，我吻了她，两人很快就睡熟了。
我醒来的时候已经是白天了，一阵异样的抖动把我弄醒了。我抬起头来，发现自己正躺在别人的怀抱里，那位护士抱着我，正穿过过道把我送回宿舍，我没有因为离开床位而受到责备，人们还有别的事儿要考虑，我提出的很多问题也没有得到解释。但一两天后我知道，坦普尔小姐在拂晓回房时，发现我躺在小床上，我的脸蛋紧贴着海伦.彭斯的肩膀，我的胳膊搂着她的脖子，我睡着了，而海伦——死了。
我醒来的时候已经是白天了，一阵异样的抖动把我弄醒了。我抬起头来，发现自己正躺在别人的怀抱里，那位护士抱着我，正穿过过道把我送回宿舍，我没有因为离开床位而受到责备，人们还有别的事儿要考虑，我提出的很多问题也没有得到解释。但一两天后我知道，坦普尔小姐在拂晓回房时，发现我躺在小床上，我的脸蛋紧贴着海伦.彭斯的肩膀，我的胳膊搂着她的脖子，我睡着了，而海伦——死了。她的坟墓在布罗克布里奇墓地，她去世后十五年中，墓上仅有一个杂草丛生的土墩，但现在一块灰色的大理石墓碑标出了这个地点，上面刻着她的名字及“Ｒesurgam”这个字。  
Chapter 10
HITHERTO I have recorded in detail the events of my insignificant existence: to the first ten years of my life I have given almost as many chapters. But this is not to be a regular autobiography: I am only bound to invoke Memory where I know her responses will possess some degree of interest; therefore I now pass a space of eight years almost in silence: a few lines only are necessary to keep up the links of connection.When the typhus fever had fulfilled its mission of devastation at Lowood, it gradually disappeared from thence; but not till its virulence and the number of its victims had drawn public attention on the school. Inquiry was made into the origin of the scourge, and by degrees various facts came out which excited public indignation in a high degree. The unhealthy nature of the site; the quantity and quality of the children's food; the brackish, fetid water used in its preparation; the pupils' wretched clothing and accommodations- all these things were discovered, and the discovery produced a result mortifying to Mr. Brocklehurst, but beneficial to the institution.
Several wealthy and benevolent individuals in the county subscribed largely for the erection of a more convenient building in a better situation; new regulations were made; improvements in diet and clothing introduced; the funds of the school were intrusted to the management of a committee. Mr. Brocklehurst, who, from his wealth and family connections, could not be overlooked, still retained the post of treasurer; but he was aided in the discharge of his duties by gentlemen of rather more enlarged and sympathising minds: his office of inspector, too, was shared by those who knew how to combine reason with strictness, comfort with economy, compassion with uprightness. The school, thus improved, became in time a truly useful and noble institution. I remained an inmate of its walls, after its regeneration, for eight years: six as pupil, and two as teacher; and in both capacities I bear my testimony to its value and importance.
During these eight years my life was uniform: but not unhappy, because it was not inactive. I had the means of an excellent education placed within my reach; a fondness for some of my studies, and a desire to excel in all, together with a great delight in pleasing my teachers, especially such as I loved, urged me on: I availed myself fully of the advantages offered me. In time I rose to be the first girl of the first class; then I was invested with the office of teacher; which I discharged with zeal for two years: but at the end of that time I altered.
Miss Temple, through all changes, had thus far continued superintendent of the seminary: to her instruction I owed the best part of my acquirements; her friendship and society had been my continual solace; she had stood me in the stead of mother, governess, and, latterly, companion. At this period she married, removed with her husband (a clergyman, an excellent man, almost worthy of such a wife) to a distant county, and consequently was lost to me.
From the day she left I was no longer the same: with her was gone every settled feeling, every association that had made Lowood in some degree a home to me. I had imbibed from her something of her nature and much of her habits: more harmonious thoughts: what seemed better regulated feelings had become the inmates of my mind. I had given in allegiance to duty and order; I was quiet; I believed I was content: to the eyes of others, usually even to my own, I appeared a disciplined and subdued character.
But destiny, in the shape of the Rev. Mr. Nasmyth, came between me and Miss Temple: I saw her in her travelling dress step into a post-chaise, shortly after the marriage ceremony; I watched the chaise mount the hill and disappear beyond its brow; and then retired to  my own room, and there spent in solitude the greatest part of the half-holiday granted in honour of the occasion.
I walked about the chamber most of the time. I imagined myself only to be regretting my loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when my reflections were concluded, and I looked up and found that the afternoon was gone, and evening far advanced, another discovery dawned on me, namely, that in the interval I had undergone a transforming process; that my mind had put off all it had borrowed of Miss Temple- or rather that she had taken with her the serene atmosphere I had been breathing in her vicinity- and that now I was left in my natural element, and beginning to feel the stirring of old emotions.
It did not seem as if a prop were withdrawn, but rather as if a motive were gone: it was not the power to be tranquil which had failed me, but the reason for tranquillity was no more. My world had for some years been in Lowood: my experience had been of its rules and systems; now I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils.
I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. There were the two wings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirts of Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all other objects to rest on those most remote, the blue peaks; it was those I longed to surmount; all within their boundary of rock and heath seemed prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the white road winding round the base of one mountain, and vanishing in a gorge between two; how I longed to follow it farther! I recalled the time when I had travelled that very road in a coach; I remembered descending that hill at twilight; an age seemed to have elapsed since the day which brought me first to Lowood, and I had never quitted it since. My vacations had all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had never sent for me to Gateshead; neither she nor any of her family had ever been to visit me. I had had no communication by letter or message with the outer world: school-rules, school-duties, school-habits and notions, and voices, and faces, and phrases, and costumes, and preferences, and antipathies- such was what I knew of existence. And now I felt that it was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space:'Then,' I cried, half desperate, 'grant me at least a new servitude!' Here a bell, ringing the hour of supper, called me downstairs.
I was not free to resume the interrupted chain of my reflections till bedtime: even then a teacher who occupied the same room with me kept me from the subject to which I longed to recur, by a prolonged effusion of small talk. How I wished sleep would silence her. It seemed as if, could I but go back to the idea which had last entered my mind as I stood at the window, some inventive suggestion would rise for my relief.
Miss Gryce snored at last; she was a heavy Welsh-woman, and till now her habitual nasal strains had never been regarded by me in any other light than as a nuisance; to-night I hailed the first deep notes with satisfaction; I was debarrassed of interruption; my half-effaced thought instantly revived.
'A new servitude! There is something in that,' I soliloquised (mentally, be it understood; I did not talk aloud). 'I know there is, because it does not sound too sweet; it is not like such words as Liberty, Excitement, Enjoyment: delightful sounds truly; but no more than sounds for me; and so hollow and fleeting that it is mere waste of time to listen to them. But Servitude! That must be matter of fact. Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all I want is to serve elsewhere. Can I not get so much of my own will? Is not the thing feasible? Yes- yes- the end is not so difficult; if I had only a brain active enough to ferret out the means of attaining it.'
I sat up in bed by way of arousing this said brain: it was a chilly night; I covered my shoulders with a shawl, and then I proceeded to think again with all my might.
'What do I want? A new place, in a new house, amongst new faces, under new circumstances: I want this because it is of no use wanting anything better. How do people do to get a new place? They apply to friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There are many others who have no friends, who must look about for themselves and be their own helpers; and what is their resource?'
I could not tell: nothing answered me; I then ordered my brain to find a response, and quickly. It worked and worked faster: I felt the pulses throb in my head and temples; but for nearly an hour it worked in chaos; and no result came of its efforts. Feverish with vain labour, I got up and took a turn in the room; undrew the curtain, noted a star or two, shivered with cold, and again crept to bed.
A kind fairy, in my absence, had surely dropped the required suggestion on my pillow; for as I lay down, it came quietly and naturally to my mind:- 'Those who want situations advertise; you 'How? I know nothing about advertising.'
Replies rose smooth and prompt now:- 'You must enclose the advertisement and the money to pay for it under a cover directed to the editor of the Herald; you must put it, the first opportunity you have, 
into the post at Lowton; answers must be addressed to J. E., at the post-office there; you can go and inquire in about a week after you send your letter, if any are come, and act accordingly.'
This scheme I went over twice, thrice; it was then digested in my mind; I had it in a clear practical form: I felt satisfied, and fell asleep.
With earliest day, I was up: I had my advertisement written, enclosed, and directed before the bell rang to rouse the school; it ran thus:-
'A young lady accustomed to tuition' (had I not been a teacher two years?) 'is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private family where the children are under fourteen' (I thought that as I was barely eighteen, it would not do to undertake the guidance of pupils nearer my own age). 'She is qualified to teach the usual branches of a good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music' (in those days, reader, this now narrow catalogue of accomplishments, would have been held tolerably comprehensive).
This document remained locked in my drawer all day: after tea, I asked leave of the new superintendent to go to Lowton, in order to perform some small commissions for myself and one or two of my fellow-teachers; permission was readily granted; I went. It was a walk of two miles, and the evening was wet, but the days were still long; I visited a shop or two, slipped the letter into the post-office, and came back through heavy rain, with streaming garments, but with a relieved heart.
The succeeding week seemed long: it came to an end at last, however, like all sublunary things, and once more, towards the close of a pleasant autumn day, I found myself afoot on the road to Lowton. A picturesque track it was, by the way; lying along the side of the beck and through the sweetest curves of the dale: but that day I thought more of the letters, that might or might not be awaiting me at the little burgh whither I was bound, than of the charms of lea and water.
My ostensible errand on this occasion was to get measured for a pair of shoes; so I discharged that business first, and when it was done, I stepped across the clean and quiet little street from the shoemaker's to the post-office: it was kept by an old dame, who wore horn spectacles on her nose, and black mittens on her hands.
'Are there any letters for J. E.?' I asked.
She peered at me over her spectacles, and then she opened a drawer and fumbled among its contents for a long time, so long that my hopes began to falter. At last, having held a document before her glasses for nearly five minutes, she presented it across the counter, accompanying the act by another inquisitive and mistrustful glance- it was for J. E.
'Is there only one?' I demanded.
'There are no more,' said she; and I put it in my pocket and turned my face homeward: I could not open it then; rules obliged me to be back by eight, and it was already half-past seven.
Various duties awaited me on my arrival: I had to sit with the girls during their hour of study; then it was my turn to read prayers; to see them to bed: afterwards I supped with the other teachers.
Even when we finally retired for the night, the inevitable Miss Gryce was still my companion: we had only a short end of candle in our candlestick, and I dreaded lest she should talk till it was all burnt out; fortunately, however, the heavy supper she had eaten produced a soporific effect: she was already snoring before I had finished undressing. There still remained an inch of candle: I now took out my letter; the seal was an initial F.; I broke it; the contents were brief.
Thursday, possesses the acquirements mentioned, and if she is in a position to give satisfactory references as to character and competency, a situation can be offered her where there is but one pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age; and where the salary is thirty pounds per annum. J. E. is requested to send references, name, address, and all particulars to the direction:-I examined the document long: the writing was old-fashioned and rather uncertain, like that of an elderly lady. This circumstance was satisfactory: a private fear had haunted me, that in thus acting for myself, and by my own guidance, I ran the risk of getting into some scrape; and, above all things, I wished the result of my endeavours to be respectable, proper, en regle. I now felt that an elderly lady was no bad ingredient in the business I had on hand. Mrs. Fairfax! I saw her in a black gown and widow's cap; frigid, perhaps, but not uncivil: a model of elderly English respectability.
Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the name of her house: a neat orderly spot, I was sure; though I failed in my efforts to conceive a recollections of the map of England; yes, I saw it; both the shire and county where I now resided: that was a recommendation to me. I longed to go where there was life and movement: Millcote was a large doubtless: so much the better; it would be a complete change at least.
Not that my fancy was much captivated by the idea of long chimneys and clouds of smoke- 'but,' I argued, 'Thornfield will, probably, be a good way from the town.'
Here the socket of the candle dropped, and the wick went out.
Next day new steps were to be taken; my plans could no longer be confined to my own breast; I must impart them in order to achieve their success. Having sought and obtained an audience of the superintendent during the noontide recreation, I told her I had a prospect of getting a new situation where the salary would be double what I now received (for at Lowood I only got L15 per annum); and requested she would break the matter for me to Mr. Brocklehurst, or some of the committee, and ascertain whether they would permit me to mention them as references. She obligingly consented to act as mediatrix in the matter. The next day she laid the affair before Mr. Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must be written to, as she was my natural guardian. A note was accordingly addressed to that lady, who returned for answer, that 'I might do as I pleased: she had long relinquished all interference in my affairs.' This note went the round of the committee, and at last, after what appeared to me most tedious delay, formal leave was given me to better my condition if I could; and an assurance added, that as I had always conducted myself well, both as teacher and pupil, at Lowood, a testimonial of character and capacity, signed by the inspectors of that institution, should forthwith be furnished me.
This testimonial I accordingly received in about a month, forwarded a copy of it to Mrs. Fairfax, and got that lady's reply, stating that she was satisfied, and fixing that day fortnight as the period for my assuming the post of governess in her house.
I now busied myself in preparations: the fortnight passed rapidly. I had not a very large wardrobe, though it was adequate to my wants; and the last day sufficed to pack my trunk,- the same I had brought with me eight years ago from Gateshead.
The box was corded, the card nailed on. In half an hour the carrier was to call for it to take it to Lowton, whither I myself was to repair at an early hour the next morning to meet the coach. I had brushed my black stuff travelling-dress, prepared my bonnet, gloves, and muff; sought in all my drawers to see that no article was left behind; and now having nothing more to do, I sat down and tried to rest. I could not; though I had been on foot all day, I could not now repose an instant; I was too much excited. A phase of my life was closing tonight, a new one opening to-morrow: impossible to slumber in the interval; I must watch feverishly while the change was being accomplished.
'Miss,' said a servant who met me in the lobby, where I was wandering like a troubled spirit, 'a person below wishes to see you.'
'The carrier, no doubt,' I thought, and ran downstairs without inquiry. I was passing the back-parlour or teachers' sitting-room, the door of which was half open, to go to the kitchen, when some one ran out-'It's her, I am sure!- I could have told her anywhere!' cried the individual who stopped my progress and took my hand. 
I looked: I saw a woman attired like a well-dressed servant, matronly, yet still young; very good-looking, with black hair and eyes, and lively complexion.
'Well, who is it?' she asked, in a voice and with a smile I half recognised; 'you've not quite forgotten me, I think, Miss Jane?'
In another second I was embracing and kissing her rapturously:
'Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!' that was all I said; whereat she half laughed, half cried, and we both went into the parlour. By the fire stood a little fellow of three years old, in plaid frock and trousers. 
'That is my little boy,' said Bessie directly.
'Then you are married, Bessie?'
'Yes; nearly five years since to Robert Leaven, the coachman; and I've a little girl besides Bobby there, that I've christened Jane.'
'And you don't live at Gateshead?'
'I live at the lodge: the old porter has left.'
'Well, and how do they all get on? Tell me everything about them, Bessie: but sit down first; and, Bobby, come and sit on my knee, will you?' but Bobby preferred sidling over to his mother.
'You're not grown so very tall, Miss Jane, nor so very stout,' continued Mrs. Leaven. 'I daresay they've not kept you too well at school: Miss Reed is the head and shoulders taller than you are; and Miss Georgiana would make two of you in breadth.'
'Georgiana is handsome, I suppose, Bessie?'
'Very. She went up to London last winter with her mama, and there everybody admired her, and a young lord fell in love with her: but his relations were against the match; and- what do you think?- he and Miss Georgiana made it up to run away; but they were found out and stopped.
It was Miss Reed that found them out: I believe she was envious; and now she and her sister lead a cat and dog life together; they are always quarrelling.'
'Well, and what of John Reed?'
'Oh, he is not doing so well as his mama could wish. He went to college, and he got- plucked, I think they call it: and then his uncles wanted him to be a barrister, and study the law: but he is such a dissipated young man, they will never make much of him, I think.'
'What does he look like?'
'He is very tall: some people call him a fine-looking young man; but he has such thick lips.'
'And Mrs. Reed?'
'Missis looks stout and well enough in the face, but I think she's not quite easy in her mind: Mr. John's conduct does not please her- he spends a deal of money.'
'Did she send you here, Bessie?'
'No, indeed: but I have long wanted to see you, and when I heard that there had been a letter from you, and that you were going to another part of the country, I thought I'd just set off, and get a look at you before you were quite out of my reach.'
'I am afraid you are disappointed in me, Bessie.' I said this laughing: I perceived that Bessie's glance, though it expressed regard, did in no shape denote admiration.
'No, Miss Jane, not exactly: you are genteel enough; you look like a lady, and it is as much as ever I expected of you: you were no beauty as a child.'
I smiled at Bessie's frank answer: I felt that it was correct, but I confess I was not quite indifferent to its import: at eighteen most people wish to please, and the conviction that they have not an exterior likely to second that desire brings anything but gratification.
'I daresay you are clever, though,' continued Bessie, by way of solace. 'What can you do? Can you play on the piano?'
'A little.'
There was one in the room; Bessie went and opened it, and then asked me to sit down and give her a tune: I played a waltz or two, and she was charmed.
'The Miss Reeds could not play as well!' said she exultingly. 'I always said you would surpass them in learning: and can you draw?'
'That is one of my paintings over the chimney-piece.' It was a landscape in water colours, of which I had made a present to the superintendent, in acknowledgment of her obliging mediation with the committee on my behalf, and which she had framed and glazed.
'Well, that is beautiful, Miss Jane! It is as fine a picture as any Miss Reed's drawing-master could paint, let alone the young ladies themselves, who could not come near it: and have you learnt French?'
'Yes, Bessie, I can both read it and speak it.'
'And you can work on muslin and canvas?'
'I can.'
'Oh, you are quite a lady, Miss Jane! I knew you would be: you will get on whether your relations notice you or not. There was something I wanted to ask you. Have you ever heard anything from your father's kinsfolk, the Eyres?'
'Never in my life.'
'Well, you know, Missis always said they were poor and quite despicable: and they may be poor; but I believe they are as much gentry as the Reeds are; for one day, nearly seven years ago, a Mr. Eyre came to Gateshead and wanted to see you; Missis said you were at school fifty miles off; he seemed so much disappointed, for he could not stay: he was going on a voyage to a foreign country, and the ship was to sail from London in a day or two. He looked quite a gentleman, and I believe he was your father's brother.'
'What foreign country was he going to, Bessie?'
'An island thousands of miles off, where they make wine- the butler did tell me-''Madeira?' I suggested.
'Yes, that is it- that is the very word.'
'So he went?'
'Yes; he did not stay many minutes in the house: Missis was very high with him; she called him afterwards a "sneaking tradesman." My Robert believes he was a wine-merchant.'
'Very likely,' I returned; 'or perhaps clerk or agent to a wine-merchant.'
Bessie and I conversed about old times an hour longer, and then she was obliged to leave me: I saw her again for a few minutes the next morning at Lowton, while I was waiting for the coach. We parted finally at the door of the Brocklehurst Arms there, each went her separate way; she set off for the brow of Lowood Fell to meet the conveyance which was to take her back to Gateshead, I mounted the vehicle which was to bear me to new duties and a new life in the unknown environs of Millcote.
到目前为止，我已细述了自己微不足道的身世。我一生的最初十年，差不多花了十章来描写。但这不是一部正正规规的自传。我不过是要勾起自知会使读者感兴趣的记忆，因此我现在要几乎只字不提跳过八年的生活，只需用几行笔墨来保持连贯性。
斑疹伤寒热在罗沃德完成了它摧毁件的使命以后，便渐渐地从那里销声匿迹了。但是其病毒和牺牲者的数字，引起了公众对学校的注意，于是人们对这场灾祸的根源作了调查，而逐步披露的事实大大激怒了公众。学校的地点不利于健康，孩子们的伙食量少质差，做饭用的水臭得使人恶心；学生们的衣着和居住条件很糟，一切都暴露无遗，曝光的结果使布罗克赫斯特大夫失脸面，使学校大受得益。
那里的一些富家善人慷慨解囊，在一个更好的地点建造了一座更合适的大楼。校规重新作了制订，伙食和衣着有所改善。学校的经费委托给一个委员会管理。布罗克赫斯特先生，有钱又有势，自然不能忽视，所以仍担任司库一职。但在履行职务时得到了更为慷慨和富有同情心的绅士们的协助。他作为督导的职能，也由他人一起来承担，他们知道该怎样把理智与严格、舒适与经济、怜悯与正直结合起来。学校因此大有改进，到时候成了一个真正有用的高尚学府。学校获得新生之后，我在它的围墙之内生活了八年，当了六年的学生，二年的教师，在双重身份上成了它价值和重要性的见证人。
在这八年中，我的生活十分单一，但并无不快，因为日子没有成为一潭死水。这里具备接受良好教育的条件。我喜爱某些课程；我希望超过所有人；我很乐意使教师尤其是我所爱的教师高兴，这一切都激励我奋进。我充分利用所提供的有利条件，终于一跃而成为第一班的第一名，后来又被授予教师职务，满腔热情地干了两年，但两年之后我改变了主意。
坦普尔小姐历经种种变迁，一直担任着校长的职位，我所取得的最好成绩归功于她的教诲。同她的友谊和交往始终是对我的慰藉。她担当了我的母亲和家庭教师的角色，后来成了我的伙伴。这时候，她结了婚，随她的丈夫（一位牧师、一个出色的男人，几乎与这样一位妻子相般配）迁往一个遥远的郡，结果同我失去了联系。
打从她离开的那天起，我已不再同原来一样了。她一走，那种己经确立了的使罗沃德有几分像家的感情和联系，都随之消失。我从她那儿吸收了某些个性和很多习惯。比较和谐的思想，比较有节制的感情，已经在我的头脑里生根。我决意忠于职守，服从命令。我很文静，相信自己十分满足。在别人的眼中，甚至在我自己看来，我似乎是一位懂规矩守本份的人。
但是命运化作牧师内史密斯把我和坦普尔小组分开了。我见她身着行装在婚礼后不久跨进一辆驿站马车，我凝视着马车爬上小山，消失在陡坡后面。随后我回到了自己的房间，在孤寂中度过了为庆祝这一时刻而放的半假日的绝大部分时间。
大部分时候我在房间里踯躅。我本以为自己只对损失感到遗憾，并考虑如何加以补救，但当我结束了思考，抬头看到下午已经逝去，夜色正浓时，蓦地我有了新的发现。那就是在这一间隙，我经历了一个变化的过程，我的心灵丢弃了我从坦普尔小姐那儿学来的东西，或者不如说她带走了我在她身边所感受到的宁静气息，现在我又恢复了自己的天性，感到原有的情绪开始萌动了，我并不是失去了支柱，而是失去了动机；并不是无力保持平静、而是需要保持平静的理由己不复存在。几年来，我的世界就在罗沃德，我的经历就是学校的规章制度，而现在我记起来了，真正的世界无限广阔，一个变满着希望与忧烦，刺激与兴奋的天地等待着那些有胆识的人，去冒各种风险，追求人生的真谛。
我走向窗子，把它打开，往外眺望。我看见了大楼的两翼，看见了花园，看见了罗沃德的边缘，看见了山峦起伏的地平线。我的目光越过了其他东西，落在那些最遥远的蓝色山峰上。正是那些山峰，我渴望去攀登。荒凉不堪岩石嶙峋的边界之内，仿佛是囚禁地，是放逐的极限。我跟踪那条白色的路蜿蜒着绕过一座山的山脚，消失在两山之间的峡谷之中。我多么希望继续跟着它往前走啊！我忆起了我乘着马车沿着那条路走的日子，我记得在薄暮中驶下了山，自从我被第一次带到罗沃德时起，仿佛一个世纪己经过去，但我从来没有离开过这里。假期都是在学校里度过的，里德太太从来没有把我接到盖茨黑德去过，不管是她本人，还是家里的其他人，从未来看过我。我与外部世界既没有书信往来，也不通消息。学校的规定、任务、习惯、观念、音容、语言、服饰、好恶，就是我所知道的生活内容。而如今我觉得这很不够。一个下午之间，我对八年的常规生活突然感到厌倦了，我憧憬自由，我渴望自由，我为自由作了一个祷告，这祈祷似乎被驱散，融入了微风之中。我放弃了祈祷，设想了一个更谦卑的祈求，祈求变化，祈求刺激。而这恳求似乎也被吹进了浩茫的宇宙。“那么”，我近乎绝望地叫道，“至少赐予我一种新的苦役吧！”
这时，晚饭铃响了，把我召唤到了楼下。
直到睡觉的时候，我才有空继续那被打断了的沉思。即便在那时，同房间的一位教师还絮絮叨叨闲聊了好久，使我没法回到我所渴望的问题上。我多么希望瞌睡会使她闭上嘴巴！仿佛只要我重新思考伫立窗前时闪过脑际的念头，某个独特的想法便会自己冒出来，使我得以解脱似的。
格丽丝小姐终于打瞌了。她是一位笨重的威尔士女人，在此之前我对她惯常的鼻音曲除了认为讨厌，没有别的看法。而今晚我满意地迎来了它最初的深沉曲调，我免除了打扰，心中那抹去了一半的想法又立刻复活了。
“一种新的苦役！这有一定道理，”我自言自语（要知道，只是心里想想，没有说出口来）。“我知道是有道理，因为它并不十分动听，不像自由、兴奋、享受这些词，它们的声音确实很悦耳，徒然浪费时间。但是这苦役却全然不同！它毕竟是实实在在的，任何个人都可以服苦役。我在这儿已经服了八年，现在我所期求的不过是到别处去服役。难道我连这点愿望也达不到？难道这事不可行？是呀，是呀，要达到目的并非难事，只要我肯动脑筋，找到达到目的之手段。”
我从床上坐起来，以便开动脑筋。这是一个寒冷的夜晚，我在肩上围了块披巾，随后便全力以赴地进一步思考起来。
“我需要什么呢？在新的环境、新的面孔、新的房子中一个新的工作。我只要这个，因为好高鹜远是徒劳无益的。人们怎样才能找到一个新工作呢？我猜想他们求助于朋友。但我没有朋友。很多没有朋友的人只好自己动手去找工作，自己救自己，他们采用什么办法呢？”
我说不上来，找不到答案。随后我责令自己的头脑找到一个回答，而且要快。我动着脑筋，越动越快。我感到我的脑袋和太阳穴在搏动着。但将近一个小时，我的脑子乱七八糟，一切努力毫无结果。我因为徒劳无功而心乱加麻，便立起身来，在房间里转了转，拉开窗帘，望见一两颗星星，在寒夜中颤抖，我再次爬到床上。
准是有一位善良的仙女，趁我不在时把我需要的主意放到了我枕头上，因为我躺下时，这主意悄悄地、自然而然地闪入我脑际。“凡是谋职的人都登广告，你必须在《××郡先驱报》上登广告。”
“怎么登呢？我对广告一无所知。”
回答来得自然而又及时：
“你必须把广告和广告费放在同一个信封里，寄给《先驱报》的编辑，你必须立即抓住第一个机会把信投到洛顿邮局，回信务必寄往那里邮局的Ｊ.Ｅ.。信寄出后一个星期，你可以去查询。要是来了回音，那就随之行动。”
我把这个计划琢磨了二三回，接着便消化在脑子里，我非常清晰地把它具体化了，我很满意，不久便酣然入睡。
第二天我一大早就起来了，没等起床铃把全校吵醒就写好了广告，封入信封，写上了地址。信上说：
“现有一位年轻女士，熟悉教学（我不是做了两年的教师吗？）愿谋一家庭教师职位，儿童年龄须幼于十四岁（我想自己才十八岁，要指导一个跟我年龄相仿的人是断然不行的）。该女士能胜任良好的英国教育所含的普通课科，以及法文、绘画和音乐的教学（读者呀，现在这张狭窄的技能表，在那个时代还算是比较广博的）。回信请寄××郡洛顿邮局，Ｊ.Ｅ.收。”
这份文件在我抽屉里整整锁了一天。用完茶点以后，我向新来的校长请假去洛顿，为自己也为一两位共事的老师办些小事。她欣然允诺，于是我便去了。一共有两英里步行路程，傍晚还下着雨，好在白昼依然很长。我逛了一两家商店，把信塞进邮局，冒着大雨回来，外衣都淌着水，但心里如释重负。
接着的那个星期似乎很长，然而，它像世间的万物一样，终于到了尽头。一个秋高气爽的傍晚，我再次踏上了去洛顿的路途。顺便提一句，小路风景如画，沿着小溪向前延伸，穿过弯弯曲曲秀色诱人的山谷。不过那天我想得更多的是那封可能在，可能不在小城等着我的信，而不是草地和溪水的魅力。
这时我冠冕堂皇的差使是度量脚码做一双鞋。所以我先去干这件事。了却以后，从鞋匠那儿出来，穿过洁净安宁的小街，来到邮局。管理员是位老妇人，鼻梁上架着角质眼镜，手上戴着黑色露指手套。“有写给Ｊ.Ｅ.的信吗？”我问。
她从眼镜上方盯着我，随后打开一个抽屉，在里面放着的东西中间翻了好久好久。时间那么长，我简直开始有些泄气了。最后，她终于把一份文件放到眼镜底上，过了将近五分钟，才越过柜台，递给我，同时投过来刨根究底，疑虑重重的一瞥——这封信是写给Ｊ.Ｅ.的。
“就只有这么一封？”我问。
“没有了，”她说，我把信放进口袋，回头就走。当时我不能拆开，按照规定我得八点前返回，而这时已经七点半了。
一到家便有种种事务等着我去做。姑娘们做功课时我得陪坐着，随后是轮到我读祷告，照应她们上床。在此之后，我与其他教师吃了晚饭。甚至最后到了夜间安寝时，那位始终少不了的格丽丝小姐仍与我作伴。烛台上只剩下一短截蜡烛了，我担心她会喋喋不休，直至烛灭。幸好那一顿饭产生了催眠的效果。我还没有脱好衣服，她已酣声大作。蜡烛只剩一英寸，我取出了信，封口上署着缩写Ｆ．，我拆开信封，发现内容十分简单。
“如上周四在郡《先驱报》上登了广告的Ｊ.Ｅ.具备她所提及的修养，如她能为自己的品格与能力提供满意的证明人，即可获得一份工作，仅需教一名学生，一个不满十岁的小女孩，年薪为三十英镑。务请将证明人及其姓名、地址和详情寄往下列姓名和地址：“××郡，米尔科特附近，桑菲尔德，费尔法克斯太太收。”
我把文件细看了很久。字体很老式，笔迹不大稳，像是一位老年妇女写的。这一情况倒是让人满意的。我曾暗自担心，我自作主张，独自行动，会有陷入某种困境的危险。尤其是我希望自己努力得来的成果是体面的、正当的、en regle。我现在觉得手头的这件事涉及一位老年妇女倒是好事。费尔法克斯太太！我想象她穿着黑色的长袍，戴着寡妇帽，也许索然无味，但井不失为一位典型的英国老派体面人物。桑菲尔德！毫无疑问，那是她住宅的名称，肯定是个整洁而井井有条的地方，尽管我无力设想这幢房子的确切结构。××郡的米尔科特，我重温了记忆中的英国地图。不错，郡和镇都看到了。××郡比我现在居住的最偏远的郡，离伦敦要近七十英里。这对我来说是十分可取的。我向往活跃热闹的地方。禾尔科特是个大工业城市，坐落在埃×河岸上，无疑是够热闹的。这样岂不更好，至少也是个彻底的改变。倒不是我的想象被那些高高的烟囱和团团烟雾所吸引，“不过，”我争辩着，“或许桑菲尔德离镇很远呢。”
这时残烛落入了烛台孔中，烛芯熄灭了。
第二天我得采取一些新的措施，这个计划不能再闷在自己心里了。为了获得成功我必须说出口。下午娱乐活动时间，我去拜见了校长，告诉她我有可能找到一个新的职位，薪金是我目前所得的两倍（在罗沃德我的年薪为十五镑），请她替我把这事透露给布罗克赫斯特先生或委员会里的某些人，并问明白他们是否允许我把他们作为证明人提出来。她一口答应充当这件事情的协调人。
第二天，她向布罗克赫斯特先生提出了这件事，而他说必须写信通知里德太太，因为她是我的当然监护人。结果便向那位太太发了封简函。她回信说，一切悉听尊便，她已久不干预我的事务了。这封信函在委员会里传阅，并经过了在我看来是极其今人厌烦的拖延后，我终于得到了正式许可，在可能情况下改善自己的处境。附带还保证，由于我在罗沃德当教师和当学生时，一向表现很好，为此即将为我提供一份由学校督导签字的品格和能力证明书。
大约一周以后，我收到了这份证明，抄寄了一份给费尔法克斯太太，并得到了那位太太的回复，说是对我感到满意，并定于两周后我去那位太太家担任家庭教师。
现在我忙于作准备了。两周时间一晃而过。我的衣装不多，只是够穿罢了。最后一天也完全够我整理箱子——还是八年前从盖茨黑德带来的那一只.
箱子已用绳子捆好，贴上了标签。半小时之后有脚夫来把它取走，送往洛顿，我自己则第二天一早要赶到那里去等公共马车。我刷好了我的黑呢旅行装，备好帽子、手套和皮手筒，把所有的抽屉翻了一遍，免得丢下什么东西。此刻，我已无事可做，便想坐下来休息一下。但我做不到，尽管我已奔忙了一整天，却一刻也无法休息，我太兴奋了。我生活的一个阶段今晚就要结束，明天将开始一个新的阶段。在两者的间隙，我难以入睡，我必须满腔热情地观看这变化的完成。
“小姐，”一个在门厅碰到我的仆人说。这会儿我正像一个不安的幽灵似地在那里徘徊，“楼下有个人要见你。”
“准是脚夫，”我想，问也没问一声就奔下了楼去。我正经过半开着的后客厅，也就是教师休息室，向厨房走去，有人却从里面跑了出来。“准是她！——在哪儿我都认得出她来！”那人拦住我，一把抓过我的手叫道。
我定睛一看，见是一个少妇，穿戴得像一个衣着讲究的仆人，一付已婚妇女模样，却不失年轻漂亮，头发和眸子乌黑，脸色红润。
“瞧，是谁来了？”她回话的嗓音和笑容我似曾相识，“我想你没有把我完全忘记吧，简小姐？”
顷刻之间我便喜不自禁地拥抱她，吻她了。“贝茜！贝茜！贝茜！”我光这么叫着，而她听了又是笑又是哭，两人都进了后客厅。壁炉旁边站着一个三岁左右的小家伙，穿着花格呢外衣和裤子。
“那是我的儿子，”贝茜立刻说。
“这么说，你结婚了，贝茜？”
“是呀，己经快五年了，嫁给了马车夫罗伯特.利文，除了站在那儿的鲍比，我还有一个小女孩，我把她的教名取作简。”
“你不住在盖茨黑德了？”
“我住在门房里，原来那个看门的走了。”
“噢，他们都过得怎么样？把他们的事情统统都告诉我，贝茜。不过先坐下来，还有鲍比，过来坐在我的膝头上好吗？”但鲍比还是喜欢侧着身子挨近他妈妈。
“你长得那么高了，简小姐，而又没有发胖，”利文太太继续说。“我猜想学校里没有把你照看得太好吧，里德小姐要比你高得多呢。而乔治亚娜小姐有你两个人那么阔。”
“乔治亚娜想来很漂亮吧，贝茜？”
“很漂亮。去年冬天她同妈妈上了伦敦，在那儿人见人爱，一个年轻勋爵爱上了她，但勋爵的亲戚反对这门亲事，而——你认为怎么样——他和乔治亚娜小姐决定私奔，于是让人发现了，受到了阻止。发现他们的正是里德小姐，我想她是出于妒嫉，如今她们姐妹俩像猫和狗一样不合，老是吵架。”
“那么，约翰.里德怎么样了？”
“啊，他辜负了他妈妈的希望，表现并不好。他上了大学，而考试不及格，我想他们是这么说的。后来他的叔叔们要他将来当律师，去学习法律，但他是个年轻浪荡子，我想他们甭想使他有出息。”
“他长成什么模样了？”
“他很高，有人叫他俊小伙子，不过他的嘴唇很厚。”
“里德太太怎么样？”
“太太显得有些发胖，外表看看倒不错，但我想她心里很不安。约翰先生的行为使她不高兴—一约翰用掉了很多钱。”
“是她派你到这里来的吗，贝茜？”
“说真的，不是。我倒早就想见你了。我听说你写了信来，说是要去远地方，我想我还是乘你还没有远走高飞的时候，动身来见你一面。”
“恐怕你对我失望了吧，贝茜。”说完我笑了起来。我发觉贝茜的目光虽然流露出关切，却丝毫没有赞赏之意。
“不，简小姐，不完全这样。你够文雅的了，你看上去像个贵妇人。当然你还是我所预料的那样，还是孩子的时候你就长得不漂亮。”
我对贝茵坦率的回答报之以微笑。我想她说得对，不过我承认，我对这话的含义并没有无动于衷。在十八岁的年纪上，大多数人都希望能讨人喜欢，而她们相信，自己并不具备有助于实现这种愿望的外表时，心里是绝不会高兴的。
“不过我想你很聪明，”贝茜继续说，以表示安慰。“你会什么？能弹钢琴吗？”
“会一点儿。”
房内有一架钢琴。贝茜走过去把它打开，随后要我坐下来给她弹个曲子。我弹了一两曲华尔兹，她听得着了迷。
“两位里德小姐弹不了这么好！”她欣喜地说，“我总是说你在学问上一定会超过她们的，你能画吗？”
“壁炉架上的那幅画就是我画的。”这是一幅水彩风景画，我把它作为礼物送给了校长，以感谢她代表我在委员会中所作的善意斡旋。她把这幅画加了框，还上了光。
“嗬，好漂亮，简小姐！它同里德小姐的绘画老师作的画一样好，更不要说年轻小姐她们自己了，她们同你天差地远。你学法语了吗？”
“学了，贝茵，我能读还能讲。”
“你会做细布和粗布上的刺绣活吗？”
“我会。”
“啊，你是个大家闺秀啦，简小姐！我早知道你会的。不管你的亲戚理不理你，照样会有长进。我有件事儿要问你，你父亲的亲属，有没有写过信给你，就是那些姓爱的人？”
“这辈子还没有。”
“啊，你知道太太常说，他们又穷又让人瞧不起。穷倒是可能的，但我相信他们像里德家的人一样有绅士派头。大约七年前的一天，一位爱先生来到盖茨黑德，而且要见见你。太太说你在五十英里外的学校里，他好像很失望，因为他不能多呆。他要乘船到外国去，一两天后从伦敦开航。他看上去完全像个绅士，我想他是你父亲的兄弟。”
“他上国外哪个国家，贝茜？”
“几千英里外的一个岛，那儿出产酒——管家告诉我的。”
“马德拉岛？”我提醒了一下。
“对，就是这地方——就是这几个字。”
“那他走了？”
“是的，他在屋里没有呆上几分钟。太太对他很傲慢，后来她把他叫作一个‘狡猾的生意人’，我那位罗伯特估计他是个酒商。”
“很可能，”我回答，“或者酒商的职员或代理人。”
贝茜和我又谈了一个钟头的往事，后来，她不得不告辞了。第二天在洛顿侯车时又见了她五分钟。最后我们在布洛克赫斯特纹章旅店的门边分手，各走各的路，她动身去罗沃德山岗搭车回盖茨黑德；而我登上了车子，让它把我带往米尔科特那个陌生的郊区，从事新的使命，开始新的生活。
Chapter 11
A NEW chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see a room in the George Inn at Millcote, with such large figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, such ornaments on the mantel-piece, such prints, including a portrait of George the Third, and another of the Prince of Wales, and a representation of the death of Wolfe. All this is visible to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near which I sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff and umbrella lie on the table, and I am warming away the numbness and chill contracted by sixteen hours' exposure to the rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at four o'clock A.M., and the Millcote town clock is now just striking eight. Reader, though I look comfortably accommodated, I am not very tranquil in my mind. I thought when the coach stopped here there would be some one to meet me; I looked anxiously round as I descended the wooden steps the 'boots' placed for my convenience, expecting to hear my name pronounced, and to see some description of carriage waiting to convey me to Thornfield. Nothing of the sort was visible;and when I asked a waiter if any one had been to inquire after a Miss Eyre, I was answered in the negative: so I had no resource but to request to be shown into a private room: and here I am waiting,while all sorts of doubts and fears are troubling my thoughts.
It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted.
The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half an hour elapsed and still I was alone.
I bethought myself to ring the bell.
'Is there a place in this neighbourhood called Thornfield?' I asked of the waiter who answered the summons.
'Thornfield? I don't know, ma'am; I'll inquire at the bar.' He vanished, but reappeared instantly-'Is your name Eyre, Miss?'
'Yes.'
'Person here waiting for you.'
I jumped up, took my muff and umbrella, and hastened into the inn-passage: a man was standing by the open door, and in the lamp-lit street I dimly saw a one-horse conveyance.
'This will be your luggage, I suppose?' said the man rather abruptly when he saw me, pointing to my trunk in the passage.
'Yes.' He hoisted it on to the vehicle, which was a sort of car, and then I got in; before he shut me up, I asked him how far it was to Thornfield.
'A matter of six miles.'
'How long shall we be before we get there?'
'Happen an hour and a half.'
He fastened the car door, climbed to his own seat outside, and we set off. Our progress was leisurely, and gave me ample time to reflect; I was content to be at length so near the end of my journey; and as I leaned back in the comfortable though not elegant conveyance, I meditated much at my ease.
'I suppose,' thought I, 'judging from the plainness of the servant and carriage, Mrs. Fairfax is not a very dashing person: so much the better; I never lived amongst fine people but once, and I was very miserable with them. I wonder if she lives alone except this little girl; if so, and if she is in any degree amiable, I shall surely be able to get on with her; I will do my best; it is a pity that doing one's best does not always answer. At Lowood, indeed, I took that resolution, kept it, and succeeded in pleasing; but with Mrs. Reed, I remember my best was always spurned with scorn. I pray God Mrs. Fairfax may not turn out a second Mrs. Reed; but if she does, I am not bound to stay with her! let the worst come to the worst, I can advertise again. How far are we on our road now, I wonder?'
I let down the window and looked out; Millcote was behind us; judging by the number of its lights, it seemed a place of considerable magnitude, much larger than Lowton. We were now, as far as I could see, on a sort of common; but there were houses scattered all over the district; I felt we were in a different region to Lowood, more populous, less picturesque; more stirring, less romantic.
The roads were heavy, the night misty; my conductor let his horse walk all the way, and the hour and a half extended, I verily believe, to two hours; at last he turned in his seat and said- 'You're noan so far fro' Thornfield now.'
Again I looked out: we were passing a church; I saw its low broad tower against the sky, and its bell was tolling a quarter; I saw a narrow galaxy of lights too, on a hillside, marking a village or hamlet. About ten minutes after, the driver got down and opened a pair of gates: we passed through, and they clashed to behind us. We now slowly ascended a drive, and came upon the long front of a house: candlelight gleamed from one curtained bow-window; all the rest were dark. The car stopped at the front door; it was opened by a maid-servant; I alighted and went in.
'Will you walk this way, ma'am?' said the girl; and I followed her across a square hall with high doors all round: she ushered me into a room whose double illumination of fire and candle at first dazzled me, contrasting as it did with the darkness to which my eyes had been for two hours inured; when I could see, however, a cosy and agreeable picture presented itself to my view.
A snug small room; a round table by a cheerful fire; an arm-chair high-backed and old-fashioned, wherein sat the neatest imaginable little elderly lady, in widow's cap, black silk gown, and snowy muslin apron; exactly like what I had fancied Mrs. Fairfax, only less stately and milder looking. She was occupied in knitting; a large cat sat demurely at her feet; nothing in short was wanting to complete the beau-ideal of domestic comfort. A more reassuring introduction for a new governess could scarcely be conceived; there was no grandeur to overwhelm, no stateliness to embarrass; and then, as I entered, the old lady got up and promptly and kindly came forward to meet me.
'How do you do, my dear? I am afraid you have had a tedious ride;
John drives so slowly; you must be cold, come to the fire.' 
'Mrs. Fairfax, I suppose?' said I.
'Yes, you are right: do sit down.'
She conducted me to her own chair, and then began to remove my shawl and untie my bonnet-strings; I begged she would not give herself so much trouble.
'Oh, it is no trouble; I daresay your own hands are almost numbed with cold. Leah, make a little hot negus and cut a sandwich or two: here are the keys of the storeroom.'
And she produced from her pocket a most housewifely bunch of keys, and delivered them to the servant.
'Now, then, draw nearer to the fire,' she continued. 'You've
brought your luggage with you, haven't you, my dear?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'I'll see it carried into your room,' she said, and bustled out.
'She treats me like a visitor,' thought I. 'I little expected such a reception; I anticipated only coldness and stiffness: this is not like what I have heard of the treatment of governesses; but I must not exult too soon.'
She returned; with her own hands cleared her knitting apparatus and a book or two from the table, to make room for the tray which Leah now brought, and then herself handed me the refreshments. I felt rather confused at being the object of more attention than I had ever before received, and, that too, shown by my employer and superior; but as she did not herself seem to consider she was doing anything out of her place, I thought it better to take her civilities quietly.
'Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax to-night?' I asked, when I had partaken of what she offered me.
'What did you say, my dear? I am a little deaf,' returned the good lady, approaching her ear to my mouth.
I repeated the question more distinctly.
'Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Varens! Varens is the name of your future pupil.'
'Indeed! Then she is not your daughter?'
'No,- I have no family.'
I should have followed up my first inquiry, by asking in what way Miss Varens was connected with her; but I recollected it was not polite to ask too many questions: besides, I was sure to hear in time.
'I am so glad,' she continued, as she sat down opposite to me, and took the cat on her knee; 'I am so glad you are come; it will be quite pleasant living here now with a companion. To be sure it is pleasant at any time; for Thornfield is a fine old hall, rather neglected of late years perhaps, but still it is a respectable place; yet you know in winter-time one feels dreary quite alone in the best quarters. I say alone- Leah is a nice girl to be sure, and John and his wife are very decent people; but then you see they are only servants, and one can't converse with them on terms of equality: one must keep them at due distance, for fear of losing one's authority.
I'm sure last winter (it was a very severe one, if you recollect, and when it did not snow, it rained and blew), not a creature but the butcher and postman came to the house, from November till February; and I really got quite melancholy with sitting night after night alone; I had Leah in to read to me sometimes; but I don't think the poor girl liked the task much: she felt it confining. In spring and summer one got on better: sunshine and long days make such a difference; and then, just at the commencement of this autumn, little Adela Varens came and her nurse: a child makes a house alive all at once; and now you are here I shall be quite gay.'
My heart really warmed to the worthy lady as I heard her talk; and I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and expressed my sincere wish that she might find my company as agreeable as she anticipated.
'But I'll not keep you sitting up late to-night,' said she; 'it is on the stroke of twelve now, and you have been travelling all day: you must feel tired. If you have got your feet well warmed, I'll show you your bedroom. I've had the room next to mine prepared for you; it is only a small apartment, but I thought you would like it better than one of the large front chambers: to be sure they have finer furniture, but they are so dreary and solitary, I never sleep in them myself.'
I thanked her for her considerate choice, and as I really felt fatigued with my long journey, expressed my readiness to retire. She took her candle, and I followed her from the room. First she went to see if the hall-door was fastened; having taken the key from the lock, she led the way upstairs. The steps and banisters were of oak; the staircase window was high and latticed; both it and the long gallery into which the bedroom doors opened looked as if they belonged to a church rather than a house. A very chill and vault-like air pervaded the stairs and gallery, suggesting cheerless ideas of space and solitude; and I was glad, when finally ushered into my chamber, to find it of small dimensions, and furnished in ordinary, modern style.
When Mrs. Fairfax had bidden me a kind good-night, and I had fastened my door, gazed leisurely round, and in some measure effaced the eerie impression made by that wide hall, that dark and spacious staircase, and that long, cold gallery, by the livelier aspect of my little room, I remembered that, after a day of bodily fatigue and mental anxiety, I was now at last in safe haven. The impulse of gratitude swelled my heart, and I knelt down at the bedside, and offered up thanks where thanks were due; not forgetting, ere I rose, to implore aid on my further path, and the power of meriting the kindness which seemed so frankly offered me before it was earned. My couch had no thorns in it that night; my solitary room no fears. At once weary and content, I slept soon and soundly: when I awoke it was broad day.
The chamber looked such a bright little place to me as the sun shone in between the gay blue chintz window curtains, showing papered walls and a carpeted floor, so unlike the bare planks and stained plaster of Lowood, that my spirits rose at the view. Externals have a great effect on the young: I thought that a fairer era of life was beginning for me- one that was to have its flowers and pleasures, as well as its thorns and toils. My faculties, roused by the change of scene, the new field offered to hope, seemed all astir. I cannot precisely define what they expected, but it was something pleasant: not perhaps that day or that month, but at an indefinite future period.
I rose; I dressed myself with care: obliged to be plain- for I had no article of attire that was not made with extreme simplicity- I was still by nature solicitous to be neat. It was not my habit to be disregardful of appearance or careless of the impression I made: on the contrary, I ever wished to look as well as I could, and to please as much as my want of beauty would permit. I sometimes regretted that I was not handsomer; I sometimes wished to have rosy cheeks, a straight nose, and small cherry mouth; I desired to be tall, stately, and finely developed in figure; I felt it a misfortune that I was so little, so pale, and had features so irregular and so marked. 
And why had I these aspirations and these regrets? It would be difficult to say: I could not then distinctly say it to myself; yet I had a reason, and a logical, natural reason too.  However, when I had brushed my hair very smooth, and put on my black frock- which, Quakerlike as it was, at least had the merit of fitting to a nicety- and adjusted my clean white tucker, I thought I should do respectably enough to appear before Mrs. Fairfax, and that my new pupil would not at least recoil from me with antipathy. Having opened my chamber window, and seen that I left all things straight and neat on the toilet table, I ventured forth.
Traversing the long and matted gallery, I descended the slippery steps of oak; then I gained the hall: I halted there a minute; I looked at some pictures on the walls (one, I remember, represented a grim man in a cuirass, and one a lady with powdered hair and a pearl necklace), at a bronze lamp pendent from the ceiling, at a great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved, and ebon black with time and rubbing. Everything appeared very stately and imposing to me; but then I was so little accustomed to grandeur. The hall-door, which was half of glass, stood open; I stepped over the threshold. It was a fine autumn morning; the early sun shone serenely on embrowned groves and still green fields; advancing on to the lawn, I looked up and surveyed the front of the mansion. It was three storeys high, of proportions not vast, though considerable: a gentleman's manor-house, not a nobleman's seat: battlements round the top gave it a picturesque look.
Its grey front stood out well from the background of a rookery, whose cawing tenants were now on the wing: they flew over the lawn and grounds to alight in a great meadow, from which these were separated by a sunk fence, and where an array of mighty old thorn trees, strong, knotty, and broad as oaks, at once explained the etymology of the mansion's designation. Farther off were hills: not so lofty as those round Lowood, nor so craggy, nor so like barriers of separation from the living world; but yet quiet and lonely hills enough, and seeming to embrace Thornfield with a seclusion I had not expected to find existent so near the stirring locality of Millcote. A little hamlet, whose roofs were blent with trees, straggled up the side of one of these hills; the church of the district stood nearer Thornfield: its old tower-top looked over a knoll between the house and gates.
I was yet enjoying the calm prospect and pleasant fresh air, yet listening with delight to the cawing of the rooks, yet surveying the wide, hoary front of the hall, and thinking what a great place it was for one lonely little dame like Mrs. Fairfax to inhabit, when that lady appeared at the door.
'What! out already?' said she. 'I see you are an early riser.' I went up to her, and was received with an affable kiss and shake of the hand.
'How do you like Thornfield?' she asked. I told her I liked it very much.
'Yes,' she said, 'it is a pretty place; but I fear it will be getting out of order, unless Mr. Rochester should take it into his head to come and reside here permanently; or, at least, visit it rather oftener: great houses and fine grounds require the presence of the proprietor.'
'Mr. Rochester!' I exclaimed. 'Who is he?'
'The owner of Thornfield,' she responded quietly. 'Did you not know he was called Rochester?'
Of course I did not- I had never heard of him before; but the old lady seemed to regard his existence as a universally understood fact, with which everybody must be acquainted by instinct.
'I thought,' I continued, 'Thornfield belonged to you.'
'To me? Bless you, child; what an idea! To me! I am only the housekeeper- the manager. To be sure I am distantly related to the Rochesters by the mother's side, or at least my husband was; he was a clergyman, incumbent of Hay- that little village yonder on the hill- and that church near the gates was his. The present Mr. Rochester's mother was a Fairfax, second cousin to my husband: but I never presume on the connection- in fact, it is nothing to me; I consider myself quite in the light of an ordinary housekeeper: my employer is always civil, and I expect nothing more.'
'And the little girl- my pupil!'
'She is Mr. Rochester's ward; he commissioned me to find a believe. Here she comes, with her "bonne," as she calls her nurse.'
The enigma then was explained: this affable and kind little widow was no great dame; but a dependant like myself. I did not like her the worse for that; on the contrary, I felt better pleased than ever.
The equality between her and me was real; not the mere result of condescension on her part: so much the better- my position was all the freer.
As I was meditating on this discovery, a little girl, followed by her attendant, came running up the lawn. I looked at my pupil, who did not at first appear to notice me: she was quite a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, slightly built, with a pale, small-featured face, and a redundancy of hair falling in curls to her waist.
'Good morning, Miss Adela,' said Mrs. Fairfax. 'Come and speak to the lady who is to teach you, and to make you a clever woman some day.' She approached.
'C'est la ma gouvernante!' said she, pointing to me, and addressing her nurse; who answered- 'Mais oui, certainement.'
'Are they foreigners?' I inquired, amazed at hearing the French language.
'The nurse is a foreigner, and Adela was born on the Continent; and, I believe, never left it till within six months ago. When she first came here she could speak no English; now she can make shift to talk it a little: I don't understand her, she mixes it so with French; but you will make out her meaning very well, I daresay.'
Fortunately I had had the advantage of being taught French by a French lady; and as I had always made a point of conversing with Madame Pierrot as often as I could, and had besides, during the last seven years, learnt a portion of French by heart daily- applying myself to take pains with my accent, and imitating as closely as possible the pronunciation of my teacher, I had acquired a certain degree of readiness and correctness in the  language, and was not likely to be much at a loss with Mademoiselle Adela. She came and shook hands with me when she heard that I was her governess; and as I led her in to breakfast, I addressed some phrases to her in her own tongue: she replied briefly at first, but after we were seated at the table, and she had examined me some ten minutes with her large hazel eyes, she suddenly commenced chattering fluently.
'Ah!' cried she, in French, 'you speak my language as well as Mr. Rochester does: I can talk to you as I can to him, and so can Sophie. She will be glad: nobody here understands her: Madame Fairfax is all English. Sophie is my nurse; she came with me over the sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked- how it did smoke!- and I was sick, and so was Sophie, and so was Mr. Rochester. Mr. Rochester lay down on a sofa in a pretty room called the salon, and Sophie and I had little beds in another place. I nearly fell out of mine; it was like a shelf. And Mademoiselle- what is your name?'
'Eyre- Jane Eyre.'
'Aire? Bah! I cannot say it. Well, our ship stopped in the morning, before it was quite daylight, at a great city- a huge city, with very dark houses and all smoky; not at all like the pretty clean town I came from; and Mr. Rochester carried me in his arms over a plank to the land, and Sophie came after, and we all got into a coach, which took us to a beautiful large house, larger than this and finer, called an hotel. We stayed there nearly a week: I and Sophie used to walk every day in a great green place full of trees, called the Park; and there were many children there besides me, and a pond with beautiful birds in it, that I fed with crumbs.'
'Can you understand her when she runs on so fast?' asked Mrs.Fairfax.
I understood her very well, for I had been accustomed to the fluent tongue of Madame Pierrot.
'I wish,' continued the good lady, 'you would ask her a question or two about her parents: I wonder if she remembers them?'
'Adele,' I inquired, 'with whom did you live when you were in that pretty clean town you spoke of?'
'I lived long ago with mama; but she is gone to the Holy Virgin.
Mama used to teach me to dance and sing, and to say verses. A great many gentlemen and ladies came to see mama, and I used to dance before them, or to sit on their knees and sing to them: I liked it. Shall I let you hear me sing now?'
She had finished her breakfast, so I permitted her to give a specimen of her accomplishments. Descending from her chair, she came and placed herself on my knee; then, folding her little hands demurely before her, shaking back her curls and lifting her eyes to the ceiling, she commenced singing a song from some opera. It was the strain of a forsaken lady, who, after bewailing the perfidy of her lover, calls pride to her aid; desires her attendant to deck her in her brightest jewels and richest robes, and resolves to meet the false one that night at a ball, and prove to him, by the gaiety of her demeanour, how little his desertion has affected her.
The subject seemed strangely chosen for an infant singer; but I suppose the point of the exhibition lay in hearing the notes of love and jealousy warbled with the lisp of childhood; and in very bad taste that point was: at least I thought so.
Adele sang the canzonette tunefully enough, and with the naivete of her age. This achieved, she jumped from my knee and said, 'Now, Mademoiselle, I will repeat you some poetry.'
Assuming an attitude, she began 'La Ligue des Rats: fable de La Fontaine.' She then declaimed the little piece with an attention to punctuation and emphasis, a flexibility of voice and an appropriateness of gesture, very unusual indeed at her age, and which proved she had been carefully trained.
'Was it your mama who taught you that piece?' I asked.
'Yes, and she just used to say it in this way: "Qu'avez vous donc? lui dit un de ces rats; parlez!" She made me lift my hand- so- to remind me to raise my voice at the question. Now shall I dance for you?'
'No, that will do: but after your mama went to the Holy Virgin, as you say, with whom did you live then?'
'With Madame Frederic and her husband: she took care of me, but she is nothing related to me. I think she is poor, for she had not so fine a house as mama. I was not long there. Mr. Rochester asked me if I would like to go and live with him in England, and I said yes; for I knew Mr. Rochester before I knew Madame Frederic, and he was always kind to me and gave me pretty dresses and toys: but you see he has not kept his word, for he has brought me to England, and now he is gone back again himself, and I never see him.'
After breakfast, Adele and I withdrew to the library, which room, it appears, Mr. Rochester had directed should be used as the schoolroom. Most of the books were locked up behind glass doors; but there was one bookcase left open containing everything that could be needed in the way of elementary works, and several volumes of light literature, poetry, biography, travels, a few romances, etc. I suppose he had considered that these were all the governess would require for her private perusal; and, indeed, they contented me amply for the present; compared with the scanty pickings I had now and then been able to glean at Lowood, they seemed to offer an abundant harvest of entertainment and information. In this room, too, there was a cabinet piano, quite new and of superior tone; also an easel for painting and a pair of globes.
I found my pupil sufficiently docile, though disinclined to apply: she had not been used to regular occupation of any kind. I felt it would be injudicious to confine her too much at first; so, when I had talked to her a great deal, and got her to learn a little, and when the morning had advanced to noon, I allowed her to return to her nurse. I then proposed to occupy myself till dinner-time in drawing some little sketches for her use.
As I was going upstairs to fetch my portfolio and pencils, Mrs. Fairfax called to me: 'Your morning school-hours are over now, I suppose,' said she. She was in a room the folding doors of which stood open: I went in when she addressed me. It was a large, stately apartment, with purple chairs and curtains, a Turkey carpet, walnut-panelled walls, one vast window rich in stained glass, and a lofty ceiling, nobly moulded. Mrs. Fairfax was dusting some vases of fine purple spar, which stood on a sideboard.
'What a beautiful room!' I exclaimed, as I looked round; for I had never before seen any half so imposing.
'Yes; this is the dining-room. I have just opened the window, to let in a little air and sunshine; for everything gets so damp in apartments that are seldom inhabited; the drawing-room yonder feels like a vault.'
She pointed to a wide arch corresponding to the window, and hung like it with a Tyrian-dyed curtain, now looped up. Mounting to it by two broad steps, and looking through, I thought I caught a glimpse of a fairy place, so bright to my novice-eyes appeared the view beyond. Yet it was merely a very pretty drawing-room, and within it a boudoir, both spread with white carpets, on which seemed laid brilliant garlands of flowers; both ceiled with snowy mouldings of white grapes and vine-leaves, beneath which glowed in rich contrast crimson couches and ottomans; while the ornaments on the pale Parian mantelpiece were of sparkling Bohemian glass, ruby red; and between the windows large mirrors repeated the general blending of snow and fire.
'In what order you keep these rooms, Mrs. Fairfax!' said I. 'No dust, no canvas coverings: except that the air feels chilly, one would think they were inhabited daily.'
'Why, Miss Eyre, though Mr. Rochester's visits here are rare, they are always sudden and unexpected; and as I observed that it put him out to find everything swathed up, and to have a bustle of arrangement on his arrival, I thought it best to keep the rooms in readiness.'
'Is Mr. Rochester an exacting, fastidious sort of man?'
'Not particularly so; but he has a gentleman's tastes and habits, and he expects to have things managed in conformity to them.'
'Do you like him? Is he generally liked?'
'Oh, yes; the family have always been respected here. Almost all the land in this neighbourhood, as far as you can see, has belonged to the Rochesters time out of mind.'
'Well, but, leaving his land out of the question, do you like him? Is he liked for himself?'
'I have no cause to do otherwise than like him; and I believe he is considered a just and liberal landlord by his tenants: but he has never lived much amongst them.'
'But has he no peculiarities? What, in short, is his character?'
'Oh! his character is unimpeachable, I suppose. He is rather peculiar, perhaps: he has travelled a great deal, and seen a great deal of the world, I should think. I daresay he is clever, but I never had much conversation with him.'
'In what way is he peculiar?'
'I don't know- it is not easy to describe- nothing striking, but you feel it when he speaks to you; you cannot be always sure whether he is in jest or earnest, whether he is pleased or the contrary; you don't thoroughly understand him, in short- at least, I don't: but it is of no consequence, he is a very good master.'
This was all the account I got from Mrs. Fairfax of her employer and mine. There are people who seem to have no notion of sketching a character, or observing and describing salient points, either in persons or things: the good lady evidently belonged to this class; my queries puzzled, but did not draw her out. Mr. Rochester was Mr. Rochester in her eyes; a gentleman, a landed proprietor- nothing more:
she inquired and searched no further, and evidently wondered at my wish to gain a more definite notion of his identity. 
When we left the dining-room she proposed to show me over the rest of the house; and I followed her upstairs and downstairs, admiring as I went; for all was well arranged and handsome. The large front chambers I thought especially grand: and some of the third-storey rooms, though dark and low, were interesting from their air of antiquity. The furniture once appropriated to the lower apartments had from time to time been removed here, as fashions changed: and the imperfect light entering by their narrow casement showed bed-steads of a hundred years old; chests in oak or walnut, looking, with their strange carvings of palm branches and cherubs' heads, like types of the Hebrew ark; rows of venerable chairs, high-backed and narrow; stools still more antiquated, on whose cushioned tops were yet apparent traces of half-effaced embroideries, wrought by fingers that for two generations had been coffin-dust. All these relics gave to the third storey of Thornfield Hall the aspect of a home of the past: a shrine of memory. I liked the hush, the gloom, the quaintness of these retreats in the day; but I by no means coveted a night's repose on one of those wide and heavy beds: shut in, some of them, with doors of oak; shaded, others, with wrought old English hangings crusted with thick work, portraying effigies of strange flowers, and stranger birds, and strangest human beings,- all which would have looked strange, indeed, by the pallid gleam of moonlight.
'Do the servants sleep in these rooms?' I asked.
'No; they occupy a range of smaller apartments to the back; no one ever sleeps here: one would almost say that, if there were a ghost at Thornfield Hall, this would be its haunt.'
'So I think: you have no ghost, then?'
'None that I ever heard of,' returned Mrs. Fairfax, smiling.
'Nor any traditions of one? no legends or ghost stories?'
'I believe not. And yet it is said the Rochesters have been rather a violent than a quiet race in their time: perhaps, though, that is the reason they rest tranquilly in their graves now.'
'Yes- "after life's fitful fever they sleep well,"' I muttered.
'Where are you going now, Mrs. Fairfax?' for she was moving away.
'On to the leads; will you come and see the view from thence?' I followed still, up a very narrow staircase to the attics, and thence by a ladder and through a trap-door to the roof of the hall. I was now on a level with the crow colony, and could see into their nests.
Leaning over the battlements and looking far down, I surveyed the grounds laid out like a map: the bright and velvet lawn closely girdling the grey base of the mansion; the field, wide as a park, dotted with its ancient timber; the wood, dun and sere, divided by a path visibly overgrown, greener with moss than the trees were with foliage; the church at the gates, the road, the tranquil hills, all reposing in the autumn day's sun; the horizon bounded by a propitious sky, azure, marbled with pearly white. No feature in the scene was extraordinary, but all was pleasing. When I turned from it and repassed the trap-door, I could scarcely see my way down the ladder; the attic seemed black as a vault compared with that arch of blue air to which I had been looking up, and to that sunlit scene of grove, pasture, and green hill, of which the hall was the centre, and over which I had been gazing with delight.
Mrs. Fairfax stayed behind a moment to fasten the trap-door; I, by dint of groping, found the outlet from the attic, and proceeded to descend the narrow garret staircase. I lingered in the long passage to which this led, separating the front and back rooms of the third storey: narrow, low, and dim, with only one little window at the far end, and looking, with its two rows of small black doors all shut, like a corridor in some Bluebeard's castle.
While I paced softly on, the last sound I expected to hear in so still a region, a laugh, struck my ear. It was a curious laugh; distinct, formal, mirthless. I stopped: the sound ceased, only for an instant; it began again, louder: for at first, though distinct, it was very low. It passed off in a clamorous peal that seemed to wake an echo in every lonely chamber; though it originated but in one, and I could have pointed out the door whence the accents issued.
'Mrs. Fairfax!' I called out: for I now heard her descending the great stairs. 'Did you hear that loud laugh? Who is it?'
'Some of the servants, very likely,' she answered: 'perhaps Grace Poole.'
'Did you hear it?' I again inquired.
'Yes, plainly: I often hear her: she sews in one of these rooms.
Sometimes Leah is with her; they are frequently noisy together.'
The laugh was repeated in its low, syllabic tone, and terminated in an odd murmur.
'Grace!' exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax.
I really did not expect any Grace to answer; for the laugh was as tragic, as preternatural a laugh as any I ever heard; and, but that it was high noon, and that no circumstance of ghostliness accompanied the curious cachinnation; but that neither scene nor season favoured fear, I should have been superstitiously afraid. However, the event showed me I was a fool for entertaining a sense even of surprise.
The door nearest me opened, and a servant came out,- a woman of between thirty and forty; a set, square-made figure, red-haired, and with a hard, plain face: any apparition less romantic or less ghostly could scarcely be conceived.
'Too much noise, Grace,' said Mrs. Fairfax. 'Remember directions!' Grace curtseyed silently and went in.
'She is a person we have to sew and assist Leah in her housemaid's work,' continued the widow; 'not altogether unobjectionable in some points, but she does well enough. By the bye, how have you got on with your new pupil this morning?'
The conversation, thus turned on Adele, continued till we reached the light and cheerful region below. Adele came running to meet us in the hall, exclaiming-
'Mesdames, vous etes servies!' adding, 'J'ai bien faim, moi!'
We found dinner ready, and waiting for us in Mrs. Fairfax's room.
一部小说中新的一章，有些像一出戏中的新的一场。这回我拉开幕布的时候，读者，你一定会想象，你看到的是米尔科特乔治旅店中的一个房间。这里同其他旅店的陈设相同，一样的大图案墙纸，一样的地毯，一样的家具，一样的壁炉摆设，一样的图片，其中一幅是乔治三世的肖像，另一幅是威尔士亲王的肖像还有一幅画的是沃尔夫之死。借着悬挂在天花板上的油灯和壁炉的熊熊火光，你可以看得见这一切。我把皮手筒和伞放在桌上，披着斗篷戴着帽子坐在火炉旁，让自己在十月阴冷的天气里暴露了十六个小时、冻得了僵的身子暖和过来。我昨天下午四点离开洛顿，而这时米尔科特镇的时钟正敲响八点。
读者，我虽然看来安顿得舒舒服服，但内心却并不平静，我以为车子一停就会有人来接我。从脚夫为我方便而搭的木板上走下来费尔法克斯小姐吗？”我吃完了她递给我的点心后问。
“你说什么呀，亲爱的，我耳朵有些背。”这位好心的夫人问道，一边把耳朵凑近我的嘴巴。
我把这个问题更清楚地重复了一遍。
“费尔法克斯小姐？噢，你的意思是瓦伦小姐！瓦伦是你要教的学生的名字。”
“真的，那她不是你女儿？”
“不是，我没有家庭。”
我本想接着第一个问题继续往下问，问她瓦伦小姐同她是什么关系，但转念一想，觉得问那么多问题不太礼貌，更何况到时候我肯定会有所闻的。
“我很高兴——”她在我对面坐下，把那只猫放到膝头，继续说：“我很高兴你来了。现在有人作伴，住在这儿是很愉快的。当然，什么时候都很愉快，桑菲尔德是一个很好的老庄园，也许近几年有些冷落，但它还是个体面的地方，不过你知道，在冬天，即使住在最好的房子里你也会觉得孤独凄凉的。我说孤独——莉娅当然是位可爱的姑娘，约翰夫妇是正派人。但你知道他们不过是仆人，总不能同他们平等交谈吧，你得同他们保持适当的距离、免得担心失去威麉搮唷看到了一辆马车。
“我想这就是你的行李了？”这人见了我，指着过道上我的箱子唐突地说。”
“是的，”他把箱子举起来放到了车上，那是一辆马车。随后我坐了进去，不等他关门就问到桑菲尔德有多远。
“六英里左右。”
“我们要多久才到得了那里？”
“大概一个半小时。”
他关了车门，爬到车外自己的位置上，我们便上路了。马车款款向前，使我有充裕的时间来思考。我很高兴终于接近了旅程的终点，身子靠在虽不精致却很舒适的马车上，一时浮想联翩。
“我估计，”我想道，“从朴实的仆人和马车来判断，费尔法克斯太太不是一个衣着华丽的女人，这样倒更好，我跟上等人只生活过一回，同他们相处真是受罪。不知道除了那位站娘之外，她是不是一个人过日子。如果是这样，而且她还算得上有点和气，我肯定能同她好好相处，我会尽力而为。可惜竭尽全力并不总能得到好报。其实在罗沃德，我打定了主意，并坚持不懈地去实行，而且也赢得了别人的好感，但与里德太太相处，我记得我的好心总遭到鄙弃。我祈求上帝，但愿费尔法克斯太太不要到头来成了第二个里德太太。可要是她果真如此，我也并不是非与她相处下去不可，就是发生了最坏的情况，我还可以再登广告。不知道我们现在已走了多远了？”
我放下窗子，往外盼望。米尔科特已落在我们身后。从灯光的数量来看，这似乎是一个相当大的城市，比洛顿要大得多。就我所知，我们此刻像是在一块公地上，不过屋宇遍布整个地区。我觉得我们所在的地区与罗沃德不同。人口更为稠密，却并不那么景色如画；更加熙熙攘攘，却不那么浪漫。
道路难行，夜雾沉沉。我的向导让马一路溜达，我确信这一个半小时延长到了两个小时，最后他在车座上转过头来说：
“现在你离桑菲尔德不远了。”
我再次往外眺望。我们正经过一个教堂，我看见低矮、宽阔的塔映着天空，教堂的钟声正敲响一刻；我还看到山边一狭长条耀眼的灯光，标明那是一个乡村，或者没有教堂的庄子。大约十分钟后，马车夫跳了下来，打开两扇大门，我们穿了过去，门在我们身后砰地关上了。这会儿我们慢悠悠地登上了一条小道，来到一幢房子宽阔的正门前。一扇遮着窗帘的圆肚窗，闪烁着烛光，其余一片漆黑。马车停在前门，一个女佣开了门，我下车走进门去。
“请从这边走，小姐，”这姑娘说。我跟着她穿过一个四周全是高大的门的方形大厅，她领我进了一个房间，里面明亮的炉火与烛光，同我已经习惯了两小时的黑暗恰成对比，起初弄得我眼花缭乱。然而等我定下神来，眼前便出现了一个惬意和谐的画面。
这是一个舒适的小房间，温暖的炉火旁摆着一张圆桌，一条老式高背安乐椅上，坐着一位整洁不过的矮小老妇人，头戴寡妇帽，身穿黑色丝绸长袍，还围着雪白的平纹细布围裙，跟我想象中的费尔法克斯太太一模一样，只是不那么威严，却显得更加和蔼罢了。她正忙着编织。一只硕大的猫娴静地蹲在她脚边。作为一幅理想的家庭闲适图，它真是完美无缺了。对一个新到的家庭女教师来说，也很难设想有比这更让人放心的初次见面的情景了。没有那种咄咄逼人的豪华，也没有今人难堪的庄严。我一进门，那老妇人便站了起来，立刻客客气气地上前来迎接我。
“你好，亲爱的！恐怕一路坐车很乏味吧。约翰驾车又那么慢，你一定怪冷的，到火炉边来吧。”
“我想你就是费尔法克斯太太了？”我说。
“是呀，你说得对，请坐吧。”
她把我领到她自己的椅子上坐下，随后动手取下我的披巾，解开我的帽带，我请她不用如此麻烦了。
“啊，一点也不麻烦。你的手恐怕差点儿冻僵了吧。莉娅，调点儿尼格斯酒，切一两片三明治。储藏室的钥匙在这儿。”
她从口袋里掏出一串井然有序的钥匙，把它递给了仆人。
“好啦，靠近火炉些吧，”她继续说，“你已经把行李带来了是吗，亲爱的？”
“是的，夫人。”
“我来叫人搬到你房间去，”她说着，急急忙忙走了出去。
“她把我当客人看待了，”我想，“我没有料到会受到这样的接待。我所期望的只是冷漠与生硬。这不像我耳闻的家庭女教师的待遇。但我也决不能高兴得太早。”
她回来了，亲自动手从桌上把她的编织工具和一两本书挪开，为莉娅端来的托盘腾出了地方。接着她亲自把点心递给我。我颇有些受宠若惊，我从来没有受到过这样的关心，况且这种关心来自我的雇主和上司。可是她似乎并不认为自己的行动有什么出格，所以我想还是对她的礼仪采取默认态度好。
“今晚我能见一见费尔法克斯小姐吗？”我吃完了她递给我的点心后问。
“你说什么呀，亲爱的，我耳朵有些背。”这位好心的夫人问道，一边把耳朵凑近我的嘴巴。
我把这个问题更清楚地重复了一遍。
“费尔法克斯小姐？噢，你的意思是瓦伦小姐！瓦伦是你要教的学生的名字。”
“真的，那她不是你女儿？”
“不是，我没有家庭。”
我本想接着第一个问题继续往下问，问她瓦伦小姐同她是什么关系，但转念一想，觉得问那么多问题不太礼貌，更何况到时候我肯定会有所闻的。
“我很高兴——”她在我对面坐下，把那只猫放到膝头，继续说：“我很高兴你来了。现在有人作伴，住在这儿是很愉快的。当然，什么时候都很愉快，桑菲尔德是一个很好的老庄园，也许近几年有些冷落，但它还是个体面的地方，不过你知道，在冬天，即使住在最好的房子里你也会觉得孤独凄凉的。我说孤独——莉娅当然是位可爱的姑娘，约翰夫妇是正派人。但你知道他们不过是仆人，总不能同他们平等交谈吧，你得同他们保持适当的距离、免得担心失去威信。确实去年冬天（如果你还记得的话，那是个很冷的冬天，不是下雪，就是刮风下雨），从十一月到今年二月，除了卖肉的和送信的，没有人到府上来过。一夜一夜地独自坐着，我真感到忧伤。有时我让莉娅进来读些东西给我听听，不过我想这可怜姑娘并不喜欢这差使。她觉得这挺束缚人。春秋两季情况好些，阳光和长长的白天使得一切大不相同。随后，秋季刚刚开始，小阿德拉.瓦伦和她的保姆就来了，一个孩子立刻使一幢房子活了起来，而现在你也来了，我会非常愉快。”
听着听着，我对这位可敬的老妇人产生了好感，我把椅子往她身边挪了挪，并表达了我真诚的希望，愿她发现我是一位如她所企盼的融洽伙伴。
“不过今晚我可不想留你太晚，”她说，“现在钟敲十二点了，你奔波了一整天，一定已经很累，要是你的脚已经暖和过来了，我 就带你上卧室去，我已让人拾掇好了我隔壁的房间，这不过是个小间，但比起一间宽阔的前房来，我想你会更喜欢的。虽然那些大房间确实有精致的家具，但孤独冷清，连我自己也从来不睡在里面的。”
我感谢她周到的选择，但长途旅行之后，我确实已疲惫不堪，便表示准备歇息。她端着蜡烛，让我跟着她走出房间，先是去看大厅的门上了锁没有。她从锁上取下钥匙，领我上了楼梯。楼梯和扶手都是橡树做的，楼梯上的窗子都是高高的花格窗，这类窗子和直通一间间卧室的长长过道，看上去不像住家，而像教堂。楼梯和过道上弥漫着一种墓穴似的阴森气氛，给人一种空旷和孤寂的凄凉感。因此当我最后被领进自己的房间，发现它面积不大，有着普通现代风格的陈设时，心里便十分高兴了。
费尔法克斯太太客气地跟我道了晚安。我闩上了门，目光从容四顾，不觉感到那宽阔的大厅、漆旱宽畅的楼梯和阴冷的长廊所造成的恐怖怪异的印象，己被这小房间的蓬勃生气抹去了几分。这时我忽然想到，经历了身心交瘁的一天之后，此刻我终于到达了一个安全避风港，感激之情油然而生。我跪在床边开始祈祷，表示了理所应当的感恩，在站起来之前，并未忘记祈求在前路上赐予帮助与力量，使我配得上还没有付出努力就坦率地授与我的那份厚意。那天晚上，我的床榻上没有荆棘，我那孤寂的房间里没有恐惧。立刻，倦意与满足俱来，我很快便沉沉睡去，醒来的时候，天色已经大亮了。
阳光从蓝色鲜艳的印花布窗帘缝隙中射进来，照出了糊着墙纸的四壁和铺着地毯的地板，与罗沃德光秃秃的楼板和迹痕斑驳的灰泥全然不同。相形之下，这房间显得小巧而明亮，眼前的情景使我精神为之一振。外在的东西对年轻人往往有很大影响，我于是想到自己生涯中更为光明的时代开始了，这个时代将会有花朵和欢愉，也会有荆棘和艰辛。由于这改变了的环境，这充满希望的新天地，我的各种官能都复活了，变得异常活跃。但它们究 竟期望着什么，我一时也说不清楚，反正是某种令人愉快的东西，也许那东西不是降临在这一天，或是这个月，而是在不确定的未来。
我起身了，小心穿戴了一番，无奈只能简朴，——因为我没有一件服饰不是缝制得极其朴实的——但渴求整洁依然是我的天性。习惯上我并不无视外表，不注意自己留下的印象。相反，我一向希望自己的外观尽可能标致些，并希望在我平庸的外貌所允许的情况下，得到别人的好感。有时候，我为自己没有长得漂亮些而感到遗憾，有时巴不得自己有红润的双颊、挺直的鼻梁和樱桃般的小口。我希望自己修长、端庄、身材匀称。我觉得很不幸，长得这么小，这么苍白，五官那么不端正而又那么显眼。为什么我有这些心愿却又有这些遗憾？这很难说清楚、当时我自己虽然说不上来，但我有一个理由，一个合乎逻辑的、自然的理由。然而，当我把头发梳得溜光，穿上那件黑色的外衣——虽然看上去确实像贵格会教派的人，但至少非常合身——换上了干净洁白的领布时，我想我可以够体面地去见费尔法克斯太太了，我的新学生至少不会因为厌恶而从我面前退缩。我打开了房间的窗户，并注意到已把梳妆台上的东西收拾得整整齐齐，便大着胆子走出门去了。
我走过铺着地席的长廊，走下打滑的橡树楼梯，来到了大厅。我站了一会儿，看着墙上的几幅画（记得其中一幅画的是一个穿看护胸铁甲十分威严的男子，另一幅是一个头发上搽了粉戴着珍珠项链的贵妇），看着从天花板上垂下来的青铜灯；看着一个大钟，钟壳是由雕刻得稀奇古怪的橡木做的，因为年长月久和不断地擦拭，变得乌黑发亮了。对我来说一切都显得那样庄严肃穆、富丽堂皇。那时我不大习惯于这种豪华。一扇镶着玻璃的大厅门敞开着，我越过了门槛。这是一个晴朗的秋天早晨，朝阳宁静地照耀着透出黄褐色的树丛和依然绿油油的田野。我往前来到了草坪上，抬头细看这大厦的正面。这是幢三层楼屋宇，虽然有相当规模，但按比例并不觉得宏大，是一座绅士的住宅，而不是贵族的府第。围绕着顶端的城垛，使整座建筑显得很别致。灰色的正面正好被后面一个白嘴鸦的巢穴映衬着，显得很凸出，它的居住者正在边房呱呱叫个不停，飞越草坪和庭园，落到一块大草地上。一道矮篱把草地和庭园分开。草地上长着一排排巨大的老荆棘树丛，强劲多节，大如橡树，一下子说明屋宇名称字源意义的由来。更远的地方是小山。不像罗沃德四周的山那么高耸，那么峻峭，也不像它们那么是一道与世隔绝的屏障。但这些山十分幽静，拥抱着桑菲尔德，给它带来了一种我不曾料到在闹闹嚷嚷的米尔科特地区会有的清静。一个小村庄零零落落地分布在一座小山的一侧，屋顶与树木融为一体。地区教堂坐落在桑菲尔德附近，它古老的钟楼俯视着房子与大门之间的土墩。
我欣赏着这番宁静的景象和诱人的新鲜空气，愉快地倾听着白嘴鸦的呱呱叫声，细细打量着这所庄园宽阔灰白的正面，心里琢磨着，偌大一个地方，居然只住着像费尔法犯斯太太这样一位孤单矮小的贵妇人。就在这时，这位妇人出现在门边了。
“怎么，已经起来了？”她说，“我看你是个喜欢早起的人。”我向她走去，她慈祥地吻了吻我，并同我握了下手。
“你认为桑菲尔德怎么样？”她问。我告诉她很喜欢。
“是呀，”她说，“是个漂亮的地方。但我担心慢慢地会败落，除非罗切斯特先生想着要来，并永久居住在这儿，或者至少常来看看，大住宅和好庭园需要主人经常光顾才是。”
“罗切斯特先生！”我嚷道，“他是谁？”
“桑菲尔德的主人，”她平静地回答，“你不知道他叫罗切斯特吗？”
我当然不知道，我以前从来没有听说过他。但这位老妇人似乎把他的存在，看作尽人皆知的事实，人人都仅凭直感就清楚的。
“我还以为，”我继续说，“桑菲尔德是你的呢。”
“我的？哎哟，我的孩子！多古怪的想法！我的？我不过是个管家——管理人。确实，从母亲份上说，我是罗切斯特家的远亲，或者至少我丈夫是这样。他是个牧师，是海村的——那边山上的那个小村——靠近大门的那个教堂是他管的。现在这位罗切斯特的母亲是费尔法克斯家的人，她的父亲和我丈夫的父亲是堂兄弟，但我从来没有指望这层关系，其实这与我无关。我把自己看作一个普普通通的管家，我的雇主总是客客气气的，而别的我都不指望了”。
“那么，那位小姑娘呢——我的学生？”
“她是罗切斯特先生的受监护人。他委托我替她找个家庭教师。我想他有意将她在××郡养育大。瞧她来了，同她称作‘bonne’的保姆一起来了。”谜被揭开了，这个和蔼善良的矮小寡妇不是位大贵妇，而是像我一样的寄生者。但我并没有因此而不喜欢她，相反，我感到了从未有过的愉快。她与我之间的平等是实实在在的，不是她屈尊就驾的结果。这样倒更好，我的处境就更自由了。
我还在沉思着这个新发现时，一个小女孩由她的侍候者陪着，向草坪这边奔跑过来了。我瞧了一眼我的学生，她开始并没有注意到我。她十足是个孩子，大约七、八岁，个头瘦小，脸色苍白，五官很小，一头累赘的卷发直披到腰上。
“早上好，阿德拉小姐，”费尔法克斯太太说，“过来同这位小姐说说话，她会教你读书，让你有一天成为聪明的女人。”她走近了。
“C'est ma gouvernante？”她指着我对她的保姆说，保姆回答：
“Ｍais oui Ｃertainement.”
“他们都是外国人吗？”我听到他们讲法语，便吃惊地问道。
“保姆是个外国人，而阿德拉却是生在大陆上的，而且我相信除了六个月前的一次，她从来没有离开过大陆。她初到这儿来的时候，一句英语也不会说，现在倒能转过来讲一点了。她把英语和法语混着讲，我听不懂。我想你会把她的意思搞得很清楚的。”
幸好我得益于曾拜一个法国太太为师，学过法语。那时我下了决心抓紧一切机会同皮埃罗夫人交谈。此外，过去七年来还坚持每天背诵一段法语，在语调上狠下功夫，逼真地模仿我老师的发音，因而我的法语已经相当流利和准确，不至于听不懂阿德拉小姐说的话。她听说我是她的家庭教师，便走过来同我握手。我领她进去吃早饭，又用她自己的语言说了几句，起初她回答得很简短，但等我们在桌旁坐定，她用淡褐色的大眼睛审视了我十来分钟之后，突然叽叽喳喳地说开了。
“啊！”她用法语叫道，“你说我的话同罗切斯特先生说得一样好。我可以同你谈了，像我可以跟他谈一样。索菲娅也可以同你谈了，她会很开心的，这里没有人懂她的话，而费尔法克斯太太又满口英语。索菲娅是我的保姆，同我一起乘了条大船穿过海洋，船上有个烟囱冒着烟，多浓的烟呀！我病倒了，索菲娅也病倒了，还有罗切斯特先生也病倒了。罗切斯特先生躺在沙发上，在一间叫沙龙的漂亮房间里，索菲娅和我睡在另一个地方的小床上。它像个架子，我差点跌了下来。小姐，你叫什么名字？”
“爱——简.爱。”
“埃尔？啊，我说不上来。是呀，我们的船在早晨停了下来，天还没有大亮，船在一个大城市靠了岸，一个很大的城市，房子都很黑，全都冒着烟。一点也不像我原来地方漂亮干净的城镇。罗切斯特先生抱着我走过一块板，来到陆地上，索菲娅跟在后面，我们坐进了一辆马车，它把我们带到了一座美丽的大房子，比这座还要大，还要好，叫做旅馆。我们在那里呆了差不多一个星期，我和索菲娅每天去逛一个老大的地方，种满了树，碧绿碧绿的，他们管它叫公园。除了我，那里还有很多孩子，还有一个池塘，池塘里有很多漂亮的鸟，我用面包屑喂它们。”
“她讲得那么快，你能听懂吗？”费尔法克斯太太问。
我完全懂她的话，因为过去早已听惯了皮埃罗夫人流利的语言。
“我希望，”这位善良的夫人继续说，“你问她一两个关于她父母的问题，看她还记不记祷啊！?br> “他在哪方面跟别人不一样呢？”
“我不知道——不容易说清楚——不很突出，但他同你说话时，你感觉得出来。你总是吃不准他在说笑还是当真，他是高兴，还是恰恰相反。总之，你没法彻底了解他——至少我不行。但这无关紧要，他是一个很好的主人。”
这就是我从费尔法克斯太太那儿听来，关于我们两人的雇主的全部情况。有些人似乎不知道如何刻划一个人，不知道观察和描绘人和事的特点，这位善良的太太就属于这类人。我的问话使她大惑不解，却并没有掏出她的话来。在她眼里，罗切斯特先生就是罗切斯特先生。一个绅士，一位土地拥有者——别无其他。她不作进一步询问和探求，显然对我希望进一步确切了解他的个性感到难以理解。
我们离开餐厅时，她提议带我去看看房子其余的地方。我跟着她上楼下楼，一路走一路羡慕不已。一切都安排得那么妥贴，一切都那么漂亮。我想宽敞的前房特别豪华。还有三楼的某些房间，虽然又暗又低，但从古色古香的气派看来，还是别有情趣的。一度归层次更底房间使用的家具，因为时尚的变更，逐渐搬到了这里。?i∴动听，而且还带着她那种年纪会有的天真烂漫的情调。唱完以后，她从我膝头跳下说：“小姐，现在我来给你朗诵些诗吧。”
她摆好姿势，先报了题目：“La ligue des Rats, fable de La Fontaine”，随后她朗诵了这首短诗，十分讲究抑扬顿挫，声调婉转，动作得体，在她这个年纪，实在是很不寻常了，说明她受过悉心的训练。
“这首诗是你妈妈教你的么？”我问。
“是的，她总是这么说‘Qu’ avez vous donc? Lui dit un de ces rats;parlez!’她要我把手举起来，这样，提醒我读问题的时候要提高嗓门儿。现在我来跳舞给你看好吗？”
“不，行啦。你妈妈到圣母玛丽亚那儿去了后，你跟谁一块儿住呢？”
“同弗雷德里克太太和她的丈夫。她照顾我，不过她跟我没有亲戚关系。我想她很穷，因为她不像妈妈那样有好房子。我在那里没呆多久。罗切斯特先生问我，是否愿意同他一起住到英国去。我说好的，因为我认得弗雷德里克太太之前就认得罗切斯特先生了。他总是待我很好，送我漂亮的衣服和玩具，可是你瞧他说话不算数，把我带到了英国，自己倒又回去了，我从来没有见过他。”
吃了早饭，阿黛勒和我进了图书室。罗切斯特先生好像曾吩咐把这用作教室。大部分书籍都锁在玻璃门内，但有一个书架却是敞开的，上面摆着基础教育所需要的各类书籍，和几部轻松的文学作品、诗歌、传记、游记和一些传奇故事等。我猜想这些就是他认为家庭女教师自个儿想看的书。的确，有这些书眼下我已经心满意足。同罗沃德书苑偶尔的少量采摘相比，这里所奉献的却是知识和娱乐的大丰收了。在房子里还有一架小巧的钢琴，成 色很新，音调优美。此外，还有一个画架和一对地球仪。
我发觉我的学生相当听话，虽然不大肯用功。对任何正儿八经的事她都不习惯。我觉得一开始就给她过多限制是不明智的。我已给她讲了很多，也使她学了点东西。因此早晨过去，渐近中午时，我便允许她回到保姆那儿去了。随后我打算在午饭前画些小小的素描，供她学习用。
我正上楼去取画夹和铅笔，费尔法克斯太太叫住了我：“我想你上午的课结束了吧，”她说。她正在一个房间里，房间的折门开着。她招呼我时我便走了进去。这是个气派不凡的大房间，紫色的椅子，紫色的窗帘，土耳其地毯，墙上是胡挑木做的镶板，一扇巨大无比的窗，装配了色彩丰富的染色玻璃，天花板很高，浇铸得宏伟壮丽。费尔法克斯太太正给餐具柜上几个紫色晶石花瓶拂去灰尘。
“多漂亮的房间！”我朝四周看了看，不觉惊叫起来，我从未见过什么房间有它一半那么气派的。
“是呀，这是餐室，我刚开了窗，让它进来一点新鲜空气和阳光，这些房间难得有人住，所以什么都是潮腻腻的，那边的客厅简直像墓穴。”
她指了指跟那窗子相对应的一扇又宽又大的拱门，一样也挂着红紫色的帘子，此刻往上卷着。我跨过两步宽阔的台阶，登上拱门，往里面瞅着。我以为自己看见了一个仙境，那景象使我这个刚踏上世途的人顿时眼目清亮。但它不过是一个漂亮的客厅和里面成套的一间闺房。两间房子都铺着白色的地毯，地毯上仿佛摆着鲜艳夺目的花环。天花板上都浇铸着雪白的葡萄和葡萄叶子。与它恰成对比的是，天花板下闪烁着绯红的睡椅和床榻，灰白色的帕罗斯岛大理石壁炉架上，摆着波希米亚闪光玻璃装饰物，像红宝石一般火红。窗户之间的大镜子，也映照出大体红白相间的色调。
“这些房间收拾得多整齐呀，费尔法克斯太太！”我说。“没有帆布罩子，却能做到纤尘不染，要不是空气冷飕飕的，人家准以为天天住着人呢。”
“唉，爱小姐，尽管罗切斯特先生很少上这儿来，但要来就往往很突然，料也料不到。我发现他最讨厌看到什么都裹得严严实实的，他到了才开始手忙脚乱地张罗，所以我想还是把房间准备停当好。”
“罗切斯特先生是那种爱挑剔、难讨好的人吗？”
“不完全是这样。不过他具有上等人的趣味与习惯，希望按他的趣味和习惯办事。”
“你喜欢他吗？大家都喜欢他吗？”
“啊，是的。这个家族在这儿一向受人尊敬。很久很久以前，凡是你望得见的附近的土地，几乎都属于罗切斯特家的。”
“哦，不过撇开他的土地不谈，你喜欢他吗？别人喜欢他本人吗？”
“我没有理由不喜欢他。我相信他的佃户们都认为他是个公正大方的乡绅，不过他从来没有在他们中间生活得很久。”
“但他没有跟别人不一样的地方吗？他的性格究竟怎样？”
“啊，我想他的性格是无可指责的，也许他有些特别。我想他到过很多地方，见过很多世面。他一定很聪明，不过我没有同他说过很多话。”
“他在哪方面跟别人不一样呢？”
“我不知道——不容易说清楚——不很突出，但他同你说话时，你感觉得出来。你总是吃不准他在说笑还是当真，他是高兴，还是恰恰相反。总之，你没法彻底了解他——至少我不行。但这无关紧要，他是一个很好的主人。”
这就是我从费尔法克斯太太那儿听来，关于我们两人的雇主的全部情况。有些人似乎不知道如何刻划一个人，不知道观察和描绘人和事的特点，这位善良的太太就属于这类人。我的问话使她大惑不解，却并没有掏出她的话来。在她眼里，罗切斯特先生就是罗切斯特先生。一个绅士，一位土地拥有者——别无其他。她不作进一步询问和探求，显然对我希望进一步确切了解他的个性感到难以理解。
我们离开餐厅时，她提议带我去看看房子其余的地方。我跟着她上楼
Chapter 12
THE promise of a smooth career, which my first calm introduction to Thornfield Hall seemed to pledge, was not belied on a longer acquaintance with the place and its inmates. Mrs. Fairfax turned out to be what she appeared, a placid-tempered, kind-natured woman, of competent education and average intelligence. My pupil was a lively child, who had been spoilt and indulged, and therefore was sometimes wayward; but as she was committed entirely to my care, and no injudicious interference from any quarter ever thwarted my plans for her improvement, she soon forgot her little freaks, and became obedient and teachable. She had no great talents, no marked traits of character, no peculiar development of feeling or taste which raised her one inch above the ordinary level of childhood; but neither had she any deficiency or vice which sunk her below it. She made reasonable progress, entertained for me a vivacious, though perhaps not very profound, affection; and by her simplicity, gay prattle, and efforts to please, inspired me, in return, with a degree of attachment sufficient to make us both content in each other's society.This, par parenthese, will be thought cool language by persons who entertain solemn doctrines about the angelic nature of children, and the duty of those charged with their education to conceive for them an idolatrous devotion: but I am not writing to flatter parental egotism, to echo cant, or prop up humbug; I am merely telling the truth. I felt a conscientious solicitude for Adele's welfare and progress, and a quiet liking for her little self: just as I cherished towards Mrs. Fairfax a thankfulness for her kindness, and a pleasure in her society proportionate to the tranquil regard she had for me, and the moderation of her mind and character.
Anybody may blame me who likes, when I add further, that, now and then, when I took a walk by myself in the grounds; when I went down to the gates and looked through them along the road; or when, while Adele played with her nurse, and Mrs. Fairfax made jellies in the storeroom, I climbed the three staircases, raised the trap-door of the attic, and having reached the leads, looked out afar over sequestered field and hill, and along dim sky-line- that then I longed for a power of vision which might overpass that limit; which might reach the busy world, towns, regions full of life I had heard of but never seen- that then I desired more of practical experience than I possessed; more of intercourse with my kind, of acquaintance with variety of character, than was here within my reach. I valued what was good in Mrs. Fairfax, and what was good in Adele; but I believed in the existence of other and more vivid kinds of goodness, and what I believed in I wished to behold.
Who blames me? Many, no doubt; and I shall be called discontented. I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes. Then my sole relief was to walk along the corridor of the third storey, backwards and forwards, safe in the silence and solitude of the spot, and allow my mind's eye to dwell on whatever bright visions rose before it- and, certainly, they were many and glowing; to let my heart be heaved by the exultant movement, which, while it swelled it in trouble, expanded it with life; and, best of all, to open my inward ear to a tale that was never ended- a tale my imagination created, and narrated continuously; quickened with all of incident, life, fire, feeling, that I desired and had not in my actual existence.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole's laugh: the same peal, the same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first heard, had thrilled me: I heard, too, her eccentric murmurs; stranger than her laugh. There were days when she was quite silent; but there were others when I could not account for the sounds she made. Sometimes I saw her: she would come out of her room with a basin, or a plate, or a tray in her hand, go down to the kitchen and shortly return, generally (oh, romantic reader, forgive me for telling the plain truth!) bearing a pot of porter. Her appearance always acted as a damper to the curiosity raised by her oral oddities: hard-featured and staid, she had no point to which interest could attach. I made some attempts to draw her into conversation, but she seemed a person of few words: a monosyllabic reply usually cut short every effort of that sort. 
The other members of the household, viz., John and his wife, Leah the housemaid, and Sophie the French nurse, were decent people; but in no respect remarkable; with Sophie I used to talk French, and sometimes I asked her questions about her native country; but she was not of a descriptive or narrative turn, and generally gave such vapid and confused answers as were calculated rather to check than encourage inquiry.
October, November, December passed away. One afternoon in January, Mrs. Fairfax had begged a holiday for Adele, because she had a cold; and, as Adele seconded the request with an ardour that reminded me how precious occasional holidays had been to me in my own childhood, I accorded it, deeming that I did well in showing pliability on the point. It was a fine, calm day, though very cold;
I was tired of sitting still in the library through a whole long morning: Mrs. Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting to be posted, so I put on my bonnet and cloak and volunteered to carry it to Hay; the distance, two miles, would be a pleasant winter afternoon walk. Having seen Adele comfortably seated in her little chair by Mrs. Fairfax's parlour fireside, and given her her best wax doll (which I usually kept enveloped in silver paper in a drawer) to play with, and a story-book for a change of amusement; and having replied to her 'Revenez bientot, ma bonne amie, ma chere Mdlle.
Jeannette,' with a kiss I set out. 
The ground was hard, the air was still, my road was lonely; I walked fast till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analyse the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation. It was three o'clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under the belfry: the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and pale-beaming sun. I was a mile from Thornfield, in a lane noted for wild roses in summer, for nuts and blackberries in autumn, and even now possessing a few coral treasures in hips and haws, but whose best winter delight lay in its utter solitude and leafless repose. If a breath of air stirred, it made no sound here; for there was not a holly, not an evergreen to rustle, and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as the white, worn stones which causewayed the middle of the path. Far and wide, on each side, there were only fields, where no cattle now browsed; and the little brown birds, which stirred occasionally in the hedge, looked like single russet leaves that had forgotten to drop.
This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay; having reached the middle, I sat down on a stile which led thence into a field. Gathering my mantle about me, and sheltering my hands in my muff, I did not feel the cold, though it froze keenly; as was attested by a sheet of ice covering the causeway, where a little brooklet, now congealed, had overflowed after a rapid thaw some days since. From my seat I could look down on Thornfield: the grey and battlemented hall was the principal object in the vale below me; its woods and dark rookery rose against the, west. I lingered till the sun went down amongst the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them. I then turned eastward. 
On the hill-top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees, sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet a mile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life. My ear, too, felt the flow of currents; in what dales and depths I could not tell: but there were many hills beyond Hay, and doubtless many becks threading their passes. That evening calm betrayed alike the tinkle of the nearest streams, the sough of the most remote.
A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings, at once so far away and so clear: a positive tramp, tramp, a metallic clatter, which effaced the soft wave-wanderings; as, in a picture, the solid mass of a crag, or the rough boles of a great oak, drawn in dark and strong on the foreground, efface the aerial distance of azure hill, sunny horizon, and blended clouds where tint melts into tint.
The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached. I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by. In those days I was young, and all sorts of fancies bright and dark tenanted my mind: the memories of nursery stories were there amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing youth added to them a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As this horse approached, and as I watched for it to appear through the dusk, I remembered certain of Bessie's tales, wherein figured a North-of-England spirit called a 'Gytrash,' which, in the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon belated travellers, as this horse was now coming upon me.
It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to the tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form of Bessie's Gytrash- a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head:
it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would.         
The horse followed,- a tall steed, and on its back a rider. The man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins, to my notions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts, could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human form. No Gytrash was this,- only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote. He passed, and I went on; a few steps, and I turned: a sliding sound and an exclamation of 'What the deuce is to do now?' and a clattering tumble, arrested my attention. Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the causeway. The dog came bounding back, and seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the evening hills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to his magnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran up to me; it was all he could do,- there was no other help at hand to summon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller, by this time struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were so vigorous, I thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the question-
'Are you injured, sir?'
I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was pronouncing some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly.
'Can I do anything?' I asked again.
'You must just stand on one side,' he answered as he rose, first to his knees, and then to his feet. I did; whereupon began a heaving, stamping, clattering process, accompanied by a barking and baying which removed me effectually some yards' distance; but I would not be driven quite away till I saw the event. This was finally fortunate;  the horse was re-established, and the dog was silenced with a 'Down, Pilot!' The traveller now, stooping, felt his foot and leg, as if trying whether they were sound; apparently something ailed them, for he halted to the stile whence I had just risen, and sat down.
I was in the mood for being useful, or at least officious, I think, for I now drew near him again.
'If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch some one either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay.'
'Thank you: I shall do: I have no broken bones,- only a sprain;' and again he stood up and tried his foot, but the result extorted an involuntary 'Ugh!'
Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent, but I traced the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will, and offering my services unasked. I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.
If even this stranger had smiled and been good-humoured to me when I addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and with thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation to renew inquiries: but the frown, the roughness of the traveller, set me at my ease: I retained my station when he waved to me to go, and announced-'I cannot think of leaving you, sir, at so late an hour, in this solitary lane, till I see you are fit to mount your horse.'
He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my direction before.
'I should think you ought to be at home yourself,' said he, 'if you have a home in this neighbourhood: where do you come from?'
'From just below; and I am not at all afraid of being out late when it is moonlight: I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure, if you wish it: indeed, I am going there to post a letter.'
'You live just below- do you mean at that house with the battlements?' pointing to Thornfield Hall, on which the moon cast a hoary gleam, bringing it out distinct and pale from the woods, that, by contrast with the western sky, now seemed one mass of shadow.
'Yes, sir.'
'Whose house is it?'
'Mr. Rochester's.'
'Do you know Mr. Rochester?'
'No, I have never seen him.'
'He is not resident, then?'
'No.'
'Can you tell me where he is?'
'I cannot.'
'You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are-' He stopped, ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quite simple: a black merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither of them half fine enough for a lady's-maid. He seemed puzzled to decide what I was; I helped him.
'I am the governess.'
'Ah, the governess!' he repeated; 'deuce take me, if I had not forgotten! The governess!' and again my raiment underwent scrutiny. In two minutes he rose from the stile: his face expressed pain when he tried to move.
'I cannot commission you to fetch help,' he said; 'but you may help me a little yourself, if you will be so kind.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You have not an umbrella that I can use as a stick?'
'No.'
'Try to get hold of my horse's bridle and lead him to me: you are not afraid?'
I should have been afraid to touch a horse when alone, but when told to do it, I was disposed to obey. I put down my muff on the stile, and went up to the tall steed; I endeavoured to catch the bridle, but it was a spirited thing, and would not let me come near its head; I made effort on effort, though in vain: meantime, I was mortally afraid of its trampling forefeet. The traveller waited and watched for some time, and at last he laughed.
'I see,' he said, 'the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain; I must beg of you to come here.'
I came. 'Excuse me,' he continued: 'necessity compels me to make you useful.' He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and leaning on me with some stress, limped to his horse. Having once caught the bridle, he mastered it directly and sprang to his saddle; grimacing grimly as he made the effort, for it wrenched his sprain.
'Now,' said he, releasing his under lip from a hard bite, 'just hand me my whip; it lies there under the hedge.' I sought it and found it.
'Thank you; now make haste with the letter to Hay, and return as fast as you can.'
A touch of a spurred heel made his horse first start and rear, and then bound away; the dog rushed in his traces; all three vanished, 'Like heath that, in the wilderness, The wild wind whirls away.'
I took up my muff and walked on. The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something; trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive. The new face, too, was like a new picture introduced to the gallery of memory; and it was dissimilar to all the others hanging there: firstly, because it was masculine; and, secondly, because it was dark, strong, and stern. I had it still before me when I entered Hay, and slipped the letter into the post-office; I saw it as I walked fast down-hill all the way home.
When I came to the stile, I stopped a minute, looked round and listened, with an idea that a horse's hoofs might ring on the causeway again, and that a rider in a cloak, and a Gytrash-like Newfoundland dog, might be again apparent: I saw only the hedge and a pollard willow before me, rising up still and straight to meet the moonbeams; I heard only the faintest waft of wind roaming fitful among the trees round Thornfield, a mile distant; and when I glanced down in the direction of the murmur, my eye, traversing the hall-front, caught a light kindling in a window: it reminded me that I was late, and I hurried on.
I did not like re-entering Thornfield. To pass its threshold was to return to stagnation; to cross the silent hall, to ascend the darksome staircase, to seek my own lonely little room, and then to meet tranquil Mrs. Fairfax, and spend the long winter evening with her, and her only, was to quell wholly the faint excitement wakened by my walk,- to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an uniform and too still existence; of an existence whose very privileges of security and ease I was becoming incapable of appreciating. What good it would have done me at that time to have been tossed in the storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for the calm amidst which I now repined! Yes, just as much good as it would do a man tired of sitting still in a 'too easy chair' to take a long walk: and just as natural was the wish to stir, under my circumstances, as it would be under his.
I lingered at the gates; I lingered on the lawn; I paced backwards and forwards on the pavement; the shutters of the glass door were closed; I could not see into the interior; and both my eyes and spirit seemed drawn from the gloomy house- from the grey hollow filled with rayless cells, as it appeared to me- to that sky expanded before me,- a blue sea absolved from taint of cloud; the moon ascending it in solemn march; her orb seeming to look up as she left the hill-tops, from behind which she had come, far and farther below her, and aspired to the zenith, midnight dark in its fathomless depth and measureless distance; and for those trembling stars that followed her course; they made my heart tremble, my veins glow when I viewed them. Little things recall us to earth; the clock struck in the hall; that sufficed; I turned from moon and stars, opened a side-door, and went in.
The hall was not dark, nor yet was it lit, only by the high-hung bronze lamp; a warm glow suffused both it and the lower steps of the oak staircase. This ruddy shine issued from the great dining-room, whose two-leaved door stood open, and showed a genial fire in the grate, glancing on marble hearth and brass fire-irons, and revealing purple draperies and polished furniture, in the most pleasant radiance. It revealed, too, a group near the mantelpiece: I had scarcely caught it, and scarcely become aware of a cheerful mingling of voices, amongst which I seemed to distinguish the tones of Adele, when the door closed.
I hastened to Mrs. Fairfax's room; there was a fire there too, but no candle, and no Mrs. Fairfax. Instead, all alone, sitting upright on the rug, and gazing with gravity at the blaze, I beheld a great black and white long-haired dog, just like the Gytrash of the lane. It was so like it that I went forward and said- 'Pilot,' and the thing got up and came to me and snuffed me. I caressed him, and he wagged his great tail; but he looked an eerie creature to be alone with, and I could not tell whence he had come. I rang the bell, for I wanted a candle; and I wanted, too, to get an account of this visitant. Leah entered.
'What dog is this?'
'He came with master.'
'With whom?'
'With master- Mr. Rochester- he is just arrived.'
'Indeed! and is Mrs. Fairfax with him?'
'Yes, and Miss Adele; they are in the dining-room, and John is gone for a surgeon; for master has had an accident; his horse fell and his ankle is sprained.'
'Did the horse fall in Hay Lane?'
'Yes, coming down-hill; it slipped on some ice.'
'Ah! Bring me a candle, will you, Leah?'
Leah brought it; she entered, followed by Mrs. Fairfax, who repeated the news; adding that Mr. Carter the surgeon was come, and was now with Mr. Rochester: then she hurried out to give orders about tea, and I went upstairs to take off my things.
我初到桑菲尔德府的时候，一切都显得平平静静，似乎预示着我未来的经历会一帆风顺。我进一步熟悉了这个地方及其居住者以后，发现这预期没有落空。费尔法克斯太太果然与她当初给人的印象相符，性格温和，心地善良，受过足够的教育，具有中等的智力。我的学生非常活泼，但由于过份溺爱己被宠坏，有时显得倔强任性，好在完全由我照管，任何方面都没有进行不明智的干预，破坏我的培养计划，她也很快改掉了任性的举动，变得驯服可教了。她没有非凡的才能，没有个性特色，没有那种使她稍稍超出一般儿童水平的特殊情趣，不过也没有使她居于常人之下的缺陷和恶习。她取得了合情合理的进步，对我怀有一种也许并不很深却十分热烈的感情。她的单纯、她愉快的喁语、她想讨人喜欢的努力，反过来也多少激起了我对她的爱恋，使我们两人之间维系着一种彼此都感到满意的关系。
这些话，Par?parenthese，会被某些人视为过于冷淡，这些人持有庄严的信条，认为孩子要有天使般的本性，承担孩子教育责任者，应当对他们怀有偶象崇拜般的虔诚。不过这样写并不是迎合父母的利己主义，不是附和时髦的高论，不是支持骗人的空谈。我说的无非是真话。我觉得我真诚地关心阿黛勒的幸福和进步，默默地喜欢这个小家伙，正像我对费尔法克斯太太的好心怀着感激之情一样，同时也因为她对我的默默敬意以及她本人温和的心灵与性情，而觉得同她相处是一种乐趣了。
我想再说几句，谁要是高兴都可以责备我，因为当我独个儿在庭园里散步时，当我走到大门口并透过它往大路望去时，或者当阿黛勒同保姆做着游戏，费尔法克斯太太在储藏室制作果子冻时，我爬上三道楼梯，推开顶楼的活动天窗，来到铅皮屋顶，极目远望与世隔绝的田野和小山，以及暗淡的地平线。随后，我渴望自己具有超越那极限的视力，以便使我的目光抵达繁华的世界，抵达那些我曾有所闻，却从未目睹过的生气勃勃的城镇和地区。随后我渴望掌握比现在更多的实际经验，接触比现在范围内更多与我意气相投的人，熟悉更多类型的个性。我珍重费尔法克斯太太身上的德性，也珍重阿黛勒身上的德性，但我相信还存在着其他更显著的德性，而凡我所信奉的，我都希望看一看。
谁责备我呢？无疑会有很多人，而且我会被说成贪心不知足。我没有办法，我的个性中有一种骚动不安的东西，有时它搅得我很痛苦。而我唯一的解脱办法是，在三层楼过道上来回踱步。这里悄无声息，孤寂冷落，十分安全，可以任心灵的目光观察浮现在眼前的任何光明的景象——当然这些景象很多，而且都光辉灿烂；可以让心脏随着欢快的跳动而起伏，这种跳动在烦恼中使心脏膨胀，同时又以生命来使它扩展。最理想的是，敞开我心灵的耳朵，来倾听一个永远不会结束的故事。这个故事由我的想象所创造，并被继续不断地讲下去。这个故事还由于那些我朝思暮想，却在我实际生活中所没有的事件、生活、激情和感觉，而显得更加生动。说人类应当满足于平静的生活，是徒劳无益的。他们应当有行动，而且要是他们没有办法找到，那就自己来创造。成千上万的人命里注定要承受比我更沉寂的灭亡；而成千上万的人在默默地反抗他们的命运。没有人知道除了政治反抗之外，有多少反抗在人世间芸芸众生中酝酿着。一般都认为女人应当平平静静，但女人跟男人有一样的感觉。她们需要发挥自己的才能，而且也像兄弟们一样需要有用武之地。她们对严厉的束缚，绝对的停滞，都跟男人一样感到痛苦，比她们更享有特权的同类们，只有心胸狭窄者才会说，女人们应当只做做布丁，织织长袜，弹弹钢，绣绣布包，要是她们希望超越世俗认定的女性所应守的规范，做更多的事情，学更多的东西，那么为此去谴责或讥笑她们未是轻率的。
我这么独自一人时，常常听到格雷斯.普尔的笑声，同样的一阵大笑，同样的低沉、迟缓的哈哈声，初次听来，令人毛骨悚然。我也曾听到过她怪异的低语声，比她的笑声还古怪。有些日子她十分安静，但另一些日子她会发出令人费解的声音。有时我看到了她。她会从房间里出来，手里拿着一个脸盆，或者一个盘子，或者一个托盘，下楼到厨房去，并很快就返回，一般说来（唉，浪漫的读者，请恕我直言！）拿着一罐黑啤酒。她的外表常常会消除她口头的怪癖所引起的好奇。她一脸凶相，表情严肃，没有一点使人感兴趣的地方。我几次想使她开口，但她似乎是个少言寡语的人，回答往往只有一两个字，终于使我意兴全无了。
府上的其他成员，如约翰夫妇，女佣莉娅和法国保姆索菲娅都是正派人，但决非杰出之辈。我同索菲娅常说法语，有时也问她些关于她故国的问题，但她没有描绘或叙述的才能，一般听作的回答既乏味又混乱，仿佛有意阻止而不是鼓励我继续发问。
十月、十一月和十二月过去了。第二年一月的某个下午，因为阿黛勒得了感冒，费尔法克斯太太为她来向我告假。阿黛勒表示热烈附加，这使我想起自己的童年时代，偶尔的假日显得有多可贵。于是便同意了，还认为自己在这点上做得很有灵活性。这是一个十分寒冷却很宁静的好天。我讨厌静坐书房，消磨整个长长的下午。费尔法克斯太太刚写好了一封信，等着去邮奇。于是我戴好帽子，披了斗篷，自告奋勇把信送到海镇去。冬昌下午步行两英里路，不失为一件快事。我看到阿戴勒舒舒服服地坐在费尔法克斯太太的客厅炉火边的小椅子上，给了她最好的蜡制娃娃（平时我用锡纸包好放在抽屉里）玩，还给了一本故事书换换口味。听她说了“Ｒevenez?bientot?ma?bonne?amie,ma?chere Mdlle,Jean?nette”后，我吻了她一下，算是对她的回答，随后便出发了。
地面坚硬，空气沉静，路沟寂寞。我走得很快，直到浑身暖和起来才放慢脚步，欣赏和品味此时此景蕴蓄着的种种欢乐。时候是三点，我经过钟楼时，教堂的钟正好敲响。这一时刻的魅力，在于天色渐暗，落日低垂，阳光惨淡。我走在离桑菲尔德一英里的一条小路上。夏天，这里野攻瑰盛开；秋天，坚果与黑草莓累累，就是现在，也还留着珊瑚色珍宝般的蔷薇果和山楂果。但冬日最大的愉悦，却在于极度的幽静和光秃秃的树木所透出的安宁。微风吹来，在这里听不见声息，因为没有一枝冬青，没有一棵常绿树，可以发出婆娑之声。片叶无存的山楂和榛灌木、像小径中间磨损了的白石那样寂静无声。小路两旁。远近只有田野，却不见吃草的牛群。偶尔拨弄着树篱的黄褐色小鸟，看上去像是忘记掉落的零星枯叶。
这条小径沿着山坡一路往上直至海镇。步到半路，我在通向田野的台阶上坐了下来。我用斗篷把自己紧紧裹住，把手捂在皮手筒里，所以尽管天寒地冻，却并不觉得很冷。几天前已经融化泛滥的小河，现在又冻结起来。堤坝上结了一层薄冰，这是寒冷的明证。从我落座的地方外以俯视桑菲尔德府。建有城垛的灰色府第是低处溪谷中的主要景物，树林和白嘴鸦黑魈魈的巢穴映衬着西边的天际。我闲荡着，直支太阳落入树丛，树后一片火红，才往东走去。
在我头顶的山尖上，悬挂着初升的月光，先是像云朵般苍白，但立刻便明亮起来，俯瞰着海村。海村掩映在树丛之中，不多的烟囱里升起了袅袅蓝烟。这里与海村相距一英里，因为万籁俱寂，我可以清晰地听到村落轻微的动静，我的耳朵也感受到了水流声，但来自哪个溪谷和深渊，却无法判断。海村那边有很多小山，无疑会有许多山溪流过隘口。黄昏的宁静，也同样反衬出近处溪流的叮冬声和最遥远处的飒飒风声。
一个粗重的声音，冲破了细微的潺潺水声和沙沙的风声，既遥远而又清晰：一种确确实实的脚步声。刺耳的喀嗒喀嗒声，盖过了柔和的波涛起伏似的声响，犹如在一幅画中。浓墨渲染的前景——一大块峭岩或者一棵大橡树的粗壮树干，消融了远景中青翠的山峦、明亮的天际和斑驳的云彩。
这声音是从小路上传来的，一匹马过来了，它一直被弯曲的小路遮挡着，这时己渐渐靠近。我正要离开台阶，但因为小路很窄，便端坐不动，让它过去。在那段岁月里，我还年轻，脑海里有着种种光明和黑暗的幻想，记忆中的育儿室故事，和别的无稽之谈交织在一起。这一切在脑际重现时，正在成熟的青春给它们增添了一种童年时所没有的活力和真实感，当这匹马越来越近，而我凝眸等待它在薄暮中出现时，我蓦地记起了贝茜讲的故事中一个英格兰北部的精灵，名叫“盖特拉西”，形状像马，也像骡子，或是像一条大狗，出没在偏僻的道路上，有时会扑向迟归的旅人，就像此刻这匹马向我驰来一样。
这匹马已经很近了，但还看不见。除了得得的蹄声，我还听见了树篱下一阵骚动，紧靠地面的榛子树枝下，悄悄地溜出一条大狗，黑白相间的毛色衬着树木，使它成了一个清晰的目标。这正是贝茜故事中，“盖特拉西”的面孔，一个狮子一般的怪物，有着长长的头发和硕大无比的头颅，它从我身旁经过，却同我相安无事。并没有像我有几分担心的那样，停下来用比狗更具智想的奇特目光，抬头看我的面孔。那匹马接跟而来，是匹高头大马，马背上坐着一位骑手。那男人，也就是人本身，立刻驱散了魔气。“盖特拉西”总是独来独往。从来没有被当作坐骑的。而据我所知，尽管妖怪们会寄生在哑巴动物的躯壳之内，却不大可能看中一般人的躯体，把它作为藏身之地。这可不是盖特拉西，而不过是位旅行者，抄近路到米尔科特去。他从我身边走过，我依旧继续赶路。还没走几步，我便回过头来，一阵什么东西滑落的声音，一声“怎么办，活见鬼？”的叫喊和咔啦啦啦翻滚落地的声响，引起了我的注意。人和马都己倒地，是在路当中光滑的薄冰层上滑倒的。那条狗窜了回来，看见主人处境困难，听见马在呻吟，便狂吠着，暮霭中的群山响起了回声，那吠声十分深沉，与它巨大的身躯很相称。它先在倒地的两位周围闻闻，随后跑到了我面前。它也只能如此，因为附近没有别人可以求助。我顺了它，走到了这位旅行者身边，这时他已挣扎着脱离了自己的马，他的动作十分有力、因而我认为他可能伤得不重，但我还是问了这个问题。
“你伤着了吗，先生？”
我现在想来他当时在骂骂咧咧，不过我没有把握，然而他口中念念有词，所以无法马上回答我。
“我能帮忙吗？”我又问。
“你得站到一边来，”他边回答边站起来。先是成跪姿，然后站立起来，我照他的话做了。于是出现了一个人喘马嘶、脚步杂踏和马蹄冲击的场面，伴之以狗的狂吠，结果把我撵到了几码远之外，但还不至于远到看不见这件事情的结局。最后总算万幸，这匹马重新站立起来了，那条狗也在叫了一声“躺下，派洛特！，后便乖乖地不吱声了。此刻这位赶路人弯下身子摸了摸自己的脚和腿，仿佛在试验一下它们是否安然无恙。显然他什么部位有些疼痛，因为他蹒跚地踱向我刚才起身离开的台阶，一屁股坐了下来。
我心里很想帮忙，或者我想至少是爱管闲事，这时我再次走近了他。
“要是你伤着了，需要帮忙，先生，我可以去叫人，到桑菲尔德，或音海村。”
“谢谢你，我能行，骨头没有跌断，只不过扭坏了脚，”他再次站起来，试了试脚，可是结果却不由自主地叫了声“唉！”
白昼的余光迟迟没有离去，月亮越来越大，也越来越亮，这时我能将他看得清楚了。他身上裹着骑手披风，戴着皮毛领，系着钢扣子。他的脸部看不大清楚，但我捉摸得出，他大体中等身 材，胸膛很宽。他的脸庞黝黑，面容严厉、眉毛浓密；他的眼睛和紧锁的双眉看上去刚才遭到了挫折、并且愤怒过。他青春已逝，但未届中年。大约三十五岁，我觉得自己并不怕他，但有点儿腼腆。要是他是位漂亮笑俊的年轻绅士，我也许不会如此大胆地站着，违背他心愿提出问题，而且不等他开口就表示愿意帮忙，我几乎没有看到过一位漂亮的青年，平生也从未同一位漂亮青年说过话，我在理论上尊崇美丽、高雅、勇敢和魅力，但如果我见到这些品质体现有男性的躯体中，那我会本能地明白，这些东西没有，也不可能与我的品质共鸣、那我也会像人们躲避火灾、闪电、或者别的虽然明亮却今人厌恶的东西一样，对它们避之不迭。
如果这位陌生人在我同他说话时微笑一下，并且对我和和气气；如果他愉快地谢绝我的帮助，并表示感谢，我准会继续赶路，不会感到有任何职责去重新向他发问。但是这位赶路人的皱眉和粗犷，却使我坦然自若，因此当他挥手叫我走的时候，我仍然坚守阵地，并且宣布：
“先生，没有看到你能够骑上马，我是不能让你留在这条偏僻小路上的，天已经这么晚了。”
我说这话的时候，他看着我，而在这之前，他几乎没有朝我的方向看过。
“我觉得你自己该回家了，”他说，“要是你的家在附近的话。你是从哪儿来的？”
“就是下面那个地方，只要有月光，在外面呆晚了我也一点都不害怕。我很乐意为你去跑一趟海村，要是你想的话。说真的，我正要上那儿去寄封信。”
“你说就住在下面，是不是指有城垛的那幢房子？”他指着桑菲尔德府。这时月亮给桑菲尔德府洒下了灰白色的光，清晰地勾勒出了它以树林为背景的苍白轮廓。而那树林，在西边的天际衬托之下，似乎成了一大片阴影。
“是的，先生。”
“那是谁的房子？”
“罗切斯特先生的。”
“你知道罗切斯特先生吗？”
“不知道，从来没有见过他。”
“他不常住在那里吗？”
“是的。”
“能告诉我他在哪里吗？”
“我不知道。”
“当然你不是府上的佣人了？你是——”他打住了，目光掠过我照例十分朴实的衣服，我披着黑色美利奴羊毛斗篷，戴着顶黑水獭皮帽，这两件东西远远没有太太的佣人衣服那么讲究。他似乎难以判断我的身份，我帮了他。
“我是家庭教师。”
“啊，家庭教师！”他重复了一下，“见鬼，我竟把这也忘了！家庭教师！”我的服饰再次成了他审视的对象。过了两分钟，他从台阶上站起来，刚一挪动，脸上就露出了痛苦的表情。
“我不能托你找人帮忙，”他说，“不过要是你愿意，你本人倒可以帮我一点忙。”
“好的，先生。”
“你有没有伞，可以让我当拐杖用？”
“没有。”
“想办法抓住马笼头，把马牵到我这里来，你不害怕吗？”
我一个人是准不敢去碰一匹马的，但既然他吩咐我去干，我也就乐意服从了，我把皮手筒放在台阶上，向那匹高高的骏马走去。我竭力想抓住马笼头，但这匹马性子很烈，不让我靠近它头部。我试了又试、却都劳而无功，我还很怕被它的前腿踩着。这位赶路人等待并观察了片刻，最后终于笑了起来。
“我明白，”他说，“山是永远搬不到穆罕默德这边来的，因此你所能做到的，是帮助穆罕默德走到山那边去，我得请你到这儿来。”
我走了过去——“对不起，”他继续说，“出于需要，我不得不请你帮忙了。”他把一只沉重的手搭在我肩上，吃力地倚着我，一瘸一瘸朝他的马走去。他一抓住笼头，就立刻使马服服贴贴，随后跳上马鞍，因为搓了一下扭伤的部位，一用力便露出了痛苦的表情。
“好啦，”他说，放松了紧咬着的下唇，“把马鞭递给我就行啦，在树篱下面。”
我找了一下，把马鞭找到了。
“谢谢你，现在你快去海村寄信罢，快去快回。”
他把带马刺的后跟一叩，那马先是一惊，后腿跃起，随后便疾驰而去，那条狗窜上去紧追不舍，刹那之间，三者便无影无踪，牋 像荒野中的石楠被一阵狂风卷走。
我拾起皮手筒继续赶路，对我来说、这件事已经发生，并已成为过去。在某种程度上说，它既不重要，也不浪漫，又不有趣。但它却标志着单调乏味的生活有了一个小时的变化。人家需要我的帮助，而且求了我，而我给予了帮助。我很高兴总算干了点什么。这件事尽管微不足道，稍纵即逝，但毕竟是积极的，而我对被动的生活方式已感到厌倦。这张新面孔犹如一幅新画，被送进了记忆的画廊，它同已经张贴着的画全然不同。第一，因为这是位男性；第二，他又黑又强壮、又严厉。我进了海村把信投入邮局的时候，这幅画仍浮现在我眼前。我迅步下山一路赶回家时，也依然看到它。我路过台阶时驻足片刻，举目四顾，并静听着。心想马蹄声会再次在小路上回响，一位身披斗篷的骑手，一条盖特拉西似的纽芬兰狗会重新出现在眼前。但我只看到树篱和面前一棵没有枝梢的柳树，静静地兀立着，迎接月亮的清辉；我只听到一阵微风，在一英里开外，绕着桑菲尔德府的树林时起时落；当我朝轻风拂拂的方向俯视时，我的目光扫过府楼正面，看到了一个窗户里亮着灯光，提醒我时候已经不早。我匆匆往前走去。
我不情愿再次跨进桑菲尔德府。踏进门槛就意味着回到了一潭死水之中，穿过寂静的大厅，登上暗洞洞的楼梯，寻找我那孤寂的小房间，然后去见心如古井的费尔法克斯太太，同她，只同她度过漫长的冬夜，这一切将彻底浇灭我这回步行所激起的兴奋，重又用一成不变的静止生活的无形镣铐，锁住我自己的感官。这种生活的稳定安逸的长处，我已难以欣赏。那时候要是我被抛掷到朝不虑夕、苦苦挣扎的生活风暴中去，要是艰难痛苦的经历，能启发我去向往我现在所深感不满的宁静生活，对我会有多大的教益呀！是呀，它的好处大可以与远距离散步对在“超等安乐椅”上坐累了的人的好处相媲美。在我现在这种情况下，希望走动走动，跟他在那种情况希望走动一样，是很自然的事。
我在门口徘徊，我在草坪上徘徊，我在人行道上来回踱步。玻璃门上的百叶窗己经关上，我看不见窗子里面的东西。我的目光与心灵似乎已从那幢阴暗的房子，从在我看来是满布暗室的灰色洞穴中，退缩出来，到达了展现在我面前的天空——一片云影全无的蓝色海洋。月亮庄严地大步迈向天空，离开原先躲藏的山顶背后，将山峦远远地抛在下面，仿佛还在翘首仰望，一心要到达黑如子夜、深远莫测的天顶。那些闪烁着的繁星尾随其后，我望着它们不觉心儿打颤，热血沸腾。一些小事往往又把我们拉回人间。大厅里的钟己经敲响，这就够了。我从月亮和星星那儿掉过头来，打开边门，走了进去。
大厅还没有暗下来，厅里独一无二、高悬着的铜灯也没有点亮。暖融融的火光，映照着大厅和橡树楼梯最低几级踏阶。这红光是从大餐厅里射出来的，那里的两扇门开着。只见温暖宜人的炉火映出了大理石炉板和铜制的炉具，并把紫色的帐幔和上了光的家具照得辉煌悦目。炉火也映出了壁炉边的一群人，但因为关着门，我几乎没能看清楚他们，也没有听清楚欢乐而嘈杂的人声，不过阿黛勒的口音，似乎还能分辩得出来。
我赶到了费尔法克斯太太的房间，那儿也生着火，却没有点蜡烛，也不见费尔法克斯太太。我却看到了一头长着黑白相间的长毛、酷似小路上的“盖特拉西”大狗，孤孤单单、端端正正坐在地毯上，神情严肃地凝视着火焰。它同那“盖特拉西”如此形神毕肖，我禁不住走上前说了声—一“派洛特”，那家伙一跃而起，走过来嗅嗅我。我抚摸着它，它摇着硕大的尾巴。不过独个儿与它在一起时，这东西却显得有些怪异可怖。我无法判断它是从什么地方来的。我拉了一下铃，想要一支蜡烛，同时也想了解一下这位来客。莉娅走进门来。
“这条狗是怎么回事？”
“它跟老爷来的。”
“跟谁？”
“跟老爷，罗切斯特先生，他刚到。”
牋?“真的！费尔法克斯太太跟他在一起吗？”
“是的，还有阿黛勒小姐。他们都在餐室，约翰已去叫医生了。老爷出了一个事故，他的马倒下了，他扭伤了脚踝。”
“那匹马是在海路上倒下的吗？”
“是呀，下山的时候，在冰上滑了一下。”
“啊！给我一支蜡烛好吗，莉娅？”
莉娅把蜡烛送来了，进门时后面跟着费尔法克斯太太，她把刚才的新闻重复了一遍，还说外科医生卡特已经来了，这会儿同罗切斯特先生在一起。说完便匆勿走出去吩咐上茶点，而我则上楼去脱外出时的衣装。
Chapter 14
FOR several subsequent days I saw little of Mr. Rochester. In the mornings he seemed much engaged with business, and, in the afternoon, gentlemen from Millcote or the neighbourhood called, and sometimes stayed to dine with him. When his sprain was well enough to admit of horse exercise, he rode out a good deal; probably to return these visits, as he generally did not come back till late at night.During this interval, even Adele was seldom sent for to his presence, and all my acquaintance with him was confined to an occasional rencontre in the hall, on the stairs, or in the gallery, when he would sometimes pass me haughtily and coldly, just acknowledging my presence by a distant nod or a cool glance, and sometimes bow and smile with gentlemanlike affability. His changes of mood did not offend me, because I saw that I had nothing to do with their alternation; the ebb and flow depended on causes quite disconnected with me.
One day he had had company to dinner, and had sent for my portfolio; in order, doubtless, to exhibit its contents: the gentlemen went away early, to attend a public meeting at Millcote, as Mrs. Fairfax informed me; but the night being wet and inclement, Mr. Rochester did not accompany them. Soon after they were gone he rang the bell: a message came that I and Adele were to go downstairs. I brushed Adele's hair and made her neat, and having ascertained that I was myself in my usual Quaker trim, where there was nothing to retouch- all being too close and plain, braided locks included, to admit of disarrangement- we descended, Adele wondering whether the petit coffre was at length come; for, owing to some mistake, its arrival had hitherto been delayed. She was gratified: there it stood, a little carton, on the table when we entered the dining-room. She appeared to know it by instinct.
'Ma boite! ma boite!' exclaimed she, running towards it.
'Yes, there is your "boite" at last: take it into a corner, you genuine daughter of Paris, and amuse yourself with disembowelling it,'  said the deep and rather sarcastic voice of Mr. Rochester, proceeding from the depths of an immense easy-chair at the fireside.
'And mind,' he continued, 'don't bother me with any details of the anatomical process, or any notice of the condition of the entrails: let your operation be conducted in silence: tiens-toi tranquille, enfant; comprends-tu?'
Adele seemed scarcely to need the warning; she had already retired to a sofa with her treasure, and was busy untying the cord which secured the lid. Having removed this impediment, and lifted certain silvery envelopes of tissue paper, she merely exclaimed- 'Oh ciel! Que c'est beau!' and then remained absorbed in ecstatic contemplation.
'Is Miss Eyre there?' now demanded the master, half rising from his seat to look round to the door, near which I still stood.
'Ah! well, come forward; be seated here.' He drew a chair near his own. 'I am not fond of the prattle of children,' he continued; 
'for, old bachelor as I am, I have no pleasant associations connected with their lisp. It would be intolerable to me to pass a whole evening tete-a-tete with a brat. Don't draw that chair farther off, Miss Eyre; sit down exactly where I placed it- if you please, that is. Confound these civilities! I continually forget them. Nor do I particularly affect simple-minded old ladies. By the bye, I must have mine in mind; it won't do to neglect her; she is a Fairfax, or wed to one; and blood is said to be thicker than water.'
He rang, and despatched an invitation to Mrs. Fairfax, who soon arrived, knitting-basket in hand.
'Good evening, madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose. I have forbidden Adele to talk to me about her presents, and she is bursting with repletion; have the goodness to serve her as auditress and interlocutrice; it will be one of the most benevolent acts you ever performed.'
Adele, indeed, no sooner saw Mrs. Fairfax, than she summoned her to her sofa, and there quickly filled her lap with the porcelain, the ivory, the waxen contents of her 'boite'; pouring out, meantime, explanations and raptures in such broken English as she was mistress of.
'Now I have performed the part of a good host,' pursued Mr. Rochester, 'put my guests into the way of amusing each other, I ought to be at liberty to attend to my own pleasure. Miss Eyre, draw your chair still a little farther forward: you are yet too far back; I cannot see you without disturbing my position in this comfortable chair, which I have no mind to do.'
I did as I was bid, though I would much rather have remained somewhat in the shade; but Mr. Rochester had such a direct way of giving orders, it seemed a matter of course to obey him promptly.
We were, as I have said, in the dining-room: the lustre, which had been lit for dinner, filled the room with a festal breadth of light; the large fire was all red and clear; the purple  curtains hung rich and ample before the lofty window and loftier arch; everything was still, save the subdued chat of Adele (she dared not speak loud), and, filling up each pause, the beating of winter rain against the panes.
Mr. Rochester, as he sat in his damask-covered chair, looked different to what I had seen him look before; not quite so stern- much less gloomy. There was a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, whether with wine or not, I am not sure; but I think it very probable.
He was, in short, in his after dinner mood; more expanded and genial, and also more self-indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning; still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too- not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling.
He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy.
'You examine me, Miss Eyre,' said he: 'do you think me handsome?'
I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware- 'No, sir.'
'Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,' said he: 'you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by the bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?'
'Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little consequence, or something of that sort.'
'You ought to have replied no such thing. Beauty of little consequence, indeed! And so, under pretence of softening the previous outrage, of stroking and soothing me into placidity, you stick a sly penknife under my ear! Go on: what fault do you find with me, pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features like any other man?'
'Mr. Rochester, allow me to disown my first answer: I intended no pointed repartee: it was only a blunder.' 
'Just so: I think so: and you shall be answerable for it. Criticise me: does my forehead not please you?'
He lifted up the sable waves of hair which lay horizontally over his brow, and showed a solid enough mass of intellectual organs, but an abrupt deficiency where the suave sign of benevolence should have risen.
'Now, ma'am, am I a fool?'
'Far from it, sir. You would, perhaps, think me rude if I inquired in return whether you are a philanthropist?'
'There again! Another stick of the penknife, when she pretended to pat my head: and that is because I said I did not like the society of children and old women (low be it spoken!). No, young lady, I am not a general philanthropist; but I bear a conscience'; and he pointed to the prominences which are said to indicate that faculty, and which, fortunately for him, were sufficiently conspicuous; giving, indeed, a marked breadth to the upper part of his head: 'and, besides, I once had a kind of rude tenderness of heart. When I was as old as you, I was a feeling fellow enough; partial to the unfledged, unfostered, and unlucky; but Fortune has knocked me about since: she has even kneaded me with her knuckles, and now I flatter myself I am hard and tough as an India-rubber ball; pervious, though, through a chink or two still, and with one sentient point in the middle of the lump. Yes: does that leave hope for me?'
'Hope of what, sir?'
'Of my final re-transformation from India-rubber back to flesh?'
'Decidedly he has had too much wine,' I thought; and I did not know what answer to make to his queer question: how could I tell whether he was capable of being re-transformed?
'You looked very much puzzled, Miss Eyre; and though you are not pretty any more than I am handsome, yet a puzzled air becomes you; besides, it is convenient, for it keeps those searching eyes of yours away from my physiognomy, and busies them with the worsted flowers of the rug; so puzzle on. Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight.'
With this announcement he rose from his chair, and stood, leaning his arm on the marble mantelpiece: in that attitude his shape was seen plainly as well as his face; his unusual breadth of chest, disproportionate almost to his length of limb. I am sure most people would have thought him an ugly man; yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much ease in his demeanour; such a look of complete indifference to his own external appearance; so haughty a reliance on the power of other qualities, intrinsic or adventitious, to atone for the lack of mere personal attractiveness, that, in looking at him, one inevitably shared the indifference, and, even in a blind, imperfect sense, put faith in the confidence. 
'I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight,' he repeated, 'and that is why I sent for you: the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. Adele is a degree better, but still far below the mark; Mrs. Fairfax ditto; you, I am persuaded, can suit me if you will: you puzzled me the first evening I invited you down here.
I have almost forgotten you since: other ideas have driven yours from my head; but to-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out- to learn more of you- therefore speak.'
Instead of speaking, I smiled; and not a very complacent or submissive smile either.
'Speak,' he urged.
'What about, sir?'
'Whatever you like. I leave both the choice of subject and the manner of treating it entirely to yourself.'
Accordingly I sat and said nothing: 'If he expects me to talk for the mere sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed himself to the wrong person,' I thought.
'You are dumb, Miss Eyre.'
I was dumb still. He bent his head a little towards me, and with a single hasty glance seemed to dive into my eyes.
'Stubborn?' he said, 'and annoyed. Ah! it is consistent. I put my request in an absurd, almost insolent form. Miss Eyre, I beg your pardon. The fact is, once for all, I don't wish to treat you like an inferior: that is' (correcting himself), 'I claim only such superiority as must result from twenty years' difference in age and a century's advance in experience. This is legitimate, et j'y tiens, as Adele would say; and it is by virtue of this superiority, and this alone, that I desire you to have the goodness to talk to me a little now, and divert my thoughts, which are galled with dwelling on one point- cankering as a rusty nail.'
He had deigned an explanation, almost an apology, and I did not feel insensible to his condescension, and would not seem so.
'I am willing to amuse you, if I can, sir- quite willing; but I cannot introduce a topic, because how do I know what will interest you? Ask me questions, and I will do my best to answer them.'
'Then, in the first place, do you agree with   me that I have a right to be a little masterful, abrupt, perhaps exacting, sometimes, on the grounds I stated, namely, that I am old enough to be your father, and that I have battled through a varied experience with many men of many nations, and roamed over half the globe, while you have lived quietly with one set of people in one house?'
'Do as you please, sir.'
'That is no answer; or rather it is a very irritating, because a very evasive one. Reply clearly.'
'I don't think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.'
'Humph! Promptly spoken. But I won't allow that, seeing that it would never suit my case, as I have made an indifferent, not to say a bad, use of both advantages. Leaving superiority out of the question, then, you must still agree to receive my orders now and then, without being piqued or hurt by the tone of command. Will you?'
I smiled: I thought to myself Mr. Rochester is peculiar- he seems to forget that he pays me L30 per annum for receiving his orders. 
'The smile is very well,' said he, catching instantly the passing expression; 'but speak too.'
'I was thinking, sir, that very few masters would trouble themselves to inquire whether or not their paid subordinates were piqued and hurt by their orders.'
'Paid subordinates! What! you are my paid subordinate, are you?
Oh yes, I had forgotten the salary! Well then, on that mercenary ground, will you agree to let me hector a little?'
'No, sir, not on that ground; but, on the ground that you did forget it, and that you care whether or not a dependant is comfortable in his dependency, I agree heartily.'
'And will you consent to dispense with a great many conventional forms and phrases, without thinking that the omission arises from insolence?'
'I am sure, sir, I should never mistake informality for insolence: one I rather like, the other nothing free-born would submit to, even for a salary.'
'Humbug! Most things free-born will submit to anything for a salary; therefore, keep to yourself, and don't venture on generalities of which you are intensely ignorant. However, I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy; and as much for the manner in which it was said, as for the substance of the speech; the manner was frank and sincere; one does not often see such a manner: no, on the contrary, affectation, or coldness, or stupid, coarse-minded misapprehension of one's meaning are the usual rewards of candour. Not three in three thousand raw school-girl-governesses would have answered me as you have just done. But I don't mean to flatter you: if you are cast in a different mould to the majority, it is no merit of yours: Nature did it. And then, after all, I go too fast in my conclusions: for what I yet know, you may be no better than the rest; you may have intolerable defects to counterbalance your few good points.'
'And so may you,' I thought. My eye met his as the idea crossed my mind: he seemed to read the glance, answering as if its import had been spoken as well as imagined-
'Yes, yes, you are right,' said he; 'I have plenty of faults of my own: I know it, and I don't wish to palliate them, I assure you.
God wot I need not be too severe about others; I have a past existence, a series of deeds, a colour of life to contemplate within my own breast, which might well call my sneers and censures from my neighbours to myself. I started, or rather (for like other defaulters, I like to lay half the blame on ill fortune and adverse circumstances) was thrust on to a wrong tack at the age of one-and-twenty, and have never recovered the right course since: but I might have been very different; I might have been as good as you- wiser- almost as stainless. I envy you your peace of mind, your clean conscience, your unpolluted memory. Little girl, a memory without blot or contamination must be an exquisite treasure- an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment: is it not?'
'How was your memory when you were eighteen, sir?'
'All right then; limpid, salubrious: no gush of bilge water had turned it to fetid puddle. I was your equal at eighteen- quite your equal. Nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man, Miss Eyre; one of the better kind, and you see I am not so. You would say you don't see it; at least I flatter myself I read as much in your eye (beware, by the bye, what you express with that organ; I am quick at interpreting its language). Then take my word for it,- I am not a villain: you are not to suppose that- not to attribute to me any such bad eminence; but, owing, I verily believe, rather to circumstances than to my natural bent, I am a trite commonplace sinner, hackneyed in all the poor petty dissipations with which the rich and worthless try to put on life. Do you wonder that I avow this to you? Know, that in the course of your future life you will often find yourself elected the involuntary confidant of your acquaintances' secrets: people will instinctively find out, as I have done, that it is not your forte to tell of yourself, but to listen while others talk of themselves; they will feel, too, that you listen with no malevolent scorn of their indiscretion, but with a kind of innate sympathy; not the less comforting and encouraging because it is very unobtrusive in its manifestations.'
'How do you know?- how can you guess all this, sir?'
'I know it well; therefore I proceed almost as freely as if I were writing my thoughts in a diary. You would say, I should have been superior to circumstances; so I should- so I should; but you see I was not. When fate wronged me, I had not the wisdom to remain cool: I turned desperate; then I degenerated. Now, when any vicious simpleton excites my disgust by his paltry ribaldry, I cannot flatter myself that I am better than he: I am forced to confess that he and I are on a level. I wish I had stood firm- God knows I do! 
Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.'
'Repentance is said to be its cure, sir.'
'It is not its cure. Reformation may be its cure; and I could reform- I have strength yet for that- if- but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may.'
'Then you will degenerate still more, sir.'
'Possibly: yet why should I, if I can get sweet, fresh pleasure? And I may get it as sweet and fresh as the wild honey the bee gathers on the moor.'
'It will sting- it will taste bitter, sir.'
'How do you know?- you never tried it. How very serious- how very solemn you look: and you are as ignorant of the matter as this cameo head' (taking one from the mantelpiece). 'You have no right to preach to me, you neophyte, that have not passed the porch of life, and are absolutely unacquainted with its mysteries.'
'I only remind you of your own words, sir: you said error brought remorse, and you pronounced remorse the poison of existence.'
'And who talks of error now? I scarcely think the notion that flittered across my brain was an error. I believe it was an inspiration rather than a temptation: it was very genial, very soothing- I know that. Here it comes again! It is no devil, I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel of light. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart.'
'Distrust it, sir; it is not a true angel.'
'Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne- between a guide and a seducer?'
'I judged by your countenance, sir, which was troubled when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it.'
'Not at all- it bears the most gracious message in the world: for the rest, you are not my conscience-keeper, so don't make yourself uneasy. Here, come in, bonny wanderer!'
He said this as if he spoke to a vision, viewless to any eye but his own; then, folding his arms, which he had half extended, on his chest, he seemed to enclose in their embrace the invisible being.
'Now,' he continued, again addressing me, 'I have received the pilgrim- a disguised deity, as I verily believe. Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine.'
'To speak truth, sir, I don't understand you at all: I cannot keep up the conversation, because it has got out of my depth. Only one thing, I know: you said you were not as good as you should like to be, and that you regretted your own imperfection;- one thing I can comprehend: you intimated that to have a sullied memory was a perpetual bane. It seems to me, that if you tried hard, you would in time find it possible to become what you yourself would approve; and that if from this day you began with resolution to correct your thoughts and actions, you would in a few years have laid up a new and stainless store of recollections, to which you might revert with pleasure.'
'Justly thought; rightly said, Miss Eyre; and, at this moment, I am paving hell with energy.'
'Sir?'
'I am laying down good intentions, which I believe durable as flint. Certainly, my associates and pursuits shall be other than they have been.'
'And better?'
'And better- so much better as pure ore is than foul dross. You seem to doubt me; I don't doubt myself: I know what my aim is, what my motives are; and at this moment I pass a law, unalterable as that of the Medes and Persians, that both are right.'
'They cannot be, sir, if they require a new statute to legalise them.'
'They are, Miss Eyre, though they absolutely require a new statute: unheard-of combinations or circumstances demand unheard-of rules.'
'That sounds a dangerous maxim, sir; because one can see at once that it is liable to abuse.'
'Sententious sage! so it is: but I swear by my household gods not to abuse it.'
'You are human and fallible.'
'I am: so are you- what then?'
'The human and fallible should not arrogate a power with which the divine and perfect alone can be safely intrusted.'
'What power?'
'That of saying of any strange, unsanctioned line of action,- "Let it be right."'
'"Let it be right"- the very words: you have pronounced them.'
'May it be right then,' I said, as I rose, deeming it useless to continue a discourse which was all darkness to me; and, besides, sensible that the character of my interlocutor was beyond my penetration; at least, beyond its present reach; and feeling the uncertainty, the vague sense of insecurity, which accompanies a conviction of ignorance.
'Where are you going?'
'To put Adele to bed: it is past her bedtime.'
'You are afraid of me, because I talk like a Sphynx.'
'Your language is enigmatical, sir: but though I am bewildered, I am certainly not afraid.'
'You are afraid- your self-love dreads a blunder.'
'In that sense I do feel apprehensive- I have no wish to talk nonsense.'
'If you did, it would be in such a grave, quiet manner, I should mistake it for sense. Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre? Don't trouble yourself to answer- I see you laugh rarely; but you can laugh very merrily: believe me, you are not naturally austere, any more than I am naturally vicious. The Lowood constraint still clings to you somewhat; controlling your features, muffling your voice, and restricting your limbs; and you fear in the presence of a man and a brother- or father, or master, or what you will- to smile too gaily, speak too freely, or move too quickly: but, in time, I think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you; and then your looks and movements will have more vivacity and variety than they dare offer now. I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high. You are still bent on going?'
'It has struck nine, sir.'
'Never mind,- wait a minute: Adele is not ready to go to bed yet. 
My position, Miss Eyre, with my back to the fire, and my face to the room, favours observation. While talking to you, I have also occasionally watched Adele (I have my own  reasons for thinking her a curious study,- reasons that I may, nay, that I shall, impart to you some day). She pulled out of her box, about ten minutes ago, a little pink silk frock; rapture lit her face as she unfolded it; coquetry runs in her blood, blends with her brains, and seasons the marrow of her bones. "Il faut que je l'essaie!" cried she, "et a l'instant meme!" and she rushed out of the room. She is now with Sophie, undergoing a robing process: in a few minutes she will re-enter; and I know what I shall see,- a miniature of Celine Varens, as she used to appear on the boards at the rising of-. But never mind that. However, my tenderest feelings are about to receive a shock: such is my presentiment; stay now, to see whether it will be realised.'
Ere long, Adele's little foot was heard tripping across the hall.
She entered, transformed as her guardian had predicted. A dress of rose-coloured satin, very short, and as full in the skirt as it could be gathered, replaced the brown frock she had previously worn; a wreath of rosebuds circled her forehead; her feet were dressed in silk stockings and small white satin sandals.
'Est-ce que ma robe va bien?' cried she, bounding forwards; 'et mes souliers? et mes bas? Tenez, je crois que je vais danser!'
And spreading out her dress, she chasseed across the room; till, having reached Mr. Rochester, she wheeled lightly round before him on tip-toe, then dropped on one knee at his feet, exclaiming- 'Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte; then rising, she added, 'C'est comme cela que maman faisait, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?'
'Pre-cise-ly!' was the answer; 'and, "comme cella," she charmed my English gold out of my British breeches' pocket. I have been green, too, Miss Eyre- ay, grass green: not a more vernal tint freshens you now than once freshened me. My Spring is gone, however, but it has left me that French floweret on my hands, which, in some moods, I would fain be rid of. Not valuing now the root whence it sprang; having found that it was of a sort which nothing but gold dust could manure, I have but half a liking to the blossom, especially when it looks so artificial as just now. I keep it and rear it rather on the Roman Catholic principle of expiating numerous sins, great or small, by one good work. I'll explain all this some day. Good-night.' 后来的几天我很少见到罗切斯特先生。早上他似乎忙于事务，下午接待从米尔科特或附近来造访的绅士，有时他们留下来与他共进晚餐。他的伤势好转到可以骑马时，便经常骑马外出，也许是回访，往往到深夜才回来。
在这期间，连阿黛勒也很少给叫到他跟前。我同他的接触，只限于在大厅里、楼梯上，或走廊上偶然相遇。他有时高傲冷漠地从我身边走过，远远地点一下头或冷冷地瞥一眼，承认了我的存在，而有时却很有绅士风度，和蔼可亲地鞠躬和微笑。他情绪的反复并没有使我生气，因为我明白这种变化与我无关，他情绪的起伏完全是由于同我不相干的原因。
一天有客来吃饭，他派人来取我的画夹，无疑是要向人家出示里面的画。绅士们走得很早，费尔法克斯太太告诉我，他们要到米尔科特去参加一个公众大会。但那天晚上有雨，天气恶劣、罗切斯特先生没有去作陪。他们走后不久，他便打铃，传话来让我和阿黛勒下楼去。我梳理了阿黛勒的头发，把她打扮得整整齐齐，我自己穿上了平时的贵格会服装，知道确实已经没有再修饰的余地了——一切都那么贴身而又朴实，包括编了辫子的头发在内，丝毫不见凌乱的痕迹——我们便下楼去了。阿黛勒正疑惑着，不知她的petit coffre终于到了没有。因为某些差错，它直到现在还迟迟未来。我们走进餐室，只见桌上放着一个小箱子。阿黛勒非常高兴，她似乎凭直觉就知道了。
“Ma boite ! Ma boite!”她大嚷着朝它奔过去。
“是的，你的‘boite’终于到了，把它拿到一个角落去，你这位地道的巴黎女儿，你就去掏你盒子里的东西玩儿吧。”罗切斯特先生用深沉而颇有些讥讽的口吻说，那声音是从火炉旁巨大的安乐椅深处发出来的。“记住，”他继续说，“别用解剖过程的细枝末节问题，或者内脏情况的通报来打搅我，你就静静地去动手术吧——tiens toi tranquille,enfant;comprends tu？”
阿黛勒似乎并不需要提醒，她已经带着她的宝贝退到了一张沙发上，这会儿正忙着解开系住盖子的绳子。她清除了这个障碍，揭起银色包装薄纸，光一个劲儿地大嚷着。
“Oh! ciel! Que c'est beau!”随后便沉浸在兴奋的沉思中。
“爱小姐在吗？”此刻这位主人发问了。他从座位上欠起身子，回过头来看看门口，我仍站在门旁。
“啊！好吧，到前面来，坐在这儿吧。”他把一张椅子拉到自己椅子的旁边。“我不大喜欢听孩子咿咿呀呀，”他继续说，“因为像我这样的老单身汉，他们的喃喃细语，不会让我引起愉快的联想。同一个娃娃面对面消磨整个晚上，让我实在受不了。别把椅子拉得那么开，爱小姐。就在我摆着的地方坐下来——当然，要是你乐意。让那些礼节见鬼去吧！我老是把它们忘掉。我也不特别喜爱头脑简单的老妇人。话得说回来，我得想着点我的那位，她可是怠慢不得。她是费尔法克斯家族的，或是嫁给了家族中的一位。据说血浓于水。”
他打铃派人去请费尔法克斯太太，很快她就到了，手里提着编织篮。
“晚上好，夫人，我请你来做件好事。我己不允许阿黛勒跟我谈礼品的事，她肚子里有好多话要说，你做做好事听她讲讲，并跟她谈谈，那你就功德无量了。”
说真的，阿黛勒一见到费尔法克斯太太，便把她叫到沙发旁，很快在她的膝头摆满了她‘boite’中的瓷器、象牙和蜡制品，同时用她所能掌握的瞥脚英语，不住地加以解释，告诉她自己有多开心。
“哈，我已扮演了一个好主人的角色，”罗切斯特先生继续说，“使我的客人们各得其所，彼此都有乐趣。我应当有权关心一下自己的乐趣了。爱小姐，把你的椅子再往前拉一点，你坐得太靠后了，我在这把舒舒服服的椅子上，不改变一下位置就看不见你，而我又不想动。”
我照他的吩咐做了，尽管我宁愿仍旧呆在阴影里。但罗切斯特先生却是那么直来直去地下命令，似乎立刻服从他是理所当然的。
我已作了交代，我们在餐室里。为晚餐而点上的枝形吊灯，使整个房间如节日般大放光明，熊熊炉火通红透亮，高大的窗子和更高大的拱门前悬挂着华贵而宽敞的紫色帷幔。除了阿黛勒压着嗓门的交谈（她不敢高声说话），以及谈话停顿间隙响起了敲窗的冷雨，一切都寂静无声。
罗切斯特先生坐在锦缎面椅子上，显得同我以前看到的大不相同，不那么严厉，更不那么阴沉。他嘴上浮着笑容，眼睛闪闪发光，是不是因为喝了酒的缘故，我不敢肯定，不过很可能如此。总之，他正在饭后的兴头上，更加健谈，更加亲切，比之早上冷淡僵硬的脾性，显得更为放纵。不过他看上去依然十分严厉。他那硕大的脑袋靠在椅子隆起的靠背上，炉火的光照在他犹如花岗岩镌刻出来的面容上，照进他又大又黑的眸子里——因为他有着 一双乌黑的大眼睛，而且很漂亮，有时在眼睛深处也并非没有某种变化，如果那不是柔情，至少也会使你想起这种感情来。
他凝视着炉火已经有两分钟了，而我用同样的时间在打量着他。突然他回过头来，瞧见我正盯着他的脸看着。
“你在仔细看我，爱小姐，”他说，“你认为我长得漂亮吗？”
要是我仔细考虑的话，我本应当对这个问题作出习惯上含糊、礼貌的回答，但不知怎地我还没意识到就己经冲口而出：“不，先生。”
“啊！我敢打赌，你这人有点儿特别，”他说，“你的神态像个小nonnette，怪僻、文静、严肃、单纯。你坐着的时候把手放在面前，眼睛总是低垂着看地毯（顺便说一句，除了穿心透肺似地扫向我脸庞的时候，譬如像刚才那样），别人问你一个问题，或者发表一番你必须回答的看法时，你会突然直言不讳地回答，不是生硬，就是唐突。你的话是什么意思？”
“先生，怪我太直率了，请你原谅。我本应当说，像容貌这样的问题，不是轻易可以当场回答的；应当说人的审美趣味各有不同；应当说漂亮并不重要，或者诸如此类的话。”
“你本来就不应当这样来回答。漂亮并不重要，确实如此！原来你是假装要缓和一下刚才的无礼态度，抚慰我使我心平气和，而实际上你是在我耳朵下面狡猾地捅了一刀。讲下去，请问你发现我有什么缺点？我想我像别人一样有鼻子有眼睛的。”
“罗切斯特先生，请允许我收回我第一个回答。我并无妙语伤人的意思，只不过是失言而已。”
“就是这么回事，我想是这样。而你要对此负责。你就挑我的毛病吧，我的前额使你不愉快吗？”
他抓起了横贴在额前的波浪似的黑发，露出一大块坚实的智力器官，但是却缺乏那种本该有的仁慈敦厚的迹象。
“好吧，小姐，我是个傻瓜吗？”
“绝对不是这样，先生。要是我反过来问你是不是一个慈善家，你也会认为我粗暴无礼吗？”
“你又来了！又捅了我一刀，一面还假装拍拍我的头。那是因为我曾说我不喜欢同孩子和老人在一起（轻声点儿！）。不，年轻小姐，我不是一个一般意义上的慈善家，不过我有一颗良心。”于是他指了指据说是表示良心的突出的地方。幸亏对他来说，那地方很显眼，使他脑袋的上半部有着引人注目的宽度。“此外，我曾有过一种原始的柔情。在我同你一样年纪的时候，我是一个富有同情心的人，偏爱羽毛未丰、无人养育和不幸的人，但是命运却一直打击我，甚至用指关节揉面似地揉我，现在我庆幸自己像一个印度皮球那样坚韧了，不过通过一两处空隙还能渗透到里面。在这一块东西的中心，还有一个敏感点。是的，那使我还能有希望吗？”
“希望什么，先生？”
“希望我最终从印度皮球再次转变为血肉之躯吗？”
“他肯定是酒喝多了，”我想。我不知道该如何来回答这个奇怪的问题。我怎么知道他是不是可能被转变过来呢？
“你看来大惑不解，爱小姐，而你虽然并不漂亮，就像我并不英俊一样，但那种迷惑的神情却同你十分相称。此外，这样倒也好，可以把你那种搜寻的目光，从我的脸上转移到别处去，忙着去看毛毯上的花朵。那你就迷惑下去吧。年轻小姐，今儿晚上我爱凑热闹，也很健谈。”
宣布完毕，他便从椅子上立起来。他伫立着，胳膊倚在大理石壁炉架上。这种姿势使他的体形像面容一样可以看得一清二楚。他的胸部出奇地宽阔，同他四肢的长度不成比例。我敢肯定，大多数人都认为他是个丑陋的男人，但是他举止中却无意识地流露出那么明显的傲慢，在行为方面又那么从容自如，对自已的外表显得那么毫不在乎，又是那么高傲地依赖其他内在或外来的特质的力量，来弥补自身魅力的缺乏。因此，你一瞧着他，就会不由自主地被他的漠然态度所感染，甚至盲目片面地对他的自信表示信服。
“今天晚上我爱凑热闹，也健谈，”他重复了这句话。”这就是我要请你来的原因。炉火和吊灯还不足陪伴我，派洛特也不行，因为它们都不会说话。阿黛勒稍微好一些，但还是远远低于标准。费尔法克斯太太同样如此。而你，我相信是合我意的，要是你愿意。第一天晚上我邀请你下楼到这里来的时候，你就使我迷惑不解。从那时候起，我已几乎把你忘了。脑子里尽想着其他事情，顾不上你。不过今天晚上我决定安闲自在些，忘掉纠缠不休的念头，回忆回忆愉快的事儿。现在我乐于把你的情况掏出来，进一步了解你，所以你就说吧 ”
我没有说话，却代之以微笑，既不特别得意，也不顺从。
“说吧，”他催促着。
“说什么呢，先生。”
“爱说什么就说什么，说的内容和方式，全由你自己选择吧。”
结果我还是端坐着，什么也没有说。“要是他希望我为说而说，炫耀一番，那他会发现他找错了人啦，”我想。
“你一声不吭，爱小姐。”
我依然一声不吭。他向我微微低下头来，匆匆地投过来一瞥，似乎要探究我的眼睛。
“固执？”他说，“而且生气了。噢，这是一致的。我提出要求的方式，荒谬而近乎蛮横。爱小姐，请你原谅。实际上，我永远不想把你当作下人看待。那就是（纠正我自己），我有比你强的地方，但那只不过是年龄上大二十岁，经历上相差一个世纪的必然结果。这是合理的，就像阿黛勒会说的那样，et j' y tiens。而凭借这种优势，也仅仅如此而已，我想请你跟我谈一会儿，转移一下我的思想苦苦纠缠在一点上，像一根生锈的钉子那样正在腐蚀着。”
他己降格作了解释。近乎道歉。我对他的屈尊俯就并没有无动于衷，也不想显得如此。
“先生，只要我能够，我是乐意为你解闷的，十分乐意。不过我不能随便谈个话题，因为我怎么知道你对什么感兴趣呢？你提问吧，我尽力回答。”
“那么首先一个问题是，你同不同意，基于我所陈述的理由，我有权在某些时候稍微专横、唐突或者严厉些呢？我的理由是，按我的年纪。我可以做你的父亲，而且有着多变的人生阅历，同很多国家的很多人打过交道。漂泊了半个地球。而你却是太太平平地跟同一类人生活在同一幢房子里。”
“你爱怎样就怎样吧，先生。”
“你并没有回答我的问题。或是说，你回答很气人，因为含糊其词——回答得明确些。”
“先生，我并不认为你有权支使我，仅仅因为你年纪比我大些，或者比我阅历丰富——你所说的优越感取决于你对时间和经历的利用。”
“哼！答得倒快。但我不承认，我认为与我的情况绝不相符，因为对两者的有利条件，我毫无兴趣。更不必说没有充分利用了。那么我们暂且不谈这优越性问题吧，但你必须偶偶尔听候我吩咐，而不因为命令的口吻面生气或伤心，好吗？”
我微微一笑。我暗自思忖道，“罗切斯特先生也真奇怪——他好像忘了，付我三十镑年薪是让我听他吩咐的。”
“笑得好，”他立即抓住了转瞬即逝表情说，“不过还得开口讲话。”
“先生，我在想，很少有主人会费心去问他们雇佣的下属，会不会因为被吩咐而生气和伤心。”
“雇佣的下属！什么，你是我雇佣的下属是不是，哦，是的，我把薪俸的事儿给忘了？好吧，那么出于雇佣观点，你肯让我耍点儿威风吗？”
“不，先生，不是出于那个理由。但出于你忘掉了雇佣观点，却关心你的下属处于从属地位心情是否愉快，我是完全肯的。”
“你会同意我省去很多陈规旧矩，而不认为这出自于蛮横吗？”
“我肯定同意，先生。我决不会把不拘礼节错当蛮横无理。一个是我比较喜欢的，而另一个是任何一位自由人都不会屈从的，即使是为了赚取薪金。”
“胡扯！为了薪金，大多数自由人对什么都会屈服，因此，只说你自己吧，不要妄谈普遍现象，你对此一无所知。尽管你的回答并不确切，但因为它，我在心里同你握手言好，同样还因为你回答的内容和回答的态度。这种态度坦率诚恳、并不常见。不，恰恰相反，矫揉造作或者冷漠无情，或者对你的意思愚蠢而粗俗地加以误解，常常是坦率正直所得到的报答。三千个初出校门的女学生式家庭教师中，像你刚才那么回答我的不到三个，不过我无意恭维你，要说你是从跟大多数人不同的模子里浇制出来的，这不是你的功劳，而是造化的圣绩。再说我的结论毕竟下得过于匆忙。就我所知，你也未必胜过其他人。也许有难以容忍的缺点，抵销你不多的长处。”
“可能你也一样，”我想，这想法掠过脑际时，他的目光与我的相遇了。他似乎已揣度出我眼神的含意，便作了回答，仿佛那含意不仅存在于想象之中，而且己经说出口了。
“对，对，你说得对，”他说，“我自己也有很多过失，我知道。我向你担保，我不想掩饰，上帝知道，我不必对别人太苛刻。我要反省往昔的经历、一连串行为和一种生活方式，因此会招来邻居的讥讽和责备。我开始，或者不如说（因为像其他有过失的人一样，我总爱把一半的罪责推给厄运和逆境）在我二十一岁时我被抛入歧途，而且从此之后，再也没有回到正道上。要不然我也许会大不相同，也许会像你一样好——更聪明些——几乎一样洁白无瑕。我羡慕你平静的心境，清白的良心、纯洁的记忆，小姑娘，没有污点未经感染的记忆必定是一大珍宝，是身心愉快的永不枯竭的源泉，是不是？”
“你十八岁时的记忆怎么样，先生？”
“那时很好，无忧无虑，十分健康。没有滚滚污水把它变成臭水潭。十八岁时我同你不相上下——完全加此。总的说来，大自然有意让我做个好人，爱小姐，较好的一类人中的一个，而你看到了，现在我却变了样，你会说，你并没有看到。至少我自以为从你的眼睛里看到了这层意思（顺便提一句，你要注意那个器官流露出来的感情，我可是很善于察言观色的），那么相信我的话——我不是一个恶棍。你不要那么猜想——不要把这些恶名加给我。不过我确实相信，由于环境而不是天性的缘故，我成了一个普普通通的罪人，表现在种种可怜的小小放荡上，富裕而无用的人都想以这种放荡来点缀人生，我向你坦露自己的心迹，你觉得奇怪吗？你要知道，在你未来的人生道路上，你常常会发现不由自主地被当作知己，去倾听你熟人的隐秘。人们像我那样凭直觉就能感到，你的高明之处不在于谈论你自己，而在于倾听别人谈论他们自己，他们也会感到，你听的时候，并没有因为别人行为不端而露出不怀好意的蔑视，而是怀着一种发自内心的同情。这种同情给人以抚慰和鼓舞、因为它是不动声色地流露出来的。”
“你怎么知道的？——这种种情况，你怎么猜到的呢，先生？”
“我知道得清清楚楚，因此我谈起来无拘无束，几乎就像把我的思想写在日记中一样，你会说，我本应当战胜环境，确实应当这样——确实应当这样。不过你看到了，我没有战胜环境。当命运亏待了我时，我没有明智地保持冷静，我开始绝望，随后坠落了，现在要是一个可恶的傻瓜用卑俗的下流话激起我的厌恶，我并不以为我的表现会比他好些，我不得不承认我与他彼此彼此而已。我真希望当初自己能不为所动——上帝知道我是这么希望的。爱小姐，当你受到诱惑要做错事的时候，你要视悔恨为畏途，悔恨是生活的毒药。”
“据说忏悔是治疗的良药，生先。”
“忏悔治不了它、悔改也许可以疗救。而我能悔改——我有力量这么做——如果——不过既然我已经负荷沉重、步履艰难该受诅咒了，现在想这管什么用呢？既然我已被无可挽回地剥夺了幸福，那我就有权利从生活中获得快乐。我一定要得到它，不管代价有多大。”
“那你会进一步沉沦的，先生。”
“可能如此。不过要是我能获得新鲜甜蜜的欢乐，为什么我必定要沉沦呢？也许我所得到的，同蜜蜂在沼泽地上酿成的野蜂蜜一样甜蜜，一样新鲜。”
“它会螯人的——而且有苦味，先生。”
“你怎么知道？——你从来没有试过。多严肃！——你看上去多一本正经呀，而你对这种事情一无所知，跟这个浮雕头像一模一样（从壁炉上取了一个）！你无权对我说教，你这位新教士，你还没有步入生活之门，对内中的奥秘毫不知情。”
“我不过是提醒一下你自己的话，先生。你说错误带来悔恨，而你又说悔恨是生活的毒药。”
“现在谁说起错误啦？我并不以为，刚才闪过我脑际的想法是个错误。我相信这是一种灵感，而不是一种诱惑，它非常亲切，非常令人欣慰——这我清楚。瞧，它又现形了。我敢肯定，它不是魔鬼，或者要真是的话，它披着光明天使的外衣。我认为这样一位美丽的宾客要求进入我心扉的时候，我应当允许她进来。”
“别相信它，先生。它不是一个真正的天使。”
“再说一遍，你怎么知道的呢？你凭什么直觉，就装作能区别一位坠入深渊的天使和一个来自永恒王座的使者——区别一位向导和一个勾引者？”
“我是根据你说产生这种联想的时候你脸上不安的表情来判断的。我敢肯定，要是你听信了它，那它一定会给你造成更大的不幸。”
“绝对不会——它带着世上最好的信息，至于别的，你又不是我良心的监护人，因此别感到不安。来吧，进来吧，美丽的流浪者！”
他仿佛在对着一个除了他自己别人什么看不见的幻影说话，随后他把伸出了一半的胳膊，收起来放在胸部，似乎要把看不见的人搂在怀里。
“现在，”他继续说，再次转向了我，“我已经接待了这位流浪者——乔装打扮的神，我完全相信。它已经为我做了好事。我的心原本是一个停骸所，现在会成为一个神龛。”
“说实话，先生，我一点也听不懂你的话。你的谈话我跟不上，因为已经越出了我所能理解的深度。我只知道一点，你曾说你并不像自己所希望的那样好，你对自己的缺陷感到遗憾——有一件事我是理解的，那就是你说的，玷污了的记忆是一个永久的祸根。我似乎觉得，只要你全力以赴，到时候你会发现有可能成为自己所向往的人，而要是你现在就下决心开始纠正你的思想和行动，不出几年，你就可以建立一个一尘不染的新记忆仓库，你也许会很乐意地去回味。”
“想得合理，说得也对，爱小姐，而这会儿我是使劲在给地狱铺路。”
“先生？”
“我正在用良好的意图铺路，我相信它像燧石一般耐磨。当然，今后我所交往的人和追求的东西与以往的不同了。”
“比以往更好？”
“是更好——就像纯粹的矿石比污秽的渣滓要好得多一样。你似乎对我表示怀疑，我倒不怀疑自己。我明白自己的目的是什么，动机是什么。此刻我要通过一项目的和动机都是正通八达确的法律，它像玛代人和波斯人的法律那样不可更改。”
“先生，它们需要一个新的法规将它合法化，否则就不能成立。”
“爱小姐，尽管完全需要一个新法规，但它们能成立；没有先例的复杂状况需要没有先例的法则。”
“这听起来是个危险的格言，先生，因为一眼就可以看出来，容易造成滥用。”
“善用格言的圣人！就是这么回事，但我以家神的名义发誓，决不滥用。”
“你是凡人，所以难免出错。”
“我是凡人，你也一样——那又怎么样？”
“凡人难免出错，不应当冒用放心地托付给神明和完人的权力。”
“什么权力？”
“对奇怪而未经准许的行动就说，‘算它对吧。’”
“‘算它对吧’——就是这几个字，你已经说出来了。”
“那就说‘愿它对吧，’我说着站起来，觉得已没有必要再继续这番自己感到糊里糊涂的谈话。此外，我也意识到，对方的性格是无法摸透的，至少目前是这样，我还感到没有把握，有一种朦胧的不安全感，同时还确信自己很无知。”
“你上哪儿去？”
“阿黛勒睡觉，已经过了她上床的时间了。”
“你害怕我，因为我交谈起来像斯芬克斯。”
“你的语言不可捉模，先生。不过尽管我迷惑不解，但我根本不怕。”
“你是害怕的——你的自爱心理使你害怕出大错。”
“要是那样说，我的确有些担忧——我不想胡说八道。”
“你即使胡说八道，也会是一付板着面孔，不动声色的神态，我还会误以为说得很在理呢。你从来没有笑过吗，爱小姐？你不必费心来回答了——我知道你难得一笑，可是你可以笑得很欢。请相信我，你不是生来严肃的，就像我不是生来可恶的。罗沃德的束缚，至今仍在你身上留下某些印迹，控制着你的神态，压抑着你的嗓音，捆绑着你的手脚，所以你害怕在一个男人，一位兄长——或者父亲、或者主人，随你怎么说——面前开怀大笑，害怕说话太随便，害怕动作太迅速，不过到时候，我想你会学着同我自然一些的，就像觉得要我按照陋习来对待你是不可能的，到那时，你的神态和动作会比现在所敢于流露的更富有生气、更多姿多彩。我透过木条紧固的鸟笼，不时观察着一只颇念新奇的鸟，笼子里是一个活跃、不安、不屈不挠的囚徒，一旦获得自由，它一定会高飞云端。你还是执意要走？”
“己经过了九点，先生。”
“没有关系——等一会儿吧，阿黛勒还没有准备好上床呢，爱小姐，我背靠炉火，面对房间，有利于观察，跟你说话的时候，我也不时注意着她（我有自己的理由把她当作奇特的研究对象，这理由我某一天可以，不，我会讲给你听的），大约十分钟之前，她从箱子里取出一件粉红色丝绸小上衣，打开的时候脸上充满了喜悦，媚俗之气流动在她的血液里，融化在她的脑髓里，沉淀在她的骨髓里。‘Il faut que je I'essaie！’她嚷道，‘et aIinstant meme！于是她冲出了房间。现在她跟索菲娅在一起，正忙着试装呢。不要几分钟，她会再次进来，我知道我会看到什么——塞莉纳.瓦伦的缩影，当年帷幕开启，她出现在舞台上时的模样，不过，不去管它啦。然而，我的最温柔的感情将为之震动，这就是我的预感，呆着别走，看看是不是会兑现。”
不久，我就听见阿黛勒的小脚轻快地走过客厅，她进来了，正如她的保护人所预见的那样，已判若两人。一套玫瑰色缎子衣服代替了原先的棕色上衣，这衣服很短，裙摆大得不能再大。她的额头上戴着一个玫瑰花蕾的花环，脚上穿着丝袜和白缎子小凉鞋。
“Est ce que ma robe va bien?”她跳跳蹦蹦跑到前面叫道“et mes souliers? et mes bas? Tenez, je crois que je vais danser！”
她展开裙子，用快滑步舞姿穿过房间，到了罗切斯特先生的跟前，踮着脚在他面前轻盈地转了一圈，随后一个膝头着地，蹲在他脚边，嚷着：
“Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte,”随后她立起来补充了一句：“C'est comme cela que maman faisait, n'est ce pas,Monsieur?”
“确——实——像”他答道，“而且‘commecela’，她把我迷住了，从我英国裤袋里骗走了我英国的钱。我也很稚嫩，爱小姐——唉，青草一般稚嫩，一度使我生气勃勃的青春色彩并不淡于如今的你。不过我的春天已经逝去，但它在我手中留下了一小朵法国小花，在某些心境中，我真想把它摆脱。我并不珍重生出它的根来，还发现它需要用金土来培植，于是我对这朵花三心二意了，特别是像现在这样它看上去多么矫揉造作。我收留它，养育它，多半是按照罗马天主教教义，用做一件好事来赎无数大大小小的罪孽。改天再给你解释这一切，晚安。”
Chapter 13
MR. ROCHESTER, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed early that night; nor did he rise soon next morning. When he did come down, it was to attend to business: his agent and some of his tenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with him.Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it would be in daily requisition as a reception-room for callers. A fire was lit in an apartment upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged it for the future schoolroom. I discerned in the course of the morning that Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent as a church, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door, or a clang of the bell: steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer world was flowing through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked it better.
Adele was not easy to teach that day; she could not apply: she kept running to the door and looking over the banisters to see if she could get a glimpse of Mr. Rochester; then she coined pretexts to go downstairs, in order, as I shrewdly suspected, to visit the library, where I knew she was not wanted; then, when I got a little angry, and made her sit still, she continued to talk incessantly of her 'ami, Monsieur Edouard Fairfax de Rochester,' as she dubbed him (I had not before heard his prenomens), and to conjecture what presents he had brought her: for it appears he had intimated the night before, that when his luggage came from Millcote, there would be found amongst it a little box in whose contents she had an interest.
'Et cela doit signifier,' said she, 'qu'il y aura la dedans un cadeau pour moi, et peut-etre pour vous aussi, mademoiselle.
Monsieur a parle de vous: il m'a demande le nom de ma gouvernante, et si elle n'etait pas une petite personne, assez mince et un peu pale. J'ai dit qu'oui: car c'est vrai, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?'
I and my pupil dined as usual in Mrs. Fairfax's parlour; the afternoon was wild and snowy, and we passed it in the schoolroom. At dark I allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to run downstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from the cessation of appeals to the door-bell, I conjectured that Mr. Rochester was now at liberty. Left alone, I walked to the window; but nothing was to be seen thence: twilight and snowflakes together thickened the air, and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. I let down the curtain and went back to the fireside.
In the clear embers I was tracing a view, not unlike a picture I remembered to have seen of the castle of Heidelberg, on the Rhine, when Mrs. Fairfax came in, breaking up by her entrance the fiery mosaic I had been piecing together, and scattering too some heavy unwelcome thoughts that were beginning to throng on my solitude.
'Mr. Rochester would be glad if you and your pupil would take tea with him in the drawing-room this evening,' said she: 'he has been so much engaged all day that he could not ask to see you before.' 
'When is his tea-time?' I inquired.
'Oh, at six o'clock: he keeps early hours in the country. You had better change your frock now; I will go with you and fasten it. Here is a candle.'
'Is it necessary to change my frock?'
'Yes, you had better: I always dress for the evening when Mr. Rochester is here.'
This additional ceremony seemed somewhat stately; however, I repaired to my room, and, with Mrs. Fairfax's aid, replaced my black stuff dress by one of black silk; the best and the only additional one I had, except one of light grey, which, in my Lowood notions of the toilette, I thought too fine to be worn, except on first-rate occasions.
'You want a brooch,' said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearl ornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put it on, and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers, it was rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr. Rochester's presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into the dining-room, and kept in her shade as we crossed that apartment; and, passing the arch, whose curtain was now dropped, entered the elegant recess beyond.
Two wax candles stood lighted on the table, and two on the mantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, lay Pilot- Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr. Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at Adele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and jaw- yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term- broad chested and thin flanked, though neither tall nor graceful.
Mr. Rochester must have been aware of the entrance of Mrs. Fairfax and myself; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice us, for he never lifted his head as we approached. 
'Here is Miss Eyre, sir,' said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way. He bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and child. 
'Let Miss Eyre be seated,' said he: and there was something in the forced stiff bow, in the impatient yet formal tone, which seemed further to express, 'What the deuce is it to me whether Miss Eyre be there or not? At this moment I am not disposed to accost her.'
I sat down quite disembarrassed. A reception of finished politeness would probably have confused me: I could not have returned or repaid it by answering grace and elegance on my part; but harsh caprice laid me under no obligation; on the contrary, a decent  quiescence, under the freak of manner, gave me the advantage. Besides, the eccentricity of the proceeding was piquant: I felt interested to see how he would go on.
He went on as a statue would, that is, he neither spoke nor moved. Mrs. Fairfax seemed to think it necessary that some one should be amiable, and she began to talk. Kindly, as usual- and, as usual, rather trite- she condoled with him on the pressure of business he had had all day; on the annoyance it must have been to him with that painful sprain: then she commended his patience and perseverance in going through with it.
'Madam, I should like some tea,' was the sole rejoinder she got. 
She hastened to ring the bell; and when the tray came, she proceeded to arrange the cups, spoons, etc., with assiduous celerity. I and Adele went to the table; but the master did not leave his couch.
'Will you hand Mr. Rochester's cup?' said Mrs. Fairfax to me;
'Adele might perhaps spill it.'
I did as requested. As he took the cup from my hand, Adele, thinking the moment propitious for making a request in my favour, cried out-
'N'est-ce pas, monsieur, qu'il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre dans votre petit coffre?'
'Who talks of cadeaux?' said he gruffly. 'Did you expect a present, Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?' and he searched my face with eyes that I saw were dark, irate, and piercing.
'I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they are generally thought pleasant things.'
'Generally thought? But what do you think?'
'I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you an answer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it, has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion as to its nature.'
'Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adele: she demands a "cadeau," clamorously, the moment she sees me: you beat about the bush.'
'Because I have less confidence in my deserts than Adele has: she can prefer the claim of old acquaintance, and the right too of custom; for she says you have always been in the habit of giving her playthings; but if I had to make out a case I should be puzzled, since I am a stranger, and have done nothing to entitle me to an acknowledgment.'
'Oh, don't fall back on over-modesty! I have examined Adele, and find you have taken great pains with her: she is not bright, she has no talents; yet in a short time she has made much improvement.'
'Sir, you have now given me my "cadeau"; I am obliged to you: it is the meed teachers most covet-praise of their pupils' progress.' 
'Humph!' said Mr. Rochester, and he took his tea in silence.
'Come to the fire,' said the master, when the tray was taken away, and Mrs. Fairfax had settled into a corner with her knitting; while Adele was leading me by the hand round the room, showing me the beautiful books and ornaments on the consoles and chiffonnieres.
We obeyed, as in duty bound; Adele wanted to take a seat on my knee, but she was ordered to amuse herself with Pilot. 
'You have been resident in my house three months?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And you came from-?'
'Ah! a charitable concern. How long were you there?'
'Eight years.'
'Eight years! you must be tenacious of life. I thought half the time in such a place would have done up any constitution! No wonder you have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse: I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?'
'I have none.'
'Nor ever had, I suppose: do you remember them?'
'No.'
'I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on that stile?'
'For whom, sir?'
'For the men in green: it was a proper moonlight evening for them. Did I break through one of your rings, that you spread that damned ice on the causeway?'
I shook my head. 'The men in green all forsook England a hundred years ago,' said I, speaking as seriously as he had done. 'And not even in Hay Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace of them. I don't think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, will ever shine on their revels more.'
Mrs. Fairfax had dropped her knitting, and, with raised eyebrows, seemed wondering what sort of talk this was.
'Well,' resumed Mr. Rochester, 'if you disown parents, you must have some sort of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?'
'No; none that I ever saw.'
'And your home?'
'I have none.'
'Where do your brothers and sisters live?'
'I have no brothers or sisters.'
'Who recommended you to come here?'
'I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement.'
'Yes,' said the good lady, who now knew what ground we were upon, 'and I am daily thankful for the choice Providence led me to make. 
Miss Eyre has been an invaluable companion to me, and a kind and careful teacher to Adele.'
'Don't trouble yourself to give her a character,' returned Mr. Rochester: 'eulogiums will not bias me; I shall judge for myself.
She began by felling my horse.'
'Sir?' said Mrs. Fairfax.
'I have to thank her for this sprain.'
The widow looked bewildered.
'Miss Eyre, have you ever lived in a town?'
'No, sir.'
'Have you seen much society?'
'None but the pupils and teachers of Lowood, and now the inmates of Thornfield.'
'Have you read much?'
'Only such books as came in my way; and they have not been numerous or very learned.'
'You have lived the life of a nun: no doubt you are well drilled in religious forms;- Brocklehurst, who I understand directs Lowood, is a parson, is he not?'
'Yes, sir.' 
'And you girls probably worshipped him, as a convent full of religieuses would worship their director.'
'Oh, no.'
'You are very cool! No! What! a novice not worship her priest! That sounds blasphemous.'
'I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst; and I was not alone in the feeling. 
He is a harsh man; at once pompous and meddling; he cut off our hair; and for economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, with which we could hardly sew.'
'That was very false economy,' remarked Mrs. Fairfax, who now again caught the drift of the dialogue.
'And was that the head and front of his offending?' demanded Mr. Rochester.
'He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of the provision department, before the committee was appointed; and he bored us with long lectures once a week, and with evening readings from books of his own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, which made us afraid to go to bed.'
'What age were you when you went to Lowood?' 
'About ten.'
'And you stayed there eight years: you are now, then, eighteen?' I assented.
'Arithmetic, you see, is useful; without its aid, I should hardly have been able to guess your age. It is a point difficult to fix where the features and countenance are so much at variance as in your case. And now what did you learn at Lowood? Can you play?'
'A little.'
'Of course: that is the established answer. Go into the library- I mean, if you please.- (Excuse my tone of command; I am used to say, "Do this," and it is done: I cannot alter my customary habits for one new inmate.)- Go, then, into the library; take a candle with you; leave the door open; sit down to the piano, and play a tune.'
I departed, obeying his directions.
'Enough!' he called out in a few minutes. 'You play a little, I see; like any other English school-girl; perhaps rather better than some, but not well.'
I closed the piano and returned. Mr. Rochester continued- 'Adele showed me some sketches this morning, which she said were yours. I don't know whether they were entirely of your doing; probably a master aided you?'
'No, indeed!' I interjected.
'Ah! that pricks pride. Well, fetch me your portfolio, if you can vouch for its contents being original; but don't pass your word unless you are certain: I can recognise patchwork.'
'Then I will say nothing, and you shall judge for yourself, sir.' I brought the portfolio from the library.
'Approach the table,' said he; and I wheeled it to his couch. Adele and Mrs. Fairfax drew near to see the pictures.
'No crowding,' said Mr. Rochester: 'take the drawings from my hand as I finish with them; but don't push your faces up to mine.'
He deliberately scrutinised each sketch and painting. Three he laid aside; the others, when he had examined them, he swept from him.
'Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax,' said he, 'and look at them with Adele;- you' (glancing at me) 'resume your seat, and answer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by one hand: was that hand yours?'
'Yes.'
'And when did you find time to do them? They have taken much time, and some thought.'
'I did them in the last two vacations I spent at Lowood, when I had no other occupation.'
'Where did you get your copies?'
'Out of my head.'
'That head I see now on your shoulders?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Has it other furniture of the same kind within?'
'I should think it may have: I should hope- better.'
He spread the pictures before him, and again surveyed them alternately.
While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are:  and first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. The subjects had, indeed, risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them with the spiritual eye, before I attempted to embody them, they were striking; but my hand would not second my fancy, and in each case it had wrought out but a pale portrait of the thing I had conceived.
These pictures were in water-colours. The first represented clouds low and livid, rolling over a swollen sea: all the distance was in eclipse; so, too, was the foreground; or rather, the nearest billows, for there was no land. One gleam of light lifted into relief a half-submerged mast, on which sat a cormorant, dark and large, with wings flecked with foam; its beak held a gold bracelet set with gems, that I had touched with as brilliant tints as my palette could yield, and as glittering distinctness as my pencil could impart.
Sinking below the bird and mast, a drowned corpse glanced through the green water; a fair arm was the only limb clearly visible, whence the bracelet had been washed or torn.
The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of a hill, with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze.
Beyond and above spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at twilight: rising into the sky was a woman's shape to the bust, portrayed in tints as dusk and soft as I could combine. The dim forehead was crowned with a star; the lineaments below were seen as through the suffusion of vapour; the eyes shone dark and wild; the hair streamed shadowy, like a beamless cloud torn by storm or by electric travail.
On the neck lay a pale reflection like moonlight; the same faint lustre touched the train of thin clouds from which rose and bowed this vision of the Evening Star.
The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar winter sky: a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances, close serried, along the horizon. Throwing these into distance, rose, in the foreground, a head,- a colossal head, inclined towards the iceberg, and resting against it. Two thin hands, joined under the forehead, and supporting it, drew up before the lower features a sable veil; a brow quite bloodless, white as bone, and an eye hollow and fixed, blank of meaning but for the glassiness of despair, alone were visible. Above the temples, amidst wreathed turban folds of black drapery, vague in its character and consistency as cloud, gleamed a ring of white flame, gemmed with sparkles of a more lurid tinge.
This pale crescent was 'the likeness of a kingly crown'; what it diademed was 'the shape which shape had none.'
'Were you happy when you painted these pictures?' asked Mr. Rochester presently.
'I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy. To paint them, in short, was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known.' 
'That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, have been few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist's dreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did you sit at them long each day?'
'I had nothing else to do, because it was the vacation, and I sat at them from morning till noon, and from noon till night: the length of the midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply.'
'And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent labours?'
'Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and my handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was quite powerless to realise.'
'Not quite: you have secured the shadow of your thought; but no more, probably. You had not enough of the artist's skill and science to give it full being: yet the drawings are, for a school-girl, peculiar. As to the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream. How could you make them look so clear, and yet not at all brilliant? for the planet above quells their rays. And what meaning is that in their solemn depth? And who taught you to paint wind? There is a high gale in that sky, and on this hill-top. Where did you see Latmos? For that is Latmos. There! put the drawings away!'
I had scarce tied the strings of the portfolio, when, looking at his watch, he said abruptly- 
'It is nine o'clock: what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adele sit up so long? Take her to bed!'
Adele went to kiss him before quitting the room: he endured the caress, but scarcely seemed to relish it more than Pilot would have done, nor so much.
'I wish you all good-night, now,' said he, making a movement of the hand towards the door, in token that he was tired of our company, and wished to dismiss us. Mrs. Fairfax folded up her knitting: I took my portfolio: we curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow in return, and so withdrew.
'You said Mr. Rochester was not strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax,' I observed, when I rejoined her in her room, after putting Adele to bed.
'Well, is he?'
'I think so: he is very changeful and abrupt.'
'True: no doubt he may appear so to a stranger, but I am so accustomed to his manner, I never think of it; and then, if he has peculiarities of temper, allowance should be made.'
'Why?'
'Partly because it is his nature- and we can none of us help our nature; and partly because he has painful thoughts, no doubt, to harass him, and make his spirits unequal.'
'What about?'
'Family troubles, for one thing.'
'But he has no family.'
'Not now, but he has had- or, at least, relatives. He lost his elder brother a few years since.'
'His elder brother?'
'Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long in possession of the property; only about nine years.'
'Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brother as to be still inconsolable for his loss?'
'Why, no- perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandings between them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quite just to Mr. Edward; and perhaps he prejudiced his father against him. The old gentleman was fond of money, and anxious to keep the family estate together. He did not like to diminish the property by division, and yet he was anxious that Mr. Edward should have wealth, too, to keep up the consequence of the name; and, soon after he was of age, some steps were taken that were not quite fair, and made a great deal of mischief. Old Mr. Rochester and Mr. Rowland combined to bring Mr. Edward into what he considered a painful position, for the sake of making his fortune: what the precise nature of that position was I never clearly knew, but his spirit could not brook what he had to suffer in it. He is not very forgiving: he broke with his family, and now for many years he has led an unsettled kind of life. I don't think he has ever been resident at Thornfield for a fortnight together, since the death of his brother without a will left him master of the estate; and, indeed, no wonder he shuns the old place.'
'Why should he shun it?'
'Perhaps he thinks it gloomy.'
The answer was evasive. I should have liked something clearer; but Mrs. Fairfax either could not, or would not, give me more explicit information of the origin and nature of Mr. Rochester's trials. She averred they were a mystery to herself, and that what she knew was chiefly from conjecture. It was evident, indeed, that she wished me to drop the subject, which I did accordingly.
遵照医嘱，罗切斯特先生那晚上床很早，第二天早晨也没有马上起身。他就是下楼来也是处理事务的，他的代理人和一些佃户到了，等着要跟他说话。
阿黛勒和我现在得腾出书房，用作每日来访者的接待室。楼上的一个房间生起了火，我把书搬到那里，把它辟为未来的读书室。早上我觉察到桑菲尔德变了样，不再像教堂那么沉寂，每隔一两个小时便回响起敲门声或拉铃声，常有脚步声越过大厅，不同声调的陌生话音也在楼下响起，一条潺潺溪流从外面世界流进了府里，因为府上有了个主人。就我来说，倒更喜欢这样。
那天阿黛勒不大好教。她静不下心来，不往往门边跑，从栏杆上往下张望，看看能不能瞧一眼罗切斯特先生。随后编造出一些借口来，要到楼下去，我一下就猜到是为了到书房去走走，我知道那儿并不需要她。随后，见我有点儿生气了，并让她好好儿坐着，她就不断唠叨起她的“Ａmi,Monsieur Edouard Fairfax deRochester”，她就这么称呼他（而我以前从末听到过他的教名），还想象着他给她带来了什么礼物。因为他似乎在前天晚上提起过，他的行李从米尔科特运到后，内中会有一个小匣子，匣子里的东西她很感兴趣。
“Et cela doit signifier,”她说“qu'il y aura la dedans un cadeau pour moi, et peut etre pour vous aussi Mademoiselle. Monsienr a parle de vous: il m'a demande le nom de ma “坐到火炉边来，”这位主人说。这时托盘己经端走，费尔法克斯太太躲进角落忙着编织，阿黛勒拉住我的手在房间里打转，把她放在架子和柜子上的漂亮的书籍和饰品拿给我看，我们义不容辞地服从了。阿黛勒想坐在我膝头上，却被吩咐去逗派洛特玩了÷午风雪交加，我们呆在读书室 里。天黑时我允许阿黛勒放下书和作业，奔到楼下去，因为下面已比较安静，门铃声也已消 停，想必罗切斯特先生此刻有空了。房间里只剩下了我一个人，我便走到窗子跟前，但那儿 什么也看不见。暮色和雪片使空气混混沌沌，连草坪上的灌木也看不清楚了。我放下窗帘， 回到了火炉边。
在明亮的余烬中，我仿佛看到了一种景象，颇似我记得曾见过的莱茵河上海德堡城堡的风景画。这时费尔法克斯太太闯了进来，打碎了我还在拼凑的火红镶嵌画，也驱散了我孤寂中开始凝聚起来的沉闷而不受欢迎的念头。
“罗切斯特先生请你和你的学生，今晚一起同他在休息室里用茶点，”她说，“他忙了一天。没能早点见你。”
“他什么时候用茶点？”我问。
“呃，六点钟。在乡下他总是早起早睡，现在你最好把外衣换掉，我陪你去，帮你扣上扣子。拿着这支蜡烛。”
“有必要换外衣吗？”
“是的，最好还是换一下。罗切斯特先生在这里的时候，我总是穿上夜礼服的。”
这额外的礼节似乎有些庄重，不过我还是上自己的房间去了。在费尔法克斯太太的帮助下，把黑色呢衣换成了一件黑丝绸衣服，这是除了一套淡灰色衣服外，我最好的，也是唯一一套额外的衣装。以我的罗沃德服饰观念而言，我想除了头等重要的场合，这套服装是过于讲究而不宜穿的。
“你需要一枚饰针，”费尔法克斯太太说。我只有一件珍珠小饰品，是坦普尔小姐作为临别礼物送给我的，我把它戴上了。随后我们下了楼梯。我由于怕生，觉得这么一本正经被罗切斯特先生召见，实在是活受罪。去餐室时，我让费尔法克斯太太走在我前面，自己躲在她暗影里，穿过房间，路过此刻放下了窗帘的拱门，进了另一头高雅精致的内室。
两支蜡烛点在桌上，两支点在壁炉台上。派洛特躺着，沐浴在一堆旺火的光和热之中，阿黛勒跪在它旁边。罗切斯特先生半倚在睡榻上，脚下垫着坐垫。他正端详着阿黛勒和狗，炉火映出了他的脸。我知道我见过的这位赶路人有着浓密的宽眉，方正的额头，上面横流着的一片黑发，使额头显得更加方正。我认得他那坚毅的鼻子，它与其说是因为英俊，倒还不如说显出了性格而引人注目。他那丰满的鼻孔，我想，表明他容易发怒。他那严厉的嘴巴、下额和颅骨，是的，三者都很严厉，一点都不错。我发现，他此刻脱去斗篷以后的身材，同他容貌的方正很相配。我想从运动员的角度看，他胸宽腰细，身材很好，尽管既不高大，也不优美。
罗切斯特先生准已知道，费尔法克斯太太和我进了门，但他似乎没有兴致来注意我们，我们走近时，他连头都没有抬。
“爱小姐来了，先生，”费尔法克斯太太斯斯文文地说。他点了下头，目光依旧没有离开狗和孩子。
“让爱小姐坐下吧，”他说。他僵硬勉强的点头样子，不耐烦而又一本正经的说话语气，另有一番意思，似乎进一步表示，“活’见鬼，爱小姐在不在同我有什么关系？现在我不想同她打招呼。”
我坐了下来，一点也不窘。礼仪十足地接待我，倒反会使我手足无措，因为在我来说，无法报之以温良恭谦。而粗鲁任性可以使我不必拘礼，相反，行为古怪又合乎礼仪的沉默，却给我带来了方便。此外，这反常接待议程也是够有意思的，我倒有兴趣看看他究竟如何继续下去。
他继续像一尊塑像般呆着，既不说话，也不动弹。费尔法克斯太太好像认为总需要有人随和些，于是便先开始说起话来，照例和和气气，也照例很陈腐。对他整天紧张处理事务而表示同情；对扭伤的痛苦所带来的烦恼表示慰问；随后赞扬了他承受这一切的耐心与毅力。
“太太，我想喝茶，”这是她所得到的唯一的回答，她赶紧去打铃，托盘端上来时，又去张罗杯子，茶匙等，显得巴结而麻利。我和阿黛勒走近桌子，而这位主人并没离开他的睡榻。
“请你把罗切斯特先生的杯子端过去，”费尔法克斯太太对我说，“阿黛勒也许会泼洒出去的。”
我按她的要求做了。他从我手里接过杯子时，阿黛勒也许认为乘机可以为我提出个请求来，她叫道：
“N'est ce pas,Monsieur,qu'il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre,dans votre petit coffre?”
“谁说起过cadeaux？”他生硬地说。“你盼望一份礼物吗，爱小姐？你喜欢礼物吗？”他用一双在我看来阴沉恼怒而富有穿透力的眼睛，搜索着我的面容。
“我说不上来，先生，我对这些东西没有什么经验，一般认为是讨人喜欢的。”
“一般认为：可是你认为呢？”
“我得需要一点时间，先生，才能作出值得你接受的回答。一件礼物可以从多方面去看它，是不是？而人们需要全面考虑，才能发表关于礼物性质的意见。”
“爱小姐，你不像阿黛勒那么单纯，她一见到我就嚷着要‘cadeau’，而你却转弯抹角。”
“因为我对自己是否配得礼物，不像阿黛勒那么有信心，她可凭老关系老习惯提出要求，因为她说你一贯送她玩具，但如果要我发表看法的话，我就不知道该怎么说了，因为我是个陌生人，没有做过什么值得感谢的事情。”
“啊，别以过份谦虚来搪塞！我己经检查过阿黛勒的功课，发现你为她花了很大力气，她并不聪明，也没有什么天份，但在短期内取得了很大进步。”
“先生，你已经给了我‘cadeau’，我很感谢你，赞扬学生的进步，是教师们最向往的酬劳。”
“哼！”罗切斯特先生哼了一声，默默地喝起茶来。
“坐到火炉边来，”这位主人说。这时托盘己经端走，费尔法克斯太太躲进角落忙着编织，阿黛勒拉住我的手在房间里打转，把她放在架子和柜子上的漂亮的书籍和饰品拿给我看，我们义不容辞地服从了。阿黛勒想坐在我膝头上，却被吩咐去逗派洛特玩了。
“你在我这里住了三个月了吧？”
“是的，先生。”
“你来自——”
“××郡的罗沃德学校。”
“噢！一个慈善机构。你在那里呆了几年？”
“八年。”
“八年！你的生命力一定是够顽强的。我认为在那种地方就是呆上一半时间，也会把身体搞跨！怪不得你那种样子像是从另外一个世界来的。我很奇怪，你从哪儿得来了那种面孔，昨晚我在海路上碰到你的时候，不由得想到了童话故事，而且真有点想问问你，是不是你迷住了我的马。不过我现在仍不敢肯定。你父母是谁？”
“我没有父母。”
“从来没有过，我猜想，你还记得他们吗？”
“不记得。”
“我想也记不得了。所以你坐在台阶上等你自己的人来？”
“等谁，先生？”
“等绿衣仙人呗，晚上月光皎洁，正是他们出没的好时光。是不是我冲破了你们的圈子，你就在路面上撒下了那该死的冰？”
我摇了摇头。“绿衣仙人几百年前就离开了英格兰，”我也像他一样一本正经地说，“就是在海路上或者附近的田野，你也见不到他们的一丝踪迹。我想夏天、秋夜或者冬季的月亮再也不会照耀他们的狂欢了。”
费尔法克斯太太放下手中的织物，竖起眉毛，似乎对这类谈话感到惊异。
“好吧，罗切斯特先生继续说，“要是你没有父母，总应该有些亲人。譬如叔伯姑嫂等？”
“没有，就我所知，一个也没有。”
“那么你家在哪儿？”
“我没有家。”
“你兄弟姐妹住在哪儿？”
“我没有兄弟姐妹。”
“谁推荐你到这里来的呢？”
“我自己登广告，费尔法克斯太太答复了我。”
“是的，”这位好心的太太说，此刻她才弄明白我们谈话的立足点。“我每天感谢主引导我作出了这个选择。爱小姐对我是个不可多得的伙伴，对阿黛勒是位和气细心的教师。”
“别忙着给她作鉴定了，”罗切斯特先生回答说，“歌功颂德并不能使我偏听偏信，我会自己作出判断。她是以把我的马弄倒在地开始给我产生印象的。”
“先生？”费尔法克斯太太说。
“我得感谢她使我扭伤了脚。”
这位寡妇一时莫名其妙。
“爱小姐，你在城里住过吗？”
“没有，先生。”
“见过很多社交场合吗？”
“除了罗沃德的学生和教师，什么也没有。如今还有桑菲尔德府里的人。”
“你读过很多书吗？”
“碰到什么就读什么，数量不多，也不高深。”
“你过的是修女的生活，毫无疑问，在宗教礼仪方面你是训练有素的。布罗克赫斯特，我知道是他管辖着罗沃德，他是位牧师，是吗？”
“是的，先生，”
“你们姑娘们也许都很崇拜他，就像住满修女的修道院，崇拜她们的院长一样。”
“啊，没有。”
“你倒很冷静！不！一位见习修女不崇拜她的牧师？那听起来有些亵渎神灵。”
“我不喜欢布罗克赫斯特先生，有这种感觉的不只我一个。他是个很严酷的人，既自负而又爱管闲事，他剪去了我们的头发，而为节省，给我们买了很差的针线，大家差点都没法儿缝。”
“那是种很虚假的节省，”费尔法克斯太太议论道，此刻她又听到了我们的一阵交谈。
“而这就是他最大的罪状？”罗切斯特先生问。
“他还让我们挨饿，那时他单独掌管供应部，而委员会还没有成立。他弄得我们很厌烦，一周一次作长篇大论的讲道，每晚要我们读他自己编的书，写的是关于暴死呀，报应呀，吓得我们都不敢去睡觉。”
“你去罗沃德的时候几岁？”
“十岁左右。”
“你在那里待了八年，那你现在是十八岁罗？”
我表示同意。
“你看，数学还是有用的。没有它的帮助，我很难猜出你的年纪。像你这样五官与表情相差那么大，要确定你的年纪可不容易。好吧，你在罗沃德学了些什么？会弹钢琴吗？”
“会一点。”
“当然，都会这么回答的，到书房去——我的意思是请你到书房去——（请原谅我命令的口气，我已说惯了‘你作这事’，于是他就去作了。我无法为一个新来府上的人改变我的老习惯）——那么，到书房去，带着你的蜡烛，让门开着，坐在钢琴面前，弹一个曲子。”
我听从他的吩咐走开了。
“行啦！”几分钟后他叫道，“你会—点儿，我知道了，像随便哪一个英国女学生一样，也许比有些人强些，但并不好。”
我关了钢琴，走了回来。罗切斯特先生继续说：
“今天早上阿黛勒把一些速写给我看了，她说是你画的，我不知道是不是完全由你一个人画的，也许某个画师帮助了你？”
“没有，说真的！”我冲口叫了起来。
“噢，那伤了你的自尊。好吧，把你的画夹拿来，要是你能担保里面的画是自己创作的。不过你没有把握就别吭声，我认得出拼拼凑凑的东西。”
“那我什么也不说，你尽可以自己去判断，先生。”
我从书房取来了画夹。
“把桌子移过来，”他说，我把桌子推向他的睡榻，阿黛勒和费尔法克斯太太也都凑近来看画。
“别挤上来，”罗切斯特先生说，“等我看好了，可以从我手里把画拿走，但不要把脸都凑上来。”
他审慎地细看了每幅速写和画作。把其中三幅放在一旁，其余的看完以后便推开了。“把它们放到别的桌子上去，费尔法克斯太太，”他说，同阿黛勒一起看看这些画。你呢，”（目光扫视了我一下）“仍旧坐在你位置上，回答我的问题。我看出来这些画出自一人之手，那是你的手吗？”
“是的。”
“你什么时候抽时间来画的？这些画很费时间，也得动些脑筋。”
“我是在罗沃德度过的最后两个假期时画的，那时我没有别的事情。”
“你什么地方弄来的摹本？”
“从我脑袋里。”
“就是现在我看到的你肩膀上的脑袋吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“那里面没有类似的东西吗？”
“我想也许有。我希望——更好。”
他把这些画摊在他面前，再次一张张细看着。
趁他看画的时候，读者，我要告诉你，那是些什么画。首先我得事先声明，它们并没有什么了不起。画的题材倒确实活脱脱地浮现在我脑海里。我还没有想用画来表现时，它们就已在我心灵的目光下显得栩栩如生。然而在落笔时，我的手却不听我想象的使唤，每次都只能给想象中的东西勾勒出一个苍白无力的图象来。
这些都是水彩画。第一张画的是，低垂的铅色云块，在波涛汹涌的海面上翻滚，远处的一切黯然无光，画面的前景也是如此，或者不如说，靠得最近的波涛是这样，因为画中没高陆地。—束微光把半沉的桅杆映照得轮廓分明，桅杆上栖息着一只又黑又大的鸬鹚，翅膀上沾着斑驳的泡沫，嘴里衔着一只镶嵌了宝石的金手镯，我给手镯抹上了调色板所能调出的最明亮的色泽，以及我的铅笔所能勾划出的闪闪金光。在鸟和桅杆下面的碧波里，隐约可见一具沉溺的尸体，它身上唯一看得清清楚楚的肢体是一只美丽的胳膊，那手镯就是从这里被水冲走或是给鸟儿啄下来的。
第二张画的前景只有一座朦胧的山峰，青草和树叶似乎被微风吹歪了。在远处和上方铺开了一片薄暮时分深蓝色的浩瀚天空。一个女人的半身形体高耸天际，色调被我尽力点染得柔和与暗淡。模糊的额头上点缀着一颗星星，下面的脸部仿佛透现在雾气蒸腾之中。双目乌黑狂野、炯炯有神。头发如阴影一般飘洒，仿佛是被风爆和闪电撕下的暗淡无光的云块。脖子上有一抹宛若月色的淡淡反光，一片片薄云也有着同样浅色的光泽，云端里升起了低着头的金星的幻象。
第三幅画的是一座冰山的尖顶，刺破了北极冬季的天空，一束束北极光举起了它们毫无光泽、密布在地平线上的长矛。在画的前景上，一个头颅赫然入目，冰山退隐到了远处，一个巨大无比的头，侧向冰山，枕在上面。头部底下伸出一双手，支撑着它，拉起了一块黑色的面纱。罩住下半部面孔。额头毫无血色，苍白如骨。深陷的眼睛凝视着，除了露出绝望的木然神色，别无其他表情。在两鬓之上，黑色缠头布的皱裥中，射出了一圈如云雾般变幻莫测的白炽火焰，镶嵌着红艳艳的火星，这苍白的新月是“王冠的写真”，为“无形之形”加冕。
“你创作这些画时愉快吗？”罗切斯特先生立刻问。
“我全神贯注，先生。是的，我很愉快。总之，画这些画无异于享受我从来没有过的最大乐趣。”
“那并不说明什么问题，据你自己所说，你的乐趣本来就不多。但我猜想，你在调拌并着上这些奇怪的颜色时，肯定生活在一种艺术家的梦境之中，你每天费很长时间坐着作这些画吗？”
“在假期里我没有别的事情可做，我坐着从早上画到中午，从中午画到晚上。仲夏白昼很长，有利于我专心致志。”
“你对自己饱含热情的劳动成果表示满意吗？”
“很不满意。我为自己的思想和手艺之间存在的差距而感到烦恼。每次我都想象了一些东西，但却无力加以表达。”
“不完全如此。你己经捕捉到了你思想的影子，但也许仅此而已。你缺乏足够的艺术技巧和专门知识，淋漓尽致地把它表达出来。不过对一个女学生来说，这些画已经非同一般了。至于那些思想，倒是有些妖气。金星中的眼睛你一定是在梦中看见的，你怎么能够使它既那么明亮，而又不耀眼呢？因为眼睛上端的行星淹没了它们的光。而那庄严的眼窝又包含着什么意思？是谁教你画风的，天空中和山顶上都刮着大风。你在什么地方见到拉特莫斯山的？——因为那确实是拉特莫斯山。嗨，把这些画拿走！”
我还没有把画夹上的绳子扎好，他就看了看表，唐突地说：
“己经九点了，爱小姐，你在磨蹭些啥，让阿黛勒这么老呆着？带她去睡觉吧。”
阿黛勒走出房间之前过去吻了吻他，他忍受了这种亲热，但似乎并没比派洛特更欣赏它，甚至还不如派洛特。
“现在，我祝你们大家晚安，”他说，朝门方向做了个手势，表示他对我们的陪伴已经感到厌烦，希望打发我们走。费尔法克斯太太收起了织物，我拿了画夹，都向他行了屈膝礼。他生硬地点了点头，算是回答，这样我们就退了出去。
“你说过罗切斯特先生并不特别古怪，费尔法克斯太太。”安顿好阿黛勒上床后，我再次到了费尔法克斯太太的房间里时说。
“嗯，他是这样？”
“我想是这样，他变幻无常，粗暴无礼。”
“不错。毫无疑问，在一个陌生人看来，她似乎就是这样。但我已非常习惯于他的言谈举止，因此从来不去想它。更何况要是他真的脾气古怪的话，那也是应当宽容的。”
“为什么？”
“一半是因为他生性如此，——而我们都对自己的天性无能为力；一半是因为他肯定有痛苦的念头在折磨着他，使他的心里不平衡。”
“什么事情？”
“一方面是家庭纠葛。”
“可是他压根儿没有家庭。”
“不是说现在，但曾有过——至少是亲戚。几年前他失去了哥哥。”
“他的哥哥？”
“是的，现在这位罗切斯特先生拥有这份财产的时间并不长，只有九年左右。”
“九年时间也不算短了，他那么爱他的哥哥，直到现在还为他的去世而悲伤不已吗？”
“唉，不——也许不是。我想他们之间有些隔阂。罗兰特.罗切斯特先生对爱德华先生不很公平，也许就是他弄得他父亲对爱德华先生怀有偏见。这位老先生爱钱，急于使家产合在一起，不希望因为分割而缩小。同时又很想让爱德华先生有自己的一份财产，以保持这名字的荣耀。他成年后不久，他们采取了一些不十分合理的办法，造成了很大麻烦。为了使爱德华先生获得那份财产，老罗切斯特先生和罗兰特先生一起，使爱德华先生陷入了他自认为痛苦的境地，这种境遇的确切性质，我从来都不十分清楚，但在精神上他无法忍受不得不忍受的一切。他不愿忍让，便与家庭决裂。多年来，他一直过着一种漂泊不定的生活。我想打从他哥哥没有留下遗嘱就去世，他自己成了房产的主人后，他从来没有在桑菲尔德一连住上过二周。说实在，也难怪他要躲避这个老地方。”
“他干嘛要躲避呢？”
“也许他认为这地方太沉闷。”
她的回答闪烁其辞。我本想了解得更透彻些，但费尔法克斯太太兴许不能够，抑或不愿意，向我进一步提供关于罗切斯特先生痛苦的始末和性质。她一口咬定，对她本人来说也是个谜，她所知道的多半是她自己的猜测，说真的，她显然希望我搁下这个话题，于是我也就不再多问了。
Chapter 15
MR. ROCHESTER did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adele in the grounds: and while she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long beech avenue within sight of her.He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Celine Varens, towards whom he had once cherished what he called a 'grande passion.' This passion Celine had professed to return with even superior ardour. He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he believed, as he said, that she preferred his 'taille d'athlete' to the elegance of the Apollo Belvidere.
'And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, etc. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre. I had- as I deserved to have- the fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so lately by her presence. No,- I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene. The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,- I will take one now, if you will excuse me.'
Here ensued a pause, filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense on the freezing and sunless air, he went on- 'I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was croquant- (overlook the barbarism)- croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the "voiture" I had given Celine. She was returning: of course my heart thumped with impatience against the iron rails I leant upon. The carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata) alighted: though muffled in a cloak- an unnecessary encumbrance, by the bye, on so warm a June evening- I knew her instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage step. Bending over the balcony, I was about to murmur "Mon ange"- in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love alone- when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochere of the hotel.
'You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you- and you may mark my words- you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current- as I am now.
'I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sterness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor-'
He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance.
We were ascending the avenue when he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire, impatience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict in the large pupil dilating under his ebon eyebrow.
Wild was the wrestle which should be paramount; but another feeling rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical: self-willed and resolute: it settled his passion and petrified his countenance: he went on-
'During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk- a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. "You like Thornfield?" she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows, "Like it if you can? Like it if you dare!"
'"I will like it" said I; "I dare like it;" and' (he subjoined moodily) 'I will keep my word; I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness- yes, goodness. I wish to be a better man than I have been, than I am; as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hindrances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood.'
Adele here ran before him with her shuttlecock. 'Away!' he cried harshly; 'keep at a distance, child; or go in to Sophie!' Continuing then to pursue his walk in silence, I ventured to recall him to the point whence he had abruptly diverged-
'Did you leave the balcony, sir,' I asked, 'when Mdlle. Varens entered?'
I almost expected a rebuff for this hardly well-timed question, but, on the contrary, waking out of his scowling abstraction, he turned his eyes towards me, and the shade seemed to clear off his brow. 'Oh, I had forgotten Celine! Well, to resume. When I saw my charmer thus come in accompanied by a cavalier, I seemed to hear a hiss, and the green snake of jealousy, rising on undulating coils from the moonlit balcony, glided within my waistcoat, and ate its way in two minutes to my heart's core. Strange!' he exclaimed, suddenly starting again from the point. 'Strange that I should choose you for the confidant of all this, young lady; passing strange that you should listen to me quietly, as if it were the most usual thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you! But the last singularity explains the first, as I intimated once before: you, with your gravity, considerateness, and caution were made to be the recipient of secrets.
Besides, I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication with my own: I know it is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one. Happily I do not mean to harm it: but, if I did, it would not take harm from me. The more you and I converse, the better; for while I cannot blight you, you may refresh me.' After this digression he proceeded-
'I remained in the balcony. "They will come to her boudoir, no doubt," thought I: "Let me prepare an ambush." So putting my hand in through the open window, I drew the curtain over it, leaving only an opening through which I could take observations; then I closed the casement, all but a chink just wide enough to furnish an outlet to lovers' whispered vows: then I stole back to my chair; and as I resumed it the pair came in. My eye was quickly at the aperture.
Celine's chambermaid entered, lit a lamp, left it on the table, and withdrew. The couple were thus revealed to me clearly: both removed their cloaks, and there was "the Varens," shining in satin and jewels,- my gifts of course,- and there was her companion in an officer's uniform; and I knew him for a young roue of a vicomte- a brainless and vicious youth whom I had sometimes met in society, and had never thought of hating because I despised him so absolutely. On recognising him, the fang of the snake Jealousy was instantly broken; because at the same moment my love for Celine sank under an extinguisher. A woman who could betray me for such a rival was not worth contending for; she deserved only scorn; less, however, than I, who had been her dupe.
'They began to talk; their conversation eased me completely: frivolous, mercenary, heartless, and senseless, it was rather calculated to weary than enrage a listener. A card of mine lay on the table; this being perceived, brought my name under discussion.
Neither of them possessed energy or wit to belabour me soundly, but they insulted me as coarsely as they could in their little way: especially Celine, who even waxed rather brilliant on my personal defects- deformities she termed them. Now it had been her custom to launch out into fervent admiration of what she called my "beaute male": wherein she differed diametrically from you, who told me point-blank, at the second interview, that you did not think me handsome. The contrast struck me at the time and-'
Adele here came running up again.
'Monsieur, John has just been to say that your agent has called and wishes to see you.'
'Ah! in that case I must abridge. Opening the window, I walked in upon them; liberated Celine from my protection; gave her notice to vacate her hotel; offered her a purse for immediate exigencies; disregarded screams, hysterics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment with the vicomte for a meeting at the Bois de Boulogne. Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and then thought I had done with the whole crew.
But unluckily the Varens, six months before, had given me this filette Adele, who, she affirmed, was my daughter; and perhaps she may be, though I see no proofs of such grim paternity written in her countenance: Pilot is more like me than she. Some years after I had broken with the mother, she abandoned her child, and ran away to Italy with a musician or singer. I acknowledged no natural claim on Adele's part to be supported by me, nor do I now acknowledge any, for I am not her father; but hearing that she was quite destitute, I e'en took the poor thing out of the slime and mud of Paris, and transplanted it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome soil of an English country garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but now you know that it is the illegitimate offspring of a French opera-girl, you will perhaps think differently of your post and protegee: you will be coming to me some day with notice that you have found another place- that you beg me to look out for a new governess, etc.- Eh?' 
'No: Adele is not answerable for either her mother's faults or yours: I have a regard for her; and now that I know she is, in a sense, parentless- forsaken by her mother and disowned by you, sir- I shall cling closer to her than before. How could I possibly prefer the spoilt pet of a wealthy family, who would hate her governess as a nuisance, to a lonely little orphan, who leans towards her as a friend?'
'Oh, that is the light in which you view it! Well, I must go in now; and you too: it darkens.'
But I stayed out a few minutes longer with Adele and Pilot- ran a race with her, and played a game of battledore and shuttlecock. When we went in, and I had removed her bonnet and coat, I took her on my knee; kept her there an hour, allowing her to prattle as she liked: not rebuking even some little freedoms and trivialities into which she was apt to stray when much noticed, and which betrayed in her a superficiality of character, inherited probably from her mother, hardly congenial to an English mind. Still she had her merits; and I was disposed to appreciate all that was good in her to the utmost. I sought in her countenance and features a likeness to Mr. Rochester, but found none: no trait, no turn of expression announced relationship. It was a pity: if she could but have been proved to resemble him, he would have thought more of her.
It was not till after I had withdrawn to my own chamber for the night, that I steadily reviewed the tale Mr. Rochester had told me. As he had said, there was probably nothing at all extraordinary in the substance of the narrative itself: a wealthy Englishman's passion for a French dancer, and her treachery to him, were every-day matters enough, no doubt, in society; but there was something decidedly strange in the paroxysm of emotion which had suddenly seized him when he was in the act of expressing the present contentment of his mood, and his newly revived pleasure in the old hall and its environs. I meditated wonderingly on this incident; but gradually quitting it, as I found it for the present inexplicable, I turned to the consideration of my master's manner to myself. The confidence he had thought fit to repose in me seemed a tribute to my discretion: I regarded and accepted it as such. His deportment had now for some weeks been more uniform towards me than at the first. I never seemed in his way; he did not take fits of chilling hauteur: when he met me unexpectedly, the encounter seemed welcome; he had always a word and sometimes a smile for me: when summoned by formal invitation to his presence, I was honoured by a cordiality of reception that made me feel I really possessed the power to amuse him, and that these evening  conferences were sought as much for his pleasure as for my benefit.
I, indeed, talked comparatively little, but I heard him talk with relish. It was his nature to be communicative; he liked to open to a mind unacquainted with the world glimpses of its scenes and ways (I do not mean its corrupt scenes and wicked ways, but such as derived their interest from the great scale on which they were acted, the strange novelty by which they were characterised); and I had a keen delight in receiving the new ideas he offered, in imagining the new pictures he portrayed, and following him in thought through the new regions he disclosed, never startled or troubled by one noxious allusion.
The ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint: the friendly frankness, as correct as cordial, with which he treated me, drew me to him. I felt at times as if he were my relation rather than my master: yet he was imperious sometimes still; but I did not mind that; I saw it was his way. So happy, so gratified did I become with this new interest added to life, that I ceased to pine after kindred: my thin crescent-destiny seemed to enlarge; the blanks of existence were filled up; my bodily health improved; I gathered flesh and strength.
And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults; indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others. He was moody, too; unaccountably so; I more than once,  when sent for to read to him, found him sitting in his library alone, with his head bent on his folded arms; and, when he looked up, a morose, almost a malignant, scowl blackened his features. But I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate. I believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles, and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed, education instilled, or destiny encouraged. I thought there were excellent materials in him; though for the present they hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny that I grieved for his grief, whatever that was, and would have given much to assuage it.
Though I had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed, I could not sleep for thinking of his look when he paused in the avenue, and told how his destiny had risen up before him, and dared him to be happy at Thornfield.
'Why not?' I asked myself. 'What alienates him from the house? Will he leave it again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than a fortnight at a time; and he has now been resident eight weeks. If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!'
I hardly know whether I had slept or not after this musing; at any rate, I started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious, which sounded, I thought, just above me. I wished I had kept my candle burning: the night was drearily dark; my spirits were depressed. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was hushed.
I tried again to sleep; but my heart beat anxiously: my inward tranquillity was broken. The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber-door was touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery outside. I said, 'Who is there?' Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear.
All at once I remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen-door chanced to be left open, not unfrequently found his way up to the threshold of Mr. Rochester's chamber: I had seen him lying there myself in the mornings. The idea calmed me somewhat: I lay down.
Silence composes the nerves; and as an unbroken hush now reigned again through the whole house, I began to feel the return of slumber. But it was not fated that I should sleep that night. A dream had scarcely approached my ear, when it fled affrighted, scared by a marrow-freezing incident enough.
This was a demoniac laugh- low, suppressed, and deep- uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the door, and I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside- or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, 'Who is there?'
Something gurgled and moaned. Ere long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase: a door had lately been made to shut in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still.
'Was that Grace Poole? and is she possessed with a devil?' thought I. Impossible now to remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I hurried on my frock and a shawl; I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand. There was a candle burning just outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning.
Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr.
Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I thought no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.
'Wake! wake!' I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him. Not a moment could be lost: the very sheets were kindling, I rushed to his basin and ewer; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and both were filled with water. I heaved them up, deluged the bed and its occupant, flew back to my own room, brought my own water-jug, baptized the couch afresh, and, by God's aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring it.
The hiss of the quenched element, the breakage of a pitcher which I flung from my hand when I had emptied it, and, above all, the splash of the shower-bath I had liberally bestowed, roused Mr. Rochester at last. Though it was now dark, I knew he was awake; because I heard him fulminating strange anathemas at finding himself lying in a pool of water.
'Is there a flood?' he cried.
No, sir,' I answered; 'but there has been a fire: get up, do; you are quenched now; I will fetch you a candle.'
'In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?' he demanded. 'What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?'
'I will fetch you a candle, sir; and, in Heaven's name, get up. 
Somebody has plotted something: you cannot too soon find out who and what it is.'
'There! I am up now; but at your peril you fetch a candle yet: wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be- yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!'
I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the gallery. He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the carpet round  swimming in water.
'What is it? and who did it?' he asked.
I briefly related to him what had transpired: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery; the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,- the smell of fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the water I could lay hands on.
He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on, expressed more concern than astonishment; he did not immediately speak when I had concluded.
'Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?' I asked.
'Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested.'
'Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife.'
'Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there,- I will put it on. Now place your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don't move, remember, or call any one.'
He went: I watched the light withdraw. He passed up the gallery very softly, unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as possible, shut it after him, and the last ray vanished. I  was left in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but heard nothing. A very long time elapsed. I grew weary: it was cold, in spite of the cloak; and then I did not see the use of staying, as I was not to rouse the house. I was on the point of risking Mr. Rochester's displeasure by disobeying his orders, when the light once more gleamed dimly on the gallery wall, and I heard his unshod feet tread the matting. 'I hope it is he,' thought I, 'and not something worse.'
He re-entered, pale and very gloomy. 'I have found it all out,' said he, setting his candle down on the washstand; 'it is as I thought.'
'How, sir?'
He made no reply, but stood with his arms folded, looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes he inquired in rather a peculiar tone-
'I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door.'
'No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground.'
'But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?'
'Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,- she laughs in that way. She is a singular person.'
'Just so. Grace Poole- you have guessed it. She is, as you say, singular- very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs' (pointing to the bed): 'and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:- in two hours the servants will be up.'
'Good-night, then, sir,' said I, departing.
He seemed surprised- very inconsistently so, as he had just told me to go.
'What!' he exclaimed, 'are you quitting me already, and in that way?'
'You said I might go, sir.'
'But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!- snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.'
He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, then in both his own.
'You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you: it is different;- I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.'
He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,- but his voice was checked.
'Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.'
'I knew,' he continued, you would do me good in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not'- (again he stopped)- 'did not' (he proceeded hastily) 'strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing.
People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, good-night!'
Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look. 'I am glad I happened to be awake,' I said: and then I was going. 
'What! you will go?'
'I am cold, sir.'
'Cold? Yes,- and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!' But he still retained my hand, and I could not free it. I bethought myself of an expedient.
'I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir,' said I.
'Well, leave me': he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.
I regained my couch, but never thought of sleep. Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy. I thought sometimes I saw beyond its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and then a freshening gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy- a counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back.
Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion. Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned. 在日后某个场合，罗切斯特先生的确对这件事情作了解释。一天下午，他在庭院里碰到了我和阿黛勒。趁阿黛勒正逗着派洛特，玩着板羽球的时候，他请我去一条长长的布满山毛榉的小路上散步，从那儿看得见阿黛勒。
他随之告诉我阿黛勒是法国歌剧演员塞莉纳.瓦伦的女儿，他对这位歌剧演员，一度怀着他所说的“grandepassion”。而对这种恋情，塞莉纳宣称将以更加火热的激情来回报。尽管他长得丑，他却认为自己是她的偶像。他相信，如他所说，比之贝尔维德尔的阿波罗的优美，她更喜欢他的“tailled'athlete”。
“爱小姐，这位法国美女竟钟情于一个英国侏儒、我简直受宠若惊了，于是我把她安顿在城里的一间房子里，配备了一整套的仆役和马车，送给她山羊绒、钻石和花边等等。总之，我像任何一个痴情汉一样，开始按世俗的方式毁灭自己了。我似乎缺乏独创，不会踏出一条通向耻辱和毁灭的新路，而是傻乎乎地严格循着旧道，不离别人的足迹半步。我遭到了——我活该如此——所有别的痴情汉一样的命运。一天晚上，我去拜访塞莉纳。她不知道我要去，所以我到时她不在家。这是一个暖和的夜晚，我因为步行穿过巴黎城，已很有倦意，便在她的闺房坐了下来，愉快地呼吸着新近由于她的到来而神圣化了的空气。不——我言过其实了，我从来不认为她身上有什么神圣的德性。这不过是她所留下的一种香锭的香气，与其说是神圣的香气，还不如说一种麝香和琥珀的气味。我正开始沉醉在暖房花朵的气息和弥漫着的幽幽清香里时，蓦地想起去打开窗门，走到阳台上去。这时月色朗照，汽灯闪亮，十分静谧。阳台上摆着一两把椅子，我坐了下来，取出一支雪茄——请原谅，现在我要抽一支。”
说到这里他停顿了一下，同时拿出一根雪茄点燃了。他把雪茄放到嘴里，把一缕哈瓦那烟云雾喷进寒冷而阴沉的空气里，他继续说：
“在那些日子里我还喜欢夹心糖，爱小姐。而当时我一会儿croquant”（也顾不得野蛮了）巧克力糖果，一会儿吸烟，同时凝视着经过时髦的街道向邻近歌剧院驶去的马车。这时来了一辆精制的轿式马车，由一对漂亮的英国马拉着，在灯火辉煌的城市夜景中，看得清清楚楚。我认出来正是我赠送给塞莉纳的‘voiture’。是她回来了。当然，我那颗倚在铁栏杆上的心急不可耐地跳动着。不出我所料，马车在房门口停了下来。我的情人（这两个字恰好用来形容一个唱歌剧的情人）从车上走下，尽管罩着斗篷——顺便说一句，那么暖和的六月夜晚，这完全是多此一举。——她从马车踏步上跳下来时，我从那双露在裙子下的小脚，立刻认出了她来。我从阳台上探出身子，正要响响地叫一声‘MonAnge’——用的声气光能让情人听见——这时，一个身影在她后面跳下了马车，也披着斗篷。但一只带踢马刺的脚跟，在人行道上响了起来，一个戴礼帽的头正从房子拱形的portecochere经过。
“你从来没有嫉妒过是不是，爱小姐？当然没有。我不必问你了，因为你从来没有恋爱过。还没有体会过这两种感情。你的灵魂正在沉睡，只有使它震惊才能将它唤醒，你认为一切生活，就像你的青春悄悄逝去一样，也都是静静地流走的。你闭着眼睛，塞住了耳朵，随波逐流，你既没有看到不远的地方涨了潮的河床上礁石林立，也没有听到浪涛在礁石底部翻腾，但我告诉你——你仔细听着——某一天你会来到河道中岩石嶙峋的关隘，这里，你整个生命的河流会被撞得粉碎，成了漩涡和骚动，泡沫和喧哗，你不是在岩石尖上冲得粉身碎骨，就是被某些大浪掀起来，汇入更平静的河流，就像我现在一样。
“我喜欢今天这样的日子，喜欢铁灰色的天空，喜欢严寒中庄严肃穆的世界，喜欢桑菲尔德，喜欢它的古色古香，它的旷远幽静，它乌鸦栖息的老树和荆棘，它灰色的正面，它映出灰色苍穹的一排排黛色窗户。可是在漫长的岁月里，我一想到它就觉得厌恶，像躲避瘟疫滋生地一样避之不迭：就是现在我依然多么讨厌——”
他咬着牙，默默无语。他收住了脚步，用靴子踢着坚硬的地面，某种厌恶感抓住了他，把他攫得紧紧的，使他举步不前。
他这么突然止住话头时，我们正登上小路，桑菲尔德府展现在我们面前。他抬眼去看城垛，眼睛瞪得大大的。这种神色，我以前和以后从未见过。痛苦、羞愧、狂怒——焦躁、讨厌、僧恶——似乎在他乌黑的眉毛下涨大的瞳孔里，暂时进行着一场使他为之颤栗的搏斗。这番至关重要的交战空前激烈，不过另一种感情在他心中升起，并占了上风，这种感情冷酷而玩世不恭，任性而坚定不移，消融了他的激情，使他脸上现出了木然的神色，他继续说：
“我刚才沉默的那一刻，爱小姐，我正跟自己的命运交涉着一件事情，她站在那儿，山毛榉树干旁边——一个女巫，就像福累斯荒原上出现在麦克白面前几个女巫中的一个。‘你喜欢桑菲尔德吗？’她竖起她的手指说，随后在空中写了一条警语，那文字奇形怪状，十分可怖，覆盖了上下两排窗户之间的正壁：‘只要能够，你就喜欢它！只要你敢，你就喜欢它！’
“‘我一定喜欢它，’我说，‘我敢于喜欢它，’（他郁郁不欢地补充了一句），我会信守诺言，排除艰难险阻去追求幸福，追求良善——对，良善。我希望做个比以往，比现在更好的人——就像约伯的海中怪兽那样，折断矛戟和标枪，刺破盔甲，扫除一切障碍，别人以为这些障碍坚如钢铁，而我却视之为干草、烂木。”
这时阿黛勒拿着板羽球跑到了他跟前。
“走开！”他厉声喝道，“离得远一点，孩子，要不，到里面索菲娅那儿去。”随后他继续默默地走路，我冒昧地提醒他刚才突然岔开去的话题。
“瓦伦小姐进屋的时候你离开了阳台吗，先生？”我问。
我几乎预料他会拒绝回答这个不合时宜的问题，可是恰恰相反，他从一脸愁容、茫然若失之中醒悟过来，把目光转向我，眉宇间的阴云也似乎消散了。“哦，我已经把塞莉纳给忘了！好吧，我接着讲。当我看见那个把我弄得神瑰颠倒的女人，由一个好献殷勤的男人陪着进来时，我似乎听到了一阵嘶嘶声，绿色的妒嫉之蛇，从月光照耀下的阳台上呼地窜了出来，盘成了高低起伏的圈圈，钻进了我的背心，两分钟后一直咬啮到了我的内心深处。真奇怪！”他惊叫了一声，突然又离开了话题。“真奇怪我竟会选中你来听这番知心话，年轻小姐，更奇怪的是你居然静静地听着，仿佛这是人世间再正常不过的事情，由一个像我这样的男人，把自己当歌女的情人的故事，讲给一个像你这样古怪而不谙世事的姑娘听。不过正像我曾说过的那样，后一个特点说明了前者：你稳重、体贴、细心，生来就是听别人吐露隐秘的。此外，我知道我选择的是怎样的一类头脑，来与自己的头脑沟通。我知道这是一个不易受感染的头脑，与众不同，独一无二。幸而我并不想败坏它，就是我想这么做，它也不会受影响，你与我谈得越多越好，因为我不可能腐蚀你。而你却可以使我重新振作起来。”讲了这番离题的话后，他又往下说：
“我仍旧呆在阳台上。‘他们肯定会到她闺房里来，’我想，‘让我来一个伏击。’于是把手缩回开着的窗子、将窗帘拉拢，只剩下一条便于观察的开口。随后我关上窗子，只留下一条缝，刚好可以让‘情人们的喃喃耳语和山盟海誓，’透出来，接着我偷偷地回到了椅子上。刚落座，这一对进来了。我的目光很快射向缝隙。塞莉纳的侍女走进房间，点上灯，把它留在桌子上，退了出去。于是这一对便清清楚楚地暴露在我面前了。两人都脱去了斗篷，这位‘名人瓦伦’一身绸缎、珠光宝气——当然是我的馈赠——她的陪伴却一身戎装，我知道他是一个vicomet，一个年青的roue，——一个没有头脑的恶少，有时在社交场中见过面，我却从来没有想到去憎恨他，因为我绝对地鄙视他。一认出他来，那蛇的毒牙——嫉妒，立即被折断了，因为与此同时，我对塞莉纳的爱火也被灭火器浇灭了。一个女人为了这样一个情敌而背弃我，是不值得一争的，她只配让人蔑视，然而我更该如此，因为我己经被她所愚弄。
“他们开始交谈。两人的谈话使我完全安心了，轻浮浅薄、唯利是图、冷酷无情、毫无意义，叫人听了厌烦，而不是愤怒。桌上放着我的一张名片，他们一看见便谈论起我来了。两人都没有能力和智慧狠狠痛斥我，而是耍尽小手段，粗鲁地侮辱我，尤其是塞莉纳，甚至夸大其词地对我进行人身攻击，把我的缺陷说成残疾，而以前她却惯于热情赞美她所说我的“beautemale”。在这一点上，你与她全然不同，我们第二次见面时，你直截了当地告诉我，你认为我长得不好看，当时两者的反差给我留下了深刻印象。”
这时阿黛勒又奔到了他跟前。
“先生，约翰刚才过来说，你的代理人来了，希望见你。”
“噢！那样我就只好从简了。我打开落地窗，朝他们走去，解除了对塞莉纳的保护，通知她腾出房子，给了她一笔钱以备眼前急用，不去理睬她的大哭小叫、歇斯底里、恳求、抗议和痉挛，跟那位子爵约定在布洛尼树林决斗的时间，第二天早晨，我有幸与他相遇，在他一条如同瘟鸡翅膀那么弱不禁风的可怜的胳膊上，留下了一颗子弹，随后自认为我已了结同这伙人的关系，不幸的是，这位瓦伦在六个月之前给我留下了这个fillette阿黛勒，并咬定她是我女儿。也许她是，尽管我从她脸上看不到父女之间的必然联系。派洛特还比她更像我呢。我同瓦伦决裂后几年，瓦伦遗弃了孩子，同一个音乐家或是歌唱家私奔到了意大利。当时我并没有承认自己有抚养阿黛勒的义务，就是现在也不承认，因为我不是她的父亲，不过一听到她穷愁潦倒，我便把这个可怜虫带出了巴黎的泥坑，转移到这里，让她在英国乡间花园健康的土壤中，干干净净地成长，费尔法克斯太太找到了你来培养她，而现在，你知道她是一位法国歌剧女郎的私生女了，你也许对自己的职位和保保人身份，改变了想法，说不定哪一天你会来见我，通知我己经找到了别的工作。让我另请一位新的家庭教师等等呢？”
“不，阿黛勒不应对她母亲和你的过失负责。我很关心她，现在我知道她在某种意义上说没有父母——被她的母亲所抛弃，而又不被你所承认，先生——我会比以前更疼爱她。我怎么可能喜欢富贵人家一个讨厌家庭教师的娇惯的宠儿，而不喜欢象朋友一样对待她的孤苦无依的小孤儿呢？”
“啊，你是从这个角度来看待这件事了，好吧，我得进去了，你也一样，天黑下来了。”
但我同阿黛勒和派洛特在外面又呆了几分钟，同她一起赛跑，还打了场板羽球。我们进屋以后，我脱下了她的帽子和外衣，把她放在自己的膝头上，坐了一个小时，允许她随心所欲地唠叨个不停，即使有点放肆和轻浮，也不加指责。别人一多去注意她，她就容易犯这个毛病，暴露出她性格上的浅薄。这种浅薄同普通英国头脑几乎格格不入，很可能是从她母亲那儿遗传来的。不过她有她的长处，我有意尽力赏识她身上的一切优点，还从她的面容和五官上寻找同罗切斯特先生的相似之处，但踪影全元。没有任何性格特色，没有任何谈吐上的特点，表明相互之间的关系。真可惜，要是能证实她确实像他就好了，他准会更想着她。
我回到自己的房间过夜，才从容地回味罗切斯特先生告诉我的故事。如他所说，从叙述的内容来看，也许丝毫没有特别的地方，无非是一个有钱的英国男人对一个法国舞女的恋情，以及她对他的背离。这类事在上流社会中无疑是司空见惯的。但是，他在谈起自己目前心满意足，并对古老的府楼和周围的环境恢复了一种新的乐趣时，突然变得情绪冲动，这实在有些蹊跷。我带着疑问思索着这个细节，但渐渐地便作罢了，因为眼下我觉得它不可思议。我转而考虑起我主人对我的态度来，他认为可以同我无话不谈，这似乎是对我处事审慎的赞美。因此我也就如此来看待和接受了。几周来他在我面前的举动己不像当初那样变化无常。他似乎从不认为我碍手碍脚，也没有动不动露出冷冰冰的傲慢态度来。有时他同我不期而遇，对这样的碰面，他似乎也很欢迎，总是有一两句话要说，有时还对我笑笑。我被正式邀请去见他时，很荣幸地受到了热情接待，因而觉得自己确实具有为他解闷的能力。晚上的会见既是为了我，也是为了他的愉快。
说实在，相比之下我的话不多，不过我津津有味地听他说。他生性爱说话，喜欢向一个未见世面的人披露一点世事人情（我不是指腐败的风尚和恶劣的习气，而是指那些因为广泛盛行、新奇独特而显得有趣的世事），我非常乐意接受他所提供的新观念，想象出他所描绘的新画面，在脑海中跟随着他越过所揭示的新领域，从来不因为提到某些有害的世象而大惊小怪，或者烦恼不已。
他举手投足无拘无束，使我不再痛苦地感到窘迫。他对我友好坦诚，既得体又热情，使我更加靠近他。有时我觉得他不是我的主人，而是我的亲戚；不过有时却依然盛气凌人，但我并不在乎，我明白他生就了这付性子。由于生活中平添了这一兴趣，我感到非常愉快，非常满意，不再渴望有自己的亲人，我那瘦如新月的命运也似乎壮大了，生活中的空白已被填补，我的健康有所好转，我长了肉，也长了力。
在我的眼睛里，罗切斯特先生现在还很丑吗？不，读者。感激之情以及很多愉快亲切的联想，使我终于最爱看他的面容了。房间里有他在，比生了最旺的火还更令人高兴。不过我并没有忘记他的缺陷。说实话，要忘也忘不了，因为在我面前不断地暴露出来。对于各类低于他的人，他高傲刻薄，喜欢挖苦。我心里暗自明白，他对我的和颜悦色，同对很多其他人的不当的严厉相对等。他还郁郁不欢，简直到了难以理解的程度。我被叫去读书给他听时，曾不止一次地发现他独自一人坐在图书室里，脑袋伏在抱着的双臂上。他抬头时，露出闷闷不乐近乎恶意的怒容，脸色铁青。不过我相信他的郁闷、他的严厉和他以前道德上的过错（我说“以前”，因为现在他似乎已经纠正了）都来源于他命运中某些艰苦的磨难。我相信，比起那些受环境所薰陶，教育所灌输或者命运所鼓励的人来，他生来就有更好的脾性，更高的准则和更纯的旨趣。我想他的素质很好，只是目前给糟塌了，乱纷纷地绞成了一团。我无法否认，不管是什么样的哀伤，我为他的哀伤而哀伤，并且愿意付出很大代价去减轻它。
虽然我已经灭了蜡烛，躺在床上，但一想起他在林荫道上停下步来时的神色，我便无法入睡。那时他说命运之神已出现在他面前，并且问他敢不敢在桑菲尔德获得幸福。
“为什么不敢呢，”我问自己，“是什么使他与府楼疏远了呢？他会马上再次离开吗？费尔法克斯太太说，他一次所呆的时间，难得超过两周。而现在他己经住了八周了。要是他真的走了，所引起的变化会令人悲哀。设想他春、夏、秋三季都不在，那风和日丽的好日子会显得多没有劲！”
我几乎不知道这番沉思之后是否睡着过。总之我一听到含糊的喃喃声之后，便完全惊醒过来了。那声音古怪而悲哀，我想就是从我房间的楼上传出来的。要是我仍旧点着蜡烛该多好，夜黑得可怕，而我情绪低沉。我于是爬起来坐在床上，静听着。那声音又消失了。
我竭力想再睡，但我的心却焦急不安地蹦蹦乱跳。我内心的平静给打破了，远在楼底下的大厅里，时钟敲响了两点。就在那时，我的房门似乎被碰了一下，仿佛有人摸黑走过外面的走廊时，手指擦过嵌板一样。我问，“谁在那里？”没有回答。我吓得浑身冰凉。
我蓦地想起这可能是派洛特，厨房门偶尔开着的时候，它常常会设法来到罗切斯特先生卧室的门口，我自己就在早上看到过它躺在那里。这么一想，心里也便镇静了些。我躺了下来，沉寂安抚了我的神经。待到整所房子复又被一片宁静所笼罩时，我感到睡意再次袭来。但是那天晚上我是注定无法睡觉了。梦仙几乎还没接近我的耳朵，便被足以使人吓得冷入骨髓的事件唬跑了。
那是一阵恶魔般的笑声——压抑而低沉——仿佛就在我房门的锁孔外响起来的。我的床头靠门，所以我起初以为那笑着的魔鬼站在我床边，或是蹲在枕旁。但是我起身环顾左右，却什么也没有看到。而当我还在凝神细看时，那不自然的声音再次响起，而且我知道来自嵌板的背后。我的第一个反应是爬起来去拴好门，接着我又叫了一声“谁在那里？”
什么东西发出了咯咯声和呻吟声。不久那脚步又退回走廊，上了三楼的楼梯。最近那里装了一扇门，关闭了楼梯。我听见门被打开又被关上，一切复归平静。
“那是格雷斯.普尔吗，难道她妖魔附身了，”我想。我独个儿再也待不住了。我得去找费尔法克斯太太。我匆匆穿上外衣，披上披肩，用抖动着的手拔了门栓，开了门。就在门外，燃着一支蜡烛，留在走廊的垫子上。见此情景，我心里一惊，但更使我吃惊的是，我发觉空气十分混浊，仿佛充满了烟雾，正当我左顾右盼，寻找蓝色烟圈的出处时，我进一步闻到了一股强烈的焦臭味。
什么东西吱咯一声。那是一扇半掩的门，罗切斯特先生的房门，团团烟雾从里面冒出来。我不再去想费尔法克斯太太，也不再去想格雷斯.普尔，或者那笑声。一瞬间，我到了他房间里。火舌从床和四周窜出，帐幔己经起火。在火光与烟雾的包围中，罗切斯特先生伸长了身子，一动不动地躺着，睡得很熟。
“快醒醒！快醒醒！”我一面推他。一面大叫，可是他只是咕哝了一下，翻了一个身，他已被烟雾薰得麻木了，一刻也不能耽搁了，闪为连床单也已经了火。我冲向他的脸盆和水罐，幸好一个很大，另一个很深，都灌满了水。我举起脸盆和水罐，用水冲了床和睡在床上的人，随之飞跑回我自己的房间、取了我的水罐，重新把床榻弄湿。由于上帝的帮助，我终于扑灭了正要吞没床榻的火焰。
被浇灭的火焰发出的丝丝声，我倒完水随手扔掉的水罐的破裂声，尤其是我慷慨赐予的淋浴的哗啦声，最后终于把罗切斯特先生惊醒了。尽管此刻漆黑一片，但我知道他醒了，因为我听见他一发现自己躺在水潭之中，便发出了奇怪的咒骂声。
“发大水了吗？”他叫道。
“没有，先生，”我回答，“不过发生了一场火灾，起来吧，一定得起来，现在你湿透了，我去给你拿支蜡烛来。”
“基督世界所有精灵在上，那是简.爱吗？”他问“你怎么摆弄我啦，女巫，妖婆，除了你，房间里还有谁，你耍了阴谋要把我淹死吗？”
“我去给你拿支蜡烛，先生，皇天在上，快起来吧。有人捣鬼。你不可能马上弄清楚是谁干的，究竟怎么回事。”
“瞧——现在我起来了。不过你冒一下险去取一支蜡烛来，等我两分钟，让我穿上件干外衣，要是还有什么干衣服的话——不错，这是我的晨衣，现在你快跑！”
我确实跑了，取了仍然留在走廊上的蜡烛。他从我手里把把蜡烛拿走，举得高高的，仔细察看着床铺，只见一片焦黑，床单湿透了，周围的地毯浸在水中。
“怎么回事？谁干的？”他问。
我简要地向他叙述了一下事情的经过。我在走廊上听到的奇怪笑声；登上三楼去的脚步；还有那烟雾——那火烧味如何把我引到了他的房间；那里的一切处在什么样的情况下；我又怎样把凡是我所能搞到的水泼在他身上。
他十分严肃地倾听着。我继续谈下去，他脸上露出的表情中，关切甚于惊讶。我讲完后他没有马上开口。
“要我去叫费尔法克斯太太吗？”我问。
“费尔法克斯太太？不要了，你究竟要叫她干什么？她能干什么呢？让她安安稳稳地睡吧。”
“那我就叫莉娅，并把约翰夫妇唤醒。”
“绝对不要。保持安静就行了。你已披上了披肩，要是嫌不够暖和，可以把那边的斗篷拿去。把你自己裹起来，坐在安乐椅里，那儿——我替你披上。现在把脚放在小凳子上，免得弄湿了。我要离开你几分钟，我得把蜡烛拿走，呆在这儿别动，直到我回来。你要像耗子—样安静。我得到三楼去看看。记住别动，也别去叫人。”
他走了。我注视着灯光隐去。他轻手轻脚地走上楼梯，开了楼梯的门，尽可能不发出一点声音来，随手把门关上，于是最后的光消失了。我完全堕入了黑暗。我搜索着某种声音，但什么也没听到。很长一段时间过去了，我开始不耐烦起来，尽管披着斗篷，但依然很冷。随后我觉得呆在这儿也没有用处，反正我又不打算把整屋子的人吵醒。我正要不顾罗切斯特先生的不快，违背他的命令时，灯光重又在走廊的墙上黯淡地闪烁，我听到他没穿鞋的脚走过垫子。“但愿是他，”我想，“而不是更坏的东西。”
他再次进屋时脸色苍白，十分忧郁。“我全搞清楚了，”他们蜡烛放在洗衣架上。“跟我想的一样。”
“怎么一回事，先生？”
他没有回答，只是抱臂而立、看着地板。几分钟后，他带着奇怪的声调问道：
“我忘了你是不是说打开房门的时候看到了什么东西。”
“没有，先生，只有烛台在地板上，”
“可你听到了古怪的笑声？我想你以前听到过那笑声，或者类似的那种声音。”
“是的，先生，这儿有一个缝衣女人，叫格雷斯.普尔——她就是那么笑的，她是个怪女人。”
“就是这么回事，格雷斯.普尔，你猜对了。象你说的一样，她是古怪，很古怪。好吧，这件事我再细细想想。同时我很高兴，因为你是除我之外唯一了解今晚的事儿确切细节的人。你不是一个爱嚼舌头的傻瓜，关于这件事，什么也别说。这付样子（指着床），我会解释的。现在回到你房间去，我在图书室沙发上躺到天亮挺不错，已快四点了，再过两个小时仆人们就会上楼来。”
“那么晚安，先生，”我说着就要离去。
他似乎很吃惊——完全是前后不一，因为他刚打发我走。
“什么！”他大叫道，“你已经要离开了，就那么走了？”
“你说我可以走了，先生。”
“可不能不告而别，不能连一两句表示感谢和善意的活都没有，总之不能那么简简单单，干干巴巴。嗨，你救了我的命呀？——把我从可怕和痛苦的死亡中拯救出来！而你就这么从我面前走过，仿佛我们彼此都是陌路人！至少也得握握手吧。”
他伸出手来，我也向他伸出手去。他先是用一只手，随后用双手把我的手握住。
“你救了我的命。我很高兴，欠了你那么大一笔人情债。我无法再说别的话了，要是别的债主，我欠了那么大情，我准会难以容忍，可是你却不同。我并不觉得欠你的恩情是一种负担，简。”
他停顿了一下，眼睛盯着我，话几乎已到了颤动着的嘴边，但他控制住了自己的嗓音。
“再次祝你晚安，先生，那件事没有负债，没有恩情，没有负担，也没有义务。”
“我早就知道，”他继续说：“你会在某一时候，以某种方式为我做好事的——我初次见你的时候，就从你眼睛里看到了这一点，那表情，那笑容不会（他再次打住），不会（他匆忙地继续说）无缘无故地在我心底里激起愉悦之情，人们爱谈天生的同情心，我曾听说过好的神怪——在那个荒诞的寓言里包含着一丝真理。我所珍重的救命恩人。晚安。”
在他的嗓音里有一种奇特的活力，在他的目光里有一种奇怪的火光。
“我很高兴，刚巧醒着，”我说，随后我就走开了。
“什么，你要走了？”
“我觉得冷，先生。”
“冷？是的——而且站在水潭中呢！那么走吧，简！”不过他仍然握着我的手，我难以摆脱，于是我想出了一个权宜之计。
“我想我听见了费尔法克斯太太的走动声了，先生”我说。
“好吧，你走吧，”他放开手，我便走了。
我又上了床。但睡意全无，我被抛掷到了具有浮力，却很不平静的海面上，烦恼的波涛在喜悦的巨浪下翻滚，如此一直到了天明。有时我想，越过汹涌澎湃的水面，我看到了像比乌拉山那么甜蜜的海岸，时而有一阵被希望所唤起的清风，将我的灵魂得意洋洋地载向目的地，但即使在幻想之中，我也难以抵达那里，——陆地上吹来了逆风，不断地把我刮回去，理智会抵制昏聩，判断能警策热情，我兴奋得无法安睡，于是天一亮便起床了。 
Chapter 16
I BOTH wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night: I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye. During the early part of the morning, I momentarily expected his coming; he was not in the frequent habit of entering the schoolroom, but he did step in for a few minutes sometimes, and I had the impression that he was sure to visit it that day.But the morning passed just as usual: nothing happened to interrupt the quiet course of Adele's studies; only soon after breakfast, I heard some bustle in the neighbourhood of Mr. Rochester's chamber, Mrs. Fairfax's voice, and Leah's, and the cook's- that is, John's wife- and even John's own gruff tones. There were exclamations of 'What a mercy master was not burnt in his bed!' 'It is always dangerous to keep a candle lit at night.' 'How providential that he had presence of mind to think of the water-jug!' 'I wonder he waked nobody!' 'It is to be hoped he will not take cold with sleeping on the library sofa,' etc.
To much confabulation succeeded a sound of scrubbing and setting to rights; and when I passed the room, in going downstairs to dinner, I saw through the open door that all was again restored to complete order; only the bed was stripped of its hangings. Leah stood up in the window-seat, rubbing the panes of glass dimmed with smoke. I was about to address her, for I wished to know what account had been given of the affair: but, on advancing, I saw a second person in the chamber- a woman sitting on a chair by the bedside, and sewing rings to new curtains. That woman was no other than Grace Poole.
There she sat, staid and taciturn-looking, as usual, in her brown stuff gown, her check apron, White handkerchief, and cap. She was intent on her work, in which her whole thoughts seemed absorbed: on her hard forehead, and in her commonplace features, was nothing either of the paleness or desperation one would have expected to see marking the countenance of a woman who had attempted murder, and whose intended victim had followed her last night to her lair, and (as I believed), charged her with the crime she wished to perpetrate. I was amazed-confounded. She looked up, while I still gazed at her: no start, no increase or failure of colour betrayed emotion, consciousness of guilt, or fear of detection. She said 'Good morning, Miss,' in her usual phlegmatic and brief manner; and taking up another ring and more tape, went on with her sewing.
'I will put her to some test,' thought I: 'such absolute impenetrability is past comprehension.'
'Good morning, Grace,' I said. 'Has anything happened here? I thought I heard the servants all talking together a while ago.'
'Only master had been reading in his bed last night; he fell asleep with his candle lit, and the curtains got on fire; but, fortunately, he awoke before the bedclothes or the woodwork caught, and contrived to quench the flames with the water in the ewer.'
'A strange affair!' I said, in a low voice: then, looking at her fixedly- 'Did Mr. Rochester wake nobody? Did no one hear him move?'
She again raised her eyes to me, and this time there was something of consciousness in their expression. She seemed to examine me warily; then she answered-
'The servants sleep so far off, you know, Miss, they would not be likely to hear. Mrs. Fairfax's room and yours are the nearest to master's; but Mrs. Fairfax said she heard nothing: when people get elderly, they often sleep heavy.' She paused, and then added, with a sort of assumed indifference, but still in a marked and significant tone- 'But you are young, Miss; and I should say a light sleeper: perhaps you may have heard a noise?'
'I did,' said I, dropping my voice, so that Leah, who was still polishing the panes, could not hear me, 'and at first I thought it was Pilot: but Pilot cannot laugh; and I am certain I heard a laugh, and a strange one.'
She took a new needleful of thread, waxed it carefully, threaded her needle with a steady hand, and then observed, with perfect composure-
'It is hardly likely master would laugh, I should think, Miss, when he was in such danger: you must have been dreaming.'
'I was not dreaming,' I said, with some warmth, for her brazen coolness provoked me. Again she looked at me; and with the same scrutinising and conscious eye.
'Have you told master that you heard a laugh?' she inquired. 
'I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him this morning.'
'You did not think of opening your door and looking out into the gallery?' she further asked.
She appeared to be cross-questioning me, attempting to draw from me information unawares. The idea struck me that if she discovered I knew or suspected her guilt, she would be playing off some of her malignant pranks on me; I thought it advisable to be on my guard.
'On the contrary,' said I, 'I bolted my door.'
'Then you are not in the habit of bolting your door every night before you get into bed?'
'Fiend! she wants to know my habits, that she may lay her plans accordingly!' Indignation again prevailed over prudence: I replied sharply, 'Hitherto I have often omitted to fasten the bolt: I did not think it necessary. I was not aware any danger or annoyance was to be dreaded at Thornfield Hall: but in future' (and I laid marked stress on the words) 'I shall take good care to make all secure before I venture to lie down.'
'It will be wise so to do,' was her answer: 'this neighbourhood is as quiet as any I know, and I never heard of the hall being attempted by robbers since it was a house; though there are hundreds of pounds' worth of plate in the plate-closet, as is well known. And you see, for such a large house, there are very few servants, because master has never lived here much; and when he does come, being a bachelor, he needs little waiting on: but I always think it best to err on the safe side; a door is soon fastened, and it is as well to have a drawn bolt between one and any mischief that may be about. A deal of people, Miss, are for trusting all to Providence; but I say Providence will not dispense with the means, though He often blesses them when they are used discreetly.' And here she closed her harangue: a long one for her, and uttered with the demureness of a Quakeress.
I still stood absolutely dumfoundered at what appeared to me her miraculous self-possession, and most inscrutable hypocrisy, when the cook entered.
'Mrs. Poole,' said she, addressing Grace, 'the servants' dinner will soon be ready: will you come down?'
'No; just put my pint of porter and bit of pudding on a tray, and I'll carry it upstairs.'
'You'll have some meat?'
'Just a morsel, and a taste of cheese, that's all.'
'And the sago?'
'Never mind it at present: I shall be coming down before tea-time: I'll make it myself.'
The cook here turned to me, saying that Mrs. Fairfax was waiting for me: so I departed.
I hardly heard Mrs. Fairfax's account of the curtain conflagration during dinner, so much was I occupied in puzzling my brains over the enigmatical character of Grace Poole, and still more in pondering the problem of her position at Thornfield and questioning why she had not been given into custody that morning, or, at the very least, dismissed from her master's service. He had almost as much as declared his conviction of her criminality last night: what mysterious cause withheld him from accusing her? Why had he enjoined me, too, to secrecy? It was strange: a bold, vindictive, and haughty gentleman seemed somehow in the power of one of the meanest of his dependants; so much in her power, that even when she lifted her hand against his life, he dared not openly charge her with the attempt, much less punish her for it. 
Had Grace been young and handsome, I should have been tempted to think that tenderer feelings than prudence or fear influenced Mr. Rochester in her behalf; but, hard-favoured and matronly as she was, the idea could not be admitted. 'Yet,' I reflected, 'she has been young once; her youth would be contemporary with her master's: Mrs. Fairfax told me once, she had lived here many years. I don't think she can ever have been pretty; but, for aught I know, she may possess originality and strength of character to compensate for the want of personal advantages. Mr. Rochester is an amateur of the decided and eccentric: Grace is eccentric at least. What if a former caprice (a freak very possible to a nature so sudden and headstrong as his) has delivered him into her power, and she now exercises over his actions a secret influence, the result of his own indiscretion, which he cannot shake off, and dare not disregard?' But, having reached this point of conjecture, Mrs. Poole's square, flat figure, and uncomely, dry, even coarse face, recurred so distinctly to my mind's eye, that I thought, 'No; impossible! my supposition cannot be correct. Yet,' suggested the secret voice which talks to us in our own hearts, 'you are not beautiful either, and perhaps Mr. Rochester approves you: at any rate, you have often felt as if he did; and last night- remember his words; remember his look; remember his voice!'
I well remembered all; language, glance, and tone seemed at the moment vividly renewed. I was now in the schoolroom; Adele was drawing; I bent over her and directed her pencil. She looked up with a sort of start.
'Qu'avez-vous, mademoiselle?' said she. 'Vos doigts tremblent comme la feuille, et vos joues sont rouges: mais, rouges comme des cerises!' 'I am hot, Adele, with stooping!' She went on sketching; I went on thinking.
I hastened to drive from my mind the hateful notion I had been conceiving respecting Grace Poole; it disgusted me. I compared myself with her, and found we were different. Bessie Leaven had said I was quite a lady; and she spoke truth- I was a lady. And now I looked much better than I did when Bessie saw me; I had more colour and more flesh, more life, more vivacity, because I had brighter hopes and keener enjoyments.
'Evening approaches,' said I, as I looked towards the window. 'I have never heard Mr. Rochester's voice or step in the house to-day; but surely I shall see him before night: I feared the meeting in the morning; now I desire it, because expectation has been so long baffled that it is grown impatient.'
When dusk actually closed, and when Adele left me to go and play in the nursery with Sophie, I did most keenly desire it. I listened for the bell to ring below; I listened for Leah coming up with a message; I fancied sometimes I heard Mr. Rochester's own tread, and I turned to the door, expecting it to open and admit him. The door remained shut; darkness only came in through the window. Still it was not late; he often sent for me at seven and eight o'clock, and it was yet but six. Surely I should not be wholly disappointed to-night, when I had so many things to say to him! I wanted again to introduce the subject of Grace Poole, and to hear what he would answer; I wanted to ask him plainly if he really believed it was she who had made last night's hideous attempt; and if so, why he kept her wickedness a secret. It little mattered whether my curiosity irritated him; I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in, and a sure instinct always prevented me from going too far; beyond the verge of provocation I never ventured; on the extreme brink I liked well to try my skill.
Retaining every minute form of respect, every propriety of my station, I could still meet him in argument without fear or uneasy restraint; this suited both him and me. 
A tread creaked on the stairs at last. Leah made her appearance; but it was only to intimate that tea was ready in Mrs. Fairfax's room. 
Thither I repaired, glad at least to go downstairs; for that brought me, I imagined, nearer to Mr. Rochester's presence.
'You must want your tea,' said the good lady, as I joined her; 'you ate so little at dinner. I am afraid,' she continued, 'you are not well to-day: you look flushed and feverish.'
'Oh, quite well! I never felt better.'
'Then you must prove it by evincing a good appetite; will you fill the teapot while I knit off this needle?' Having completed her task, she rose to draw down the blind, which she had hitherto kept up, by way, I suppose, of making the most of daylight, though dusk was now fast deepening into total obscurity.
'It is fair to-night,' said she, as she looked through the panes, 'though not starlight; Mr. Rochester has, on the whole, had a favourable day for his journey.'
'Journey!- Is Mr. Rochester gone anywhere? I did not know he was out.'
'Oh, he set off the moment he had breakfast! He is gone to the Leas, Mr. Eshton's place, ten miles on the other side Millcote. I believe there is quite a party assembled there; Lord Ingram, Sir George Lynn, Colonel Dent, and others.'
'Do you expect him back to-night?'
'No- nor to-morrow either; I should think he is very likely to stay a week or more: when these fine, fashionable people get together, they are so surrounded by elegance and gaiety, so well provided with all that can please and entertain, they are in no hurry to separate.
Gentlemen especially are often in request on such occasions; and Mr. Rochester is so talented and so lively in society, that I believe he is a general favourite: the ladies are very fond of him; though you would not think his appearance calculated to recommend him particularly in their eyes: but I suppose his acquirements and abilities, perhaps his wealth and good blood, make amends for any little fault of look.'
'Are there ladies at the Leas?'
'There are Mrs. Eshton and her three daughters- very elegant young ladies indeed; and there are the Honourable Blanche and Mary Ingram, most beautiful women, I suppose: indeed I have seen Blanche, six or seven years since, when she was a girl of eighteen. She came here to a Christmas ball and party Mr. Rochester gave. You should have seen the dining-room that day- how richly it was decorated, how brilliantly lit up! I should think there were fifty ladies and gentlemen present- all of the first county families; and Miss Ingram was considered the belle of the evening.'
'You saw her, you say, Mrs. Fairfax: what was she like?'
'Yes, I saw her. The dining-room doors were thrown open; and, as it was Christmas-time, the servants were allowed to assemble in the hall, to hear some of the ladies sing and play. Mr. Rochester would have me to come in, and I sat down in a quiet corner and watched them. I never saw a more splendid scene: the ladies were magnificently dressed; most of them- at least most of the younger ones- looked handsome; but Miss Ingram was certainly the queen.'
'And what was she like?'
'Tall, fine bust, sloping shoulders; long, graceful neck: olive complexion, dark and clear; noble features; eyes rather like Mr. Rochester's: large and black, and as brilliant as her jewels. And then she had such a fine head of hair; raven-black and so becomingly arranged: a crown of thick plaits behind, and in front the longest, the glossiest curls I ever saw. She was dressed in pure white; an amber-coloured scarf was passed over her shoulder and across her breast, tied at the side, and descending in long, fringed ends  below her knee. She wore an amber-coloured flower, too, in her hair: it contrasted well with the jetty mass of her curls.'
'She was greatly admired, of course?'
'Yes, indeed: and not only for her beauty, but for her accomplishments. She was one of the ladies who sang: a gentleman accompanied her on the piano. She and Mr. Rochester sang a duet.'
'Mr. Rochester? I was not aware he could sing.'
'Oh! he has a fine bass voice, and an excellent taste for music.'
'And Miss Ingram: what sort of a voice had she?'
'A very rich and powerful one: she sang delightfully; it was a treat to listen to her;- and she played afterwards. I am no judge of music, but Mr. Rochester is; and I heard him say her execution was remarkably good.'
'And this beautiful and accomplished lady, she is not yet married.' 
'It appears not: I fancy neither she nor her sister have very large fortunes. Old Lord Ingram's estates were chiefly entailed, and the eldest son came in for everything almost.'
'But I wonder no wealthy nobleman or gentleman has taken a fancy to her: Mr. Rochester, for instance. He is rich, is he not?' 
'Oh! yes. But you see there is a considerable difference in age: Mr. Rochester is nearly forty; she is but twenty-five.' 
'What of that? More unequal matches are made every day.'
'True: yet I should scarcely fancy Mr. Rochester would entertain an idea of the sort. But you eat nothing: you have scarcely tasted since you began tea.'
'No: I am too thirsty to eat. Will you let me have another cup?'
I was about again to revert to the probability of a union between Mr. Rochester and the beautiful Blanche; but Adele came in, and the conversation was turned into another channel.
When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got; looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and endeavoured to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe fold of common sense.
Arraigned at my own bar, Memory having given her evidence of the hopes, wishes, sentiments I had been cherishing since last night- of the general state of mind in which I had indulged for nearly a fortnight past; Reason having come forward and told, in her own quiet way, a plain, unvarnished tale, showing how I had rejected the real, and rabidly devoured the ideal;- I pronounced judgment to this effect:-
That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar. 
'You,' I said, 'a favourite with Mr. Rochester? You gifted with the power of pleasing him? You of importance to him in any way? Go! your folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional tokens of preference- equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of family and a man of the world to a dependant and a novice. How dared you? Poor stupid dupe!- Could not even self-interest make you wiser? You repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene of last night?- 
Cover your face and be ashamed! He said something in praise of your eyes, did he? Blind puppy! Open their bleared lids and look on your own accursed senselessness! It does good to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and, if discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatuus-like, into miry wilds whence there is no extrication.
'Listen, then, Jane Eyre, to your sentence: to-morrow, place the glass before you, and draw in chalk your own picture, faithfully, without softening one defect; omit no harsh line, smooth away no displeasing irregularity; write under it, "Portrait of a Governess, disconnected, poor, and plain."
'Afterwards, take a piece of smooth ivory- you have one prepared in your drawing-box: take your palette, mix your freshest, finest, clearest tints; choose your most delicate camel-hair pencils; delineate carefully the loveliest face you can imagine; paint it in your softest shades and sweetest hues, according to the description given by Mrs. Fairfax of Blanche Ingram; remember the raven ringlets, the oriental eye;- What! you revert to Mr. Rochester as a model! Order! No snivel!- no sentiment!- no regret! I will endure only sense and resolution. Recall the august yet harmonious lineaments, the Grecian neck and bust; let the round and dazzling arm be visible, and the delicate hand; omit neither diamond ring nor gold bracelet; portray faithfully the attire, aerial lace and glistening satin, graceful scarf and golden rose; call it "Blanche, an accomplished lady of rank."
'Whenever, in future, you should chance to fancy Mr. Rochester thinks well of you, take out these two pictures and compare them: say, "Mr. Rochester might probably win that noble lady's love, if he chose to strive for it; is it likely he would waste a serious thought on this indigent and insignificant plebeian?"'
'I'll do it,' I resolved: and having framed this determination, I grew calm, and fell asleep.
I kept my word. An hour or two sufficed to sketch my own portrait in crayons; and in less than a fortnight I had completed an ivory miniature of an imaginary Blanche Ingram. It looked a lovely face enough, and when compared with the real head in chalk, the contrast was as great as self-control could desire. I derived benefit from the task: it had kept my head and hands employed, and had given force and fixedness to the new impressions I wished to stamp indelibly on my heart.
Ere long, I had reason to congratulate myself on the course of wholesome discipline to which I had thus forced my feelings to submit.
Thanks to it, I was able to meet subsequent occurrences with a decent calm, which, had they found me unprepared, I should probably have been unequal to maintain, even externally.   那个不眠之夜后的第二天，我既希望见到罗切斯特先生，而又害怕见到他。我很想再次倾听他的声音，而又害怕与他的目光相遇。上午的前半晌，我时刻盼他来。他不常进读书室，但有时却进来呆几分钟。我有这样的预感，那天他一定会来。
但是，早上像往常那么过去了。没有发生什么影响阿黛勒宁静学习课程的事情。只是早饭后不久，我听到罗切斯特先生卧室附近一阵喧闹，有费尔法克斯太太的嗓音，还有莉娅的和厨师的——也就是约翰妻子的嗓音，甚至还有约翰本人粗哑的调门，有人大惊小怪地叫着：“真幸运呀，老爷没有给烧死在床上！”“点蜡烛过夜总归是危险的。”“真是上帝保佑，他还能那么清醒，想起了水罐！”“真奇怪，他谁都没有吵醒！”“但愿他睡在图书室沙发上不会着凉！”
这一番闲聊之后，响起了擦擦洗洗，收拾整理的声音。我下楼吃饭经过这间房子，从开着的门后进去，只见一切都又恢复得井井有条。只有床上的帐幔都已拆除，莉娅站在窗台上，擦着被烟薰黑的玻璃。我希望知道这件事是怎么解释的，正要同她讲话，但往前一看，只见房里还有第二个人——一个女人，坐在床边的椅子上，缝着新窗帘的挂环。那女人正是格雷斯.普尔。
她坐在那里，还是往常那付沉默寡言的样子，穿着褐色料子服，系着格子围裙，揣着白手帕，戴着帽子。她专心致志地忙着手头的活儿，似乎全身心都扑上去了。她冷漠的额头和普普通通的五官，既不显得苍白，也不见绝望的表情，那种人们期望在一个蓄谋杀人的女人脸上看到的表情特征，而且那位受害者昨晚跟踪到了她的藏身之处，并（如我所相信）指控她蓄意犯罪。我十分惊讶，甚至感到惶惑。我继续盯着她看时，她抬起了头来，没有惊慌之态，没有变脸色，而因此泄露她的情绪和负罪感，以及害怕被发现的恐惧心理。她以平时那种冷淡和简慢的态度说了声：“早安，小姐，”又拿起一个挂环和一圈线带，继续缝了起来。
“我倒要试试她看，”我想，“那么丝毫不露声色是令人难以理解的”。
“早安，格雷斯，”我说，“这儿发生了什么事吗？我想刚才我听到仆人们都议论纷纷呢。”
“不过是昨晚老爷躺在床上看书，亮着蜡烛就睡着了，床幔起了火，幸亏床单或木板还没着火他就醒了，想法用罐子里的水浇灭了火焰。”
“怪事！”我低声说，随后目光紧盯着她，“罗切斯特先生没有弄醒谁吗！你没有听到他走动？”
她再次抬眼看我，这回她的眸子里露出了一种若有所悟的表情。她似乎先警惕地审视我，然后才回答道：
“仆人们睡的地方离得很远，你知道的，小姐，她们不可能听到。费尔法克斯太太的房间和你的离老爷的卧室最近，但费尔法克斯太太说她没有听到什么，人老了，总是睡得很死，”她顿了一顿，随后装作若无其事的样子，却以清楚而意味深长的语调补充说：“不过你很年轻，小姐，而且应当说睡得不熟，也许你听到了什么声音。”
“我是听到了，”我压低了声音说。这样，仍在擦窗的莉娅就不会听到我了。“起初，我以为是派洛特，可是派洛特不会笑，而我敢肯定，我听到了笑声，古怪的笑声”。
她又拿了一根线，仔细地上了蜡，她的手沉稳地把线穿进针眼，随后非常镇静地说：
“我想老爷处在危险之中是不大可能笑的，小姐，你一定是在做梦了。”
“我没有做梦，”我带着几分恼火说，因为她那种厚颜无耻的镇定把我激怒了。她又带着同样探究和警惕的目光看着我。
“你告诉老爷了没有，你听到笑声了？”她问道。
“早上我还没有机会同他说呢。”
“你没有想到开门往走廊里一瞧？”她往下问
她似乎在盘问我，想在不知不觉中把我的话掏出来。我忽然想到，她要是发觉我知道或是怀疑她的罪行，就会恶意作弄我，我想还是警惕为妙。
“恰恰相反，”我说，“我把门拴上了。”
“那你每天睡觉之前没有拴门的习惯吗？”
“这恶魔！她想知道我的习惯，好以此来算计我：”愤怒再次压倒谨慎，我尖刻地回答：“到目前为止我还是常常忽略了拴门，我认为没有这必要，我以前没有意识到在桑菲尔德还要担心什么危险或者烦恼，不过将来（我特别强调了这几个字），我要小心谨慎，弄得一切都安安全全了才敢躺下睡觉。”
“这样做才聪明呢，”她回答，“这一带跟我知道的任何地方都一样安静，打从府宅建成以来、我还没有听说过有强盗上门呢。尽管谁都知道，盘子柜里有价值几百英镑的盘子，而且你知道，老爷不在这里长住，就是来住，因为是单身汉也不大要人服侍，所以这么大的房子，只有很少几个仆人。不过我总认为过份注意安全总比不注意安全好，门一下子就能拴上，还是拴上门，把自己和可能发生的祸害隔开为好。小姐，很多人都把一切托付给上帝，但要我说呀，上帝不会排斥采取措施，尽管他只常常祝福那些谨慎采取的措施，”说到这里她结束了长篇演说。这番话对地来说是够长的了，而且口气里带着贵格会女教徒的假正经。
我依旧站在那里，正被她出奇的镇定和难以理解的虚伪弄得目瞪口呆时，厨师进门来了。
“普尔太太，”她对格雷斯说，“佣人的午饭马上就好了，你下楼去吗？”
“不啦，你就把我那一品特葡萄酒和一小块布丁放在托盘里吧，我会端到楼上去。”
“你还要些肉吗？”
“就来一小份吧，再来一点奶酪，就这些。”
“还有西米呢？”
“现在就不用啦，用茶点之前我会下来的，我自己来做。”
这时厨师转向我，说费尔法克斯太太在等看我，于是我就离开了。
吃午饭时候，费尔法克斯太太谈起帐幔失火的事。我几乎没有听见，因为我绞尽脑汁，思索着格雷斯.普尔这个神秘人物，尤其是考虑她在桑菲尔德的地位问题；对为什么那天早晨她没有被拘留，或者至少被老爷解雇，而感到纳闷。昨天晚上，他几乎等于宣布确信她犯了罪。是什么神秘的原因却使他不去指控她呢，为什么他也嘱咐我严守秘密呢，真也奇怪，一位大胆自负、复仇心切的绅士，不知怎地似乎受制于一个最卑微的下属、而且被她控制得如此之紧，甚至当她动手要谋害他时，竟不敢公开指控她的图谋，更不必说惩罚她了。
要是格雷斯年轻漂亮，我会不由得认为，那种比谨慎或忧虑更为温存的情感左右了罗切斯特先生，使他偏袒于她。可是她面貌丑陋，又是一付管家婆样子，这种想法也就站不住脚了。“不过，”我思忖道，“她曾有过青春年华，那时主人也跟她一样年轻。费尔法克斯太太曾告诉我，她在这里已住了很多年。我认为她从来就没有姿色，但是也许她性格的力量和独特之处弥补了外貌上的不足。罗切斯特先生喜欢果断和古怪的人，格雷斯至少很古怪。要是从前一时的荒唐（像他那种刚愎自用、反复无常的个性，完全有可能干出轻率的事来）使他落入了她的掌中，行为上的不检点酿成了恶果，使他如今对格雷斯所施加给自己的秘密影响，既无法摆脱，又不能漠视，那又有什么奇怪呢？但是，一想到这里，普尔太太宽阔、结实、扁平的身材和丑陋干瘪甚至粗糙的面容，便清晰地浮现在我眼前，于是我想：“不，不可能！我的猜想不可能是对的。不过，”一个在我心里悄悄说话的声音建议道：“你自己也并不漂亮，而罗切斯特先生却赞赏你，至少你总是觉得好像他是这样，而且昨天晚上——别忘了他的话，别忘了他的神态，别忘了他的嗓音！”
这一切我都记得清清楚楚：那语言，那眼神，那声调此刻似乎活生生地再现了。这时我呆在读书室里，阿黛勒在画画，我弯着身子指导她使用画笔，她抬起头，颇有些吃惊。
“Q'avez vous, Mademoiselle”她说“Vos doigts tremblent comme la feuille,et vos joues sont rouges: mais, rouges comme des cerises！”
“我很热，阿黛勒，这么躬着身！”她继续画她的速写，我继续我的思考。
我急于要把对格雷斯.普尔的讨厌想法，从脑海中驱走，因为它使我感到厌恶，我把她与自己作了比较，发现彼此并不相同。贝茜.利文曾说我很有小姐派头。她说的是事实，我是一位小姐。而如今，我看上去已比当初贝茜见我时好多了。我脸色已更加红润，人已更加丰满，更富有生命力，更加朝气蓬勃，因为有了更光明的前景和更大的欢乐。
“黄昏快到了，”我朝窗子看了看，自言自语地说。“今天我还没有在房间里听到过罗切斯特先生的声音和脚步声呢。不过天黑之前我肯定会见到他。早上我害怕见面，而现在却渴望见面了。我的期望久久落空，真有点让人不耐烦了。”
当真的暮色四合，阿黛勒离开我到保育室同索菲娅一起去玩时，我急盼着同他见面。我等待着听到楼下响起铃声，等待着听到莉娅带着口讯上楼的声音。有时还在恍惚中听到罗切斯特先生自己的脚步声，便赶紧把脸转向门口，期待着门一开，他走了进来。但门依然紧闭着，唯有夜色透进了窗户。不过现在还不算太晚，他常常到七、八点钟才派人来叫我，而此刻才六点。当然今晚我不应该完全失望，因为我有那么多的话要同他说，我要再次提起格雷斯.普尔这个话题，听听他会怎么回答，我要爽爽气气地问他，是否真的相信是她昨夜动了恶念，要是相信，那他为什么要替她的恶行保守秘密。我的好奇心会不会激怒他关系不大，反正我知道一会儿惹他生气，一会儿抚慰他的乐趣，这是一件我很乐意干的事，一种很有把握的直觉常常使我不至于做过头，我从来没有冒险越出使他动怒的界线，但在正边缘上我很喜欢一试身手。我可以既保持细微的自尊，保持我的身份所需的一应礼节，而又可以无忧无虑、无拘无束地同他争论，这样对我们两人都合适。
楼梯上终于响起了吱格的脚步声，莉娅来了，但她不过是来通知茶点己在费尔法克斯太太房间里摆好，我朝那走去，心里很是高兴，至少可以到楼下去了。我想这么一来离罗切斯特先生更近了。
“你一定想用茶点了，”到了她那里后，这位善良的太太说，“午饭你吃得那么少，”她往下说，“我担心你今天不大舒服。你看上去脸色绯红，像是发了烧。”
“啊！很好呀，我觉得再好没有了。”
“那你得用好胃口来证实一下，你把茶壶灌满让我织完这一针好吗，”这活儿一了结，她便站起来把一直开着的百叶窗放下。我猜想没有关窗是为了充分利用日光，尽管这时己经暮霭沉沉，天色一片朦胧了。
“今晚天气晴朗，”她透过窗玻璃往外看时说，“虽然没有星光，罗切斯特先生出门总算遇上了好天气。”
“出门？——罗切斯特先生到哪里去了吗，我不知道他出去了。”
“噢，他吃好早饭就出去了！他去了里斯。埃希顿先生那儿，在米尔科特的另一边，离这儿十英里，我想那儿聚集了一大批人，英格拉姆勋爵、乔治.林恩爵士、登特上校等都在。”
“你盼他今晚回来么？”
“不，——明天也不会回来。我想他很可能呆上一个礼拜，或者更长一点。这些杰出的上流社会的人物相聚，气氛欢快，格调高雅，娱乐款待，应有尽有，所以他们不急于散伙。而在这样的场合，尤其需要有教养有身份的人。罗切斯特先生既有才能，在社交场中又很活跃，我想他一定受到大家的欢迎。女士们都很喜欢他，尽管你会认为，在她们眼里他的外貌并没有特别值得赞许的地方。不过我猜想，他的学识、能力，也许还有他的财富和血统，弥补了他外貌上的小小缺陷。”
“里斯地方有贵妇、小姐吗？”
“有伊希顿太太和她的三个女儿——真还都是举止文雅的年轻小姐。还有可尊敬的布兰奇和玛丽.英格拉姆，我想都是非常漂亮的女人。说实在我是六七年前见到布兰奇的，当时她才十八岁。她来这里参加罗切斯特先生举办的圣诞舞会和聚会。你真该看一看那一天的餐室——布置得那么豪华，点得又那么灯火辉煌！我想有五十位女士和先生在场——都是出身于郡里的上等人家。英格拉姆小姐是那天晚上公认的美女。”
“你说你见到了她，费尔法克斯太太。她长得怎么个模样？”
“是呀、我看到她了，餐室的门敞开着，而且因为圣诞期间，允许佣人们聚在大厅里，听一些女士们演唱和弹奏。罗切斯特先生要我进去，我就在一个安静的角落里坐下来看她们。我从来没有见过这么光彩夺目的景象。女士们穿戴得富丽堂皇，大多数——至少是大多数年轻女子，长得很标致，而英格拉姆小姐当然是女皇了。”
“她什么模样？”
“高高的个子，漂亮的胸部，斜肩膀，典雅硕长的脖子，黝黑而洁净的橄榄色皮肤，高贵的五官，有些像罗切斯特先生那样的眼睛，又大又黑，像她的珠宝那样大放光彩，同时她还有一头很好的头发，乌黑乌黑，而又梳理得非常妥贴，脑后盘着粗粗的发辫，额前是我所看到过的最长最富有光泽的卷发，她一身素白，一块琥珀色的围巾绕过肩膀，越过胸前，在腰上扎一下，一直垂到膝盖之下，下端悬着长长的流苏。头发上还戴着一朵琥珀色的花，与她一团乌黑的卷发形成了对比。”
“当然她很受别人倾慕了？”
“是呀，一点也不错，不仅是因为她的漂亮，而且还因为她的才艺，她是那天演唱的女士之一，一位先生用钢琴替她伴奏，她和罗切斯特先生还表演了二重唱。”
“罗切斯特先生!我不知道他还能唱歌。”
“呵！他有一个漂亮的男低音，对音乐有很强的鉴赏力。”
“那么英格拉姆小姐呢，她属于哪类嗓子？”
“非常圆润而有力，她唱得很动听。听她唱歌是一种享受——随后她又演奏。我不会欣赏音乐，但罗切斯特先生行。我听他说她的演技很出色。”
“这位才貌双全的小姐还没有结婚吗？”
“好像还没有，我想她与她妹妹的财产都不多。老英格拉姆勋爵的产业大体上限定了继承人，而他的大儿子几乎继承了一切。”
“不过我觉得很奇怪，为什么没有富裕的贵族或绅士看中她，譬如罗切斯特先生，他很有钱，不是吗，”
“唉！是呀，不过你瞧，年龄差别很大。罗切斯特先生已快四十，而她只有二十五岁。”
“那有什么关系？比这更不般配的婚姻每天都有呢。”
“那是事实，但我不会认为罗切斯特先生会抱有那种想法。——可是你什么也没吃，从开始吃茶点到现在，你几乎没有尝过一口。”
“不，我太渴了，吃不下去。让我再喝一杯行吗？”
我正要重新将话题扯到罗切斯特先生和漂亮的布兰奇小姐有没有结合的可能性上，阿黛勒进来了，谈话也就转到了别的方面。
当我复又独处时，我细想了听到的情况，窥视了我的心灵，审察了我的思想和情感，努力用一双严厉的手，把那些在无边无际、无路可循的想象荒野上徘徊的一切，纳入常识的可靠规范之中。
我在自己的法庭上受到了传讯。记忆出来作证，陈述了从昨夜以来我所怀的希望、意愿和情感，陈述了过去近两周我所沉溺的一般思想状态。理智走到前面，不慌不忙地讲了一个朴实无华的故事，揭示了我如何拒绝了现实，狂热地吞下了理想。我宣布了大致这样的判决：
世上还不曾有过比简.爱更大的傻瓜，还没有一个更异想天开的白痴，那么轻信甜蜜的谎言、把毒药当作美酒吞下。
“你，”我说，“得宠于罗切斯特先生吗？你有讨他欢心的天赋吗？你有哪一点对他来说举足轻重吗？滚开！你的愚蠢让我厌烦。而你却因为人家偶尔表示了喜欢便乐滋滋的，殊不知这是一个出身名门的绅士，一个精于世故的人对一个下属、一个初出毛庐的人所作的暧昧表示。你好大的胆子，愚蠢得可怜的受骗者。——难道想到自身的利益都不能让你聪明些吗？今天早上你反复叨念着昨夜的短暂情景啦？——蒙起你的脸，感到羞愧吧，他说了几句称赞你眼晴的话、是吗？盲目的自命不凡者，睁开那双模糊的眼睛，瞧瞧你自己该死的糊涂劲儿吧！受到无意与她结婚的上司的恭维，对随便哪个女人来说都没有好处。爱情之火悄悄地在内心点燃，得不到回报，不为对方所知，必定会吞没煽起爱的生命；要是被发现了，得到了回报，必定犹如鬼火，将爱引入泥泞的荒地而不能自拔。对所有的女人来说，那简直是发疯。”
“那么，简.爱，听着对你的判决：明天，把镜子放在你面前，用粉笔绘出你自己的画像，要照实画，不要淡化你的缺陷，不要省略粗糙的线条，不要抹去令人讨厌的不匀称的地方，并在画像下面书上‘孤苦无依、相貌平庸的家庭女教师肖像。”
“然后，拿出一块光滑的象牙来——你在画盒子里有一块备着：拿出你的调色板，把你最新、最漂亮、最明洁的色泽调起来，选择你最精细的骆驼毛画笔，仔细地画出你所能想象的最漂亮的脸蛋，根据费尔法克斯太太对布兰奇.英格拉姆的描绘，用最柔和的浓淡差别，最甜蜜的色泽来画。记住乌黑的头发，东方式的眸子——什么！你把罗切斯特先生作为模持儿，镇静！别哭鼻子！——不要感情用事！——不要反悔！我只能忍受理智和决心。回忆一下那庄重而和谐的面部特征，希腊式的脖子和胸部，露出圆圆的光彩照人的胳膊和纤细的手。不要省掉钻石耳环和金手镯。一丝不差地画下衣服、悬垂的花边、闪光的缎子、雅致的围巾和金色的玫瑰，把这幅肖像画题作‘多才多艺的名门闺秀布兰奇。’”
“我会这么干的，”我打定了注意。决心一下，人也就平静下来了，于是便沉沉睡去。
我说到做到，一二个小时便用蜡笔画成了自己的肖像。而用了近两周的工夫完成了一幅想象中的布兰奇.英格拉姆象牙微型画。这张脸看上去是够可爱的，同用蜡笔根据真人画成的头像相比，其对比之强烈已到了自制力所能承受的极限。我很得益于这一做法。它使我的脑袋和双手都不闲着，也使我希望在心里烙下的不可磨灭的新印象更强烈，更不可动摇。
不久我有理由庆幸自己，在迫使我的情感服从有益的纪律方面有所长进。多亏了它，我才能够大大方方、平平静静地对付后来发生的事情，要是我毫无准备，那恐怕是连表面的镇静都是无法保持的。
Chapter 17
A WEEK passed, and no news arrived of Mr. Rochester: ten days,and still he did not come. Mrs. Fairfax said she should not be surprised if he were to go straight from the Leas to London, and thence to the Continent, and not show his face again at Thornfield for a year to come; he had not unfrequently quitted it in a manner quite as abrupt and unexpected. When I heard this, I was beginning to feel a strange chill and failing at the heart. I was actually permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment; but rallying my wits, and recollecting my principles, I at once called my sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder- how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr. Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take a vital interest. Not that I humbled myself by a slavish notion of inferiority: on the contrary, I just said-'You have nothing to do with the master of Thornfield, further than to receive the salary he gives you for teaching his protegee, and to be grateful for such respectful and kind treatment as, if you do your duty, you have a right to expect at his hands. Be sure that is the only tie he seriously acknowledges between you and him; so don't make him the object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies, and so forth. He is not of your order: keep to your caste, and be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.'
I went on with my day's business tranquilly; but ever and anon vague suggestions kept wandering across my brain of reasons why I should quit Thornfield; and I kept involuntarily framing advertisements and pondering conjectures about new situations: these thoughts I did not think it necessary to check; they might germinate and bear fruit if they could.
Mr. Rochester had been absent upwards of a fortnight, when the post brought Mrs. Fairfax a letter.
'It is from the master,' said she, as she looked at the direction. 'Now I suppose we shall know whether we are to expect his return or not.'
And while she broke the seal and perused the document, I went on taking my coffee (we were at breakfast): it was hot, and I attributed to that circumstance a fiery glow which suddenly rose to my face. Why my hand shook, and why I involuntarily spilt half the contents of my cup into my saucer, I did not choose to consider.
'Well, I sometimes think we are too quiet; but we run a chance of being busy enough now: for a little while at least,' said Mrs.
Fairfax, still holding the note before her spectacles.
Ere I permitted myself to request an explanation, I tied the string of Adele's pinafore, which happened to be loose: having helped her also to another bun and refilled her mug with milk, I said nonchalantly-
'Mr. Rochester is not likely to return soon, I suppose?'
'Indeed he is- in three days, he says: that will be next Thursday; and not alone either. I don't know how many of the fine people at the Leas are coming with him: he sends directions for all the best bedrooms to be prepared; and the library and drawing-rooms are to be cleaned out; and I am to get more kitchen hands from the George Inn, at Millcote, and from wherever else I can; and the ladies will bring their maids and the gentlemen their valets: so we shall have a full house of it.' And Mrs. Fairfax swallowed her breakfast and hastened away to commence operations.
The three days were, as she had foretold, busy enough. I had thought all the rooms at Thornfield beautifully clean and well arranged; but it appears I was mistaken. Three women were got to help; and such scrubbing, such brushing, such washing of paint and beating of carpets, such taking down and putting up of pictures, such polishing of mirrors and lustres, such lighting of fires in bedrooms, such airing of sheets and feather-beds on hearths, I never beheld, either before or since. Adele ran quite wild in the midst of it: the preparations for company and the prospect of their arrival, seemed to throw her into ecstasies. She would have Sophie to look over all her 'toilettes,' as she called frocks; to furbish up any that were 'passees,' and to air and arrange the new. For herself, she did nothing but caper about in the front chambers, jump on and off the bedsteads, and lie on the mattresses and piled-up bolsters and pillows before the enormous fires roaring in the chimneys. From school duties she was exonerated: Mrs. Fairfax had pressed me into her service, and I was all day in the storeroom, helping (or hindering) her and the cook; learning to make custards and cheese-cakes and French pastry, to truss game and garnish dessert-dishes.
The party were expected to arrive on Thursday afternoon, in time for dinner at six. During the intervening period I had no time to nurse chimeras; and I believe I was as active and gay as anybody- Adele excepted. Still, now and then, I received a damping check to my cheerfulness; and was, in spite of myself, thrown back on the region of doubts and portents, and dark conjectures. This was when I chanced to see the third-storey staircase door (which of late had always been kept locked) open slowly, and give passage to the form of Grace Poole, in prim cap, white apron, and handkerchief; when I watched her glide along the gallery, her quiet tread muffled in a list slipper; when I saw her look into the bustling, topsy-turvy bedrooms,- just say a word, perhaps, to the charwoman about the proper way to polish a grate, or clean a marble mantelpiece, or take stains from papered walls, and then pass on. She would thus descend to the kitchen once a day, eat her dinner, smoke a moderate pipe on the hearth, and go back, carrying her pot of porter with her, for her private solace, in her own gloomy, upper haunt. Only one hour in the twenty-four did she pass with her fellow-servants below; all the rest of her time was spent in some low-ceiled, oaken chamber of the second storey: there she sat and sewed- and probably laughed drearily to herself,- as companionless as a prisoner in his dungeon.
The strangest thing of all was, that not a soul in the house, except me, noticed her habits, or seemed to marvel at them: no one discussed her position or employment; no one pitied her solitude or isolation. I once, indeed, overheard part of a dialogue between Leah and one of the charwomen, of which Grace formed the subject. Leah had been saying something I had not caught, and the charwoman remarked-
'She gets good wages, I guess?'
'Yes,' said Leah; 'I wish I had as good; not that mine are to complain of,- there's no stinginess at Thornfield; but they're not one fifth of the sum Mrs. Poole receives. And she is laying by: she goes every quarter to the bank at Millcote. I should not wonder but she has saved enough to keep her independent if she liked to leave; but I suppose she's got used to the place; and then she's not forty yet, and strong and able for anything. It is too soon for her to give up business.'
'She is a good hand, I daresay,' said the charwoman. 
'Ah!- she understands what she has to do,- nobody better,' rejoined Leah significantly; 'and it is not every one could fill her shoes- not for all the money she gets.'
'That it is not!' was the reply. 'I wonder whether the master-' 
The charwoman was going on; but here Leah turned and perceived me, and she instantly gave her companion a nudge.
'Doesn't she know?' I heard the woman whisper.
Leah shook her head, and the conversation was of course dropped.
All I had gathered from it amounted to this,- that there was a mystery at Thornfield; and that from participation in that mystery I was purposely excluded.
Thursday came: all work had been completed the previous evening; carpets were laid down, bed-hangings festooned, radiant white counterpanes spread, toilet tables arranged, furniture rubbed, flowers piled in vases: both chambers and saloons looked as fresh and bright as hands could make them. The hall, too, was scoured; and the great carved clock, as well as the steps and banisters of the staircase, were polished to the brightness of glass; in the dining-room, the sideboard flashed resplendent with plate; in the drawing-room and boudoir, vases of exotics bloomed on all sides.
Afternoon arrived: Mrs. Fairfax assumed her best black satin gown, her gloves, and her gold watch; for it was her part to receive the company,- to conduct the ladies to their rooms, etc. Adele, too, would be dressed: though I thought she had little chance of being introduced to the party that day at least. However, to please her, I allowed Sophie to apparel her in one of her short, full muslin frocks. 
For myself, I had no need to make any change; I should not be called upon to quit my sanctum of the schoolroom; for a sanctum it was now become to me,- 'a very pleasant refuge in time of trouble.'
It had been a mild, serene spring day- one of those days which, towards the end of March or the beginning of April, rise shining over the earth as heralds of summer. It was drawing to an end now; but the evening was even warm, and I sat at work in the schoolroom with the window open.
'It gets late,' said Mrs. Fairfax, entering in rustling state. 'I am glad I ordered dinner an hour after the time Mr. Rochester mentioned; for it is past six now. I have sent John down to the gates to see if there is anything on the road: one can see a long way from thence in the direction of Millcote.' She went to the window.
'Here he is!' said she. 'Well, John' (leaning out), 'any news?'
'They're coming, ma'am,' was the answer. 'They'll be here in ten minutes.'
Adele flew to the window. I followed, taking care to stand on one side, so that, screened by the curtain, I could see without being seen.
The ten minutes John had given seemed very long, but at last wheels were heard; four equestrians galloped up the drive, and after them came two open carriages. Fluttering veils and waving plumes filled the vehicles; two of the cavaliers were young, dashing-looking gentlemen; the third was Mr. Rochester, on his black horse, Mesrour,  Pilot bounding before him; at his side rode a lady, and he and she were the first of the party. Her purple riding-habit almost swept the, ground, her veil streamed long on the breeze; mingling with its transparent folds, and gleaming through them, shone rich raven ringlets.
'Miss Ingram!' exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax, and away she hurried to her post below.
The cavalcade, following the sweep of the drive, quickly turned the angle of the house, and I lost sight of it. Adele now petitioned to go down; but I took her on my knee, and gave her to understand that she must not on any account think of venturing in sight of the ladies, either now or at any other time, unless expressly sent for: that Mr. Rochester would be very angry, etc. 'Some natural tears she shed' on being told this; but as I began to look very grave, she consented at last to wipe them.
A joyous stir was now audible in the hall: gentlemen's deep tones and ladies' silvery accents blent harmoniously together, and distinguishable above all, though not loud, was the sonorous voice of the master of Thornfield Hall, welcoming his fair and gallant guests under its roof. Then light steps ascended the stairs; and there was a tripping through the gallery, and soft cheerful laughs, and opening and closing doors, and, for a time, a hush.
'Elles changent de toilettes,' said Adele; who, listening attentively, had followed every movement; and she sighed.
'Chez maman,' said she, 'quand il y avait du monde, je le suivais partout, au salon et a leurs chambres; souvent je regardais les femmes de chambre coiffer et habiller les dames, et c'etait si amusant: comme cela on apprend.'
'Don't you feel hungry, Adele?'
'Mais oui, mademoiselle: voila cinq ou six heures que nous n'avons pas mange.'
'Well now, while the ladies are in their rooms, I will venture down and get you something to eat.'
And issuing from my asylum with precaution, I sought a backstairs which conducted directly to the kitchen. All in that region was fire and commotion; the soup and fish were in the last stage of projection, and the cook hung over her crucibles in a frame of mind and body threatening spontaneous combustion. In the servants' hall two coachmen and three gentlemen's gentlemen stood or sat round the fire; the abigails, I suppose, were upstairs with their mistresses; the new servants, that had been hired from Millcote, were bustling about everywhere. Threading this chaos, I at last reached the larder; there I took possession of a cold chicken, a roll of bread, some tarts, a plate or two and a knife and fork: with this booty I made a hasty retreat. I had regained the gallery, and was just shutting the back-door behind me, when an accelerated hum warned me that the ladies were about to issue from their chambers. I could not proceed to the schoolroom without passing some of their doors, and running the risk of being surprised with my cargo of victualage; so I stood still at this end, which, being windowless, was dark: quite dark now, for the sun was set and twilight gathering.
Presently the chambers gave up their fair tenants one after another: each came out gaily and airily, with dress that gleamed lustrous through the dusk. For a moment they stood grouped together at the other extremity of the gallery, conversing in a key of sweet subdued vivacity: they then descended the staircase almost as noiselessly as a bright mist rolls down a hill. Their collective appearance had left on me an impression of high-born  elegance, such as I had never before received.
I found Adele peeping through the schoolroom door, which she held ajar. 'What beautiful ladies!' cried she in English. 'Oh, I wish I might go to them! Do you think Mr. Rochester will send for us by and by, after dinner?'
'No, indeed, I don't; Mr. Rochester has something else to think about. Never mind the ladies to-night; perhaps you will see them to-morrow: here is your dinner.'
She was really hungry, so the chicken and tarts served to divert her attention for a time. It was well I secured this forage, or both she, I, and Sophie, to whom I conveyed a share of our repast, would have run a chance of getting no dinner at all: every one downstairs was too much engaged to think of us. The dessert was not carried out till after nine, and at ten footmen were still running to and fro with trays and coffee-cups. I allowed Adele to sit up much later than usual; for she declared she could not possibly go to sleep while the doors kept opening and shutting below, and people bustling about.
Besides, she added, a message might possibly come from Mr. Rochester when she was undressed; 'et alors quel dommage!'
I told her stories as long as she would listen to them; and then for a change I took her out into the gallery. The hall lamp was now lit, and it amused her to look over the balustrade and watch the servants passing backwards and forwards. When the evening was far advanced, a sound of music issued from the drawing-room, whither the piano had been removed; Adele and I sat down on the top step of the stairs to listen. Presently a voice blent with the rich tones of the instrument; it was a lady who sang, and very sweet her  notes were. The solo over, a duet followed, and then a glee: a joyous conversational murmur filled up the intervals. I listened long: suddenly I discovered that my ear was wholly intent on analysing the mingled sounds, and trying to discriminate amidst the confusion of accents those of Mr. Rochester; and when it caught them, which it soon did, it found a further task in framing the tones, rendered by distance inarticulate, into words.
The clock struck eleven. I looked at Adele, whose head leant against my shoulder; her eyes were waxing heavy, so I took her up in my arms and carried her off to bed. It was near one before the gentlemen and ladies sought their chambers.
The next day was as fine as its predecessor: it was devoted by the party to an excursion to some site in the neighbourhood. They set out early in the forenoon, some on horseback, the rest in carriages; I witnessed both the departure and the return. Miss Ingram, as before, was the only lady equestrian; and, as before, Mr. Rochester galloped at her side; the two rode a little apart from the rest. I pointed out this circumstance to Mrs. Fairfax, who was standing at the window with me-
'You said it was not likely they should think of being married,'
said I, 'but you see Mr. Rochester evidently prefers her to any of the other ladies.'
'Yes, I daresay: no doubt he admires her.'
'And she him,' I added; 'look how she leans her head towards him as if she were conversing confidentially; I wish I could see her face; I have never had a glimpse of it yet.'
'You will see her this evening,' answered Mrs. Fairfax. 'I happened to remark to Mr. Rochester how much Adele wished to be introduced to the ladies, and he said: "Oh! let her come into the drawing-room after dinner; and request Miss Eyre to accompany her."'
'Yes; he said that from mere politeness: I need not go, I am sure,' I answered.
'Well, I observed to him that as you were unused to company, I did not think you would like appearing before so gay a party- all strangers; and he replied, in his quick way- "Nonsense! If she objects, tell her it is my particular wish; and if she resists, say I shall come and fetch her in case of contumacy."'
'I will not give him that trouble,' I answered. 'I will go, if no better may be; but I don't like it. Shall you be there, Mrs. Fairfax?'
'No; I pleaded off, and he admitted my plea. I'll tell you how to manage so as to avoid the embarrassment of making a formal entrance, which is the most disagreeable part of the business. You must go into the drawing-room while it is empty, before the ladies leave the dinner-table; choose your seat in any quiet nook you like; you need not stay long after the gentlemen come in, unless you please: just let Mr. Rochester see you are there and then slip away- nobody will notice you.'
'Will these people remain long, do you think?'
'Perhaps two or three weeks, certainly not more. After the Easter recess, Sir George Lynn, who was lately elected member for Millcote, will have to go up to town and take his seat; I daresay Mr. Rochester will accompany him: it surprises me that he has already made so protracted a stay at Thornfield.'
It was with some trepidation that I perceived the hour approach when I was to repair with my charge to the drawing-room. Adele had been in a state of ecstasy all day, after hearing she was to be presented to the ladies in the evening; and it was not till Sophie commenced the operation of dressing her that she sobered down. Then the importance of the process quickly steadied her, and by the time she had her curls arranged in well-smoothed, drooping clusters, her pink satin frock put on, her long sash tied, and her lace mittens adjusted, she looked as grave as any judge. No need to warn her not to disarrange her attire: when she was dressed, she sat demurely down in her little chair, taking care previously to lift up the satin skirt for fear she should crease it, and assured me she would not stir thence till I was ready. This I quickly was: my best dress (the silver-grey one, purchased for Miss Temple's wedding, and never worn since) was soon put on; my hair was soon smoothed; my sole ornament, the pearl brooch, soon assumed. We descended.
Fortunately there was another entrance to the drawing-room than that through the saloon where they were all seated at dinner. We found the apartment vacant; a large fire burning silently on the marble hearth, and wax candles shining in bright solitude, amid the exquisite flowers with which the tables were adorned. The crimson curtain hung before the arch: slight as was the separation this drapery formed from the party in the adjoining saloon, they spoke in so low a key that nothing of their conversation could be distinguished beyond a soothing murmur.
Adele, who appeared to be still under the influence of a most solemnising impression, sat down, without a word, on the footstool I pointed out to her. I retired to a window-seat, and taking a book from a table near, endeavoured to read. Adele brought her stool to my feet; ere long she touched my knee.
'What is it, Adele?'
'Est-ce que je ne puis pas prendre une seule de ces fleurs magnifiques, mademoiselle? Seulement pour completer ma toilette.'
'You think too much of your "toilette," Adele: but you may have a flower.' And I took a rose from a vase and fastened it in her sash.
She sighed a sigh of ineffable satisfaction, as if her cup of happiness were now full. I turned my face away to conceal a smile I could not suppress: there was something ludicrous as well as painful in the little Parisienne's earnest and innate devotion to matters of dress.
A soft sound of rising now became audible; the curtain was swept back from the arch; through it appeared the dining-room, with its lit lustre pouring down light on the silver and glass of a magnificent dessert-service covering a long table; a band of ladies stood in the opening; they entered, and the curtain fell behind them.
There were but eight; yet, somehow, as they flocked in, they gave the impression of a much larger number. Some of them were very tall; many were dressed in white; and all had a sweeping amplitude of array that seemed to magnify their persons as a mist magnifies the moon. I rose and curtseyed to them: one or two bent their heads in return, the others only stared at me.
They dispersed about the room, reminding me, by the lightness and buoyancy of their movements, of a flock of white plumy birds. Some of them threw themselves in half-reclining positions on the sofas and ottomans: some bent over the tables and examined the flowers and books: the rest gathered in a group round the fire: all talked in a low but clear tone which seemed habitual to them. I knew their names afterwards, and may as well mention them now.
First, there was Mrs. Eshton and two of her daughters. She had evidently been a handsome woman, and was well preserved still. Of her daughters, the eldest, Amy, was rather little: naive, and child-like in face and manner, and piquant in form; her white muslin dress and blue sash became her well. The second, Louisa, was taller and more elegant in figure; with a very pretty face, of that order the French term minois chiffone: both sisters were fair as lilies.
Lady Lynn was a large and stout personage of about forty, very erect, very haughty-looking, richly dressed in a satin robe of changeful sheen: her dark hair shone glossily under the shade of an azure plume, and within the circlet of a band of gems.
Mrs. Colonel Dent was less showy; but, I thought, more lady-like. 
She had a slight figure, a pale, gentle face, and fair hair. Her black satin dress, her scarf of rich foreign lace, and her pearl ornaments, pleased me better than the rainbow radiance of the titled dame.
But the three most distinguished- partly, perhaps, because the tallest figures of the band- were the Dowager Lady Ingram and her daughters, Blanche and Mary. They were all three of the loftiest stature of women. The Dowager might be between forty and fifty: her shape was still fine; her hair (by candlelight at least) still black; her teeth, too, were still apparently perfect. Most people would have termed her a splendid woman of her age: and so she was, no doubt, physically speaking; but then there was an expression of almost insupportable haughtiness in her bearing and countenance. She had Roman features and a double chin, disappearing into a throat like a pillar: these features appeared to me not only inflated and darkened, but even furrowed with pride; and the chin was sustained by the same principle, in a position of almost preternatural erectness. She had, likewise, a fierce and a hard eye: it reminded me of Mrs. Reed's; she mouthed her words in speaking; her voice was deep, its inflections very pompous, very dogmatical,- very intolerable, in short. A crimson velvet robe, and a shawl turban of some gold-wrought Indian fabric, invested her (I suppose she thought) with a truly imperial dignity.
Blanche and Mary were of equal stature,- straight and tall as poplars. Mary was too slim for her height, but Blanche was moulded like a Dian. I regarded her, of course, with special interest.
First, I wished to see whether her appearance accorded with Mrs. Fairfax's description; secondly, whether it at all resembled the fancy miniature I had painted of her; and thirdly- it will out!- whether it were such as I should fancy likely to suit Mr. Rochester's taste.
As far as person went, she answered point for point, both to my picture and Mrs. Fairfax's description. The noble bust, the sloping shoulders, the graceful neck, the dark eyes and black ringlets were all there;- but her face? Her face was like her mother's; a youthful unfurrowed likeness: the same low brow, the same high features, the same pride. It was not, however, so saturnine a pride! she laughed continually; her laugh was satirical, and so was the habitual expression of her arched and haughty lip.
Genius is said to be self-conscious. I cannot tell whether Miss Ingram was a genius, but she was self-conscious- remarkably self-conscious indeed. She entered into a discourse on  botany with the gentle Mrs. Dent. It seemed Mrs. Dent had not studied that science: though, as she said, she liked flowers, 'especially wild ones'; Miss Ingram had, and she ran over its vocabulary with an air. I presently perceived she was (what is vernacularly termed) trailing Mrs. Dent; that is, playing on her ignorance: her trail might be clever, but it was decidedly not good-natured. She played: her execution was brilliant; she sang, her voice was fine; she talked French apart to her mama; and she talked it well, with fluency and with a good accent.
Mary had a milder and more open countenance than Blanche; softer features too, and a skin some shades fairer (Miss Ingram was dark as a Spaniard)- but Mary was deficient in life: her face lacked expression, her eye lustre; she had nothing to say, and having once taken her seat, remained fixed like a statue in its niche. The sisters were both attired in spotless white.
And did I now think Miss Ingram such a choice as Mr. Rochester would be likely to make? I could not tell- I did not know his taste in female beauty. If he liked the majestic, she was the very type of majesty: then she was accomplished, sprightly. Most gentlemen would admire her, I thought; and that he did admire her, I already seemed to have obtained proof: to remove the last shade of doubt, it remained but to see them together.
You are not to suppose, reader, that Adele has all this time been sitting motionless on the stool at my feet: no; when the ladies entered, she rose, advanced to meet them, made a stately reverence, and said with gravity-
'Bon jour, mesdames.'
And Miss Ingram had looked down at her with a mocking air, and exclaimed, 'Oh, what a little puppet!'
Lady Lynn had remarked, 'It is Mr. Rochester's ward, I suppose- the little French girl he was speaking of.'
Mrs. Dent had kindly taken her hand, and given her a kiss. Amy and Louisa Eshton had cried out simultaneously-
'What a love of a child!'
And then they had called her to a sofa, where she now sat, ensconced between them, chattering alternately in French and broken English; absorbing not only the young ladies' attention, but that of Mrs. Eshton and Lady Lynn, and getting spoilt to her heart's content.
At last coffee is brought in, and the gentlemen are summoned. I sit in the shade- if any shade there be in this brilliantly-lit apartment; the window-curtain half hides me. Again the arch yawns; they come. The collective appearance of the gentlemen, like that of the ladies, is very imposing: they are all costumed in black; most of them are tall, some young. Henry and Frederick Lynn are very dashing sparks indeed; and Colonel Dent is a fine soldierly man. Mr. Eshton, the magistrate of the district, is gentleman-like: his hair is quite white, his eyebrows and whiskers still dark, which gives him something of the appearance of a 'pere noble de theatre.' Lord Ingram, like his sisters, is very tall; like them, also, he is handsome; but he shares Mary's apathetic and listless look: he seems to have more length of limb than vivacity of blood or vigour of brain.
And where is Mr. Rochester?
He comes in last: I am not looking at the arch, yet I see him enter. I try to concentrate my attention on those netting-needles, on the meshes of the purse I am forming- I wish to think only of the work I have in my hands, to see only the silver beads and silk threads that lie in my lap; whereas, I distinctly behold his figure, and I inevitably recall the moment when I last saw it; just after I had rendered him, what he deemed, an essential service, and he, holding my hand, and looking down on my face, surveyed me with eyes that revealed a heart full and eager to overflow; in whose emotions I had a part.
How near had I approached him at that moment! What had occurred since, calculated to change his and my relative positions? Yet now, how distant, how far estranged we were! So far estranged, that I did not expect him to come and speak to me. I did not wonder, when, without looking at me, he took a seat at the other side of the room, and began conversing with some of the ladies.
No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control: they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking,- a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.
Most true is it that 'beauty is in the eye of the gazer.' My master's colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,- all energy, decision, will,- were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than beautiful to me; they were full of an interest, an influence that quite mastered me,- that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them in his. I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.
I compared him with his guests. What was the gallant grace of the Lynns, the languid elegance of Lord Ingram,- even the military distinction of Colonel Dent, contrasted with his look of native pith and genuine power? I had no sympathy in their appearance, their expression: yet I could imagine that most observers would call them attractive, handsome, imposing; while they would pronounce Mr. Rochester at once harsh-featured and melancholy-looking. I saw them smile, laugh- it was nothing; the light of the candles had as much soul in it as their smile; the tinkle of the bell as much significance as their laugh. I saw Mr. Rochester smile:- his stern features softened; his eye grew both brilliant and gentle, its ray both searching and sweet. He was talking, at the moment, to Louisa and Amy Eshton. I wondered to see them receive with calm that look which seemed to me so penetrating: I expected their eyes to fall, their colour to rise under it; yet I was glad when I found they were in no sense moved. 'He is not to them what he is to me,' I thought: 'he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;- I am sure he is- I feel akin to him- I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than as a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered:- and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.'
Coffee is handed. The ladies, since the gentlemen entered, have become lively as larks; conversation waxes brisk and merry. Colonel Dent and Mr. Eshton argue on politics; their wives listen. The two proud dowagers, Lady Lynn and Lady Ingram, confabulate together. Sir George- whom, by the bye, I have forgotten to describe,- a very big, and very fresh-looking country gentleman, stands before their sofa, coffee-cup in hand, and occasionally puts in a word. Mr. Frederick Lynn has taken a seat beside Mary Ingram, and is showing her the engravings of a splendid volume: she looks, smiles now and then, but apparently says little. The tall and phlegmatic Lord Ingram leans with folded arms on the chair-back of the little and lively Amy Eshton; she glances up at him, and chatters like a wren: she likes him better than she does Mr. Rochester. Henry Lynn has taken possession of an ottoman at the feet of Louisa: Adele shares it with him: he is trying to talk French with her, and Louisa laughs at his blunders. 
With whom will Blanche Ingram pair? She is standing alone at the table, bending gracefully over an album. She seems waiting to be sought; but she will not wait too long: she herself selects a mate. 
Mr. Rochester, having quitted the Eshtons, stands on the hearth as solitary as she stands by the table: she confronts him, taking her station on the opposite side of the mantelpiece.
'Mr. Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children?'
'Nor am I.'
'Then, what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that?' (pointing to Adele). 'Where did you pick her up?'
'I did not pick her up; she was left on my hands.'
'You should have sent her to school.'
'I could not afford it: schools are so dear.'
'Why, I suppose you have a governess for her: I saw a person with her just now- is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind the window-curtain. You pay her, of course; I should think it quite as expensive,- more so; for you have them both to keep in addition.'
I feared- or should I say, hoped?- the allusion to me would make Mr. Rochester glance my way; and I involuntarily shrank farther into the shade: but he never turned his eyes.
'I have not considered the subject,' said he indifferently, looking straight before him.
'No, you men never do consider economy and common sense. You should hear mama on the chapter of governesses: Mary and I have had, I should think, a dozen at least in our day; half of them detestable and the rest ridiculous, and all incubi- were they not, mama?'
'Did you speak, my own?'
The young lady thus claimed as the dowager's special property, reiterated her question with an explanation.
'My dearest, don't mention governesses; the word makes me nervous. I have suffered a martyrdom from their incompetency and caprice. I thank Heaven I have now done with them!'
Mrs. Dent here bent over to the pious lady, and whispered something in her car; I suppose, from the answer elicited, it was a reminder that one of the anathematised race was present.
'Tant pis!' said her ladyship, 'I hope it may do her good!' Then, in a lower tone, but still loud enough for me to hear, 'I noticed her; I am a judge of physiognomy, and in hers I see all the faults of her class.'
'What are they, madam?' inquired Mr. Rochester aloud.
'I will tell you in your private ear,' replied she, wagging her turban three times with portentous significancy.
'But my curiosity will be past its appetite; it craves food now.'
'Ask Blanche; she is nearer you than I.'
'Oh, don't refer him to me, mama! I have just one word to say of the whole tribe; they are a nuisance. Not that I ever suffered much from them; I took care to turn the tables. What tricks Theodore and I used to play on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Madame Jouberts! Mary was always too sleepy to join in a plot with spirit.
The best fun was with Madame Joubert: Miss Wilson was a poor sickly thing, lachrymose and low-spirited, not worth the trouble of vanquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey was coarse and insensible; no blow took effect on her. But poor Madame Joubert! I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had driven her to extremities- spilt our tea, crumbled our bread and butter, tossed our books up to the ceiling, and played a charivari with the ruler and desk, the fender and fire-irons.
Theodore, do you remember those merry days?'
'Yaas, to be sure I do,' drawled Lord Ingram; 'and the poor old stick used to cry out "Oh you villains childs!"- and then we sermonised her on the presumption of attempting to teach such clever blades as we were, when she was herself so ignorant.'
'We did; and, Tedo, you know, I helped you in prosecuting (or persecuting) your tutor, whey-faced Mr. Vining- the parson in the pip, as we used to call him. He and Miss Wilson took the liberty of falling in love with each other- at least Tedo and I thought so; we surprised sundry tender glances and sighs which we interpreted as tokens of "la belle passion," and I promise you the public soon had the benefit of our discovery; we employed it as a sort of lever to hoist our dead-weights from the house. Dear mama, there, as soon as she got an inkling of the business, found out that it was of an immoral tendency. Did you not, my lady-mother?'
'Certainly, my best. And I was quite right: depend on that: there are a thousand reasons why liaisons between governesses and tutors should never be tolerated a moment in any well-regulated house; firstly-'
'Oh, gracious, mama! Spare us the enumeration! Au reste, we all know them: danger of bad example to innocence of childhood; distractions and consequent neglect of duty on the part of the attached- mutual alliance and reliance; confidence thence resulting- insolence accompanying- mutiny and general blowup. Am I right, Baroness Ingram, of Ingram Park?'
'My lily-flower, you are right now, as always.'
'Then no more need be said: change the subject.' 
Amy Eshton, not hearing or not heeding this dictum, joined in with her soft, infantine tone: 'Louisa and I used to quiz our governess too; but she was such a good creature, she would bear anything: nothing put her out. She was never cross with us; was she, Louisa?'
'No, never: we might do what we pleased; ransack her desk and her workbox, and turn her drawers inside out; and she was so good-natured, she would give us anything we asked for.'
'I suppose, now,' said Miss Ingram, curling her lip sarcastically, 'we shall have an abstract of the memoirs of all the governesses extant: in order to avert such a visitation, I again move the introduction of a new topic. Mr. Rochester, do you second my motion?'
'Madam, I support you on this point, as on every other.'
'Then on me be the onus of bringing it forward. Signior Eduardo, are you in voice to-night?'
'Donna Bianca, if you command it, I will be.'
'Then, signior, I lay on you my sovereign behest to furbish up your lungs and other vocal organs, as they will be wanted on my royal service.'
'Who would not be the Rizzio of so divine a Mary?'
'A fig for Rizzio!' cried she, tossing her head with all its curls, as she moved to the piano. 'It is my opinion the fiddler David must have been an insipid sort of fellow; I like black Bothwell better: to my mind a man is nothing without a spice of the devil in him; and history may say what it will of James Hepburn, but I have a notion, he was just the sort of wild, fierce, bandit hero whom I could have consented to gift with my hand.'
'Gentlemen, you hear! Now which of you most resembles Bothwell?' cried Mr. Rochester.
'I should say the preference lies with you,' responded Colonel Dent.
'On my honour, I am much obliged to you,' was the reply. 
Miss Ingram, who had now seated herself with proud grace at the piano, spreading out her snowy robes in queenly amplitude, commenced a brilliant prelude; talking meantime. She appeared to be on her high horse to-night; both her words and her air seemed intended to excite not only the admiration, but the amazement of her auditors: she was evidently bent on striking them as something very dashing and daring indeed.
'Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day!' exclaimed she, rattling away at the instrument. 'Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a step beyond papa's park gates: nor to go even so far without mama's permission and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and their small feet; as if a man had anything to do with beauty! As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman- her legitimate appanage and heritage! I grant an ugly woman is a blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the gentlemen, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour: let their motto be:- Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a fillip. Such should be my device, were I a man.'
'Whenever I marry,' she continued after a pause which none interrupted, 'I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me. I will suffer no competitor near the throne; I shall exact an undivided homage: his devotions shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in his mirror. Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will play for you.'
'I am all obedience,' was the response.
'Here then is a Corsair-song. Know that I doat on Corsairs; and for that reason, sing it con spirito.'
'Commands from Miss Ingram's lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and water.'
'Take care, then: if you don't please me, I will shame you by showing how such things should be done.'
'That is offering a premium on incapacity: I shall now endeavour to fail.'
'Gardez-vous en bien! If you err wilfully, I shall devise a proportionate punishment.'
'Miss Ingram ought to be clement, for she has it in her power to inflict a chastisement beyond mortal endurance.'
'Ha! explain!' commanded the lady.
'Pardon me, madam: no need of explanation; your own fine sense must inform you that one of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute for capital punishment.'
'Sing!' said she, and again touching the piano, she commenced an accompaniment in spirited style.
'Now is my time to slip away,' thought I: but the tones that then severed the air arrested me. Mrs. Fairfax had said Mr. Rochester possessed a fine voice: he did- a mellow, powerful bass, into which he threw his own feeling, his own force: finding a way through the ear to the heart, and there waking sensation strangely. I waited till the last deep and full vibration had expired- till the tide of talk, checked an instant, had resumed its flow; I then quitted my sheltered corner and made my exit by the side-door, which was fortunately near. Thence a narrow passage led into the hall: in crossing it, I perceived my sandal was loose; I stopped to tie it, kneeling down for that purpose on the mat at the foot of the staircase. I heard the dining-room door unclose; a gentleman came out; rising hastily, I stood face to face with him: it was Mr. Rochester.
'How do you do?' he asked. 
'I am very well, sir.'
'Why did you not come and speak to me in the room?'
I thought I might have retorted the question on him who put it: but I would not take that freedom. I answered-
'I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged, sir.'
'What have you been doing during my absence?'
'Nothing particular; teaching Adele as usual.'
'And getting a good deal paler than you were- as I saw at first sight. What is the matter?'
'Nothing at all, sir.'
'Did you take any cold that night you half drowned me?'
'Not the least.'
'Return to the drawing-room: you are deserting too early.'
'I am tired, sir.'
He looked at me for a minute.
'And a little depressed,' he said. 'What about? Tell me.'
'Nothing- nothing, sir. I am not depressed.'
'But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more words would bring tears to your eyes- indeed, they are there now, shining and swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on to the flag. If I had time, and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what all this means. Well, to-night I excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing-room every evening; it is my wish; don't neglect it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adele.
Good-night, my-' He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me. 
一个星期过去了，却不见罗切斯特先生的消息，十天过去了，他仍旧没有来。费尔法克斯太太说，要是他直接从里斯去伦敦，并从那儿转道去欧洲大陆，一年内不再在桑菲尔德露面，她也不会感到惊奇，因为他常常出乎意料地说走就走，听她这么一说，我心里冷飕飕沉甸甸的，实际上我在任凭自己陷入一种令人厌恶的失落感，不过我调动了智慧，重建了原则，立刻使自己的感觉恢复了正常，说来也让人惊奇，我终于纠正了一时的过错，清除了认为有理由为罗切斯特先生的行动操心的错误想法。我并没有低声下气，怀着奴性十足的自卑感，相反，我只说：
“你同桑菲尔德的主人无关，无非是拿了他给的工资，去教他的被保护人而已，你感激他体面友好的款待。不过你尽了职，得到这样的款待是理所应当的。这是你与他之间他唯一严肃承认的关系。所以不要把你的柔情、你的狂喜、你的痛苦等等系在他身上。他不属于你的阶层。记住你自己的社会地位吧，要充分自尊，免得把全身心的爱，徒然浪费在不需要甚至瞧不起这份礼物的地方。”
我平静地干着一天的工作。不过脑海中时时隐约闪过我要离开桑菲尔德的理由，我不由自主地设计起广告，预测起新的工作来。这些想法，我没有必要去制止，它们也许会生根发芽，还可能结出果子来。
罗切斯特先生离家已经两周多了，这时候邮差送来了一封给费尔法克斯太太的信。
“是老爷写来的，”她后了看姓名地址说，“现在我想可以知道能不能盼他回来了。”
她在拆开封口仔细看信时，我继续喝我的咖啡（我们在吃早饭）。咖啡很热，我把脸上突然泛起的红晕看作是它的缘故。不过，我的手为什么抖个不停，为什么我情不自禁地把半杯咖啡溢到了碟子上，我就不想去考虑了。
“嗨，有时候我总认为太冷清，现在可有机会够我们忙了，至少得忙一会儿”费尔法克斯太太说，仍然把信纸举着放在眼镜前面。
我没有立即提出要求解释，而是系好了阿黛勒碰巧松开的围涎，哄她又吃了个小面包，把她的杯子再倒满牛奶，随后淡然问道：
“我猜想罗切斯特先生不会马上回来吧？”
“说真的，他要回来了——他说三天以后到，也就是下星期四，而且不光是他一个人。我不知道在里斯的贵人们有多少位同他一起来。他吩咐准备好最好的卧室，图书室与客厅都要清扫干净。我还要从米尔科特的乔治旅店和能弄到人的随便什么地方，再叫些厨工来。而且女士们都带女仆，男士们都带随从。这样我们满屋子都是人了。”费尔法克斯太太匆匆咽下早饭，急急忙忙去做准备工作了。
果然被她说中了，这三天确实够忙的。我本以为桑菲尔德的所有房子都纤尘不染，收拾得很好。但看来我错了，他们雇了三个女人来帮忙。擦呀，刷呀，冲洗漆具呀，敲打地毯呀，把画拿下又挂上呀，擦拭镜子和枝形挂灯呀，在卧室生火呀，把床单和羽绒褥垫晾在炉边呀，这种情景无论是从前还是以后，我都没有见过。在一片忙乱之中，阿黛勒发了疯。准备接客，盼着他们到来，似乎使她欣喜若狂。她会让索菲娅把她称之为外衣的所有“toiettes”都查看一下，把那些“passess”都翻新，把新的晾一晾放好。她自己呢，什么也不干，只不过在前房跳来奔去，在床架上窜上窜下，躺到床垫上和叠起的枕垫、枕头上，面对着熊熊炉火在烟窗里哗剥作响。她的功课已全给免掉，因为费尔法克斯太太拉我做了帮手。我整天呆在贮藏室，给她和厨师帮忙（或者说增添麻烦），学做牛奶蛋糊、乳酪饼和法国糕点，捆扎野味，装饰甜点心。
这批客人预计星期四下午到达，赶上六点钟吃晚饭。在等待期间我没有工夫去胡思乱想了。我想我跟其他人一样卖力、一样高兴——阿黛勒除外。不过我时时会感到扫兴，情不自禁地回想起那些疑惑、凶兆和不祥的猜测。那就是当我偶尔看到三楼楼梯的门慢悠悠地打开（近来常常锁着），格雷斯.普尔戴着整洁的帽子，系着围裙，揣着手帕，从那里经过时。我瞧着她溜过走廊，穿着布拖鞋，脚步声减低到很轻很轻。我看见她往闹哄哄乱糟糟的卧房里瞧了一瞧，只不过说一两句话，也许是给打杂女工们交代恰当的清扫方法：如何擦炉栅，如何清理大理石壁炉架，要不如何从糊了墙纸的墙上把缎子取下。说完便又往前走了。她一天下楼到厨房里走一次，来吃饭，在炉边有节制地吸一烟斗烟，随后就返回，带上一罐黑啤酒，在楼上阴暗的巢穴里独自消遣。一天二十四小时中，她只有一小时同楼下别的佣人呆在一起，其余时间是在三层楼上某个橡木卧室低矮的天花板下度过的。她坐在那里做着针线活——也许还兀自凄楚地大笑起来——像监狱里的犯人一样无人作伴。
最奇怪的是，除了我，房子里没有人注意到她的习惯，或者似乎为此感到诧异。没有人谈论过她的地位或工作，没有人可怜她的孤独冷清。说真的我一次偶尔听到了莉娅和一个打杂女工之间关于格雷斯的一段对话，莉娅先是说了什么话，我没听清楚，而打杂女工回答道：
“估计她的薪金很高。”
“是呀，”莉娅说，“但愿我的薪金也这么高。并不是说我的值得抱怨——在桑菲尔德谈不上吝啬，不过我拿的薪金才是普尔太太的五分之一。她还在存钱呢，一季度要去一次米尔科特的银行。我一点不怀疑她要是想走的话，积下的钱能够她自立了。不过我想她在这儿已经呆惯了，更何况她还不到四十岁，身强力壮，干什么都还行，放弃差事是太早些了。”
“我猜想她是个干活的好手，”打杂女工说。
“呵，——她明白自己该干什么——没有人比得过她”莉娅意味深长地回答说，“不是谁都干得了她活的，就是给了同她一样多的钱也干不了。”
“的确干不了！”对方回答。“不知道老爷——”
打杂女工还想往下说，但这时莉娅回过头来，看到了我，便立即用肘子顶了顶她伙伴。
“她知道了吗？”我听见那女人悄悄说。
莉娅摇了摇头，于是谈话嘎然而止。我从这里所能猜测到的就是这么回事：在桑菲尔德有一个秘密，而我被故意排除在这个秘密之外了。
星期四到了，一切准备工作都已在前一个晚上完成。地毯铺开了，床幅挂上了彩条，白得眩目的床罩铺好了，梳妆台已经安排停当，家具都擦拭得干干净净，花瓶里插满了鲜花。卧室和客厅都已尽人工所能，拾掇得焕然一新；大厅也已经擦洗过，巨大的木雕钟，楼梯的台阶和栏杆都已擦得像玻璃一般闪闪发光。在餐室里，餐具柜里的盘子光亮夺目；在客厅和起居室内，一瓶瓶异国鲜花，在四周灿然开放。
到了下午，费尔法克斯太太穿上了她最好的黑缎袍子，戴了手套和金表，因为要由她来接待客人——把女士们领到各自的房间里去等等。阿黛勒也要打扮一番，尽管至少在那天，我想不大会有机会让她见客。但为了使她高兴，我让索菲娅给她穿上了一件宽松的麻纱短上衣。至于我自己，是没有必要换装的，不会把我从作为我私室的读书室里叫出去，这私室现在已经属于我，成了“患难时愉快的避难所。”
这是个温煦宁静的春日，三月末四月初的那种日子，骄阳当空，预示着夏天就要到来。这时已近日暮，但黄昏时更加暖和，我坐在读书室里工作，敞开着窗子。
“时候不早了，”费尔法克斯太太浑身叮当作响，进了房间说，“幸亏我订的饭菜比罗切斯特先生说的时间晚一个小时，现在已经过了六点了。我已派约翰到大门口去，看看路上有没有动静。从那儿往米尔科特的方向望去，可以看得很远。”她朝窗子走去。“他来了！”她说。“嗨，约翰”（探出身子）“有消息吗？”
“他们来了，夫人，”对方回答道。“十分钟后就到。”
阿黛勒朝窗子飞奔过去。我跟在后面，小心地靠一边站立，让窗帘遮掩着，使我可以看得清清楚楚，却不被人看见。约翰所说的那十分钟似乎很长。不过终于听到了车轮声。四位骑手策马驰上了小道，两辆敞开的马车尾随其后。车内面纱飘拂，羽毛起伏。两位年轻骑手，精神抖擞，一付绅士派头；第三位是罗切斯特先生，骑着他的黑马梅斯罗，派洛特跳跃着奔跑在他前面。与他并驾齐驱的是一位女士，这批人中，他们俩一马当先。她那紫色的骑装差不多己扫到了地面，她的面纱长长地在微风中飘动，她那乌黑浓密的卷发，同它透明的折裥绕在一起，透过面纱闪动着光芒。
“英格拉姆小姐，”费尔法克斯太太大叫一声，急冲冲下楼去履行她的职务了。
这队人马顺着车道的弯势很快转过屋角，在我视线中消失了。这时阿黛勒要求下楼。我把她搂在膝头上，让她明白无论是此刻，还是以后什么时候，除非明确要她去，绝不可以随意闯到女士们跟前去，要不罗切斯特先生会生气的等等。听了这番话，“她淌下了自然的眼泪”不过见我神情严肃，她也终于同意把眼泪抹掉了。
这时大厅里人声鼎沸，笑语纷纭。男士们深沉的语调，女士们银铃似的嗓音交融在一起。其中最清晰可辨的是桑菲尔德主人那洪亮而声音不大的嗓门，欢迎男女宾客来到府上。随后，这些人脚步轻盈地上了楼梯，轻快地穿过走廊。于是响起了柔和欢快的笑声和开门关门声。一会儿后，便寂然无声了。
“Elles changent de toilettes,”阿黛勒说。她细听着，跟踪着每一个动静，并叹息着。 “Chez maman,”她说，“quand il y avait du monde, je le ssuivais partout au salon et a leurs chambres; souvent je regardais les femmes de chambre coiffer et habiller les dames, et c'etait si amusant: comme cela on apprend。”
“你觉得饿了吗，阿黛勒？”
“Mais oui, mademoiselle: voila cinq ou six heures que nous n'avons pas mange.”
“好吧，就穿戴好了。我立即穿上了自己最好的衣服（银灰色的那一件，专为参加坦普尔小姐的婚礼购置的，后来一直没有穿过），把头发梳得平平伏伏，并戴上了我仅有的饰品，那枚珍珠胸针。随后我们下了楼。
幸亏还有另外一扇门通客厅，不必经过他们都坐着吃饭的餐厅。我们看到房间里空无一人，大理石砌成的壁炉中，一堆旺火静静地燃烧着；桌上装饰着精致的花朵，烛光在花朵中间孤寂地闪亮，平添了几分欢快。拱门前悬挂着大红门帘，虽然我们与毗连的餐室中的客人之间，仅一层之隔，但他们话说得那么轻，除份战利品急忙撤退，重新登上走廊，正要随手关上后门时，一阵越来越响的嗡嗡声提醒我，女士们要从房间里走出来了。要上读书室我非得经过几间房门口不可，非得要冒端着一大堆食品被她们撞见的危险。于是我一动不动地站在这一头。这里没有窗子，光线很暗。此刻天色已黑，因为太阳已经下山，暮色越来越浓了。
一会儿工夫，房间里的女房客们一个接一个出来了，个个心情欢快，步履轻盈，身上的衣装在昏黄的暮色中闪闪发光。她们聚集在走廊的另一头，站了片刻，用压低了的轻快动听的语调交谈着。随后走下楼梯，几乎没有声响，仿佛一团明亮的雾从山上降落下来。她们的外表总体上给我留下了这样的印象：这些人具有一种我前所未见的名门望族的典雅。
我看见阿黛勒扶着半掩的读书室门，往外偷看着。“多漂亮的小姐!”她用英语叫道。“哎呀我真想上她们那儿去！你认为晚饭后罗切斯特先生会派人来叫我们去吗？”
“不，说实在，我不这样想。罗切斯特先生有别的事情要考虑。今天晚上就别去想那些小姐们了，也许明天你会见到她们的。这是你的晚饭。”
她真的饿坏了，因此鸡和馅饼可以暂时分散一下她的注意力。幸亏我弄到了这份食品，不然她和我，还有同我们分享这顿晚餐的索菲娅，都很可能根本吃不上晚饭，楼下的人谁都快忙得顾不上我们了。九点以后才送上甜食。到了十点钟，男仆们还端着托盘和咖啡杯子，来回奔波。我允许阿黛勒呆得比往常晚得多才上床，因为她说楼下的门不断地开呀关呀，人来人往，忙忙碌碌，弄得她没法睡觉。此外，她还说也许她解衣时，罗切斯特先生会让人捎来口信，“etalorsqueldommage！”
我给她讲故事，她愿意听多久就讲多久。随后我带她到走廊上解解闷。这时大厅的灯已经点上，阿黛勒觉得从栏杆上往下看，瞧着仆人们来往穿梭，十分有趣。夜深了，客厅里传来音乐之声，一架钢琴已经搬到了那里。阿黛勒和我坐在楼梯的顶端台阶上倾听着。刹那之间响起了一个声音，与钢琴低沉的调子相交融。那是一位小姐在唱，歌喉十分动听。独唱过后，二重唱跟上，随后是三重唱，歌唱间歇响起了一阵嗡嗡的谈话声。我久久地听着，突然发现自己的耳朵聚精会神地分析那混杂的声音，竭力要从混沌交融的音调中，分辨出罗切斯特先生的嗓音。我很快将它捕捉住以后，便进而从由于距离太远而变得模糊不清的音调中，猜想出歌词来。
时钟敲了十一点。我瞧了一眼阿黛勒，她的头已倚在我肩上，眼皮己越来越沉重。我便把她抱在怀里，送她去睡觉。将近一点钟，男女宾客们才各自回房去。
第二天跟第一天一样，是个晴朗的日子，客人们乘机到临近的某个地方去远足。他们上午很早就出发了，有的骑马，有的坐马车。我亲眼看着他们出发，看着他们归来。像以前一样，英格拉姆小姐是唯一一位女骑手。罗切斯特先生同她并驾齐驱。他们两人骑着马同其余的客人拉开了一段距离。费尔法克斯太太正与我一起站在窗前，我向她指出了这一点：
“你说他们不可能想到结婚，”我说，“可是你瞧，比起其他女人来，罗切斯特先生明显更喜欢她。”
“是呀，我猜想他毫无疑问爱慕她。”
“而且她也爱慕他，”我补充说“瞧她的头凑近他，仿佛在说什么知心话呢！但愿能见到她的脸，我还从来没见过一眼呢！”
“今天晚上你会见到她的，”费尔法克斯太太回答说；“我偶然向罗切斯特先生提起，阿黛勒多么希望能见一见小姐们。他说：‘呵，那就让她饭后上客厅里来吧，请爱小姐陪她来。’”
“噢，他不过是出于礼貌才那么说的，我不必去了，肯定的。”我回答。
“瞧，我对他说，你不习惯交往，所以我想你不会喜欢在一批轻松愉快而又都互不相识的宾客前露面，他还是那么急躁地回答说，‘胡说八道！要是她不愿来，就告诉她这是我个人的意愿。如果她拒绝，你就说，她这么倔强，我要亲自来叫了。’”
“我不愿给他添那么多麻烦”，我回答。“要是没有更好的办法了，我就去。不过我并不喜欢。你去吗，费尔法克斯太太？”
“不，我请求免了，他同意了。一本正经入场是最不好受的，我来告诉你怎样避免这种尴尬，你得在女士们离席之前，客厅里还没有人的时候就进去，找个僻静的角落坐下。男宾们进来之后，你不必呆得很久，除非你高兴这么做。你不过是让罗切斯特先生看到你在那里，随后你就溜走——没有人会注意到你。”
“你认为这批客人会呆得很久吗？”
“也许两三个星期，肯定不会再久了。过了复活节假期，乔治.林恩爵士由于新近当上了米尔科特市议员，得去城里就职。我猜想罗切斯特先生会同他一起去。我觉得很奇怪，这回他在桑菲尔德呆了那么长时间。”
眼看我带着照管的孩子进客厅的时刻就要到来，我心里惴惴不安。阿黛勒听说晚上要去见女士们，便整天处于极度兴奋状态，直到索菲娅开始给她打扮，才安静下来。随后更衣的重要过程很快稳定了她的情绪。待到她卷发梳得溜光，一束束垂着，穿上了粉红色的缎子罩衣，系好长长的腰带，戴上了网眼无指手套，她看上去已是像任何一位法官那么严肃了。这时已没有必要提醒她别弄乱自己的服装，她穿戴停当后，便安静地坐在小椅子上，急忙小心地把缎子裙提起来，唯恐弄皱了。还向我保证，她会一动不动坐在那里，直到我准备好为止。我很快就穿戴好了。我立即穿上了自己最好的衣服（银灰色的那一件，专为参加坦普尔小姐的婚礼购置的，后来一直没有穿过），把头发梳得平平伏伏，并戴上了我仅有的饰品，那枚珍珠胸针。随后我们下了楼。
幸亏还有另外一扇门通客厅，不必经过他们都坐着吃饭的餐厅。我们看到房间里空无一人，大理石砌成的壁炉中，一堆旺火静静地燃烧着；桌上装饰着精致的花朵，烛光在花朵中间孤寂地闪亮，平添了几分欢快。拱门前悬挂着大红门帘，虽然我们与毗连的餐室中的客人之间，仅一层之隔，但他们话说得那么轻，除了柔和的嗡嗡声，彼此之间的交谈一点都听不清楚。
阿黛勒似乎仍受着严肃气氛的震慑，一声不吭地坐在我指给她的小凳上。我退缩在一个靠窗的位置上，随手从临近的台子上取了本书，竭力读下去。阿黛勒把她的小凳子搬到我脚边，不久便
Chapter 18
MERRY days were these at Thornfield Hall; and busy days too: how different from the first three months of stillness, monotony, and solitude I had passed beneath its roof! All sad feelings seemed now driven from the house, all gloomy associations forgotten: there was life everywhere, movement all day long. You could not now traverse the gallery, once so hushed, nor enter the front chambers, once so tenantless, without encountering a smart lady's-maid or a dandy valet.The kitchen, the butler's pantry, the servants' hall, the entrance hall, were equally alive; and the saloons were only left void and still when the blue sky and halcyon sunshine of the genial spring weather called their occupants out into the grounds. Even when that weather was broken, and continuous rain set in for some days, no damp seemed cast over enjoyment: indoor amusements only became more lively and varied, in consequence of the stop put to outdoor gaiety.
I wondered what they were going to do the first evening a change of entertainment was proposed: they spoke of 'playing charades,' but in my ignorance I did not understand the term. The servants were called in, the dining-room tables wheeled away, the lights otherwise disposed, the chairs placed in a semicircle opposite the arch. While Mr. Rochester and the other gentlemen directed these alterations, the ladies were running up and down stairs ringing for their maids.
Mrs. Fairfax was summoned to give information respecting the resources of the house in shawls, dresses, draperies of any kind; and certain wardrobes of the third storey were ransacked, and their contents, in the shape of brocaded and hooped petticoats, satin sacques, black modes, lace lappets, etc., were brought down in armfuls by the abigails; then a selection was made, and such things as were chosen were carried to the boudoir within the drawing-room.
Meantime, Mr. Rochester had again summoned the ladies round him, and was selecting certain of their number to be of his party. 'Miss Ingram is mine, of course,' said he: afterwards he named the two Misses Eshton, and Mrs. Dent. He looked at me: I happened to be near him, as I had been fastening the clasp of Mrs. Dent's bracelet, which had got loose. 
'Will you play?' he asked. I shook my head. He did not insist, which I rather feared he would have done; he allowed me to return quietly to my usual seat.
He and his aids now withdrew behind the curtain: the other party, which was headed by Colonel Dent, sat down on the crescent of chairs. One of the gentlemen, Mr. Eshton, observing me, seemed to propose that I should be asked to join them; but Lady Ingram instantly negatived the notion.
'No,' I heard her say: 'she looks too stupid for any game of the sort.'
Ere long a bell tinkled, and the curtain drew up. Within the arch, the bulky figure of Sir George Lynn, whom Mr. Rochester had likewise chosen, was seen enveloped in a white sheet: before him, on a table, lay open a large book; and at his side stood Amy Eshton, draped in Mr. Rochester's cloak, and holding a book in her hand. Somebody, unseen, rang the bell merrily; then Adele (who had insisted on being one of her guardian's party), bounded forward, scattering round her the contents of a basket of flowers she carried on her arm. Then appeared the magnificent figure of Miss Ingram, clad in white, a long veil on her head, and a wreath of roses round her brow; by her side walked Mr. Rochester, and together they drew near the table. They knelt; while Mrs. Dent and Louisa Eshton, dressed also in white, took up their stations behind them. A ceremony followed, in dumb show, in which it was easy to recognise the pantomime of a marriage. At its termination, Colonel Dent, and his party consulted in whispers for two minutes, then the Colonel called out-
'Bride!' Mr. Rochester bowed, and the curtain fell.
A considerable interval elapsed before it again rose. Its second rising displayed a more elaborately prepared scene than the last. 
The drawing-room, as I have before observed, was raised two steps above the dining-room, and on the top of the upper step, placed a yard or two back within the room, appeared a large marble basin, which I recognised as an ornament of the conservatory- where it usually stood, surrounded by exotics, and tenanted by gold fish- and whence it must have been transported with some trouble, on account of its size and weight.
Seated on the carpet, by the side of this basin, was seen Mr. Rochester, costumed in shawls, with a turban on his head. His dark eyes and swarthy skin and Paynim features suited the costume exactly: he looked the very model of an Eastern emir, an agent or a victim of the bowstring. Presently advanced into view Miss Ingram.
She, too, was attired in oriental fashion: a crimson scarf tied sash-like round the waist; an embroidered handkerchief knotted about her temples; her beautifully moulded arms bare, one of them upraised in the act of supporting a pitcher, poised gracefully on her head.
Both her cast of form and feature, her complexion and her general air, suggested the idea of some Israelitish princess of the patriarchal days; and such was doubtless the character she intended to represent. 
She approached the basin, and bent over it as if to fill her pitcher; she again lifted it to her head. The personage on the well-brink now seemed to accost her; to make some request:- 'She hasted, let down her pitcher on her hand, and gave him to drink.' From the bosom of his robe he then produced a casket, opened it and showed magnificent bracelets and earrings; she acted astonishment and admiration; kneeling, he laid the treasure at her feet; incredulity and delight were expressed by her looks and gestures; the stranger fastened the bracelets on her arms and the rings in her ears. It was Eliezer and Rebecca: the camels only were wanting.
The divining party again laid their heads together: apparently they could not agree about the word or syllable the scene illustrated.
Colonel Dent, their spokesman, demanded 'the tableau of the whole'; whereupon the curtain again descended.
On its third rising only a portion of the drawing-room was disclosed; the rest being concealed by a screen, hung with some sort of dark and coarse drapery. The marble basin was removed; in its place stood a deal table and a kitchen chair: these objects were visible by a very dim light proceeding from a horn lantern, the wax candles being all extinguished.
Amidst this sordid scene, sat a man with his clenched hands resting on his knees, and his eyes bent on the ground. I knew Mr. Rochester; though the begrimed face, the disordered dress (his coat hanging loose from one arm, as if it had been almost torn from his back in a scuffle), the desperate and scowling countenance the rough, bristling hair might well have disguised him. As he moved, a chain clanked; to his wrists were attached fetters.
'Bridewell!' exclaimed Colonel Dent, and the charade was solved. 
A sufficient interval having elapsed for the performers to resume their ordinary costume, they re-entered the dining-room. Mr. Rochester led in Miss Ingram; she was complimenting him on his acting. 
'Do you know,' said she, 'that, of the three characters, I liked you in the last best? Oh, had you but lived a few years earlier, what a gallant gentleman-highwayman you would have made!' 
'Is all the soot washed from my face?' he asked, turning it towards her.
'Alas! yes: the more's the pity! Nothing could be more becoming to your complexion than that ruffian's rouge.'
'You would like a hero of the road then?'
'An English hero of the road would be the next best thing to an Italian bandit; and that could only be surpassed by a Levantine pirate.'
'Well, whatever I am, remember you are my wife; we were married an hour since, in the presence of all these witnesses.' She giggled, and her colour rose.
'Now, Dent,' continued Mr. Rochester, 'it is your turn.' And as the other party withdrew, he and his band took the vacated seats. Miss Ingram placed herself at her leader's right hand; the other diviners filled the chairs on each side of him and her. I did not now watch the actors; I no longer waited with interest for the curtain to rise; my attention was absorbed by the spectators; my eyes, erewhile fixed on the arch, were now irresistibly attracted to the semicircle of chairs.
What charade Colonel Dent and his party played, what word they chose, how they acquitted themselves, I no longer remember; but I still see the consultation which followed each scene: I see Mr. Rochester turn to Miss Ingram, and Miss Ingram to him; I see her incline her head towards him, till the jetty curls almost touch his shoulder and wave against his cheek; I hear their mutual whisperings; I recall their interchanged glances; and something even of the feeling roused by the spectacle returns in memory at this moment.
I have told you, reader, that I had learnt to love Mr. Rochester: I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me- because I might pass hours in his presence, and he would never once turn his eyes in my direction- because I saw all his attentions appropriated by a great lady, who scorned to touch me with the hem of her robes as she passed; who, if ever her dark and imperious eye fell on me by chance, would withdraw it instantly as from an object too mean to merit observation. I could not unlove him, because I felt sure he would soon marry this very lady- because I read daily in her a proud security in his intentions respecting her- because I witnessed hourly in him a style of courtship which, if careless and choosing rather to be sought than to seek, was yet, in its very carelessness, captivating, and in its very pride, irresistible.
There was nothing to cool or banish love in these circumstances, though much to create despair. Much too, you will think, reader, to engender jealousy: if a woman, in my position, could presume to be jealous of a woman in Miss Ingram's. But I was not jealous: or very rarely;- the nature of the pain I suffered could not be explained by that word. Miss Ingram was a mark beneath jealousy: she was too inferior to excite the feeling. Pardon the seeming paradox; I mean what I say. She was very showy, but she was not genuine: she had a fine person, many brilliant attainments; but her mind was poor, her heart barren by nature: nothing bloomed spontaneously on that soil; no unforced natural fruit delighted by its freshness. She was not good; she was not original: she used to repeat sounding phrases from books: she never offered, nor had, an opinion of her own. She advocated a high tone of sentiment; but she did not know the sensations of sympathy and pity; tenderness and truth were not in her. 
Too often she betrayed this, by the undue vent she gave to a spiteful antipathy she had conceived against little Adele: pushing her away with some contumelious epithet if she happened to approach her; sometimes ordering her from the room, and always treating her with coldness and acrimony. Other eyes besides mine watched these manifestations of character- watched them closely, keenly, shrewdly. 
Yes; the future bridegroom, Mr. Rochester himself, exercised over his intended a ceaseless surveillance; and it was from this sagacity- this guardedness of his- this perfect, clear consciousness of his fair one's defects- this obvious absence of passion in his sentiments towards her, that my ever-torturing pain arose.
I saw he was going to marry her, for family, perhaps political reasons, because her rank and connections suited him; I felt he had not given her his love, and that her qualifications were ill adapted to win from him that treasure. This was the point- this was where the nerve was touched and teased- this was where the fever was sustained and fed: she could not charm him.
If she had managed the victory at once, and he had yielded and sincerely laid his heart at her feet, I should have covered my face, turned to the wall, and (figuratively) have died to them. If Miss Ingram had been a good and noble woman, endowed with force, fervour, kindness, sense, I should have had one vital struggle with two tigers- jealousy and despair: then, my heart torn out and devoured, I should have admired her- acknowledged her excellence, and been quiet for the rest of my days: and the more absolute her superiority, the deeper would have been my admiration- the more truly tranquil my quiescence. But as matters really stood, to watch Miss Ingram's efforts at fascinating Mr. Rochester, to witness their repeated failure- herself unconscious that they did fail; vainly fancying that each shaft launched hit the mark, and infatuatedly pluming herself on success, when her pride and self-complacency repelled further and further what she wished to allure- to witness this, was to be at once under ceaseless excitation and ruthless restraint.
Because, when she failed, I saw how she might have succeeded. 
Arrows that continually glanced off from Mr. Rochester's breast and fell harmless at his feet, might, I knew, if shot by a surer hand, have quivered keen in his proud heart- have called love into his stern eye, and softness into his sardonic face; or, better still, without weapons a silent conquest might have been won.
'Why can she not influence him more, when she is privileged to draw so near to him?' I asked myself. 'Surely she cannot truly like him, or not like him with true affection! If she did, she need not coin her smiles so lavishly, flash her glances so unremittingly, manufacture airs so elaborate, graces so multitudinous. It seems to me that she might, by merely sitting quietly at his side, saying little and looking less, get nigher his heart. I have seen in his face a far different expression from that which hardens it now while she is so vivaciously accosting him; but then it came of itself: it was not elicited by meretricious arts and calculated manoeuvres; and one had but to accept it- to answer what he asked without pretension, to address him when needful without grimace- and it increased and grew kinder and more genial, and warmed one like a fostering sunbeam. How will she manage to please him when they are married? I do not think she will manage it; and yet it might be managed; and his wife might, I verily believe, be the very happiest woman the sun shines on.'
I have not yet said anything condemnatory of Mr. Rochester's project of marrying for interest and connections. It surprised me when I first discovered that such was his intention: I had thought him a man unlikely to be influenced by motives so commonplace in his choice of a wife; but the longer I considered the position, education, etc., of the parties, the less I felt justified in judging and blaming either him or Miss Ingram for acting in conformity to ideas and principles instilled into them, doubtless, from their childhood. All their class held these principles: I supposed, then, they had reasons for holding them such as I could not fathom. It seemed to me that, were I a gentleman like him, I would take to my bosom only such a wife as I could love; but the very obviousness of the advantages to the husband's own happiness offered by this plan convinced me that there must be arguments against its general adoption of which I was quite ignorant: otherwise I felt sure all the world would act as I wished to act.
But in other points, as well as this, I was growing very lenient to my master: I was forgetting all his faults, for which I had once kept a sharp look-out. It had formerly been my endeavour to study all sides of his character: to take the bad with the good; and from the just weighing of both, to form an equitable judgment. Now I saw no bad. The sarcasm that had repelled, the harshness that had startled me once, were only like keen condiments in a choice dish: their presence was pungent, but their absence would be felt as comparatively insipid. And as for the vague something- was it a sinister or a sorrowful, a designing or a desponding expression?- that opened upon a careful observer, now and then, in his eye, and closed again before one could fathom the strange depth partially disclosed; that something which used to make me fear and shrink, as if I had been wandering amongst volcanic-looking hills, and had suddenly felt the ground quiver and seen it gape: that something, I, at intervals, beheld still; and with throbbing heart, but not with palsied nerves.
Instead of wishing to shun, I longed only to dare- to divine it; and I thought Miss Ingram happy, because one day she might look into the abyss at her leisure, explore its secrets and analyse their nature. 
Meantime, while I thought only of my master and his future bride- saw only them, heard only their discourse, and considered only their movements of importance- the rest of the party were occupied with their own separate interests and pleasures. The Ladies Lynn and Ingram continued to consort in solemn conferences, where they nodded their two turbans at each other, and held up their four hands in confronting gestures of surprise, or mystery, or horror, according to the theme on which their gossip ran, like a pair of magnified puppets. Mild Mrs.
Dent talked with good-natured Mrs. Eshton; and the two sometimes bestowed a courteous word or smile on me. Sir George Lynn, Colonel Dent, and Mr. Eshton discussed politics, or county affairs, or justice business. Lord Ingram flirted with Amy Eshton; Louisa played and sang to and with one of the Messrs. Lynn; and Mary Ingram listened languidly to the gallant speeches of the other. Sometimes all, as with one consent, suspended their by-play to observe and listen to the principal actors: for, after all, Mr. Rochester and-  because closely connected with him- Miss Ingram were the life and soul of the party.
If he was absent from the room an hour, a perceptible dulness seemed to steal over the spirits of his guests; and his re-entrance was sure to give a fresh impulse to the vivacity of conversation. 
The want of his animating influence appeared to be peculiarly felt one day that he had been summoned to Millcote on business, and was not likely to return till late. The afternoon was wet: a walk the party had proposed to take to see a gipsy camp, lately pitched on a common beyond Hay, was consequently deferred. Some of the gentlemen were gone to the stables: the younger ones, together with the younger ladies, were playing billiards in the billiard-room. The dowagers Ingram and Lynn sought solace in a quiet game at cards.
Blanche Ingram, after having repelled, by supercilious taciturnity, some efforts of Mrs. Dent and Mrs. Eshton to draw her into conversation, had first murmured over some sentimental tunes and airs on the piano, and then, having fetched a novel from the library, had flung herself in haughty listlessness on a sofa, and prepared to beguile, by the spell of fiction, the tedious hours of absence. The room and the house were silent: only now and then the merriment of the billiard-players was heard from above.
It was verging on dusk, and the dock had already given warning of the hour to dress for dinner, when little Adele, who knelt by me in the drawing-room window-seat, suddenly exclaimed- 
'Voila Monsieur Rochester, qui revient!'
I turned, and Miss Ingram darted forwards from her sofa: the others, too, looked up from their several occupations; for at the same time a crunching of wheels and a splashing tramp of horse-hoofs became audible on the wet gravel. A post-chaise was approaching.
'What can possess him to come home in that style?' said Miss Ingram. 'He rode Mesrour (the black horse), did he not, when he went out? and Pilot was with him:- what has he done with the animals?' 
As she said this, she approached her tall person and ample garments so near the window, that I was obliged to bend back almost to the breaking of my spine: in her eagerness she did not observe me at first, but when she did, she curled her lip and moved to another casement. The post-chaise stopped; the driver rang the door-bell, and a gentleman alighted attired in travelling garb; but it was not Mr. Rochester; it was a tall, fashionable-looking man, a stranger.
'How provoking!' exclaimed Miss Ingram: 'you tiresome monkey!' (apostrophising Adele), 'who perched you up in the window to give false intelligence?' and she cast on me an angry glance, as if I were in fault.
Some parleying was audible in the hall, and soon the newcomer entered. He bowed to Lady Ingram, as deeming her the eldest lady present.
'It appears I come at an inopportune time, madam,' said he, 'when my friend, Mr. Rochester, is from home; but I arrive from a very long journey, and I think I may presume so far on old and intimate acquaintance as to instal myself here till he returns.'
His manner was polite; his accent, in speaking, struck me as being somewhat unusual,- not precisely foreign, but still not altogether English: his age might be about Mr. Rochester's,- between thirty and forty; his complexion was singularly sallow: otherwise he  was a fine-looking man, at first sight especially. On closer examination, you detected something in his face that displeased, or rather that failed to please. His features were regular, but too relaxed: his eye was large and well cut, but the life looking out of it was a tame, vacant life- at least so I thought.
The sound of the dressing-bell dispersed the party. It was not till after dinner that I saw him again: he then seemed quite at his ease.
But I liked his physiognomy even less than before: it struck me as being at the same time unsettled and inanimate. His eye wandered, and had no meaning in its wandering: this gave him an odd look, such as I never remembered to have seen. For a handsome and not an unamiable-looking man, he repelled me exceedingly: there was no power in that smooth-skinned face of a full oval shape: no firmness in that aquiline nose and small cherry mouth; there was no thought on the low, even forehead; no command in that blank, brown eye.
As I sat in my usual nook, and looked at him with the light of the girandoles on the mantelpiece beaming full over him- for he occupied an arm-chair drawn close to the fire and kept shrinking still nearer, as if he were cold- I compared him with Mr. Rochester. I  think (with deference be it spoken) the contrast could not be much greater between a sleek gander and a fierce falcon: between a meek sheep and the rough-coated keen-eyed dog, its guardian.
He had spoken of Mr. Rochester as an old friend. A curious friendship theirs must have been: a pointed illustration, indeed, of the old adage that 'extremes meet.'
Two or three of the gentlemen sat near him, and I caught at times scraps of their conversation across the room. At first I could not make much sense of what I heard; for the discourse of Louisa Eshton and Mary Ingram, who sat nearer to me, confused the fragmentary sentences that reached me at intervals. These last were discussing the stranger; they both called him 'a beautiful man.' Louisa said he was 'a love of a creature,' and she 'adored him'; and Mary instanced his 'pretty little mouth, and nice nose,' as her ideal of the charming.
'And what a sweet-tempered forehead he hast' cried Louisa,- 'so smooth- none of those frowning irregularities I dislike so much; and such a placid eye and smile!'
And then, to my great relief, Mr. Henry Lynn summoned them to the other side of the room, to settle some point about the deferred excursion to Hay Common.
I was now able to concentrate my attention on the group by the fire, and I presently gathered that the newcomer was called Mr. Mason; then I learned that he was but just arrived in England, and that he came from some hot country: which was the reason, doubtless, his face was so sallow, and that he sat so near the hearth, and wore a surtout in the house. Presently the words Jamaica, Kingston, Spanish Town, indicated the West Indies as his residence; and it was with no little surprise I gathered, ere long, that he had there first seen and become acquainted with Mr. Rochester. He spoke of his friend's dislike of the burning heats, the hurricanes, and rainy seasons of that region. I knew Mr. Rochester had been a traveller: Mrs. Fairfax had said so; but I thought the continent of Europe had bounded his wanderings; till now I had never heard a hint given of visits to more distant shores.
I was pondering these things, when an incident, and a somewhat unexpected one, broke the thread of my musings. Mr. Mason, shivering as some one chanced to open the door, asked for more coal to be put on the fire, which had burnt out its flame, though its mass of cinder still shone hot and red. The footman who brought the coal, in going out, stopped near Mr. Eshton's chair, and said something to him in a low voice, of which I heard only the words, 'old woman,'- 'quite troublesome.'
'Tell her she shall be put in the stocks if she does not take herself off,' replied the magistrate.
'No- stop!' interrupted Colonel Dent. 'Don't send her away, Eshton; we might turn the thing to account; better consult the ladies.' And speaking aloud, he continued- 'Ladies, you talked of going to Hay Common to visit the gipsy camp; Sam here says that one of the old Mother Bunches is in the servants' hall at this moment, and insists upon being brought in before "the quality," to tell them their fortunes. Would you like to see her?'
'Surely, colonel,' cried Lady Ingram, 'you would not encourage such a low impostor? Dismiss her, by all means, at once!'
'But I cannot persuade her to go away, my lady,' said the footman; 'nor can any of the servants: Mrs. Fairfax is with her just  now, entreating her to be gone; but she has taken a chair in the chimney-corner, and says nothing shall stir her from it till she gets leave to come in here.'
'What does she want?' asked Mrs. Eshton.
'"To tell the gentry their fortunes," she says, ma'am; and she swears she must and will do it.'
'What is she like?' inquired the Misses Eshton, in a breath.
'A shockingly ugly old creature, miss; almost as black as a crock.'
'Why, she's a real sorceress!' cried Frederick Lynn. 'Let us have her in, of course.'
'To be sure,' rejoined his brother; 'it would be a thousand pities to throw away such a chance of fun.'
'My dear boys, what are you thinking about?' exclaimed Mrs. Lynn.
'I cannot possibly countenance any such inconsistent proceeding,' chimed in the Dowager Ingram.
'Indeed, mama, but you can- and will,' pronounced the haughty voice of Blanche, as she turned round on the piano-stool; where till now she had sat silent, apparently examining sundry sheets of music. 'I have a curiosity to hear my fortune told: therefore, Sam, order the beldame forward.'
'My darling Blanche! recollect-'
'I do- I recollect all you can suggest; and I must have my will- quick, Sam!'
'Yes- yes- yes!' cried all the juveniles, both ladies and gentlemen. 'Let her come- it will be excellent sport!'
The footman still lingered. 'She looks such a rough one,' said he. 
'Go!' ejaculated Miss Ingram, and the man went.
Excitement instantly seized the whole party: a running fire of raillery and jests was proceeding when Sam returned.
'She won't come now,' said he. 'She says it's not her mission to appear before the "vulgar herd" (them's her words). I must show her into a room by herself, and then those who wish to consult her must go to her one by one.'
'You see now, my queenly Blanche,' began Lady Ingram, 'she encroaches. Be advised, my angel girl- and-'
'Show her into the library, of course,' cut in the 'angel girl,'
'It is not my mission to listen to her before the vulgar herd either: I mean to have her all to myself. Is there a fire in the library?'
'Yes, ma'am- but she looks such a tinkler.'
'Cease that chatter, blockhead! and do my bidding.'
Again Sam vanished; and mystery, animation, expectation rose to full flow once more.
'She's ready now,' said the footman, as he reappeared. 'She wishes to know who will be her first visitor.'
'I think I had better just look in upon her before any of the ladies go,' said Colonel Dent.
'Tell her, Sam, a gentleman is coming.'
Sam went and returned.
'She says, sir, that she'll have no gentlemen; they need not trouble themselves to come near her; nor,' he added, with difficulty suppressing a titter, 'any ladies either, except the young and single.'
'By Jove, she has taste!' exclaimed Henry Lynn.
Miss Ingram rose solemnly: 'I go first,' she said, in a tone which might have befitted the leader of a forlorn hope, mounting a breach in the van of his men.
'Oh, my best! oh, my dearest! pause- reflect!' was her mama's cry; but she swept past her in stately silence, passed through the door which Colonel Dent held open, and we heard her enter the library. 
A comparative silence ensued. Lady Ingram thought it 'le cas' to wring her hands: which she did accordingly. Miss Mary declared she felt, for her part, she never dared venture. Amy and Louisa Eshton tittered under their breath, and looked a little frightened.
The minutes passed very slowly: fifteen were counted before the library-door again opened. Miss Ingram returned to us through the arch.
Would she laugh? Would she take it as a joke? All eyes met her with a glance of eager curiosity, and she met all eyes with one of rebuff and coldness; she looked neither flurried nor merry: she walked stiffly to her seat, and took it in silence.
'Well, Blanche?' said Lord Ingram.
'What did she say, sister?' asked Mary.
'What did you think? How do you feel? Is she a real fortune-teller?' demanded the Misses Eshton.
'Now, now, good people,' returned Miss Ingram, 'don't press upon me. Really your organs of wonder and credulity are easily excited: you seem, by the importance you all- my good mama included- ascribe to this matter, absolutely to believe we have a genuine witch in the house, who is in close alliance with the old gentleman. I have seen a gipsy vagabond; she has practised in hackneyed fashion the science of palmistry and told me what such people usually tell. My whim is gratified; and now I think Mr. Eshton will do well to put the hag in the stocks to-morrow morning, as he threatened.'
Miss Ingram took a book, leant back in her chair, and so declined further conversation. I watched her for nearly half an hour: during all that time she never turned a page, and her face grew momently darker, more dissatisfied, and more sourly expressive of disappointment. She had obviously not heard anything to her advantage: and it seemed to me, from her prolonged fit of gloom and taciturnity, that she herself, notwithstanding her professed indifference, attached undue importance to whatever revelations had been made her.
Meantime, Mary Ingram, Amy and Louisa Eshton, declared they dared not go alone; and yet they all wished to go. A negotiation was opened through the medium of the ambassador, Sam; and after much pacing to and fro, till, I think, the said Sam's calves must have ached with the exercise, permission was at last, with great difficulty, extorted from the rigorous Sibyl, for the three to wait upon her in a body.
Their visit was not so still as Miss Ingram's had been: we heard hysterical giggling and little shrieks proceeding from the library;   and at the end of about twenty minutes they burst the door open, and came running across the hall, as if they were half-scared out of their wits.
'I am sure she is something not right!' they cried, one and all.
'She told us such things! She knows all about us!' and they sank breathless into the various seats the gentlemen hastened to bring them.
Pressed for further explanation, they declared she had told them of things they had said and done when they were mere children; described books and ornaments they had in their boudoirs at home: keepsakes that different relations had presented to them. They affirmed that she had even divined their thoughts, and had whispered in the ear of each the name of the person she liked best in the world, and informed them of what they most wished for.
Here the gentlemen interposed with earnest petitions to be further enlightened on these two last-named points; but they got only blushes, ejaculations, tremors, and titters, in return for their importunity. The matrons, meantime, offered vinaigrettes and wielded fans; and again and again reiterated the expression of their concern that their warning had not been taken in time; and the elder gentlemen laughed, and the younger urged their services on the agitated fair ones.
In the midst of the tumult, and while my eyes and ears were fully engaged in the scene before me, I heard a hem close at my elbow: I turned, and saw Sam.
'If you please, miss, the gipsy declares that there is another young single lady in the room who has not been to her yet, and she swears she will not go till she has seen all. I thought it must be you: there is no one else for it. What shall I tell her?'
'Oh, I will go by all means,' I answered: and I was glad of the unexpected opportunity to gratify my much-excited curiosity. I slipped out of the room, unobserved by any eye- for the company were gathered in one mass about the trembling trio just returned- and I closed the door quietly behind me.
'If you like, miss,' said Sam, 'I'll wait in the hall for you; and if she frightens you, just call and I'll come in.'
'No, Sam, return to the kitchen: I am not in the least afraid.' Nor was I; but I was a good deal interested and excited.  那些是桑菲尔德府欢乐的日子，也是忙碌的日子。同最初三个月我在这儿度过的平静、单调和孤寂的日子相比，真是天差地别！如今一切哀伤情调已经烟消云散，一切阴郁的联想已忘得一干二净，到处热热闹闹，整天人来客往。过去静悄悄的门廓，空无住客的前房，现在一走进去就会撞见漂亮的侍女，或者衣饰华丽的男仆。
无论是厨房，还是管家的食品室，佣人的厅堂和门厅，都一样热闹非凡。只有在和煦的春日里，蔚蓝的天空和明媚的阳光，把人们吸引到庭园里去的时候，几间大客厅才显得空荡沉寂。即使天气转坏，几日里阴雨连绵，也似乎不曾使他们扫兴，室外的娱乐一停止，室内的倒反而更加活泼多样了。
第一个晚上有人建议改变一下娱乐方式的时候，我心里纳闷他们会干什么。他们说起要玩“字谜游戏”，但我一无所知，一时不明白这个名称。仆人们被叫了进来，餐桌给搬走了，灯光己另作处理，椅子正对着拱门排成了半圆形。罗切斯特先生和其他男宾们指挥着作些变动时，女士们在楼梯上跑上跑下，按铃使唤仆人。费尔法克斯太太应召进房，报告各类披肩、服装和帐幔等家藏物资情况。三楼的有些大橱也来个兜底翻寻，里面的一应物件，如带裙环的织锦裙子、缎子宽身女裙、黑色丝织品、花边垂带等，都由使女们成包捧下楼来，经过挑选，又把选中的东西送进客厅内的小厅里。
与此同时，罗切斯特先生把女士们再次叫到他周围，选中了几位加入他一组。“当然英格拉姆小姐是属于我的，”他说，随后他又点了两位埃希顿小姐和登特夫人的名。他瞧了瞧我，我恰巧在他身边，替登特太太把松开的手镯扣好。
“你来玩吗？”他问。我摇了摇头。他没有坚持，我真怕他会呢。他允许我安静地回到平时的座位上去。
他和搭档们退到了帐幔后头，而由登特上校领头的一组人，在排成半圆形的椅子上坐了下来。其中一位叫埃希顿先生的男士，注意到了我，好像提议我应当加入他们，但英格拉姆夫人立即否决了他的建议。
“不行，”我听见她说，“她看上去一付蠢相，玩不来这类游戏。”
没过多久，铃声响了，幕拉开了。在半圆形之内，出现了乔治.林恩爵士用白布裹着的巨大身影，他也是由罗切斯特先生选中的。他前面的一张桌子上，放着一本大书，他一侧站着艾米.埃希顿，身上披着罗切斯特先生的斗篷，手里拿着一本书。有人在看不见的地方摇响了欢快的铃声。随后阿黛勒（她坚持参加监护人的一组）跳跳蹦蹦来到前面，把挽在胳膊上的一篮子花，朝她周围撒去。接着雍容华贵的英格拉姆小姐露面了，一身素装，头披长纱，额上戴着圈玫瑰花。她身边走着罗切斯特先生，两人一起跪向桌子。他们跪了下来，与此同时，一样浑身著白的登特太太和路易莎.埃希顿，在他们身后站定。接着一个用哑剧来表现的仪式开始了，不难看出，这是场哑剧婚礼。结束时登特上校和他的一伙人悄悄地商量了两分钟，随后上校嚷道：
“新娘！”罗切斯特先生行了鞠躬礼，随后幕落。
过了好一会儿，帐幕才再次拉开。第二幕表演比第一幕显得更加精心准备。如我以前所观察的那样，客厅已垫得比餐室高出两个台阶，在客厅内靠后一两码的顶端台阶上，放置着一个硕大的大理石盆，我认出来那是温室里的一个装饰品——平时里面养着金鱼，周围布满了异国花草——它体积大，份量重，搬到这儿来一定是花了一番周折的。
在这个大盆子旁边的地毯上，坐着罗切斯特先生，身裹披巾，额缠头巾。他乌黑的眼睛、黝黑的皮肤和穆斯林式的五官，与这身打扮十分般配。他看上去活象一个东方的酋长，一个绞死人和被人绞死的角色。不久，英格拉姆小姐登场了。她也是一身东方式装束。一条大红围巾象腰带似地缠在腰间；一块绣花手帕围住额头；她那形态美丽的双臂赤裸着，其中的一条高高举起，优美地托着顶在头上的一个坛子。她的体态和容貌，她的肤色和神韵，使人想起了宗法时代的以色列公主，无疑那正是她想要扮演的角色。
她走近大盆子，俯身似乎要把水坛灌满。随后再次把坛子举起来放在头上。那个在井边的人好像在同他打招呼，提出了某种要求：她“就急忙拿下瓶来，托在手上给他喝。”随后他从胸口的长袍里，取出一个盒子，打了开来，露出金灿灿的镯子和耳环；她做出惊叹的表情，跪了下来。他把珠宝搁在她脚边，她的神态和动作中流露出疑惑与喜悦，陌生人替她戴好了手镯，挂好了耳环。这就是以利以泽和利百加了，只不过没有骆驼。
猜谜的一方再次交头接耳起来，显然他们对这场戏所表现的字或只言片语，无法取得一致意见。他们的发言人登特上校要来表现“完整的场面”，于是帷幕又一次落下。
第三幕里客厅只露出了部份，其余部分由一块粗糙的黑色布幔遮挡着，大理石盆子已被搬走，代之以一张松木桌和一把厨房椅子，借着一盏号角式灯笼的幽暗灯光，这些物品隐约可见，因为蜡烛全都灭了。
在这暗淡的场景中，坐着一个人，双手攒紧放在膝头，双目紧盯着地上。我知道这是罗切斯特先生，尽管污秽的脸，散乱的服饰（在一条胳膊上他的外衣垂挂着，好象在一场搏斗中几乎是从背上撕了下来似的），绝望阴沉的脸容、粗糙直竖的头发，完全可以叫人无法辨认。他走动时，铁链叮当作响，他的手腕上戴着手铐。
“监狱！”登特上校冲口叫道，字谜也就被猜中了。
随后是一段充分的休息时间，让表演者恢复原来的服装，他们再次走进餐室。罗切斯特先生领着英格拉姆小姐，她正夸奖着他的演技。
“你可知道，”她说，“在你饰演的三个人物中，我最喜欢最后一个。啊，要是你早生几年，你很可能会成为一个英勇高贵的拦路强盗！”
“我脸上的煤烟都洗干净了吗？”他向她转过脸问道。
“哎呀呀！全洗掉了，洗得越干净就越可惜！那个歹徒的紫红脸色同你的肤色再般配没有了。”
“那你喜欢剪径的强盗了？”
“就我喜好而言，一个英国的路盗仅次于一个意大利的土匪，而意大利的土匪稍逊于地中海的海盗。”
“好吧，不管我是谁，记住你是我的妻子，一小时之前我们已结婚，当着所有的目击者。”她吃吃一笑，脸上泛起了红晕。
“嗨，登特，”罗切斯特先生继续说道，“该轮到你们了。”另一组人退下去后，他和他的伙伴们在腾出来的位置上坐了下来。英格拉姆小姐坐在首领的右侧，其余的猜谜人坐在他们两旁的椅子上。这时我不去观看演员了，不再兴趣十足地等候幕启，我的注重力己被观众所吸引。我的目光刚才还盯着拱门，此时已不可抗拒地转向了排成半圆形的椅子。登特上校和他的搭当们玩的是什么字谜游戏，选择了什么字，如何圆满地完成自己扮演的角色，我已无从记得，但每场演出后互相商量的情景，却历历如在目前。我看到罗切斯特先生转向英格拉姆小姐，英格拉姆小姐又转向罗切斯特先生，我看见她向他侧过头去，直到她乌油油的卷发几乎触到了他的肩膀，拂着了他的脸颊。我听到了他们相互间的耳语，我回想起他们彼此交换的眼色，甚至这一情景在我心里所激起的某种情感，此刻也在我记忆中复活了。
我曾告诉过你，读者，我意识到自己爱上了罗切斯特先生。如今我不可能不管他，仅仅因为发现他不再注意我了——仅仅因为我在他面前度过几小时，而他朝我瞟都不瞟一眼——仅仅因为我看到他的全部注意力被一位贵妇人所吸引，而这位贵妇路过我身边时连长袍的边都不屑碰我一下，阴沉专横的目光碰巧落在我身上时、会立即转移，仿佛我太卑微而不值一顾。我不可能不爱他，仅仅因为断定他很快会娶这位小姐——仅仅因为我每天觉察到，她高傲地觉得自己在他心目中的地位己经非常稳固；仅仅因为我时时刻刻看着他的求婚方式尽管漫不经心，且又表现出宁愿被人追求而不追求别人，却由于随意而显得富有魅力，由于傲慢而愈是不可抗拒。
这种情况虽然很可能造成灰心失望，但丝毫不会使爱情冷却或消失。读者呀，要是处于我这样地位的女人，敢于妒嫉象英格拉姆小姐这样地位的女人的话，你会认为这件事很可以引起妒嫉。——我所经受的痛苦是无法用那两个字来解释的。英格拉姆小姐不值得妒嫉；她太低下了，激不起我那种感情。请原谅这表面的评论：我是表里一致的。她好卖弄、但并不真诚。她风度很好，而又多才多艺，但头脑浮浅，心灵天生贫瘠；在那片土地上没有花朵会自动开放，没有哪种不需外力而自然结出的果实会喜欢这种新土。她缺乏教养，没有独创性，而惯于重复书本中的大话，从不提出，也从来没有自己的见解。她鼓吹高尚的情操，但并不知道同情和怜悯，身上丝毫没有温柔和真诚。她对小阿黛勒的心怀恶意，并无端发泄，常常使她在这点上暴露无遗，要是小阿黛勒恰巧走近她，她会用恶言毒语把她撵走，有时命令她离开房间，常常冷淡刻毒地对待她。除了我，还有别人也注视着这些个性的流露——密切急迫而敏锐地注视着。是的，就是罗切斯特先生这位准新郎自己，也无时无刻不在监视着他的意中人。正是这种洞察力——他所存的戒心——这种对自己美人缺陷的清醒全面的认识——正是他在感情上对她明显缺乏热情这一点，引起了我无休止的痛苦。
我看到他要娶她是出于门第观念，也许还有政治上的原因，因为她的地位与家庭关系同他很相配。我觉得他并没有把自己的爱给她，她也没有资格从他那儿得到这个宝物。这就是问题的症结——就是触及痛处的地方——就是我热情有增无减的原因：因为她不可能把他迷住。
要是她立即获胜，他也让了步，虔诚地拜倒在她脚下，我倒会捂住脸，转向墙壁，在他们面前死去（比喻意义上说）。要是英格拉姆小姐是一位高尚出色的女人，富有力量、热情、善心和识见，我倒会与两头猛虎——嫉妒与绝望，作一誓死的搏斗。纵然我的心被掏出来吞噬掉，我也会钦佩她——承认她的出众，默默地度过余生。她愈是优越绝伦，我会愈加钦慕——我的沉默也会愈加深沉。但实际情况并非加此，目睹英格拉姆小姐想方设法遮住罗切斯特先生，看着她连连败绩——她自己却并没有意识到，反而徒劳地幻想，每一支射出的箭都击中了目标，昏头昏脑地为自己的成功而洋洋得意，而她的傲气与自负却越来越把她希望诱捕的目的物拒之于门外——看着这—切使我同时陷入了无尽的激动和无情的自制之中。
她失败时，我知道她本可以取胜。我知道，那些不断擦过罗切斯特先生的胸膛，没有射中落在脚下的箭，要是由一个更为稳健的射手来射，满可以在他高傲的心坎上剧烈颤动——会在他严厉的目光中注入爱，在嘲弄的面部表情中注入柔情，或者更好，不需要武器便可无声把他征服。
“为什么她有幸如此接近他，却无法给予他更大的影响呢？”我问自己。“当然她不可能真正喜欢他，或者真心实意爱他！要是那样，她就不必那么慷慨卖笑，频送秋波，不必如此装腔作势，卖弄风情了。我似乎觉得，她只要安安静静地坐在他身边，不必张口抬眼，就可以贴近他的心坎。我曾见到过他一种全然不同的表情，不象她此刻轻佻地同他搭讪时露出的冷漠态度。但那时这种表情是自然产生的，不是靠低俗的计谋和利己的手腕来索讨的。你只要接受它就是——他发问时你回答，不用弄虚作假；需要时同他说话，不必挤眉弄眼——而这种表情会越来越浓，越来越温和，越来越亲切，象滋养人的阳光那样使你感到温暖。他们结合以后，她怎样来使他高兴呢？我想她不会去想办法。不过该是可以做到使他高兴的。我真的相信，他的妻子会成为天底下最快乐的女人。”
对罗切斯特先生从个人利益和亲属关系考虑的婚姻计划，我至今没有任何微词。我初次发觉他的这一打算时，很有些诧异。我曾认为像他这样的人，在择偶时不会为这么陈腐的动机所左右。但是我对男女双方的地位、教养等等考虑得越久，我越感到自己没有理由因为罗切斯特先生和英格拉姆小姐无疑在童年时就灌输进去的思想和原则行事，就责备他们。他们整个阶级的人都奉行这样的原则，我猜想他们也有我无法揣测的理由去恪守这些原则。我似乎觉得，如果我是一个像他这样的绅士，我也只会把自己所爱的妻子搂入怀中。然而这种打算显然对丈夫自身的幸福有利，所以未被普遍采纳，必定有我全然不知的争议，否则整个世界肯定会象我所想的那样去做了。
但是在其他方面，如同在这方面一样，我对我主人渐渐地变得宽容了。我正在忘却他所有的缺点，而过去我是紧盯不放的。以前我研究他性格的各个方面，好坏都看，权衡两者，以作出公正的评价。现在我看不到坏的方面了。令人厌恶的嘲弄，一度使我吃惊的严厉，已不过像是一盘佳肴中浓重的调料，有了它，热辣辣好吃，没有它，便淡而无味。至于那种令人难以捉摸的东西——那种表情是阴险还是忧伤，是工于心计还是颓唐沮丧，——一个细心的旁观者会看到这种表情不时从他目光中流露出来，但是没等你探测暴露部分的神秘深渊，它又再次掩盖起来了。那种神态过去曾使我畏惧和退缩，仿佛徘徊在火山似的群山之中，突然感到大地颤抖，看到地面裂开了，间或我还能见到这样的表情，我依旧怦然心动，却并未神经麻木。我不想躲避，只渴望迎头而上，去探知它的底细。我认为英搭拉姆小姐很幸福，因为有一天她可以在闲暇时窥深这个深渊，考察它的秘密，分析这些秘密的性质。
与此同时，在我只考虑我的主人和他未来的新娘时——眼睛只看见他们，耳朵只听见他们的谈话，心里只想着他们举足轻重的动作——其他宾客都沉浸于各自的兴趣与欢乐。林恩太太和英格拉姆太太依旧相伴，在严肃交谈。彼此点着戴了头巾帽的头，根据谈及的话题，各自举起双手，作着表示惊愕、迷惑或恐俱的手势，活象一对放大了的木偶。温存的登特太太同敦厚的埃希顿夫人在聊天，两位太太有时还同我说句把客套活，或者朝我笑笑。乔治.林恩爵士、登特上校和埃希顿先生在谈论政治、郡里的事或司法事务。英格拉姆勋爵和艾米.埃希顿在调情。路易莎弹琴唱歌给一位林恩先生听，也跟他一起弹唱。玛丽.英格拉姆懒洋洋地听着另一位林恩先生献殷勤的话。有时候，所有的人都不约而同地停止了自己的插曲，来观看和倾听主角们的表演，因为罗切斯特先生和——由于与他密切有关——英格拉姆小姐，毕竟是全场人的生命的灵魂。要是他离开房间一个小时，一种可以觉察到的沉闷情绪便悄悄地漫上客人们的心头，而他再一次进屋必定会给活跃的谈话注入新的激情。
一天，他有事上米尔科特去了，要很晚才能回来，大家便特别感觉到缺少了他生气勃勃的感染力。那天下午下了雨，结果原来计划好的，徒步去看新近扎在海村工地上的吉卜赛人营房的事，也就推迟了。一些男士们去了马厩，年青一点的与小姐们一起在台球房里打台球。遗孀英格拉姆和林恩，安静地玩纸牌解闷。登特太太和埃希顿太太拉布兰奇．英格拉姆小姐一起聊天，她爱理不理地拒绝了，自己先是伴着钢琴哼了一些感伤的曲调，随后从图书室里拿了本小说，傲气十足却无精打彩地往沙发上一坐，准备用小说的魅力，来消磨几个钟头无人作伴的乏味时光。除了不时传来楼上玩台球人的欢叫，整个房间和整所房子都寂静无声。
时候已近黄昏，教堂的钟声提醒人们已到了换装用饭的时刻。这当儿，在客厅里跪在我身边窗台上的阿黛勒突然大叫起来：
“Voila Monsieur Rochester, qui revient！”
我转过身，英格拉姆小姐从沙发上一跃而起，其余的人也停下自己的活动抬起头来。与此同时，车轮的吱嘎声和马蹄涉水的泼喇声，在湿漉漉的沙土路上隐约传来，一辆驿站马车驶近了。
“他中了什么邪啦，这等模样回家来？”英格拉姆小姐说道。“他出门时骑的是梅斯罗（那匹黑马），不是吗？而派洛特也跟着他的，他把这两头动物怎么啦？”
她说这话时，高高的身子和宽大的衣服紧挨着窗子，弄得我不得不往后仰，差一点绷断了脊骨。焦急之中，她起初没有看见我，但一见我便噘起嘴，走到另外一扇窗去了。马车停了下来，驾车人按了按门铃，一位穿着旅行装的绅士跳下车来。不过不是罗切斯特先生，是位看上去很时髦的大个子男人，一个陌生人。
“真恼人！”英格拉姆小姐嚷道：“你这个讨厌的猴子！”（称呼阿黛勒）“谁将你弄上窗子谎报消息的？”她怒悻悻地瞥了我一眼，仿佛这是我的过错。
大厅里隐隐约约响起了交谈声，来人很快便进了屋。他向英格拉姆太太行了个礼，认为她是在场的人中最年长的妇人。
“看来我来得不是时候，夫人，”他说，“正巧我的朋友罗切斯特先生出门去了，可是我远道而来，我想可以作为关系密切的老相识，冒昧在这儿呆一下，等到他回来。”
他的举止很客气，但说话的腔调听来有些异样——不是十足的外国腔，但也不完全是英国调。他的年龄与罗切斯特先生相仿——在三十与四十之间。他的肤色特别灰黄，要不然他倒是个英俊的男人，乍看之下尤其如此。仔细一打量，你会发现他脸上有种不讨人喜欢，或是无法让人喜欢的东西。他的五官很标准，但太松弛。他的眼睛大而悦目，但是从中透出的生气，却空洞乏味——至少我是这样想的。
通知换装的铃声驱散了宾客。直到吃晚饭时我才再次见到他。那时他似乎已十分自在。但是我对他的面相却比初见面时更不喜欢了。我觉得它既不安稳又毫无生气。他的目光游移不定，漫无目的。这使他露出一付我从未见过的怪相。这样一个漂亮而且看来也并非不和蔼的男人，却使我极为讨厌。在那光滑的鹅蛋形脸蛋上没有魄力；在那个鹰钩鼻和那张樱桃小口上缺少坚毅；在那低平的额头上没有思想；在那空洞的褐色眼睛里没有控制力。
我坐在往常的角落里，打量着他，借着壁炉上把他浑身照得透亮的枝形烛架上的光——因为他坐在靠近火炉的一把安乐椅上，还不住地挨近炉火，仿佛怕冷似的——我把他同罗切斯特先生作了比较。我想（但愿我这么说并无不敬）一只光滑的雄鹅和一只凶猛的猎鹰，一头驯服的绵羊和看守着它毛粗眼尖的猎狗之间的反差，也不见得比他们两者之间大。
他说罗切斯特先生是他的故友，那必定是种奇怪的友谊，是古训“相反相成”的一个极好说明。
两三位男士坐在他旁边，我听到了他们在房间另一头谈话的片断。起初我听不大懂，因为路易莎．埃希顿和玛丽.英格拉姆离我更近，她们的谈话使断断续续到我耳边的片言只语模糊不清。路易莎和玛丽两人在谈论着陌生人，都称他为“美男子”。路易莎说他是位“可爱的家伙”而且“喜欢他”，玛丽列举了“他的小嘴巴和漂亮鼻子”，认为是她心目中理想的魅力所在。
“塑造得多好的额角！”路易莎叫道——“那么光滑——没有那种我讨厌透了的皱眉蹙额的怪样子，而且眼神和笑容多么恬静！”
随后，我总算松了口气，因为亨利．林恩先生把她们叫到房间的另一头，去解决关于推迟去海村工地远足的某个问题了。
此刻我可以把注意力集中到火炉边的一群人上了。我很快就明白来人叫梅森先生。接着我知道他刚到英国，来自某个气候炎热的国家，无疑那就是为什么他脸色那么灰黄，坐得那么靠近火炉，在室内穿着紧身长外衣的原因了。不久，诸如牙买加、金斯敦、西班牙城一类字眼，表明了他在西印度群岛居住过。没过一会儿，我颇为吃惊地了解到，他在那儿初次见到并结交了罗切斯特先生。他谈起他朋友不喜欢那个地区烤人的炎热，不喜欢飓风和雨季。我知道罗切斯特先生曾是位旅行家，费尔法克斯太太这么说过他。不过我想他游荡的足迹只限于欧洲大陆，在这之前我从未听人提起他到过更遥远的海岸。
我正在细想这些事儿的时候，一件事情，一件颇为意外的事情，打断了我的思路。有人碰巧把门打开时，梅森先生哆嗦着要求在炉子上再加些煤，因为尽管大块煤渣依然通红发亮，但火焰已经燃尽。送煤进来的仆人走出去时凑近埃希顿先生低声对他说了什么，我只听清了“老太婆”——“挺讨厌”几个字。
“要是她不走就把她铐起来，”法官回答说。
“不——慢着！”登特上校打断了他。“别把她打发走，埃希顿。我们也许可以利用这件事，还是同女士们商量一下吧。”随后大着嗓门继续说道：“女士们，你们不是说起要去海村工地看一下吉卜赛人营地吗，这会儿萨姆说，现在有位本奇妈妈在仆人的饭厅里，硬要让人带到“有身份”的人面前，替他们算算命。你们愿意见她吗？’”
“上校，”英格拉姆太太叫道，“当然你是不会怂恿这样一个低级骗子的吧？一定要立即把她撵走！”
“不过我没法说服她走，夫人，”仆人说，“别的佣人也不行，现在费尔法克斯太太求她快走，可是她索性在烟囱角落坐了下来，说是不准许她进来她就不走。”
“她要干什么？”埃希顿夫人间。
“她说是‘给老爷们算命’，夫人，她发誓一定得给算一算，说到做到。”
“她长相怎么样？”两位埃希顿小姐异口同声地问道。
“一个丑得吓人的老东西，小姐，差不多跟煤烟一般黑。”
“嗨，她是个道地的女巫了！”弗雷德里克．林恩嚷道，“当然，我们得让她进来。”
“那还用说，”他兄弟回答说，“丢掉这样一个有趣的机会实在太可惜了。”
“亲爱的孩子们，你们认为怎么样？”林恩太太嚷嚷道。
“我可不能支持这种前后矛盾的做法，”英格拉姆夫人插话了。
“说真的，妈妈，可是你能支持——你会的，”响起了布兰奇傲气十足的嗓音，这时她从琴凳上转过身来。刚才她还默默地坐着，显然在仔细翻阅各种乐谱。“我倒有兴趣听听人家算我的命，所以萨姆，把那个丑老太婆给叫进来。”
“布兰奇我的宝贝！再想一想一—”
“我是想了——你建议的，我都细想过了，我得按我的意愿办——快点，萨姆！”
“好——好——好！”年轻人都齐声叫了起来，小姐们和先生们都不例外。“让她进来吧——这会是一场绝妙的游戏：”
仆人依然犹豫不前。“她样子那么粗野，”他说。
“去！”英格拉姆小姐喝道，于是这仆人便走了。
众人便立即激动起来。萨姆返回时，相互正戏谑嘲弄，玩笑开得火热。
“她现在不来了，”他说。“她说了她的使命不是到‘一群庸人（她的话）面前来的。我得带她独个儿进一个房间，然后，想要请教她的人得一个一个去。’”
“现在你明白了吧，我的布兰奇女王”英格拉姆夫人开腔了，“她得寸进尺了。听说，我的天使姑娘——还有——”
“带她进图书室，当然，‘天使姑娘’把话打断了。“在一群庸人面前听她说话也不是我的使命。我要让她单独跟我谈。图书室里生火了吗？”
“生了，小姐——可她完全像个吉卜赛人。”
“别多嘴了，笨蛋！照我吩咐的办。”
萨姆再次消失，神秘、激动、期待的心情再次在人们心头翻腾。
“她现在准备好了，”仆人再次进来说。
“她想知道谁先去见她。”
“我想女士们进去之前还是让我先去瞧一瞧她吧，”登特上校说。
“告诉她，萨姆，一位绅士来了。”
萨姆去了又回来了。
“她说，先生，她不见男士，他们不必费心去接近她了，还有，”他好不容易忍住不笑出声来，补充道“女士们除了年轻单身的也不必见了。”
“天哪！，她倒还挺有眼力呢！”亨利．林恩嚷道。
英格拉姆小姐一本正经地站了起来：“我先去，”她说，那口气好像她是一位带领部下突围的敢死队队长。
“呵，我的好人儿！呵，我最亲爱的！等一等——三思而行！”她妈妈喊道。但是她堂而皇之一声不吭地从她身边走过，进了登特上校为她开着的门，我们听见她进了图书室。
接着是一阵相对的沉寂。英格拉姆太太认为该是搓手的‘lecas’了，于是便搓起手来，玛丽小姐宣布，她觉得换了她是不敢冒险的。艾米和路易莎．埃希顿在低声窃笑，面有惧色。
分分秒秒过得很慢，图书室的门再次打开时，才数到十五分钟。英格拉姆小姐走过拱门回到了我们这里。
她会嗤之以鼻吗？她会一笑了之？——众人都带着急切好奇的目光迎着她，她报之以冷漠的眼神，看上去既不慌张也不愉快，扳着面孔走向自己的座位，默默地坐了下来。
“嗨，布兰奇？”英格拉姆勋爵叫道。
“她说了什么啦，姐姐？”玛丽问。
“你认为怎样？感觉如何？她是个地道算命的吗？”埃希顿姐妹问。
“好了，好了，你们这些好人，”英格拉姆小姐回答道“别硬逼我了，你们的那些主管惊讶和轻信的器官，也实在太容易给激发起来了。你们大家——也包括我的好姐姐——都那么重视这件事——似乎绝对相信这屋子里真有一个与恶魔勾结的巫婆。我见过一个吉卜赛流浪者，她用陈腐的方法操弄着手相术，告诉我她们那些人往往会怎样给人算命。我已经过了解，现在我想埃希顿先生会像他恫吓过的那样，行个好，明天一早把这个丑老婆子铐起来。”
英格拉姆小姐拿了本书，身子往椅背上一靠，不愿再和别人交谈了。我观察了她近半个小时，这半个小时内她没有翻过一页书。她的脸色一瞬间变得更阴沉、更不满，更加愤怒地流露出失望的心情来。显而易见她没有听到过对她有利的话，她那么久久地郁郁不欢、沉默无语，倒似乎使我觉得，尽管她表白自己不在乎，其实对女巫所昭示的，过份重视了。
同时，玛丽.英格拉姆、艾米和路易莎．埃希顿表示不敢单独前往，却又都希望去试试。通过萨姆这位使者的斡旋，她们开始了一场谈判。萨姆多次往返奔波，小腿也想必累疼了。经过一番波折，终于从这位寸步不让的女巫嘴里，讨得许可，让她们三人一起去见她。
她们的拜访可不像英格拉姆小姐的那么安静。我们听见图书室里传来歇斯底里的嬉笑声和轻轻的尖叫声。大约二十分钟后，她们砰地推开了门，奔跑着穿过大厅，仿佛吓得没命儿似的。
“我敢肯定她有些不对头！”她们一齐叫喊起来。“她竟然同我们说这些话！我们的事儿她全知道！”她们各自气喘吁吁地往男士们急着端过来的椅子上砰地坐了下来。
众人缠住她们，要求细说。她们便说，这算命的讲了些她们小时候说过的话，做过的事；描绘了她们家中闺房里所拥有的书和装饰品，不同亲戚分赠给她们的纪念品。她们断定她甚至摸透了她们的想法，在每个人的耳边悄声说出她最喜欢的人的名字，告诉她们各人的夙愿。
说到这里，男客们插嘴了，急急乎请求她们对最后谈到的两点，进一步透露一下。然而面对这些人的纠缠，她们颤栗着脸涨得通红，又是叫呀又是笑。同时太太们递上了香嗅瓶，摇起扇来，还因为没有及时接受她们的劝告，而一再露出不安的表情。年长的男士们大笑不止，年青的赶紧
Chapter 19
THE library looked tranquil enough as I entered it, and the Sibyl- if Sibyl she were- was seated snugly enough in an easy-chair at the chimney-corner. She had on a red cloak and a black bonnet: or rather, a broad-brimmed gipsy hat, tied down with a striped handkerchief under her chin. An extinguished candle stood on the table; she was bending over the fire, and seemed reading in a little black book, like a prayer-book, by the light of the blaze: she muttered the words to herself, as most old women do, while she read; she did not desist immediately on my entrance: it appeared she wished to finish a paragraph.I stood on the rug and warmed my hands, which were rather cold with sitting at a distance from the drawing-room fire. I felt now as composed as ever I did in my life: there was nothing indeed in the gipsy's appearance to trouble one's calm. She shut her book and slowly looked up; her hat-brim partially shaded her face, yet I could see, as she raised it, that it was a strange one. It looked all brown and black: elf-locks bristled out from beneath a white band which passed under her chin, and came half over her cheeks, or rather jaws: her eye confronted me at once, with a bold and direct gaze.
'Well, and you want your fortune told?' she said, in a voice as decided as her glance, as harsh as her features.
'I don't care about it, mother; you may please yourself: but I ought to warn you, I have no faith.' 
'It's like your impudence to say so: I expected it of you; I heard it in your step as you crossed the threshold.'
'Did you? You've a quick ear.'
'I have; and a quick eye and a quick brain.'
'You need them all in your trade.'
'I do; especially when I've customers like you to deal with. Why don't you tremble?'
'I'm not cold.'
'Why don't you turn pale?'
'I am not sick.'
'Why don't you consult my art?'
'I'm not silly.'
The old crone 'nichered' a laugh under her bonnet and bandage; she then drew out a short black pipe, and lighting it began to smoke. Having indulged a while in this sedative, she raised her bent body, took the pipe from her lips, and while gazing steadily at the fire, said very deliberately- 'You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly.'
'Prove it,' I rejoined.
'I will, in few words. You are cold, because you are alone: no contact strikes the fire from you that is in you. You are sick; because the best of feelings, the highest and the sweetest given to man, keeps far away from you. You are silly, because, suffer as you may, you will not beckon it to approach, nor will you stir one step to meet it where it waits you.'
She again put her short black pipe to her lips, and renewed her smoking with vigour.
'You might say all that to almost any one who you knew lived as a solitary dependant in a great house.'
'I might say it to almost any one: but would it be true of almost any one?'
'In my circumstances.'
'Yes; just so, in your circumstances: but find me another precisely placed as you are.'
'It would be easy to find you thousands.'
'You could scarcely find me one. If you knew it, you are peculiarly situated: very near happiness; yes, within reach of it. The materials are all prepared; there only wants a movement to combine them. Chance laid them somewhat apart; let them be once approached and bliss results.'
'I don't understand enigmas. I never could guess a riddle in my life.'
'If you wish me to speak more plainly, show me your palm.'
'And I must cross it with silver, I suppose?'
'To be sure.'
I gave her a shilling: she put it into an old stocking-foot which she took out of her pocket, and having tied it round and returned it, she told me to hold out my hand. I did. She approached her face to the palm, and pored over it without touching it.
'It is too fine,' said she. 'I can make nothing of such a hand as that; almost without lines: besides, what is in a palm? Destiny is not written there.'
'I believe you,' said I.
'No,' she continued, 'it is in the face: on the forehead, about the eyes, in the eyes themselves, in the lines of the mouth. Kneel, and lift up your head.'
'Ah! now you are coming to reality,' I said, as I obeyed her. 'I shall begin to put some faith in you presently.'
I knelt within half a yard of her. She stirred the fire, so that a ripple of light broke from the disturbed coal: the glare, however, as she sat, only threw her face into deeper shadow: mine, it illumined.
'I wonder with what feelings you came to me to-night,' she said, when she had examined me a while. 'I wonder what thoughts are busy in your heart during all the hours you sit in yonder room with the fine people flitting before you like shapes in a magic-lantern: just as little sympathetic communion passing between you and them as if they were really mere shadows of human forms, and not the actual substance.'
'I feel tired often, sleepy sometimes, but seldom sad.'
'Then you have some secret hope to buoy you up and please you with whispers of the future?' 
'Not I. The utmost I hope is, to save money enough out of my earnings to set up a school some day in a little house rented by myself.'
'A mean nutriment for the spirit to exist on: and sitting in that window-seat (you see I know your habits)-'
'You have learned them from the servants.'
'Ah! you think yourself sharp. Well, perhaps I have: to speak truth, I have an acquaintance with one of them, Mrs. Poole-'  I started to my feet when I heard the name.
'You have- have you?' thought I; 'there is diablerie in the business after all, then!'
'Don't be alarmed,' continued the strange being; 'she's a safe hand is Mrs. Poole: close and quiet; any one may repose confidence in her. 
But, as I was saying: sitting in that window-seat, do you think of nothing but your future school? Have you no present interest in any of the company who occupy the sofas and chairs before you? Is there not one face you study? one figure whose movements you follow with at least curiosity?'
'I like to observe all the faces and all the figures.'
'But do you never single one from the rest-or it may be, two?'
'I do frequently; when the gestures or looks of a pair seem telling a tale: it amuses me to watch them.'
'What tale do you like best to hear?'
'Oh, I have not much choice! They generally run on the same theme- courtship; and promise to end in the same catastrophe- marriage.'
'And do you like that monotonous theme?'
'Positively, I don't care about it: it is nothing to me.'
'Nothing to you? When a lady, young and full of life and health, charming with beauty and endowed with the gifts of rank and fortune, sits and smiles in the eyes of a gentleman you-'
'I what?'
'You know- and perhaps think well of.'
'I don't know the gentlemen here. I have scarcely interchanged a syllable with one of them; and as to thinking well of them, I consider some respectable, and stately, and middle-aged, and others young, dashing, handsome, and lively: but certainly they are all at liberty to be the recipients of whose smiles they please, without my feeling disposed to consider the transaction of any moment to me.'
'You don't know the gentlemen here? You have not exchanged a syllable with one of them? Will you say that of the master of the house!'
'He is not at home.'
'A profound remark! A most ingenious quibble! He went to Millcote this morning, and will be back here to-night or to-morrow: does that circumstance exclude him from the list of your acquaintance- blot him, as it were, out of existence?'
'No; but I can scarcely see what Mr. Rochester has to do with the theme you had introduced.'
'I was talking of ladies smiling in the eyes of gentlemen; and of late so many smiles have been shed into Mr. Rochester's eyes that they overflow like two cups filled above the brim: have you never remarked that?'
'Mr. Rochester has a right to enjoy the society of his guests.' 
'No question about his right: but have you never observed that, of all the tales told here about matrimony, Mr. Rochester has been favoured with the most lively and the most continuous?'
'The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator.'
I said this rather to myself than to the gipsy, whose strange talk, voice, manner, had by this time wrapped me in a kind of dream. One unexpected sentence came from her lips after another, till I got involved in a web of mystification; and wondered what unseen spirit had been sitting for weeks by my heart watching its workings and taking record of every pulse.
'Eagerness of a listener!' repeated she: 'yes; Mr. Rochester has sat by the hour, his ear inclined to the fascinating lips that took such delight in their task of communicating; and Mr. Rochester was so willing to receive and looked so grateful for the pastime given him; you have noticed this?'
'Grateful! I cannot remember detecting gratitude in his face.'
'Detecting! You have analysed, then. And what did you detect, if not gratitude?' 
I said nothing.
'You have seen love: have you not?- and, looking forward, you have seen him married, and beheld his bride happy?'
'Humph! Not exactly. Your witch's skill is rather at fault sometimes.'
'What the devil have you seen, then?'
'Never mind: I came here to inquire, not to confess. Is it known that Mr. Rochester is to be married?'
'Yes; and to the beautiful Miss Ingram.'
'Shortly?'
'Appearances would warrant that conclusion: and, no doubt (though, with an audacity that wants chastising out of you, you seem to question it), they will be a superlatively happy pair. He must love such a handsome, noble, witty, accomplished lady; and probably she loves him, or, if not his person, at least his purse. I know she considers the Rochester estate eligible to the last degree; though (God pardon me!) I told her something on that point about an hour ago which made her look wondrous grave: the corners of her mouth fell half an inch. I would advise her black-aviced suitor to look out: if another comes, with a longer or clearer rent-roll,- he's dished-'
'But, mother, I did not come to hear Mr. Rochester's fortune: I came to hear my own; and you have told me nothing of it.'
'Your fortune is yet doubtful: when I examined your face, one trait contradicted another. Chance has meted you a measure of happiness: that I know. I knew it before I came here this evening. She has laid it carefully on one side for you. I saw her do it. It depends on yourself to stretch out your hand, and take it up: but whether you will do so, is the problem I study. Kneel again on the rug.'
'Don't keep me long; the fire scorches me.'
I knelt. She did not stoop towards me, but only gazed, leaning back in her chair. She began muttering,-
'The flame flickers in the eye; the eye shines like dew; it looks soft and full of feeling; it smiles at my jargon; it is susceptible; impression follows impression through its clear sphere; where it ceases to smile, it is sad; an unconscious lassitude weighs on the lid: that signifies melancholy resulting from loneliness. It turns from me; it will not suffer further scrutiny; it seems to deny, by a mocking glance, the truth of the discoveries I have already made,- to disown the charge both of sensibility and chagrin: its pride and reserve only confirm me in my opinion. The eye is favourable. 
'As to the mouth, it delights at times in laughter; it is disposed to impart all that the brain conceives; though I daresay it would be silent on much the heart experiences. Mobile and flexible, it was never intended to be compressed in the eternal silence of solitude; it is a mouth which should speak much and smile often, and have human affection for its interlocutor. That feature too is propitious.
'I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say,- "I can live alone, if self-respect and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give." The forehead declares, "Reason sits firm and holds the reins, and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms. The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision. Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience."
'Well said, forehead; your declaration shall be respected. I have formed my plans- right plans I deem them- and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience, the counsels of reason. I know how soon youth would fade and bloom perish, if, in the cup of bliss offered, but one dreg of shame, or one flavour of remorse were detected; and I do not want sacrifice, sorrow, dissolution- such is not my taste. I wish to foster, not to blight- to earn gratitude, not to wring tears of blood- no, nor of brine: my harvest must be in smiles, in endearments, in sweet- That will do. I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium. I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not. So far I have governed myself thoroughly. I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength. Rise, Miss Eyre: leave me;
"the play is played out."'
Where was I? Did I wake or sleep? Had I been dreaming? Did I dream still? The old woman's voice had changed: her accent, her gesture, and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass- as the speech of my own tongue. I got up, but did not go. I looked; I stirred the fire, and I looked again: but she drew her bonnet and her bandage closer about her face, and again beckoned me to depart. The flame illuminated her hand stretched out: roused now, and on the alert for discoveries, I at once noticed that hand. It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member, with smooth fingers, symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger, and stooping forward, I looked at it, and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before. Again I looked at the face; which was no longer turned from me- on the contrary, the bonnet was doffed, the bandage displaced, the head advanced.
'Well, Jane, do you know me?' asked the familiar voice.
'Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then-'
'But the string is in a knot- help me.'
'Break it, sir.'
'There, then- "Off, ye lendings!"' And Mr. Rochester stepped out of his disguise.
'Now, sir, what a strange idea!'
'But well carried out, eh? Don't you think so?'
'With the ladies you must have managed well.'
'But not with you?'
'You did not act the character of a gipsy with me.'
'What character did I act? My own?'
'No; some unaccountable one. In short, I believe you have been trying to draw me out- or in; you have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense. It is scarcely fair, sir.'
'Do you forgive me, Jane?'
'I cannot tell till I have thought it all over. If, on reflection, I find I have fallen into no great absurdity, I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right.'
'Oh, you have been very correct- very careful, very sensible.' 
I reflected, and thought, on the whole, I had. It was a comfort; but, indeed, I had been on my guard almost from the beginning of the interview. Something of masquerade I suspected. I knew gipsies and fortune-tellers did not express themselves as this seeming old woman had expressed herself; besides I had noted her feigned voice, her anxiety to conceal her features. But my mind had been running on Grace Poole- that living enigma, that mystery of mysteries, as I considered her. I had never thought of Mr. Rochester.
'Well,' said he, 'what are you musing about? What does that grave smile signify?'
'Wonder and self-congratulation, sir. I have your permission to retire now, I suppose?'
'No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing-room yonder are doing.'
'Discussing the gipsy, I daresay.'
'Sit down!- Let me hear what they said about me.'
'I had better not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o'clock.
Oh, are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?'
'A stranger!- no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?'
'No; he said he had known you long, and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned.'
'The devil he did! Did he give his name?'
'His name is Mason, sir; and he comes from the West Indies; from Spanish Town, in Jamaica, I think.'
Mr. Rochester was standing near me; he had taken my hand, as if to lead me to a chair. As I spoke he gave my wrist a convulsive grip; the smile on his lips froze: apparently a spasm caught his breath.
'Mason!- the West Indies!' he said, in the tone one might fancy a speaking automaton to enounce its single words; 'Mason!- the West Indies!' he reiterated; and he went over the syllables three times, growing, in the intervals of speaking, whiter than ashes: he hardly seemed to know what he was doing.
'Do you feel ill, sir?' I inquired.
'Jane, I've got a blow; I've got a blow, Jane!' He staggered. 
'Oh, lean on me, sir.'
'Jane, you offered me your shoulder once before; let me have it now.'
'Yes, sir, yes; and my arm.'
He sat down, and made me sit beside him. Holding my hand in both his own, he chafed it; gazing on me, at the same time, with the most troubled and dreary look.
'My little friend!' said he, 'I wish I were in a quiet island with only you; and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections removed from me.'
'Can I help you, sir?- I'd give my life to serve you.'
'Jane, if aid is wanted, I'll seek it at your hands; I promise you that.'
'Thank you, sir. Tell me what to do,- I'll try, at least, to do it.'
'Fetch me now, Jane, a glass of wine from the dining-room: they will be at supper there; and tell me if Mason is with them, and what he is doing.'
I went. I found all the party in the dining-room at supper, as Mr. Rochester had said; they were not seated at table,- the supper was arranged on the sideboard; each had taken what he chose, and they stood about here and there in groups, their plates and glasses in their hands. Every one seemed in high glee; laughter and conversation were general and animated. Mr. Mason stood near the fire, talking to Colonel and Mrs. Dent, and appeared as merry as any of them. I filled a wine-glass (I saw Miss Ingram watch me frowningly as I did so: she thought I was taking a liberty, I daresay), and I returned to the library.
Mr. Rochester's extreme pallor had disappeared, and he looked once more firm and stern. He took the glass from my hand. 
'Here is to your health, ministrant spirit!' he said. He swallowed the contents and returned it to me. 'What are they doing, Jane?'
'Laughing and talking, sir.'
'They don't look grave and mysterious, as if they had heard something strange?'
'Not at all: they are full of jests and gaiety.'
'And Mason?'
'He was laughing too.'
'If all these people came in a body and spat at me, what would you do, Jane?'
'Turn them out of the room, sir, if I could.'
He half smiled. 'But if I were to go to them, and they only looked at me coldly, and whispered sneeringly amongst each other, and then dropped off and left me one by one, what then? Would you go with them?'
'I rather think not, sir: I should have more pleasure in staying with you.'
'To comfort me?'
'Yes, sir, to comfort you, as well as I could.'
'And if they laid you under a ban for adhering to me?'
'I, probably, should know nothing about their ban; and if I did, I should care nothing about it.'
'Then, you could dare censure for my sake?'
'I could dare it for the sake of any friend who deserved my adherence; as you, I am sure, do.'
'Go back now into the room; step quietly up to Mason, and whisper in his ear that Mr. Rochester is come and wishes to see him: show him in here and then leave me.'
'Yes, sir.'
I did his behest. The company all stared at me as I passed straight among them. I sought Mr. Mason, delivered the message, and preceded him from the room: I ushered him into the library, and then I went upstairs.
At a late hour, after I had been in bed some time, I heard the visitors repair to their chambers: I distinguished Mr. Rochester's voice, and heard him say, 'This way, Mason; this is your room.' 
He spoke cheerfully: the gay tones set my heart at ease. I was soon asleep. 
我进门的时候，图书室显得很安静，那女巫——如果她确实是的话，舒适地坐在烟囱角落的安乐椅上。她身披红色斗篷，头戴一顶黑色女帽，或者不如说宽边吉卜赛帽，用一块条子手帕系到了下巴上。桌子上立着一根熄灭了的蜡烛。她俯身向着火炉，借着火光，似乎在读一本祈祷书般的黑色小书，一面读，一面象大多数老妇人那样，口中念念有词。我进门时她并没有立即放下书来，似乎想把一段读完。
我站在地毯上，暖了暖冰冷的手，因为在客厅时我坐得离火炉较远。这时我像往常那么平静，说实在吉卜赛人的外表没有什么会使我感到不安。她合上书，慢慢抬起头来，帽沿遮住了脸的一部份。但是她扬起头来时，我们能看清楚她的面容很古怪。乱发从绕过下巴的白色带子下钻了出来，漫过半个脸颊，或者不如说下颚。她的目光立即与我的相遇，大胆地直视着我。
“噢，你想要算命吗？”她说，那口气像她的目光那样坚定，像她的五官那样严厉。
“我并不在乎，大妈，随你便吧，不过我得提醒你，我并不相信。”
“说话这么无礼倒是你的脾性，我料定你会这样，你跨过门槛的时候，我从你的脚步声里就听出来了。”
“是吗？你的耳朵真尖。”
“不错，而且眼睛亮，脑子快。”
“干你这一行倒是都需要的。”
“我是需要的，尤其是对付像你这样的顾客的时候。你干嘛不发抖？”
“我并不冷。”
“你为什么脸不发白？”
“我没有病。”
“你为什么不来请教我的技艺？”
“我不傻。”
这老太婆在帽子和带子底下爆发出了一阵笑声。随后取出一个短短的烟筒，点上烟，开始抽了起来。她在这份镇静剂里沉迷了一会儿后，便直起了弯着的腰，从嘴里取下烟筒，一面呆呆地盯着炉火，一面不慌不忙地说：
“你很冷；你有病；你很傻。”
“拿出证据来，”我回答，
“一定，三言两语就行。你很冷，因为你孤身一人，没有交往，激发不了内心的火花。你病了，因为给予男人的最好、最高尚、最甜蜜的感情，与你无缘。你很傻，因为尽管你很痛苦，你却既不会主动去召唤它靠近你，也不会跨出一步，上它等候你的地方去迎接它。”
她再次把那杆黑色的短烟筒放进嘴里，使劲吸了起来。
“凡是你所知道寄居在大房子里的孤独者，你几乎都可以说这样的话。”
“是几乎对谁都可以这么说，但几乎对谁都适用吗？”
“适合处于我这种情况的人。”
“是的，一点也不错，适合你的情况。不过你倒给我找个处境跟你一模一样的人看看。”
“我猜还得在上面放上银币吧？”
“当然。”
我给了她一个先令。她从口袋里掏出一只旧长袜，把钱币放进去，用袜子系好，放回原处。她让我伸出手去，我照办了。她把脸贴近我手掌，细细看了起来，但没有触碰它。
“太细嫩了，”她说。“这样的手我什么也看不出来，几乎没有皱纹。况且，手掌里会有什么呢？命运又不刻在那儿。”
“我相信你，”我说。
“不，”她继续说，“它刻在脸上，在额头，在眼睛周围，在眸子里面，在嘴巴的线条上。跪下来，抬起你的头来。”
“哦！你现在可回到现实中来了，”我一面按她的话做，一面说。“我马上开始有些相信你了。”
我跪在离她半码远的地方。她拨着炉火，在翻动过的煤块中，射出了一轮光圈。因为她坐着，那光焰只会使她的脸蒙上更深的阴影，而我的面容却被照亮了。
“我不知道你是带着什么样的心情上我这儿来的，”她仔细打量了我一会儿后说。“你在那边房间里，几小时几小时枯坐着，面对一群贵人，象幻灯中的影子那么晃动着，这时你心里会有什么想法呢，这些人与你没有什么情感的交流，好像不过是外表似人的影子，而不是实实在在的人。”
“我常觉得疲倦，有时很困，但很少悲伤。”
“那你有某种秘密的愿望支撑着你，预告着你的将来，使你感到高兴。”
“我才不这样呢。我的最大愿望，是积攒下足够的钱，将来自己租一间小小的房子，办起学校来。”
“养料不足，精神无法依存，况且坐在窗台上（你明白了她知道我的习惯）——”
“你是从仆人那儿打听来的。”
“呵，你自以为灵敏。好吧——也许我是这样。跟你说实话，我同其中一位——普尔太太——相识。”
一听到这个名字，我立刻惊跳起来。
“你认识她——是吗？”我思忖道，“那么，这里头看来是有魔法了。”
“别惊慌，”这个怪人继续说，“普尔太太很可靠，嘴巴紧，话不多。谁都可以信赖。不过像我说的，坐在窗台上，你就光想将来办学校，别的什么也不想？那些坐在你面前沙发上和椅子上的人，眼下你对其中哪一位感兴趣吗？你一张面孔都没有仔细端详过吗？至少出于好奇，你连一个人的举动都没有去注意过？”
“我喜欢观察所有的面孔和所有的身影。”
“可是你没有撇开其余，光盯住一个人——或者，也许两个？”
“我经常这么做，那是在两个人的手势和神色似乎在叙述一个故事的时候，注视他们对我来说是一种乐趣。”
“你最喜欢听什么故事？”
“呵，我没有多大选择的余地：它们一般奏的都是同一主题——求婚，而且都预示着同一灾难性的结局——结婚。”
“你喜欢这单调的主题吗？”
“我一点也不在乎，这与我无关。”
“与你无关？有这样一位小姐，她既年轻活泼健康，又美丽动人，而且财富和地位与生俱来，坐在一位绅士的面前，笑容可掬，而你——”
“我怎么样？”
“你认识——而且也许还有好感。”
“我并不了解这儿的先生们。我几乎同谁都没有说过一句话。至于对他们有没有好感，我认为有几位高雅庄重，已到中年；其余几位年青、潇洒、漂亮、活跃。当然他们有充分自由，爱接受谁的笑就接受谁的笑，我不必把感情介入进去，考虑这件事对我是否至关重要。”
“你不了解这儿的先生们吗？你没有同谁说过一句话？你对屋里的主人也这么说吗？”
“他不在家。”
“讲得多玄妙！多么高明的诡辩：今天早上他上米尔科特去了，要到夜里或者明天早上才回来，难道因为这临时的情况，你就把他排除在熟人之外——仿佛完全抹煞他的存在？”
“不，但我几乎不明白罗切斯特先生与你提出的主题有什么关系。”
“我刚才谈到女士们在先生们眼前笑容满面，最近那么多笑容注进了罗切斯特先生的眼里，他的双眼就像两只满得快要溢出来的杯子，你对此从来没有想法吗？”
“罗切斯特先生有权享受同宾客们交往的乐趣。”
“毫无问题他有这权利，可是你没有觉察到吗，这里所议论到的婚姻传闻中，罗切斯特先生有幸被人谈得最起劲，而且人们一直兴趣不减吗？”
“听的人越焦急，说的人越起劲。”我与其说是讲给吉卜赛人听，还不如说在自言自语。这时吉卜赛人奇怪的谈话、噪音和举动己使我进入了一种梦境，意外的话从她嘴里一句接一句吐出来，直至我陷进了一张神秘的网络，怀疑有什么看不见的精灵，几周来一直守在我心坎里，观察着心的运转，记录下了每次搏动。
“听的人越焦急？”她重复了一遍。“不错，此刻罗切斯特先生是坐在那儿，侧耳倾听着那迷人的嘴巴在兴高彩烈地交谈。罗切斯特先生十分愿意接受，并且后来十分感激提供给他的消遣，你注意到这点了吗？”
“感激！我并不记得在他脸上察觉到过感激之情。”
“察觉！你还分析过呢。如果不是感激之情，那你察觉到了什么？”
我什么也没有说。
“你看到了爱，不是吗，而且往前一看，你看到他们结了婚，看到了他的新娘快乐吗？”
“哼！不完全如此。有时候你的巫技也会出差错。”
“那么你到底看到了什么？”
“你别管了，我是来询问，不是来表白的，不是谁都知道罗切斯特先生要结婚了吗？”
“是的，同漂亮的英格拉姆小姐。”
“马上？”
“种种迹象将证实这一结论（虽然你真该挨揍，竟敢大胆提出疑问），毫无疑问，他们会是无比快乐的一对。他一定会喜爱这样一位美丽、高贵、风趣、多才多艺的小姐，而很可能她也爱他，要不如果不是爱他本人，至少爱他的钱包。我知道她认为罗切斯特家的财产是十分合意的（上帝宽恕我），虽然一小时之前我在这事儿上给她透了点风，她听了便沉下了脸，嘴角挂下了半英寸。我会劝她的黑脸求婚者小心为是，要是又来个求婚的人，房租地租的收入更丰，——那他就完蛋——”
“可是，大妈，我不是来听你替罗切斯特先生算命的，我来听你算我的命，你却一点也没有谈过呢。”，
“你的命运还很难确定。我看了你的脸相，各个特征都相互矛盾。命运赐给了你一份幸福，这我知道，是我今晚来这里之前晓得的。她已经小心翼翼地替你把幸福放在一边，我看见她这么干的。现在就看你自己伸手去把它抢起来了，不过你是否愿意这么做，是我要琢磨的问题。?饔《热旱海　彼?钅钣写剩?涯羌父鲎种馗戳巳?椋?祷暗募湎叮?成?准铀阑遥?负醪恢?雷约涸诟墒裁础?br> “你不舒服，先生？”我问。
“简，我受了打击，——我受了打击，简！”他身子摇摇晃晃。
“呵！——靠在我身上，先生。”
“简，你的肩膀曾支撑过我，现在再支撑一回吧。”
“好的，先生，好的，还有我的胳膊。”
他坐了下来，让我坐在他旁边，用双手握住我的手，搓了起来，同时黯然神伤地凝视着我。
“我的小朋友，”他说，“我真希望呆在一个平静的小岛上，只有你我在一起，烦恼、危险、讨厌的往事都离我们远远的。”
“我能帮助你吗，先生？——我愿献出生命，为你效劳。”
“简，要是我需要援手，我会找你帮忙，我答应你。”
“谢谢你，先生。告诉我该干什么——至少我会尽力的。”
“简，替我从餐室里拿杯酒来，他们会都在那里吃晚饭，告诉我梅森是不是同他们在一起，他在干什么?赤绲幕独侄急话?幔?蛘呋独值拇?鄹哂谖业某ジ赌芰κ保??苁刮一钕氯ァ！?钔反笊?档溃??碇俏茸?欢??粑甄稚??蝗们楦姓跬眩??约捍?牖奈叩纳钤ā＜で榛嵯蟮赖氐囊旖掏侥茄?衽?厍阈海???岬⒂谛槲掮蚊斓幕孟耄??桥卸显诿看握?粗腥猿钟芯龆ㄈǎ?诿恳痪霾咧姓莆兆派?镭?氐囊黄薄？穹纭⒌卣鸷退?炙淙欢蓟峤盗伲??医??幽且廊幌肝⒌纳?舻闹敢??蛭?撬?馐土肆夹牡拿?睢！?br> 说得好，前额，你的宣言将得到尊重。我已经订好了计划——我认为是正确的计划——内中我照应到良心的要求，理智的忠告。我明白在端上来的幸福之杯中，只要发现一块耻辱的沉渣，一丝悔恨之情，青春就会很快逝去，花朵就会立即凋零。而我不要牺牲、悲伤和死亡——这些不合我的口味。我希望培植，不希望摧残——希望赢得感激，而不是拧出血泪来——不，不是泪水；我的收获必须是微笑、抚慰和甜蜜——这样才行。我想我是在美梦中呓语，我真想把眼前这一刻adinfinitum延长，但我不敢。到现在为止，我自我控制得很好，像心里暗暗发誓的那样行动，但是再演下去也许要经受一场非我力所能及的考验。起来，爱小姐，离开我吧，‘戏已经演完了’。”
我在哪儿呢？是醒着还是睡着了？我一直在做梦吗？此刻还在做？这老太婆已换了嗓门。她的口音、她的手势、她的一切，就象镜中我自己的面孔，也象我口中说的话，我都非常熟悉。我立起身来，但并没有走，我瞧了瞧，拨了拨火，再瞧了她一下，但是她把帽子和绷带拉得紧贴在脸上，而且再次摆手让我走。火焰照亮了她伸出的手。这时我已清醒，一心想发现什么，立即注意到了这只手。跟我的手一样，这不是只老年人干枯的手，它丰满柔软，手指光滑而匀称，一个粗大的戒指在小手指上闪闪发光。我弯腰凑过去细瞧了一下，看到了一块我以前见过上百次的宝石。我再次打量了那张脸，这回可没有避开我——相反，帽子脱了，绷带也扯了，脑袋伸向了我。
“嗨，简，你认识我吗？”那熟悉的口音问。
“你只要脱下红色的斗篷，先生，那就——”
“可是这绳子打了结——帮我一下。”
“扯断它，先生。”
“好吧，那么——”“脱下来，你们这些身外之物！”罗切斯特先生脱去了伪装。
“哦，先生，这是个多奇怪的主意！”
“不过干得很好，嗯？你不这样想吗？”
“对付女士们，你也许应付得很好。”
“但对你不行？”
“你并没对我扮演吉卜赛人的角色。”
“我演了什么角色啦？我自己吗？”
“不，某个无法理解的人物。总之，我相信你一直要把我的话套出来，——或者把我也扯进去。你一直在胡说八道为的是让我也这样，这很难说是公平的，先生。”
“你宽恕我吗，简？”
“我要仔细想想后才能回答。如果经过考虑我觉得自己并没有干出荒唐的事来，那我会努力宽恕你的，不过这样做不对。”
“呵，你刚才一直做得很对——非常谨慎，非常明智。”
我沉思了一下，大体认为自己是这样。那是一种愉快。不过说实在一与他见面我便已存戒心，怀疑是一种假面游戏，我知道吉卜赛人和算命的人的谈吐，不像那个假老太婆。此外，我还注意到了她的假嗓子，注意到了她要遮掩自己面容的焦急心情。可是我脑子里一直想着格雷斯．普尔——那个活着的谜，因此压根儿没有想到罗切斯特先生。
“好吧，”他说，“你呆呆地在想什么呀？那严肃的笑容是什么意思？”
“惊讶和庆幸，先生。我想，现在你可以允许我离开了吧？”
“不，再呆一会儿。告诉我那边会客室里的人在干什么？”
“我想是在议论那个吉卜赛人。”
“坐下，坐下！——讲给我听听他们说我什么啦？”
“我还是不要久待好，先生。准己快十一点了。呵！你可知道，罗切斯特先生，你早晨走后，有位陌生人到了。”
“陌生人！——不，会是谁呢？我并没有盼谁来，他走了吗？”
“没有呢，他说他与你相识很久，可以冒昧地住下等到你回来。”
“见鬼！他可说了姓名？”
“他的名字叫梅森，先生，他是从西印度群岛来的，我想是牙买加的西班牙城。”
罗切斯特先生正站在我身旁。他拉住了我的手，仿佛要领我坐到一条椅子上。我一说出口，他便一阵痉挛，紧紧抓住我的手，嘴上的笑容冻结了，显然一阵抽搐使他透不过气来。
“梅森！——西印度群岛！”他说，那口气使人想起一架自动说话机，吐着单个词汇：“梅森！——西印度群岛！”他念念有词，把那几个字重复了三遍，说话的间隙，脸色白加死灰，几乎不知道自己在干什么。
“你不舒服，先生？”我问。
“简，我受了打击，——我受了打击，简！”他身子摇摇晃晃。
“呵！——靠在我身上，先生。”
“简，你的肩膀曾支撑过我，现在再支撑一回吧。”
“好的，先生，好的，还有我的胳膊。”
他坐了下来，让我坐在他旁边，用双手握住我的手，搓了起来，同时黯然神伤地凝视着我。
“我的小朋友，”他说，“我真希望呆在一个平静的小岛上，只有你我在一起，烦恼、危险、讨厌的往事都离我们远远的。”
“我能帮助你吗，先生？——我愿献出生命，为你效劳。”
“简，要是我需要援手，我会找你帮忙，我答应你。”
“谢谢你，先生。告诉我该干什么——至少我会尽力的。”
“简，替我从餐室里拿杯酒来，他们会都在那里吃晚饭，告诉我梅森是不是同他们在一起，他在干什么？”
我去了。如罗切斯特先生所说，众人都在餐室用晚饭。他们没有围桌而坐，晚餐摆在餐具柜上，各人取了自已爱吃的东西，零零落落地成群站着，手里端了盘子和杯子。大家似乎都兴致勃勃，谈笑风生，气氛十分活跃。梅森先生站在火炉旁，同登特上校和登特太太在交谈，显得和其余的人一样愉快。我斟满酒（我看见英格拉姆小姐皱眉蹙额地看着我，我猜想她认为我太放肆了），回到了图书室。
罗切斯特先生极度苍白的脸已经恢复神色，再次显得镇定自若了。他从我手里接过酒杯。
“祝你健康，助人的精灵！”他说着，一口气喝下了酒，把杯子还给我。“他们在干什么呀，简？”
“谈天说笑，先生。”
“他们看上去不像是听到过什么奇闻那般显得严肃和神秘吗！”
“一点也没有——大家都开开玩笑，快快乐乐。”
“梅森呢？”
“也在一起说笑。”
“要是这些人抱成一团唾弃我，你会怎么办呢？”
“把他们赶出去，先生，要是我能够。”
他欲笑又止。“如果我上他们那儿去，他们只是冷冷地看着我，彼此还讥嘲地窃窃私语，随后便一个个离去，那怎么办呢？你会同他们一起走吗？”
“我想我不会走，先生。同你在一起我会更愉快。”
“为了安慰我？”
“是的，先生，尽我的力量安慰你。”
“要是他们禁止你跟着我呢？”
“很可能我对他们的禁令一无所知，就是知道我也根本不在乎。”
“那你为了我就不顾别人责难了？”
“任何一位朋友，如值得我相守，我会全然不顾责难。我深信你就是这样一位朋友。”
“回到客厅去吧，轻轻走到梅森身边，悄悄地告诉他罗切斯特先生已经到了，希望见他。把他领到这里来，随后你就走。”
“好的，先生。”
我按他的吩咐办了。宾客们都瞪着眼睛看我从他们中间直穿而过。我找到了梅森先生，传递了信息，走在他前面离开了房间。领他进了图书室后，我便上楼去了。
深夜时分，我上床后过了好些时候，我听见客人们才各自回房，也听得出罗切斯特先生的嗓音，只听见他说：“这儿走，梅森，这是你的房间。”
他高兴地说着话，那欢快的调门儿使我放下心来，我很快就睡着了。
Chapter 20
I HAD forgotten to draw my curtain, which I usually did, and also to let down my window-blind. The consequence was, that when the moon, which was full and bright (for the night was fine), came in her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement, and looked in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me.Awaking in the dead of night, I opened my eyes on her disk- silver-white and crystal clear. It was beautiful, but too solemn: I half rose, and stretched my arm to draw the curtain.
Good God! What a cry! 
The night- its silence- its rest, was rent in twain by a savage, a sharp, a shrilly sound that ran from end to end of Thornfield Hall.
My pulse stopped: my heart stood still; my stretched arm was paralysed. The cry died, and was not renewed. Indeed, whatever being uttered that fearful shriek could not soon repeat it: not the widest-winged condor on the Andes could, twice in succession, send out such a yell from the cloud shrouding his eyrie. The thing delivering  such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort. 
It came out of the third storey; for it passed overhead. And overhead- yes, in the room just above my chamber-ceiling- I now heard a struggle: a deadly one it seemed from the noise; and a half-smothered voice shouted-
'Help! help! help!' three times rapidly.
'Will no one come?' it cried; and then, while the staggering and stamping went on wildly, I distinguished through plank and plaster:- 
'Rochester! Rochester! for God's sake, come!'
A chamber-door opened: some one ran, or rushed, along the gallery. Another step stamped on the flooring above and something fell; and there was silence.
I had put on some clothes, though horror shook all my limbs; I issued from my apartment. The sleepers were all aroused: ejaculations, terrified murmurs sounded in every room; door after door unclosed; one looked out and another looked out; the gallery filled. Gentlemen and ladies alike had quitted their beds; and 'Oh! what is it?'- 'Who is hurt?'- 'What has happened?'- 'Fetch a light!'- 'Is it fire?'- 'Are there robbers?'- 'Where shall we run?' was demanded confusedly on all hands. But for the moon-light they would have been in complete darkness. They ran to and fro; they crowded together: some sobbed, some stumbled: the confusion was inextricable.
'Where the devil is Rochester?' cried Colonel Dent. 'I cannot find him in his bed.'
'Here! here!' was shouted in return. 'Be composed, all of you:
I'm coming.'
And the door at the end of the gallery opened, and Mr. Rochester advanced with a candle: he had just descended from the upper storey.
One of the ladies ran to him directly; she seized his arm: it was Miss Ingram.
'What awful event has taken place?' said she. 'Speak! let us know the worst at once!'
'But don't pull me down or strangle me,' he replied: for the Misses  Eshton were clinging about him now; and the two dowagers, in vast white wrappers, were bearing down on him like ships in full sail.
'All's right!- all's right!' he cried. 'It's a mere rehearsal of Much Ado about Nothing. Ladies, keep off, or I shall wax dangerous.'
And dangerous he looked: his black eyes darted sparks. Calming himself by an effort, he added-
'A servant has had the nightmare; that is all. She's an excitable, nervous person: she construed her dream into an apparition, or something of that sort, no doubt; and has taken a fit with fright. Now, then, I must see you all back into your rooms; for, till the house is settled, she cannot be looked after. Gentlemen, have the goodness to set the ladies the example. Miss Ingram, I am sure you will not fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors. Amy and Louisa, return to your nests like a pair of doves, as you are. Mesdames' (to the dowagers), 'you will take cold to a dead certainty, if you stay in this chill gallery any longer.'
And so, by dint of alternate coaxing and commanding, he contrived to get them all once more enclosed in their separate dormitories. I did not wait to be ordered back to mine, but retreated unnoticed, as unnoticed I had left it.
Not, however, to go to bed: on the contrary, I began and dressed myself carefully. The sounds I had heard after the scream, and the words that had been uttered, had probably been heard only by me; for they had proceeded from the room above mine: but they assured me that it was not a servant's dream which had thus struck horror through the house; and that the explanation Mr. Rochester had given was merely an invention framed to pacify his guests. I dressed, then, to be ready for emergencies. When dressed, I sat a long time by the window looking out over the silent grounds and silvered fields and waiting for I knew not what. It seemed to me that some event must follow the strange cry, struggle, and call.
No: stillness returned: each murmur and movement ceased gradually, and in about an hour Thornfield Hall was again as hushed as a desert. It seemed that sleep and night had resumed their empire.
Meantime the moon declined: she was about to set. Not liking to sit in the cold and darkness, I thought I would lie down on my bed, dressed as I was. I left the window, and moved with little noise across the carpet; as I stooped to take off my shoes, a cautious hand tapped low at the door.
'Am I wanted?' I asked.
'Are you up?' asked the voice I expected to hear, viz., my master's.
'Yes, sir.'
'And dressed?'
'Yes.'
'Come out, then, quietly.'
I obeyed. Mr. Rochester stood in the gallery holding a light.
'I want you,' he said: 'come this way: take your time, and make no noise.'
My slippers were thin: I could walk the matted floor as softly as a cat. He glided up the gallery and up the stairs, and stopped in the dark, low corridor of the fateful third storey: I had followed and stood at his side.
'Have you a sponge in your room?' he asked in a whisper.
'Yes, sir.'
'Have you any salts- volatile salts?'
'Yes.'
'Go back and fetch both.'
I returned, sought the sponge on the washstand, the salts in my drawer, and once more retraced my steps. He still waited; he held a key in his hand: approaching one of the small, black doors, he put it in the lock; he paused, and addressed me again.
'You don't turn sick at the sight of blood?'
'I think I shall not: I have never been tried yet.'
I felt a thrill while I answered him; but no coldness, and no faintness.
'Just give me your hand,' he said: 'it will not do to risk a fainting fit.'
I put my fingers into his. 'Warm and steady,' was his remark: he turned the key and opened the door.
I saw a room I remembered to have seen before, the day Mrs. Fairfax showed me over the house: it was hung with tapestry; but the tapestry was now looped up in one part, and there was a door apparent, which had then been concealed. This door was open; a light shone out of the room within: I heard thence a snarling, snatching sound, almost like a dog quarrelling. Mr. Rochester, putting down his candle, said to me, 'Wait a minute,' and he went forward to the inner apartment.
A shout of laughter greeted his entrance; noisy at first, and terminating in Grace Poole's own goblin ha! ha! She then was there. He made some sort of arrangement without speaking, though I heard a low voice address him: he came out and closed the door behind him.
'Here, Jane!' he said; and I walked round to the other side of a large bed, which with its drawn curtains concealed a considerable portion of the chamber. An easy-chair was near the bed-head: a man sat in it, dressed with the exception of his coat; he was still; his head leant back; his eyes were closed. Mr. Rochester held the candle over him; I recognised in his pale and seemingly lifeless face- the stranger, Mason: I saw too that his linen on one side and one arm, was almost soaked in blood.
'Hold the candle,' said Mr. Rochester, and I took it: he fetched a basin of water from the washstand: 'Hold that,' said he. I obeyed.
He took the sponge, dipped it in, and moistened the corpse-like face; he asked for my smelling-bottle, and applied it to the nostrils.
Mr. Mason shortly unclosed his eyes; he groaned. Mr. Rochester opened the shirt of the wounded man, whose arm and shoulder were bandaged: he sponged away blood, trickling fast down.
'Is there immediate danger?' murmured Mr. Mason.
'Pooh! No- a mere scratch. Don't be so overcome, man: bear up! I'll fetch a surgeon for you now, myself: you'll be able to be removed by morning, I hope. Jane,' he continued.
'Sir?'
'I shall have to leave you in this room with this gentleman, for an hour, or perhaps two hours: you will sponge the blood as I do when it returns: if he feels faint, you will put the glass of water on that stand to his lips, and your salts to his nose. You will not speak to him on any pretext- and- Richard, it will be at the peril of your life if you speak to her: open your lips- agitate yourself- and I'll not answer for the consequences.'
Again the poor man groaned; he looked as if he dared not move; fear, either of death or of something else, appeared almost to paralyse him. Mr. Rochester put the now bloody sponge into my hand, and I proceeded to use it as he had done. He watched me a second, then saying, 'Remember!- No conversation,' he left the room. I experienced a strange feeling as the key grated in the lock, and the sound of his retreating step ceased to be heard.
Here then I was in the third storey, fastened into one of its mystic cells; night around me; a pale and bloody spectacle under my eyes and hands; a murderess hardly separated from me by a single door: yes- that was appalling- the rest I could bear; but I shuddered at the thought of Grace Poole bursting out upon me.
I must keep to my post, however. I must watch this ghastly countenance- these blue, still lips forbidden to unclose- these eyes now shut, now opening, now wandering through the room, now fixing on me, and ever glazed with the dulness of horror. I must dip my hand again and again in the basin of blood and water, and wipe away the trickling gore. I must see the light of the unsnuffed candle wane on my employment; the shadows darken on the wrought, antique tapestry round me, and grow black under the hangings of the vast old bed, and quiver strangely over the doors of a great cabinet opposite- whose front, divided into twelve panels, bore, in grim design, the heads of the twelve apostles, each enclosed in its separate panel as in a frame; while above them at the top rose an ebon crucifix and a dying Christ.
According as the shifting obscurity and flickering gleam hovered here or glanced there, it was now the bearded physician, Luke, that bent his brow; now St. John's long hair that waved; and anon the devilish face of Judas, that grew out of the panel, and seemed gathering life and threatening a revelation of the arch-traitor- ofSatan himself- in his subordinate's form.
Amidst all this, I had to listen as well as watch: to listen for the movements of the wild beast or the fiend in yonder side den. But since Mr. Rochester's visit it seemed spellbound: all the night I heard but three sounds at three long intervals,- a step creak, a momentary renewal of the snarling, canine noise, and a deep human groan.
Then my own thoughts worried me. What crime was this, that lived incarnate in this sequestered mansion, and could neither be expelled nor subdued by the owner?- what mystery, that broke out now in fire and now in blood, at the deadest hours of night? What creature was it, that, masked in an ordinary woman's face and shape, uttered the voice, now of a mocking demon, and anon of a carrion-seeking bird of prey?
And this man I bent over- this commonplace, quiet stranger- how had he become involved in the web of horror? and why had the Fury flown at him? What made him seek this quarter of the house at an untimely season, when he should have been asleep in bed? I had heard Mr. Rochester assign him an apartment below- what brought him here? And why, now, was he so tame under the violence or treachery done him? Why did he so quietly submit to the concealment Mr. Rochester enforced?
Why did Mr. Rochester enforce this concealment? His guest had been outraged, his own life on a former occasion had been hideously plotted against; and both attempts he smothered in secrecy and sank in oblivion! Lastly, I saw Mr. Mason was submissive to Mr. Rochester; that the impetuous will of the latter held complete sway over the inertness of the former: the few words which had passed between them assured me of this. It was evident that in their former intercourse, the passive disposition of the one had been habitually influenced by the active energy of the other: whence then had arisen Mr. Rochester's dismay when he heard of Mr. Mason's arrival? Why had the mere name of this unresisting individual- whom his word now sufficed to control like a child- fallen on him, a few hours since, as a thunderbolt might fall on an oak?
Oh! I could not forget his look and his paleness when he whispered: 'Jane, I have got a blow- I have got a blow, Jane.' I could not forget how the arm had trembled which he rested on my shoulder: and it was no light matter which could thus bow the resolute spirit and thrill the vigorous frame of Fairfax Rochester.
'When will he come? When will he come?' I cried inwardly, as the night lingered and lingered- as my bleeding patient drooped, moaned, sickened: and neither day nor aid arrived. I had, again and again, held the water to Mason's white lips; again and again offered him the stimulating salts: my efforts seemed ineffectual: either bodily or mental suffering, or loss of blood, or all three combined, were fast prostrating his strength. He moaned so, and looked so weak, wild, and lost, I feared he was dying; and I might not even speak to him.
The candle, wasted at last, went out; as it expired, I perceived streaks of grey light edging the window curtains: dawn was then approaching. Presently I heard Pilot bark far below, out of his distant kennel in the courtyard: hope revived. Nor was it unwarranted: in five minutes more the grating key, the yielding lock, warned me my watch was relieved. It could not have lasted more than two hours: many a week has seemed shorter.
Mr. Rochester entered, and with him the surgeon he had been to fetch.
'Now, Carter, be on the alert,' he said to this last: 'I give you but half an hour for dressing the wound, fastening the bandages, getting the patient downstairs and all.'
'But is he fit to move, sir?'
'No doubt of it; it is nothing serious; he is nervous, his spirits must be kept up. Come, set to work.'
Mr. Rochester drew back the thick curtain, drew up the holland blind, let in all the daylight he could; and I was surprised and cheered to see how far dawn was advanced: what rosy streaks were beginning to brighten the east. Then he approached Mason, whom the surgeon was already handling.
'Now, my good fellow, how are you?' he asked. 
'She's done for me, I fear,' was the faint reply.
'Not a whit!- courage! This day fortnight you'll hardly be a pin the worse of it: you've lost a little blood; that's all. Carter, assure him there's no danger.'
'I can do that conscientiously,' said Carter, who had now undone the bandages; 'only I wish I could have got here sooner: he would not have bled so much- but how is this? The flesh on the shoulder is torn as well as cut. This wound was not done with a knife: there have been teeth here!'
'She bit me,' he murmured. 'She worried me like a tigress, when Rochester got the knife from her.'
'You should not have yielded: you should have grappled with her at once,' said Mr. Rochester.
'But under such circumstances, what could one do?' returned Mason. 'Oh, it was frightful!' he added, shuddering. 'And I did not expect it: she looked so quiet at first.'
'I warned you,' was his friend's answer; 'I said- be on your guard when you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till to-morrow, and had me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the interview to-night, and alone.'
'I thought I could have done some good.'
'You thought! you thought! Yes, it makes me impatient to hear you: but, however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer enough for not taking my advice; so I'll say no more. Carter- hurry!- hurry! The sun will soon rise, and I must have him off.'
'Directly, sir; the shoulder is just bandaged. I must look to this other wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think.' 
'She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart,' said Mason.
I saw Mr. Rochester shudder: a singularly marked expression of disgust, horror, hatred, warped his countenance almost to distortion, but he only said-
'Come, be silent, Richard, and never mind her gibberish: don't repeat it.'
'I wish I could forget it,' was the answer.
'You will when you are out of the country: when you get back to Spanish Town, you may think of her as dead and buried- or rather, you need not think of her at all.'
'Impossible to forget this night!'
'It is not impossible: have some energy, man. You thought you were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now. There!- Carter has done with you or nearly so; I'll make you decent in a trice. Jane' (he turned to me for the first time since his re-entrance), 'take this key: go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room: open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and neck-handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble.'
I went; sought the repository he had mentioned, found the articles named, and returned with them.
'Now,' said he, 'go to the other side of the bed while I order his toilet; but don't leave the room: you may be wanted again.'
I retired as directed.
'Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane?' inquired Mr. Rochester presently.
'No, sir; all was very still.'
'We shall get you off cannily, Dick: and it will be better, both for your sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder. I have striven long to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at last. Here, Carter, help him on with his waistcoat. Where did you leave your furred cloak? You can't travel a mile without that, I know, in this damned cold climate. In your room?- Jane, run down to Mr. Mason's room,- the one next mine,- and fetch a cloak you will see there.'
Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined and edged with fur.
'Now, I've another errand for you,' said my untiring master; you must away to my room again. What a mercy you are shod with velvet, Jane!- a clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture. You must open the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little phial and a little glass you will find there,- quick!'
I flew thither and back, bringing the desired vessels. 
'That's well! Now, doctor, I shall take the liberty of administering a dose myself, on my own responsibility. I got this cordial at Rome, of an Italian charlatan- a fellow you would have kicked, Carter. It is not a thing to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion: as now, for instance. Jane, a little water.'
He held out the tiny glass, and I half-filled it from the water-bottle on the washstand.
'That will do;- now wet the lip of the phial.'
I did so; he measured twelve drops of a crimson liquid, and presented it to Mason.
'Drink, Richard: it will give you the heart you lack, for an hour or so.'
'But will it hurt me?- is it inflammatory?'
'Drink! drink! drink!'
Mr. Mason obeyed, because it was evidently useless to resist. He was dressed now: he still looked pale, but he was no longer gory and sullied. Mr. Rochester let him sit three minutes after he had swallowed the liquid; he then took his arm-
'Now I am sure you can get on your feet,' he said- 'try.' The patient rose.
'Carter, take him under the other shoulder. Be of good cheer, Richard; step out- that's it!'
'I do feel better,' remarked Mr. Mason.
'I am sure you do. Now, Jane, trip on before us away to the backstairs; unbolt the side-passage door, and tell the driver of the post-chaise you will see in the yard- or just outside, for I told him not to drive his rattling wheels over the pavement- to be ready; we are coming: and, Jane, if any one is about, come to the foot of the stairs and hem.'
It was by this time half-past five, and the sun was on the point of rising; but I found the kitchen still dark and silent. The side-passage door was fastened; I opened it with as little noise as possible: all the yard was quiet; but the gates stood wide open, and there was a post-chaise, with horses ready harnessed, and driver seated on the box, stationed outside. I approached him, and said the gentlemen were coming; he nodded: then I looked carefully round and listened. The stillness of early morning slumbered everywhere; the curtains were yet drawn over the servants' chamber windows; little birds were just twittering in the blossom-blanched orchard trees, whose boughs drooped like white garlands over the wall enclosing one side of the yard; the carriage horses stamped from time to time in their closed stables: all else was still.
The gentlemen now appeared. Mason, supported by Mr. Rochester and the surgeon, seemed to walk with tolerable ease: they assisted him into the chaise; Carter followed.
'Take care of him,' said Mr. Rochester to the latter, 'and keep him at your house till he is quite well: I shall ride over in a day or two to see how he gets on. Richard, how is it with you?'
'The fresh air revives me, Fairfax.'
'Leave the window open on his side, Carter; there is no wind- good-bye, Dick.'
'Fairfax-'
'Well, what is it?'
'Let her be taken care of; let her be treated as tenderly as may be: let her- ' he stopped and burst into tears.
'I do my best; and have done it, and will do it,' was the answer: he shut up the chaise door, and the vehicle drove away.
'Yet would to God there was an end of all this!' added Mr. Rochester, as he closed and barred the heavy yard-gates.
This done, he moved with slow step and abstracted air towards a door in the wall bordering the orchard. I, supposing he had done with me, prepared to return to the house; again, however, I heard him call 'Jane!' He had opened the portal and stood at it, waiting for me.
'Come where there is some freshness, for a few moments,' he said;
'that house is a mere dungeon: don't you feel it so?'
'It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir.'
'The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes,' he answered; 
'and you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that the gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that the marble is sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly bark. Now here' (he pointed to the leafy enclosure we had entered) 'all is real, sweet, and pure.'
He strayed down a walk edged with box, with apple trees, pear trees, and cherry trees on one side, and a border on the other full of all sorts of old-fashioned flowers, stocks, sweet-williams, primroses, pansies, mingled with southernwood, sweet-briar, and various fragrant herbs. They were  fresh now as a succession of April showers and gleams, followed by a lovely spring morning, could make them: the sun was just entering the dappled east, and his light illumined the wreathed and dewy orchard trees and shone down the quiet walks under them.
'Jane, will you have a flower?'
He gathered a half-blown rose, the first on the bush, and offered
it to me.
'Thank you, sir.'
'Do you like this sunrise, Jane? That sky with its high and light
clouds which are sure to melt away as the day waxes warm- this
placid and balmy atmosphere?'
'I do, very much.'
'You have passed a strange night, Jane.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And it has made you look pale- were you afraid when I left you alone with Mason?'
'I was afraid of some one coming out of the inner room.'
'But I had fastened the door- I had the key in my pocket: I should have been a careless shepherd if I had left a lamb- my pet lamb- so near a wolf's den, unguarded: you were safe.'
'Will Grace Poole live here still, sir?'
'Oh yes! don't trouble your head about her- put the thing out of your thoughts.'
'Yet it seems to me your life is hardly secure while she stays.'
'Never fear- I will take care of myself.'
'Is the danger you apprehended last night gone by now, sir?'
'I cannot vouch for that till Mason is out of England: nor even then. To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust which may crack and spue fire any day.'
'But Mr. Mason seems a man easily led. Your influence, sir, is evidently potent with him: he will never set you at defiance or wilfully injure you.'
'Oh no! Mason will not defy me; nor, knowing it, will he hurt me- but, unintentionally, he might in a moment, by one careless word, deprive me, if not of life, yet for ever of happiness.'
'Tell him to be cautious, sir: let him know what you fear, and show him how to avert the danger.'
He laughed sardonically, hastily took my hand, and as hastily threw it from him.
'If I could do that, simpleton, where would the danger be?
Annihilated in a moment. Ever since I have known Mason, I have only had to say to him "Do that," and the thing has been done. But I cannot give him orders in this case: I cannot say "Beware of harming me, Richard"; for it is imperative that I should keep him ignorant  that harm to me is possible. Now you look puzzled; and I will puzzle you further. You are my little friend, are you not?'
'I like to serve you, sir, and to obey you in all that is right.'
'Precisely: I see you do. I see genuine contentment in your gait and mien, your eye and face, when you are helping me and pleasing me- working for me, and with me, in, as you characteristically say, "all that is right": for if I bid you do what you thought wrong, there would be no light-footed running, no neat-handed alacrity, no lively glance and animated complexion. My friend would then turn to me, quiet and pale, and would say, "No, sir; that is impossible: I cannot do it, because it is wrong"; and would become immutable as a fixed star.
Well, you too have power over me, and may injure me: yet I dare not show you where I am vulnerable, lest, faithful and friendly as you are, you should transfix me at once.'
'If you have no more to fear from Mr. Mason than you have from me, sir, you are very safe.'
'God grant it may be so! Here, Jane, is an arbour; sit down.'
The arbour was an arch in the wall, lined with ivy; it contained a rustic seat. Mr. Rochester took it, leaving room, however, for me: but I stood before him.
'Sit,' he said; 'the bench is long enough for two. You don't hesitate to take a place at my side, do you? Is that wrong, Jane?'
I answered him by assuming it: to refuse would, I felt, have been unwise.
'Now, my little friend, while the sun drinks the dew- while all the flowers in this old garden awake and expand, and the birds fetch their young ones' breakfast out of the Thornfield, and the early bees do their first spell of work- I'll put a case to you, which you must endeavour to suppose your own: but first, look at me, and tell me you are at ease, and not fearing that I err in detaining you, or that you err in staying.'
'No, sir; I am content.'
'Well then, Jane, call to aid your fancy:- suppose you were no longer a girl well reared and disciplined, but a wild boy indulged from childhood upwards; imagine yourself in a remote foreign land; conceive that you there commit a capital error, no matter of what nature or from what motives, but one whose consequences must follow you through life and taint all your existence. Mind, I don't say a crime; I am not speaking of shedding of blood or any other guilty act, which might make the perpetrator amenable to the law: my word is error. The results of what you have done become in time to you utterly insupportable; you take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but neither unlawful nor culpable. Still you are miserable; for hope has quitted you on the very confines of life: your sun at noon darkens in an eclipse, which you feel will not leave it till the time of setting. Bitter and base associations have become the sole food of your memory: you wander here and there, seeking rest in exile: happiness in pleasure- I mean in heartless, sensual pleasure- such as dulls intellect and blights feeling. Heart-weary and soul-withered, you come home after years of voluntary banishment: you make a new acquaintance- how or where no matter: you find in this stranger much of the good and bright qualities which you have sought for twenty years, and never before encountered; and they are all fresh, healthy, without soil and without taint. Such society revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back-higher wishes, purer feelings; you desire to recommence your life, and to spend what remains to you of days in a way more worthy of an immortal being. To attain this end, are you justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom-a mere conventional impediment which neither your conscience sanctifies nor your judgment approves?'
He paused for an answer: and what was I to say? Oh, for some good spirit to suggest a judicious and satisfactory response! Vain aspiration! The west wind whispered in the ivy round me; but no gentle Ariel borrowed its breath as a medium of speech: the birds sang in the tree-tops; but their song, however sweet, was inarticulate.
Again Mr. Rochester propounded his query: 'Is the wandering and sinful, but now rest-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world's opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?'
'Sir,' I answered, 'a wanderer's repose or a sinner's reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in wisdom, and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal.'
'But the instrument- the instrument! God, who does the work, ordains the instrument. I have myself- I tell it you without parable- been a worldly, dissipated, restless man; and I believe I have found the instrument for my cure in-'
He paused: the birds went on carolling, the leaves lightly rustling. I almost wondered they did not check their songs and whispers to catch the suspended revelation; but they would have had to wait many minutes- so long was the silence protracted. At last I looked up at the tardy speaker: he was looking eagerly at me.
'Little friend,' said he, in quite a changed tone- while his face changed too, losing all its softness and gravity, and becoming harsh and sarcastic- 'you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram: don't you think if I married her she would regenerate me with a vengeance?'
He got up instantly, went quite to the other end of the walk, and when he came back he was humming a tune.
'Jane, Jane,' said he, stopping before me, 'you are quite pale with your vigils: don't you curse me for disturbing your rest?'
'Curse you? No, sir.'
'Shake hands in confirmation of the word. What cold fingers! They were warmer last night when I touched them at the door of the mysterious chamber. Jane, when will you watch with me again?'
'Whenever I can be useful, sir.'
'For instance, the night before I am married! I am sure I shall not be able to sleep. Will you promise to sit up with me to bear me company? To you I can talk of my lovely one: for now you have seen her and know her.'
'Yes, sir.'
'She's a rare one, is she not, Jane?'
'Yes, sir.'
'A strapper- a real strapper, Jane: big, brown, and buxom; with hair just such as the ladies of Carthage must have had. Bless me! there's Dent and Lynn in the stables! Go in by the shrubbery, through that wicket.'
As I went one way, he went another, and I heard him in the yard, saying cheerfully-
'Mason got the start of you all this morning; he was gone before sunrise: I rose at four to see him off.' 
平常我是拉好帐幔睡觉的，而那回却忘了，也忘了把百叶窗放下来。结果，一轮皎洁的满月（因为那天夜色很好），沿着自己的轨道，来到我窗户对面的天空，透过一无遮拦的窗玻璃窥视着我，用她那清丽的目光把我唤醒。夜深人静，我张开眼睛，看到了月亮澄净的银白色圆脸。它美丽却过于肃穆。我半欠着身子，伸手去拉帐幔。
天哪！多可怕的叫声！
夜晚的宁静和安逸，被响彻桑菲尔德府的一声狂野、刺耳的尖叫打破了。
我的脉搏停止了，我的心脏不再跳动，我伸出的胳膊僵住了。叫声消失，没有再起。说实在，无论谁发出这样的喊声，那可怕的尖叫无法立即重复一遍，就是安第斯山上长着巨翅的秃鹰，也难以在白云缭绕的高处，这样连叫两声。那发出叫声的东西得缓过气来才有力气再次喊叫。
这叫声来自三楼，因为正是我头顶上响起来的。在我的头顶——不错，就在我天花板上头的房间里——此刻我听到了一阵挣扎，从响声看似乎是一场你死我活的搏斗，一个几乎透不过气来的声音喊道：
“救命呀！救命呀！救命呀！”连叫了三声。
“怎么没有人来呀？”这声音喊道。随后，是一阵发疯似的踉跄和跺脚，透过木板和灰泥我听得出来！
“罗切斯特！罗切斯特，看在上帝面上，快来呀？”
一扇房门开了。有人跑过，或者说冲过了走廊。另一个人的脚步踩在头顶的地板上，什么东西跌倒了，随之便是一片沉寂。
尽管我吓得四肢发抖，但还是穿上了几件衣服，走出房间。所有熟睡的人都被惊醒了，每个房间都响起了喊叫声和恐俱的喃喃声。门一扇扇打开了，人一个个探出头来。走廊上站满了人。男宾和女客们都从床上爬起来。“呵，怎么回事？”——“谁伤着了，”——“出了什么事呀？”——“掌灯呀！”——“起火了吗？”——“是不是有窃贼？”—一“我们得往哪儿逃呀？”四面八方响起了七嘴八舌的询问。要不是那月光，众人眼前会一片漆黑。他们来回乱跑，挤成一堆。有人哭泣，有人跌交，顿时乱作一团。
“见鬼，罗切斯特在哪儿？”登特上校叫道。“他床上没有人。”
“在这儿！在这儿：”一个声音喊着回答。“大家镇静些，我来了。”
走廊尽头的门开了，罗切斯特先生拿着蜡烛走过来。他刚从搂上下来，一位女士便径直朝他奔去，一把抓住他胳膊。那是英格拉姆小姐。，
“出了什么可怕的事了？”她说。“说呵！快让我们知道最坏的情况！”
“可别把我拉倒或者勒死呀，”他回答，因为此刻两位埃希顿小姐紧紧抓住他不放，两位遗孀穿着宽大的白色晨衣，像鼓足了风帆的船，向他直冲过来。
“什么事儿也没有！——什么事儿也没有？”他喊道。“不过是《无事生非》的一场彩排。女士们，让开，不然我要凶相毕露了。”
而他确实目露凶光，乌黑的眼睛直冒火星。他竭力使自己镇定下来，补充道：
“一个仆人做了一场恶梦，就是这么回事。她好激动，神经质，她把梦里见到的当成了鬼魂，或是这一类东西，而且吓得昏了过去。好吧，现在我得关照大家回自己房间里去。因为只有整座房子安静下来了，我们才好照应她。先生们，请你们给女士们做个榜样。英格拉姆小姐，我敢肯定，你会证实自己不会被无端的恐惧所压倒。艾米和路易莎，就像一对真正的鸽子那样回到自己的窝里去。夫人们（向着两位遗孀），要是你们在冷嗖嗖的走廊上再呆下去，那肯定要得感冒。”
他就这样连哄带叫，好不容易让所有的人再次进了各自的房间，关上了门。我没有等他命令我回到自己房间，便像来的时候一样悄悄地走了。
不过我没有上床，反倒小心地穿好了衣服。那声尖叫以后传来的响动和大声喊出来的话，很可能只有我听到，因为是从我头顶的房间传来的。但我很有把握，闹得整所房子惊惶失措的，不是仆人的恶梦。罗切斯特先生的解释不过是一时的编造，用来稳住客人的情绪而已。于是我穿上衣服以防不测。穿戴停当后，我久久地坐在窗边，眺望着静谧的庭园和银色的田野，连自己也不知道在等待着什么。我似乎感到，在奇怪的喊叫、搏斗和呼救之后，必定要发生什么事情。
但没有。一切又复归平静。每个细微的响动都渐渐停止，一小时后整座桑菲尔德府便像沙漠一般沉寂了。暗夜与沉睡似乎又恢复了自己的王国。与此同时，月亮下沉，快要隐去。我不喜欢那么冷丝丝黑咕隆咚地坐着，心想虽然穿好了衣服，倒还是躺在床上的好。我离开了窗子，轻手轻脚地穿过地毯，正想弯腰去脱鞋，一只谨慎的手轻轻地敲响了我的门。
“要我帮忙吗？”我问。
“你没有睡？”我意料中的那个声音问道，那是我主人的嗓音。
“是的，先生。”
“而且穿了衣服？”
“不错。”
“那就出来吧，轻一点。”
我照他说的做了。罗切斯特先生端着灯，站在走廊上。
“我需要你帮忙，”他说，“这边走，慢一点，别出声。”
我穿的是一双很薄的拖鞋，走在铺好席子的地板上，轻得像只猫。他溜过走廊，上了楼梯，在多事的三楼幽暗低矮的走廊上，停住了脚步，我尾随着，站在他旁边。
“你房间里有没有海绵？”他低声耳语道。
“有，先生。”
“有没有盐——易挥发的盐？”
“有的。”
“回去把这两样都拿来。”
我回到房间，从脸盆架上找到了海绵，从抽屉里找到了食盐，并顺原路返回。他依旧等待着，手里拿了把钥匙。他走近其中一扇黑色的小门，把钥匙插进锁孔，却又停下来同我说起话来。
“见到血你不会恶心吧？”
“我想不会吧，我从来没有经历过。”
我回答时不觉毛骨愧然，不过没有打寒颤，也没有头晕。
“把手伸给我，”他说，“可不能冒让你昏倒的危险。”
我把手指放在他手里。“温暖而沉着”便是他的评价。他转动了一下钥匙，开了门。
我看见了一个似曾见过的房间，记得就在费尔法克斯太太带我流览整幢房子的那一天。房间里悬着挂毯，但此刻一部份已经卷了起来，露出了一扇门，以前是遮蔽着的。门敞开着，里面的灯光射向门外。我从那里听到了一阵断断续续的咆哮声，同狗叫差不多。罗切斯特先生放下蜡烛，对我说了声“等一下，”便往前向内间走去。他一进去便响起了一阵笑声，先是闹闹嚷嚷，后来以格雷斯．普尔妖怪般的哈哈声而告终。她当时就在那儿。他一声不吭地作了安排，不过我还听到有人低声地同他说了话。他走了出来，随手关了门。
“这儿来，简！”他说，我绕到了一张大床的另外一头，这张帷幔紧锁的床遮去了大半个房间。床头边有把安乐椅，椅子上坐了个人，除了外套什么都穿上了。他一动不动，脑袋往后靠着，双眼紧闭。罗切斯特先生把蜡烛端过他头顶。从苍白没有血色的脸上，我认出了那个陌生人梅森。我还看到，他内衣的一边和一只胳膊几乎都浸透了血。
“拿着蜡烛，”罗切斯特先生说。我取过蜡烛，而他从脸盆架上端来了一盆水。“端着它，”他说。我听从了。他拿了海绵，在脸盆里浸了一下，润了润死尸般的脸。他向我要了嗅盐瓶，把它放在梅森的鼻子底下。不久梅森先生张开眼睛，呻吟起来。罗切斯特先生解开了伤者的衬衫，那人的胳膊和肩膀都包扎了绷带。他把很快滴下来的血用海绵吸去。
“有生命危险吗？”梅森先生喃喃地说。
“去去！没有——不过划破了一点皮。别那么消沉，伙计。鼓起劲儿来！现在我亲自给你去请医生，希望到了早上就可以把你送走。简——”他继续说。，
“什么，先生？”
“我得撇下你在这间房子里，同这位先生呆上一小时，也许两小时。要是血又流出来，你就象我那样用海绵把它吸掉。要是他感到头昏，你就把架子上的那杯水端到他嘴边，把盐放在他鼻子底下。无论如何不要同他说话——而——理查德——如果你同她说话，你就会有生命危险，譬如说张开嘴——让自己激动起来——那我就概不负责了。”
这个可怜的男人哼了起来。他看上去好像不敢轻举妄动，怕死，或者害怕别的什么东西，似乎差不多使他僵硬了。罗切斯特先生这这时已浸染了血的海绵放进我手里，我就照他那样使用起来。
他看了我一会儿，随后说，“记住！——别说话！”便离开了房间。钥匙在锁孔喀喀响起，他远去的脚步声听不到时，我体会到了一种奇怪的感觉。
结果我就在这里三层楼上了，被锁进了一个神秘的小房间。我的周围是暗夜，我的眼皮底下和手下，是白煞煞血淋淋的景象；一个女谋杀犯与我几乎只有一门之隔。是的——那令人胆颤心惊——其余的倒还可以忍受。但是我一想到格雷斯.普尔会向我扑来，便浑身直打哆嗦了。
然而我得坚守岗位。我得看着这鬼一样的面孔——看着这色如死灰、一动不动，不许张开的嘴唇——看着这双时闭时开，时而在房间里转来转去，时而盯着我，吓得总是呆滞无光的眼睛。我得把手一次次浸入那盆血水里，擦去淌下的鲜血，我得在忙碌中眼看着没有剪过烛蕊的烛光渐渐暗淡下去，阴影落到了我周围精致古老的挂毯上，在陈旧的大床的帷幔下变得越来越浓重，而且在对面一个大柜的门上奇异地抖动起来——柜子的正面分成十二块嵌板，嵌板上画着十二使徒的头，面目狰狞，每个头单独占一块嵌板，就像在一个框框之中。在这些头颅的上端高悬着一个乌木十字架和殉难的基督。
游移的暗影和闪烁的光芒在四处浮动和跳跃，我一会儿看到了胡子医生路加垂着头；一会儿看到了圣约翰飘动的长发；不久又看到了犹大魔鬼似的面孔，在嵌板上突现出来，似乎渐渐地有了生命，眼看就要以最大的背叛者撒旦的化身出现。
在这种情形下，我既得细听又得静观，细听有没有野兽或者那边窠穴中魔鬼的动静。可是自从罗切斯特先生来过之后，它似乎已被镇住了。整整一夜我只听见过三声响动，三次之间的间隔很长——一次吱吱的脚步声，一次重又响起短暂的狗叫似的声音，一次人的深沉的呻吟声。
此外，我自己也心烦意乱。究竟是一种什么罪行，以人的化身出现，蛰居在这座与世隔绝的大厦里，房主人既无法驱赶也难以制服？究竟是什么不可思议的东西，在夜深人静之时冲将出来，弄得一会儿起火，一会儿流血？究竟是什么畜生，以普通女人的面貌和体态伪装自己，发出的声音一会儿象假冒的魔鬼，一会儿像觅腐尸而食的猛禽？
我俯身面对着的这个人——这个普普通通言语不多的陌生人——他是怎么陷入这个恐怖之网呢？为什么复仇之神要扑向他呢？是什么原因使他在应当卧床安睡的时刻，不适时宜地来这里投宿？我曾听罗切斯特先生在楼下指定了一个房间给他——是什么东西把他带到这儿来的呢？为什么别人对他施暴或者背弃，他此刻却那么俯首贴耳？为什么罗切斯特先生强迫他遮遮掩掩，他竟默默地顺从？这回，罗切斯特先生的一位宾客受到了伤害，上次他自己的性命遭到了恶毒的暗算，而这两件事他竟都秘密掩盖，故意忘却！最后，我看到梅森先生对罗切斯特先生服服贴贴，罗切斯特先生的火暴性子左右着梅森先生半死不活的个性。听了他们之间寥寥几句对话，我便对这个看法很有把握。显然在他们以往的交谈中，一位的消极脾性惯于受另一位的主动精神的影响，既然如此，那么罗切斯特先生一听梅森先生到了，怎么会顿生失望之情呢？为什么仅仅这个不速之客的名字——罗切斯特先生的话足以使他像孩子一样乖乖的——几小时之前，在罗切斯特先生听来，犹如雷电击中了一棵橡树？
呵，当他向我低声耳语：“简，我遭到了打击——我遭到了打击，简，”时，我决不会忘记他的表情和苍白的脸色，我也不会忘记他的胳膊靠在我肩上时，是怎样地颤抖的。使费尔法克斯．罗切斯特坚毅的精神折服，使他强健的体魄哆嗦的，决不是一件小事。
“他什么时候来呢？他什么时候来呢？”我内心呼喊着，夜迟迟不去——我这位流着血的病人精神萎顿，又是呻吟，又想呕吐。而白昼和支援都没有来临，我已经一次次把水端到梅森苍白的嘴边，一次次把刺激性的嗅盐递给他。我的努力似乎并没有奏效，肉体的痛苦，抑或精神的痛楚，抑或失血，抑或三者兼而有之，使他的精力衰竭了。他如此呜咽着，看上去那么衰弱、狂乱和绝望，我担心他要死了，而我也许甚至同他连话都没有说过。
蜡烛终于耗尽，熄灭了。灯灭之后，我看到窗帘边缘一缕缕灰色的微光，黎明正渐渐到来。不久我听到派洛特在底下院子里远远的狗窝外吠叫着。希望复活了，而且有了保证。五分钟后，钥匙喀喀一响，锁一开动便预示着我的守护工作解除了。前后没有超过两小时，但似乎比几个星期还长。
罗切斯特先生进来了，同来的还有他去请的外科医生。
“嗨，卡特，千万当心，”他对来人说，“我只给你半小时，包扎伤口、捆绑绷带，把病人送到楼下，全都在内。”
“可是他能走动吗，先生？”
“毫无疑问。伤势并不严重，就是神经紧张，得使他打起精神来。来，动手吧。”
罗切斯特先生拉开厚厚的窗幅，掀起亚麻布窗帘，尽量让月光射进屋来。看到黎明即将来临，我既惊讶又愉快。多漂亮的玫瑰色光束正开始照亮东方的天际！随后，罗切斯特先生走近梅森，这时外科医生已经在给他治疗了。
“喂，我的好家伙，怎么样？”他问道。
“我怕她已送了我的命了，”那是对方微弱的回答。
“那里会呢！——拿出勇气来！再过两周你会什么事儿也没有，只不过出了点血。卡特，让他放心，不会有危险的。”
“我可尽心去做，”卡特说，这会儿他已经打开了绷带。“要是早点赶到这儿该多好。他就不会流那么多血了——这是怎么回事？怎么肩膀上的肉撕掉了，而且还割开了？这不是刀伤，是牙齿咬的。”
“她咬了我，”他咕哝着。“罗切斯特从她手里把刀夺下来以后，她就象一头雌老虎那样撕咬着我。”
“你不该退让，应当立即抓住她。”罗切斯特先生说。
“可是在那种情况下，你还能怎么样呢？”梅森回答道。“啊，太可怕了！”他颤抖着补充道。“而我没有料到，起初她看上去那么平静。”
“我警告过你，”他的朋友回答，“我说——你走近她时要当心。此外，你满可以等到明天，让我同你一起去。今天晚上就想去见她，而且单独去，实在是够傻的。”
“我想我可以做些好事。”
“你想！你想！不错，听你这么说真让我感到不耐烦。不过你毕竟还是吃了苦头，不听我劝告你会吃够苦头，所以我以后不说了。卡特，快点！快点！太阳马上要出来了，我得把他弄走。”
“马上好，先生。肩膀已经包扎好了。我得治疗一下胳膊上的另一个伤口。我想她的牙齿在这里咬了一下。”
“她吸了血，她说要把我的心吸干，”梅森说。我看见罗切斯特先生打了个哆嗦，那种极其明显的厌恶、恐惧和痛恨的表情，使他的脸扭曲得变了形。不过他只说：
“来吧，不要作声，理查德，别在乎她的废话。不要唠叨了。”
“但愿我能忘掉它，”对方回答。
“你一出这个国家就会忘掉。等你回到了西班牙城你就算她已经死了，给埋了——或者你压根儿就不必去想她了。”
“怎么也忘不了今天晚上！”
“不会忘不了，老兄，振作起来吧。两小时之前你还说你像条死鱼那样没命了，而你却仍旧活得好好的，现在还在说话。行啦：——卡特已经包扎好啦，或者差不多了。一会儿我就让你打扮得整整齐齐。简（他再次进门后还是第一回同我说话），把这把钥匙拿着，下楼到我的卧室去，一直走进梳妆室，打开衣柜顶端的抽屉，取件干净的衬衫和一条围巾，拿到这里来，动作利索些。”
我去了，找到了他说的衣柜，翻出了他指名要的东西，带着它们回来了。
“行啦，”他说，“我要替他梳装打扮了，你到床那边去，不过别离开房间，也许还需要你。”
我按他的吩咐退避了。
“你下楼的时候别人有动静吗，简？”罗切斯特先生立刻问。
“没有，先生，一点声息也没有。”
“我们会小心地让你走掉，迪克。这对你自己，对那边的可怜虫都比较好。我一直竭力避免曝光，也不想到头来泄露出去。来，卡特，帮他穿上背心。你的毛皮斗篷放在哪儿了？我知道，在这种见鬼的冷天气里，没有斗篷，连一英里都走不了。在你房间里吗？——简，跑下楼到梅森先生的房间去——在我的隔壁——把你看到的斗篷拿来。”
我又跑下去，跑回来，捧回一件皮夹里皮镶边大斗篷。
“现在我还要差你做另一件事，”我那不知疲倦的主人说。“你得再去我房间一趟。幸亏你穿的是丝绒鞋，简！——在这种时候，粗手笨脚的听差绝对不行。你得打开我梳妆台的中间抽屉，把你看到的一个小瓶子和一个小杯拿来，——快！”
我飞也似地去了又来，揣着他要的瓶子。
“干得好！行啦，医生，我要擅自用药了，我自己负责，这瓶兴奋剂，我是从罗马一位意大利庸医那儿搞来的——这家伙，你准会踹他一脚，卡特，这东西不能包治百病，但有时还灵，譬如说现在。简，拿点水来。”
他递过那小玻璃杯，我从脸盆架上的水瓶里倒了半杯水。
“够了——现在用水把瓶口抹一下。”
我这么做了。他滴了十二滴深红色液体，把它递给梅森。
“喝吧，理查德，它会把你所缺乏的勇气鼓起来，保持一小时左右。”
“可是对身体有害吗？——有没有刺激性？”
“喝呀！喝呀！喝呀！”
梅森先生服从了，显然抗拒也无济于事。这时他已穿戴停当，看上去仍很苍白，但已不再血淋淋，脏兮兮。罗切斯特先生让他在喝了那液体后，又坐了三分钟，随后握住他胳膊：
“现在，你肯定站得起来了，”他说，“试试看。”
病人站了起来。
“卡特，扶住他另一个肩膀。理查德，振作起来，往前跨——对啦！”
“我确实感觉好多了”梅森先生说。
“我相信你是这样。嗨，简，你先走，跑在我们前头，到后楼梯去把边门的门栓拉开，告诉在院子里能看到的驿车车夫——也许车子就在院子外头，因为我告诉他别在人行道上驾车，弄得轮子扎扎响——让他准备好。我们就来了。还有，简，要是附近有人，你就走到楼梯下呼一声。”
这时已是五点半，太阳就要升起。不过我发觉厨房里依然黑洞洞静悄悄的。边门上了栓，我把它打开，尽量不发出声来。院子里一片沉寂。但院门敞开着，有辆驿车停在外面，马匹都套了马具，车夫坐在车座上。我走上前去，告诉他先生们就要来了。他点了点头。随后我小心四顾，凝神静听。清晨一切都在沉睡，处处一片宁静。仆人房间里的门窗都还遮着窗帘，小鸟在白花满枝的果树上啁啾，树枝像白色的花环那样低垂着，从院子一边的围墙探出头来。在紧闭的马厩里，拉车用的马不时蹬几下蹄子，此外便一切都静谧无声了。
这时先生们到了。梅森由罗切斯特先生和医生扶着，步态似乎还算自如，他们搀着他上了车，卡特也跟着上去了。
“照料他一下，”罗切斯特先生对卡特说，“让他呆在你家里，一直到好为止。过一两天我会骑马过来探望他的。理查德，你怎么样了？”
“新鲜空气使我恢复了精神，费尔法克斯。”
“让他那边的窗子开着，卡特，反正没风——再见，迪克。”
“费尔法克斯——”
“噢，什么事？”
“照顾照顾她吧，待她尽量温柔些，让她——”他哭了起来，说不下去了。
“尽我的力量。我已经这么做了，将来也会这么做的，”他答道，关上了驿车的门，车子开走了。
“上帝保佑，统统都了结了！”罗切斯特先生一面说，一面把沉重的院门关上，并拴好。之后，他步履迟缓、心不在焉地踱向同果园接界的墙门。我想他已经用不着我了，准备回房去。却又听见他叫了声“简！”他已经开了门，站在门旁等我。
“来，这里空气新鲜，呆一会儿吧，”他说，“这所房子不过是座监狱，你不这样觉得吗？”
“我觉得是座豪华的大厦，先生。”
“天真烂漫所造成的魔力蒙住了你的眼睛，”他回答说。“你是用着了魔的眼光来看它的，你看不出镀的金是粘土；丝绸帐幔是蛛网；大理石是污秽的石板；上光的木器不过是废木屑和烂树皮。而这里（他指着我们踏进的树叶繁茂的院落）一切都那么纯真香甜。”
他沿着一条小径信步走去，小径一边种着黄杨木、苹果树、梨树和樱桃树；另一边是花坛，长满了各类老式花：有紫罗兰、美洲石竹、报春花、三色瑾，混杂着老人蒿，多花蔷薇和各色香草。四月里持续不断晴雨交替的天气，以及紧随的春光明媚的早晨，使这些花草鲜艳无比。太阳正进入光影斑驳的东方，阳光照耀着花满枝头露水晶莹的果树，照亮了树底下幽静的小径。
“简，给你一朵花好吗？”
他采摘了枝头上第一朵初开的玫瑰，把它给了我。
“谢谢，先生。”
“你喜欢日出吗，简？喜欢天空，以及天气一暖和就消失的高高的轻云吗？——喜欢这宁静而温馨的气氛吗？”
“喜欢，很喜欢。”
“你度过了一个奇怪的夜晚，简。”
“是呀，先生。”
“弄得你脸无神色了——让你一个人与梅森呆着，你怕吗？”
“我怕有人会从内间走出来。”
“可是我拴了门——钥匙在我口袋里。要是我把一只羊羔——我心爱的小羊——毫无保护地留在狼窝边，那我岂不是一个粗心大意的牧羊人了？你很安全。”
“格雷斯．普尔还会住在这儿吗，先生？”
“呵，是的，别为她去烦神了——忘掉这事儿吧。”
“我总觉得只要她在，你就不得安宁。”
“别怕——我会照顾好自己的。”
“你昨晚担心的危险现在没有了吗，先生？”
“梅森不离开英格兰，我就无法担保。甚至他走了也不行。活着对我来说，简，好象是站在火山表面，哪一天地壳都可能裂开，喷出火来。”
“可是梅森先生好像是容易摆布的，你的影响，先生，对他明显起着作用，他决不会同你作对，或者有意伤害你。”
“呵，不错！梅森是不会跟我作对，也不会明明知道而来伤害我——不过，无意之中他可能因为一时失言，即使不会使我送命，也会断送我一生的幸福。”
“告诉他小心从事，先生，让他知道你的忧虑，指点他怎样来避开危险。”
他嘲弄地哈哈大笑起来，一下子抓住我的手，一下子又把它甩掉了。
“要是我能那样做，傻瓜，那还有什么危险可言，顷刻之间就可排除。自我认得梅森以来，我只要对他说‘那么干’，他就会那么办。不过在这件事情上我可不能对他发号施令，不能同他说‘当心伤着我，理查德，’因为我必须将他蒙在鼓里，使他不知道可能会伤着我，现在你似乎大惑不解，我还会让你更莫名其妙呢。你是我的小朋友，对吗？”
“我愿意为你效劳，先生，只要是对的，我都服从你。”
“确实如此，我看你是这么做的。你帮助我，使我愉快——为我忙碌，也与我一起忙碌，干你惯于说的‘只要是对的’事情时，我从你的步履和神采，你的目光和表情上，看到了一种真诚的满足。因为要是我吩咐你去干你心目中的错事，那就不会有步态轻盈的奔忙，干脆利落的敏捷，没有活泼的眼神，兴奋的脸色了。我的朋友会神态恬静面容苍白地转向我说：‘不，先生，那不可能，我不能干，因为那不对。’你会象一颗定了位的星星那样不可改变。噢，你也能左右我，还可以伤害我，不过我不敢把我的弱点告诉你，因为尽管你既老实又友好，你会立刻弄得我目瞪口呆的。”
“要是梅森也像我一样没有什么使你害怕的话，你就安全了。”
“上帝保佑，但愿如此！来，简，这里有个凉棚，坐下吧。”
这凉棚是搭在墙上的一个拱顶，爬满了藤蔓。棚下有一把粗木椅子，罗切斯特先生坐了下来，还给我留出了地方。不过我站在他跟前。
“坐下吧，”他说“这条长凳够两个人坐的，你不会是为要不要坐在我旁边而犹豫不决吧？难道那错了吗，简？”
我坐了下来，等于是对他的回答。我觉得谢绝是不明智的。
“好吧，我的小朋友，当太阳吸吮着雨露——当老园子里的花统统苏醒并开放，鸟儿飞越桑菲尔德为雏鸟送来早餐，早起的蜜蜂开始了它们第一阵劳作时——我要把这件事诉说给你听，你务必要努力把它设想成自己的。不过先看着我，告诉我你很平静，并不担心我把你留着是错的，或者你呆着是不对的。”
“不，先生，我很情愿。”
“那么好吧，简，发挥你的想象力吧——设想你不再是受过精心培养和教导的姑娘，而是从幼年时代起就是一个放纵任性的男孩。想象你身处遥远的异国，假设你在那里铸成了大错，不管其性质如何，出于什么动机，它的后果殃及你一生，玷污你的生活。注意，我没有说‘犯罪’，不是说流血或是其他犯罪行为，那样的话肇事者会被绳之以法，我用的字是‘错误’。你行为的恶果，到头来使你绝对无法忍受。你采取措施以求获得解脱，非正常的措施，但既不是非法，也并非有罪。而你仍然感到不幸，因为希望在生活的边缘离你而去，你的太阳遇上日蚀，在正午就开始暗淡，你觉得不到日落不会有所改变，痛苦和卑贱的联想，成了你记忆的唯一食品。你到处游荡，在放逐中寻求安逸，在亨乐中寻觅幸福一—我的意思是沉缅于无情的肉欲——它消蚀才智，摧残情感。在几年的自愿放逐以后，你心力交瘁地回到了家里，结识了一位新知——何时结识，如何结识，都无关紧要。在这位陌生人身上，你看到了很多出类拔率的品质，为它们你已经寻寻觅觅二十来年，却终不可得。这些品质新鲜健康，没有污渍，没有斑点，这种交往使人复活，催人新生。你觉得好日子又回来了——志更高，情更真。你渴望重新开始生活，以一种更配得上不朽的灵魂的方式度过余生。为了达到这个目的，你是不是有理由越过习俗的藩篱——那种既没有得到你良心的认可，也不为你的识见所赞同的、纯粹因袭的障碍？”
他停了一下等我回答，而我该说什么呢？呵！但愿有一位善良的精灵能给我提示一个明智而满意的答复！空想而已！西风在我周围的藤蔓中耳语，可就是没有一位温存的埃里厄尔①把它的呼息借我一用，充当说话的媒介。鸟儿在树梢歌唱，它们的歌声虽然甜蜜，却无法让人理解。
罗切斯特先生再次提出了他的问题：
“这个一度浪迹天涯罪孽深重，现在思安悔过的人，是不是有理由无视世俗的偏见，使这位和蔼可亲、通情达理的陌生人，与他永远相依，以获得内心的宁静和生命的复苏？”
“先生，”我回答，“一个流浪者要安顿下来，或者一个罪人要悔改，不应当依赖他的同类。男人和女人都难免一死；哲学家们会在智慧面前踌躇，基督教徒会在德行面前犹豫。要是你认识的人曾经吃过苦头，犯过错误，就让他从高于他的同类那儿，企求改过自新的力量，获得治疗创伤的抚慰。”
“可是途径呢——途径：实施者上帝指定途径。我自己——直截了当地告诉你吧——曾经是个老于世故、放荡不羁、焦躁不安的汉子，现在我相信自己找到了救治的途径，它在于——”他打住了。鸟儿唱个不停，树叶飒飒有声。我几乎惊异于它们不刹住歌声和耳语，倾听中止的袒露。不过它们得等上好几分钟——这沉默延续了好久。我终于抬头去看这位吞吞吐吐的说话人，他也急切地看着我。”
“小朋友，”他说，完全改了口气——脸色也变了，失去了一切温柔和庄重，变得苛刻和嘲弄—一“你注意到了我对英格拉姆小姐的柔情吧，要是我娶了她，你不认为她会使我彻底新生吗？”
他猛地站了起来，几乎走到了小径的另一头，走回来时嘴里哼着小调。”
“简，简，”他说着在我跟前
Chapter 21
PRESENTIMENTS are strange things! and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key. I never laughed at presentiments in my life, because I have had strange ones of my own. Sympathies, I believe, exist (for instance, between far-distant, long-absent, wholly estranged relatives asserting, notwithstanding their alienation, the unity of the source to which each traces his origin) whose workings baffle mortal comprehension. And signs, for aught we know, may be but the sympathies of Nature with man.When I was a little girl, only six years old, I one night heard Bessie Leaven say to Martha Abbot that she had been dreaming about a little child; and that to dream of children was a sure sign of trouble, either to one's self or one's kin. The saying might have worn out of my memory, had not a circumstance immediately followed which served indelibly to fix it there. The next day Bessie was sent for home to the deathbed of her little sister.
Of late I had often recalled this saying and this incident; for during the past week scarcely a night had gone over my couch that had not brought with it a dream of an infant, which I sometimes hushed in my arms, sometimes dandled on my knee, sometimes watched playing with daisies on a lawn, or again, dabbling its hands in running water.
It was a wailing child this night, and a laughing one the next: now it nestled close to me, and now it ran from me; but whatever mood the apparition evinced, whatever aspect it wore, it failed not for seven successive nights to meet me the moment I entered the land of slumber.
I did not like this iteration of one idea- this strange recurrence of one image, and I grew nervous as bedtime approached and the hour of the vision drew near. It was from companionship with this baby-phantom I had been roused on that moonlight night when I heard the cry; and it was on the afternoon of the day following I was summoned downstairs by a message that some one wanted me in Mrs. Fairfax's room. On repairing thither, I found a man waiting for me, having the appearance of a gentleman's servant: he was dressed in deep mourning, and the hat he held in his hand was surrounded with a crape band. 
'I daresay you hardly remember me, Miss,' he said, rising as I entered; 'but my name is Leaven: I lived coachman with Mrs. Reed when you were at Gateshead, eight or nine years since, and I live there still.'
'Oh, Robert! how do you do? I remember you very well: you used to give me a ride sometimes on Miss Georgiana's bay pony. And how is Bessie? You are married to Bessie?'
'Yes, Miss: my wife is very hearty, thank you; she brought me another little one about two months since- we have three now- and both mother and child are thriving.'
'And are the family well at the house, Robert?'
'I am sorry I can't give you better news of them, Miss: they are very badly at present- in great trouble.'
'I hope no one is dead,' I said, glancing at his black dress. He too looked down at the crape round his hat and replied-
'Mr. John died yesterday was a week, at his chambers in London.' 
'Mr. John?'
'Yes.'
'And how does his mother bear it?'
'Why, you see, Miss Eyre, it is not a common mishap: his life has been very wild: these last three years he gave himself up to strange ways, and his death was shocking.'
'I heard from Bessie he was not doing well.'
'Doing well! He could not do worse: he ruined his health and his estate amongst the worst men and the worst women. He got into debt and into jail: his mother helped him out twice, but as soon as he was free he returned to his old companions and habits. His head was not strong: the knaves he lived amongst fooled him beyond anything I ever heard.
He came down to Gateshead about three weeks ago and wanted missis to give up all to him. Missis refused: her means have long been much reduced by his extravagance; so he went back again, and the next news was that he was dead. How he died, God knows!- they say he killed himself.'
I was silent: the tidings were frightful. Robert Leaven resumed- 
'Missis had been out of health herself for some time: she had got very stout, but was not strong with it; and the loss of money and fear of poverty were quite breaking her down. The information about Mr. John's death and the manner of it came too suddenly: it brought on a  stroke. She was three days without speaking; but last Tuesday she seemed rather better: she appeared as if she wanted to say something, and kept making signs to my wife and mumbling. It was only yesterday morning, however, that Bessie understood she was pronouncing your name; and at last she made out the words, "Bring Jane- fetch Jane Eyre: I want to speak to her." Bessie is not sure whether she is in her right mind, or means anything by the words; but she told Miss Reed and Miss Georgiana, and advised them to send for you. The young ladies put it off at first; but their mother grew so restless, and said, "Jane, Jane," so many times, that at last they consented. I left Gateshead yesterday: and if you can get ready, Miss, I should like to take you back with me early to-morrow morning.'
'Yes, Robert, I shall be ready: it seems to me that I ought to go.'
'I think so too, Miss. Bessie said she was sure you would not refuse: but I suppose you will have to ask leave before you can get off?'
'Yes; and I will do it now'; and having directed him to the servants' hall, and recommended him to the care of John's wife, and the attentions of John himself, I went in search of Mr. Rochester.
He was not in any of the lower rooms; he was not in the yard, the stables, or the grounds. I asked Mrs. Fairfax if she had seen him;- yes: she believed he was playing billiards with Miss Ingram. To the billiard-room I hastened: the click of balls and the hum of voices resounded thence; Mr. Rochester, Miss Ingram, the two Misses Eshton, and their admirers, were all busied in the game. It required some courage to disturb so interesting a party; my errand, however, was one I could not defer, so I approached the master where he stood at Miss Ingram's side. She turned as I drew near, and looked at me haughtily: her eyes seemed to demand, 'What can the creeping creature want now?' and when I said, in a low voice, 'Mr. Rochester,' she made a movement as if tempted to order me away. I remember her appearance at the moment- it was very graceful and very striking: she wore a morning robe of sky-blue crape; a gauzy azure scarf was twisted in her hair. She had been all animation with the game, and irritated pride did not lower the expression of her haughty lineaments.
'Does that person want you?' she inquired of Mr. Rochester; and Mr. Rochester turned to see who the 'person' was. He made a curious grimace- one of his strange and equivocal demonstrations- threw down his cue and followed me from the room.
'Well, Jane?' he said, as he rested his back against the school-room door, which he had shut.
'If you please, sir, I want leave of absence for a week or two.'
'What to do?- where to go?'
'To see a sick lady who has sent for me.'
'What sick lady?- where does she live?'
for people to see her that distance?'
'Her name is Reed sir- Mrs. Reed.'
'Reed of Gateshead? There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate.'
'It is his widow, sir.'
'And what have you to do with her? How do you know her?'
'Mr. Reed was my uncle- my mother's brother.'
'The deuce he was! You never told me that before: you always said you had no relations.'
'None that would own me, sir. Mr. Reed is dead, and his wife cast me off.'
'Why?'
'Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me.'
'But Reed left children?- you must have cousins? Sir George Lynn was talking of a Reed of Gateshead yesterday, who, he said, was one of the veriest rascals on town; and Ingram was mentioning a Georgiana Reed of the same place, who was much admired for her beauty a season or two ago in London.'
'John Reed is dead, too, sir: he ruined himself and half-ruined his family, and is supposed to have committed suicide. The news so shocked his mother that it brought on an apoplectic attack.'
'And what good can you do her? Nonsense, Jane! I would never think of running a hundred miles to see an old lady who will, perhaps, be dead before you reach her: besides, you say she cast you off.'
'Yes, sir, but that is long ago; and when her circumstances were very different: I could not be easy to neglect her wishes now.'
'How long will you stay?'
'As short a time as possible, sir.'
'Promise me only to stay a week-'
'I had better not pass my word: I might be obliged to break it.'
'At all events you will come back: you will not be induced under any pretext to take up a permanent residence with her?'
'Oh, no! I shall certainly return if all be well.'
'And who goes with you? You don't travel a hundred miles alone.'
'No, sir, she has sent her coachman.'
'A person to be trusted?'
'Yes, sir, he has lived ten years in the family.'
Mr. Rochester meditated. 'When do you wish to go?'
'Early to-morrow morning, sir.'
'Well, you must have some money; you can't travel without money, and I daresay you have not much: I have given you no salary yet. How much have you in the world, Jane?' he asked, smiling.
I drew out my purse; a meagre thing it was. 'Five shillings, sir.' He took the purse, poured the hoard into his palm, and chuckled over it as if its scantiness amused him. Soon he produced his pocket-book: 'Here,' said he, offering me a note; it was fifty pounds, and he owed me but fifteen. I told him I had no change.
'I don't want change; you know that. Take your wages.'
I declined accepting more than was my due. He scowled at first; then, as if recollecting something, he said-
'Right, right! Better not give you all now: you would, perhaps, stay away three months if you had fifty pounds. There are ten; is it not plenty?'
'Yes, sir, but now you owe me five.'
'Come back for it, then; I am your banker for forty pounds.'
'Mr. Rochester, I may as well mention another matter of business to you while I have the opportunity.'
'Matter of business? I am curious to hear it.'
'You have as good as informed me, sir, that you are going shortly to be married?'
'Yes; what then?'
'In that case, sir, Adele ought to go to school: I am sure you will perceive the necessity of it.'
'To get her out of my bride's way, who might otherwise walk over her rather too emphatically? There's sense in the suggestion; not a doubt of it. Adele, as you say, must go to school; and you, of course, must march straight to- the devil?'
'I hope not, sir; but I must seek another situation somewhere.'
'In course!' he exclaimed, with a twang of voice and a distortion of features equally fantastic and ludicrous. He looked at me some minutes.
'And old Madam Reed, or the Misses, her daughters, will be solicited by you to seek a place, I suppose?'
'No, sir; I am not on such terms with my relatives as would justify me in asking favours of them- but I shall advertise.'
'You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!' he growled. 'At your peril you advertise! I wish I had only offered you a sovereign instead of ten pounds. Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I've a use for it.'
'And so have I, sir,' I returned, putting my hands and my purse behind me. 'I could not spare the money on any account.'
'Little niggard!' said he, 'refusing me a pecuniary request! Give me five pounds, Jane.'
'Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence.'
'Just let me look at the cash.'
'No, sir; you are not to be trusted.'
'Jane!'
'Sir?'
'Promise me one thing.'
'I'll promise you anything, sir, that I think I am likely to perform.'
'Not to advertise: and to trust this quest of a situation to me. I'll find you one in time.'
'I shall be glad so to do, sir, if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adele shall be both safe out of the house before your bride enters it.'
'Very well! very well! I'll pledge my word on it. You go to-morrow, then?'
'Yes, sir; early.'
'Shall you come down to the drawing-room after dinner?'
'No, sir, I must prepare for the journey.'
'Then you and I must bid good-bye for a little while?'
'I suppose so, sir.'
'And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it.'
'They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer.'
'Then say it.'
'Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present.'
'What must I say?'
'The same, if you like, sir.'
'Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?'
'Yes.'
'It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no- that would not content me either.
So you'll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?'
'It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.'
'Very likely; but it is blank and cool- "Farewell."'
'How long is he going to stand with his back against that door?'
I asked myself; 'I want to commence my packing.' The dinner-bell rang, and suddenly away he bolted, without another syllable: I saw him no more during the day, and was off before he had risen in the morning.
I reached the lodge at Gateshead about five o'clock in the afternoon of the first of May: I stepped in there before going up to the hall. It was very clean and neat: the ornamental windows were hung with little white curtains; the floor was spotless; the grate and fire-irons were burnished bright, and the fire burnt clear. Bessie sat on the hearth, nursing her last-born, and Robert and his sister played quietly in a corner.
'Bless you!- I knew you would come!' exclaimed Mrs. Leaven, as I entered.
'Yes, Bessie,' said I, after I had kissed her; 'and I trust I am not too late. How is Mrs. Reed?- Alive still, I hope.'
'Yes, she is alive; and more sensible and collected than she was.
The doctor says she may linger a week or two yet; but he hardly thinks she will finally recover.'
'Has she mentioned me lately?'
'She was talking of you only this morning, and wishing you would come: but she is sleeping now, or was ten minutes ago, when I was up at the house. She generally lies in a kind of lethargy all the afternoon, and wakes up about six or seven. Will you rest yourself here an hour, Miss, and then I will go up with you?'
Robert here entered, and Bessie laid her sleeping child in the cradle and went to welcome him: afterwards she insisted on my taking off my bonnet and having some tea; for she said I looked pale and tired. I was glad to accept her hospitality; and I submitted to be relieved of my travelling garb just as passively as I used to let her undress me when a child.
Old times crowded fast back on me as I watched her bustling about- setting out the tea-tray with her best china, cutting bread and butter, toasting a tea-cake, and, between whiles, giving little Robert or Jane an occasional tap or push, just as she used to give me in former days. Bessie had retained her quick temper as well as her light foot and good looks.
Tea ready, I was going to approach the table; but she desired me to sit still, quite in her old peremptory tones. I must be served at the fireside, she said; and she placed before me a little round stand with my cup and a plate of toast, absolutely as she used to accommodate me with some privately purloined dainty on a nursery chair: and I smiled and obeyed her as in bygone days.
She wanted to know if I was happy at Thornfield Hall, and what sort of a person the mistress was; and when I told her there was only a master, whether he was a nice gentleman, and if I liked him. I told her he was rather an ugly man, but quite a gentleman; and that he treated me kindly, and I was content. Then I went on to describe to her the gay company that had lately been staying at the house; and to these details Bessie listened with interest: they were precisely of the kind she relished.
In such conversation an hour was soon gone: Bessie restored to me my bonnet, etc., and, accompanied by her, I quitted the lodge for the hall. It was also accompanied by her that I had, nearly nine years ago, walked down the path I was now ascending. On a dark, misty, raw morning in January, I had left a hostile roof with a desperate and embittered heart- a sense of outlawry and almost of reprobation- to seek the chilly harbourage of Lowood: that bourne so far away and unexplored. The same hostile roof now again rose before me: my prospects were doubtful yet; and I had yet an aching heart. I still felt as a wanderer on the face of the earth; but I experienced firmer trust in myself and my own powers, and less withering dread of oppression. The gaping wound of my wrongs, too, was now quite healed; and the flame of resentment extinguished.
'You shall go into the breakfast-room first,' said Bessie, as she preceded me through the hall; 'the young ladies will be there.'
In another moment I was within that apartment. There was every article of furniture looking just as it did on the morning I was first introduced to Mr. Brocklehurst: the very rug he had stood upon still covered the hearth. Glancing at the bookcases, I thought I could distinguish the two volumes of Bewick's British Birds occupying their old place on the third shelf, and Gulliver's Travels and the Arabian Nights ranged just above. The inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition.
Two young ladies appeared before me; one very tall, almost as tall as Miss Ingram- very thin too, with a sallow face and severe mien. There was something ascetic in her look, was augmented by the extreme plainness of a straight-skirted, black, stuff dress, a starched linen collar, hair combed away from the temples, and the nun-like ornament of a string of ebony beads and a crucifix. This I felt sure was Eliza, though I could trace little resemblance to her former self in that elongated and colourless visage.
The other was as certainly Georgiana: but not the Georgiana I remembered- the slim and fairy-like girl of eleven. This was a full-blown, very plump damsel, fair as waxwork, with handsome and regular features, languishing blue eyes, and ringleted yellow hair.
The hue of her dress was black too; but its fashion was so different from her sister's- so much more flowing and becoming- it looked as stylish as the other's looked puritanical.
In each of the sisters there was one trait of the mother- and only one; the thin and pallid elder daughter had her parent's Cairngorm eye: the blooming and luxuriant younger girl had her contour of jaw and chin- perhaps a little softened, but still imparting an indescribable hardness to the countenance, otherwise so voluptuous and buxom.
Both ladies, as I advanced, rose to welcome me, and both addressed me by the name of 'Miss Eyre.' Eliza's greeting was delivered in a short, abrupt voice, without a smile; and then she sat down again, fixed her eyes on the fire, and seemed to forget me.
Georgiana added to her 'How d 'ye do?' several commonplaces about my journey, the weather, and so on, uttered in rather a drawling tone: and accompanied by sundry side-glances that measured me from head to foot-now traversing the folds of my drab merino pelisse, and now lingering on the plain trimming of my cottage bonnet. Young ladies have a remarkable way of letting you know that they think you a 'quiz' without actually saying the words. A certain superciliousness of look, coolness of manner, nonchalance of tone, express fully their sentiments on the point, without committing them by any positive rudeness in word or deed.
A sneer, however, whether covert or open, had now no longer that power over me it once possessed: as I sat between my cousins, I was surprised to find how easy I felt under the total neglect of the one and the semi-sarcastic attentions of the other- Eliza did not mortify, nor Georgiana ruffle me. The fact was, I had other things to think about; within the last few months feelings had been stirred in me so much more potent than any they could raise- pains and pleasures so much more acute and exquisite had been excited than any it was in their power to inflict or bestow- that their airs gave me no concern either for good or bad.
'How is Mrs. Reed?' I asked soon, looking calmly at Georgiana, who thought fit to bridle at the direct address, as if it were an unexpected liberty.
'Mrs. Reed? Ah, mama, you mean; she is extremely poorly: I doubt if you can see her to-night.'
'If,' said I, 'you would just step upstairs and tell her I am come, I should be much obliged to you.'
Georgiana almost started, and she opened her blue eyes wild and wide. 'I know she had a particular wish to see me,' I added, 'and I would not defer attending to her desire longer than is absolutely necessary.'
'Mama dislikes being disturbed in an evening,' remarked Eliza. I soon rose, quietly took off my bonnet and gloves, uninvited, and said I would just step out to Bessie- who was, I dared say, in the kitchen- and ask her to ascertain whether Mrs. Reed was disposed to receive me or not to-night. I went, and having found Bessie and despatched her on my errand, I proceeded to take further measures.
It had heretofore been my habit always to shrink from arrogance: received as I had been to-day, I should, a year ago, have resolved to quit Gateshead the very next morning; now, it was disclosed to me all at once that that would be a foolish plan. I had taken a journey of a hundred miles to see my aunt, and I must stay with her till she was better- or dead: as to her daughters' pride or folly, I must put it on one side, make myself independent of it. So I addressed the housekeeper; asked her to show me a room, told her I should probably be a visitor here for a week or two, had my trunk conveyed to my chamber, and followed it thither myself: I met Bessie on the landing.
'Missis is awake,' said she; 'I have told her you are here: come and let us see if she will know you.'
I did not need to be guided to the well-known room, to which I had so often been summoned for chastisement or reprimand in former days. I hastened before Bessie; I softly opened the door: a shaded light stood on the table, for it was now getting dark. There was the great four-post bed with amber hangings as of old; there the toilet-table, the arm-chair, and the footstool, at which I had a hundred times been sentenced to kneel, to ask pardon for offences by me uncommitted. I looked into a certain corner near, half expecting to see the slim outline of a once dreaded switch which used to lurk there, waiting to leap out imp-like and lace my quivering palm or shrinking neck. I approached the bed; I opened the curtains and leant over the high-piled pillows.
Well did I remember Mrs. Reed's face, and I eagerly sought the familiar image. It is a happy thing that time quells the longings of vengeance and hushes the promptings of rage and aversion. I had left this woman in bitterness and hate, and I came back to her now with no other emotion than a sort of ruth for her great sufferings, and a strong yearning to forget and forgive all injuries- to be reconciled and clasp hands in amity.
The well-known face was there: stern, relentless as ever- there was that peculiar eye which nothing could melt, and the somewhat raised, imperious, despotic eyebrow. How often had it lowered on me menace and hate! and how the recollection of childhood's terrors and sorrows revived as I traced its harsh line now! And yet I stooped down and kissed her: she looked at me.
'Is this Jane Eyre?' she said.
'Yes, Aunt Reed. How are you, dear aunt?'
I had once vowed that I would never call her aunt again: I thought it no sin to forget and break that vow now. My fingers had fastened on her hand which lay outside the sheet: had she pressed mine kindly, I should at that moment have experienced true pleasure. But unimpressionable natures are not so soon softened, nor are natural antipathies so readily eradicated. Mrs. Reed took her hand away, and, turning her face rather from me, she remarked that the night was warm. Again she regarded me so icily, I felt at once that her opinion of me- her feeling towards me- was unchanged and unchangeable.
I knew by her stony eye- opaque to tenderness, indissoluble to tears- that she was resolved to consider me bad to the last; because to believe me good would give her no generous pleasure: only a sense of mortification.
I felt pain, and then I felt ire; and then I felt a determination to subdue her- to be her mistress in spite both of her nature and her will. My tears had risen, just as in childhood: I ordered them back to their source. I brought a chair to the bed-head: I sat down and leaned over the pillow.
'You sent for me,' I said, 'and I am here; and it is my intention to stay till I see how you get on.'
'Oh, of course! You have seen my daughters?'
'Yes.'
'Well, you may tell them I wish you to stay till I can talk some things over with you I have on my mind: to-night it is too late, and I have a difficulty in recalling them. But there was something I wished to say- let me see-'
The wandering look and changed utterance told what wreck had taken place in her once vigorous frame. Turning restlessly, she drew the bedclothes round her; my elbow, resting on a corner of the quilt, fixed it down: she was at once irritated.
'Sit up!' said she; 'don't annoy me with holding the clothes fast. Are you Jane Eyre?'
'I am Jane Eyre.'
'I have had more trouble with that child than any one would believe. Such a burden to be left on my hands- and so much annoyance as she caused me, daily and hourly, with her incomprehensible disposition, and her sudden starts of temper, and her continual, unnatural watchings of one's movements! I declare she talked to me once like something mad, or like a fiend- no child ever spoke or looked as she did; I was glad to get her away from the house. What did they do with her at Lowood? The fever broke out there, and many of the pupils died. She, however, did not die: but I said she did- I wish she had died!'
'A strange wish, Mrs. Reed; why do you hate her so?'
'I had a dislike to her mother always; for she was my husband's only sister, and a great favourite with him: he opposed the family's disowning her when she made her low marriage; and when news came of her death, he wept like a simpleton. He would send for the baby; though I entreated him rather to put it out to nurse and pay for its maintenance. I hated it the first time I set my eyes on it- a sickly, whining, pining thing! It would wail in its cradle all night long- not screaming heartily like any other child, but whimpering and moaning. Reed pitied it; and he used to nurse it and notice it as if it had been his own: more, indeed, than he ever noticed his own at that age. He would try to make my children friendly to the little beggar: the darlings could not bear it, and he was angry with them when they showed their dislike. In his last illness, he had it brought continually to his bedside; and but an hour before he died, he bound me by vow to keep the creature. I would as soon have been charged with a pauper brat out of a workhouse: but he was weak, naturally weak. John does not at all resemble his father, and I am glad of it: John is like me and like my brothers- he is quite a Gibson. Oh, I wish he would cease tormenting me with letters for money! I have no more money to give him: we are getting poor. I must send away half the servants and shut up part of the house; or let it off. I can never submit to do that- yet how are we to get on?
Two-thirds of my income goes in paying the interest of mortgages. John gambles dreadfully, and always loses- poor boy! He is beset by sharpers: John is sunk and degraded- his look is frightful- I feel ashamed for him when I see him.'
She was getting much excited. 'I think I had better leave her now,' said I to Bessie, who stood on the other side of the bed.
'Perhaps you had, Miss: but she often talks in this way towards night- in the morning she is calmer.'
I rose. 'Stop!' exclaimed Mrs. Reed, 'there is another thing I wished to say. He threatens me- he continually threatens me with his own death, or mine: and I dream sometimes that I see him laid out with a great wound in his throat, or with a swollen and blackened face. I am come to a strange pass: I have heavy troubles. What is to be done? How is the money to be had?'
Bessie now endeavoured to persuade her to take a sedative draught: she succeeded with difficulty. Soon after, Mrs. Reed grew more composed, and sank into a dozing state. I then left her.
More than ten days elapsed before I had again any conversation with her. She continued either delirious or lethargic; and the doctor forbade everything which could painfully excite her. Meantime, I got on as well as I could with Georgiana and Eliza. They were very cold, indeed, at first. Eliza would sit half the day sewing, reading, or writing, and scarcely utter a word either to me or her sister.
Georgiana would chatter nonsense to her canary bird by the hour, and take no notice of me. But I was determined not to seem at a loss for occupation or amusement: I had brought my drawing materials with me, and they served me for both.
Provided with a case of pencils, and some sheets of paper, I used to take a seat apart from them, near the window, and busy myself in sketching fancy vignettes, representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of imagination: a glimpse of sea between two rocks; the rising moon, and a ship crossing its disk; a group of reeds and water-flags, and a naiad's head, crowned with lotus-flowers, rising out of them; an elf sitting in a hedge-sparrow's nest, under a wreath of hawthorn-bloom.
One morning I fell to sketching a face: what sort of a face it was to be, I did not care or know. I took a soft black pencil, gave it a broad point, and worked away. Soon I had traced on the paper a broad and prominent forehead and a square lower outline of visage: that contour gave me pleasure; my fingers proceeded actively to fill it with features. Strongly-marked horizontal eyebrows must be traced under that brow; then followed, naturally, a well-defined nose, with a straight ridge and full nostrils; then a flexible-looking mouth, by no means narrow; then a firm chin, with a decided cleft down the middle of it: of course, some black whiskers were wanted, and some jetty hair, tufted on the temples, and waved above the forehead. Now for the eyes: I had left them to the last, because they required the most careful working. I drew them large; I shaped them well: the eyelashes I traced long and sombre; the irids lustrous and large.
'Good! but not quite the thing,' I thought, as I surveyed the effect: 'they want more force and spirit'; and I wrought the shades blacker, that the lights might flash more brilliantly- a happy touch or two secured success. There, I had a friend's face under my gaze; and what did it signify that those young ladies turned their backs on me? I looked at it; I smiled at the speaking likeness: I was absorbed and content.
'Is that a portrait of some one you know?' asked Eliza, who had approached me unnoticed. I responded that it was merely a fancy head, and hurried it beneath the other sheets. Of course, I lied: it was, in fact, a very faithful representation of Mr. Rochester. But what was that to her, or to any one but myself? Georgiana also advanced to look. The other drawings pleased her much, but she called that 'an ugly man.' They both seemed surprised at my skill. I offered to sketch their portraits; and each, in turn, sat for a pencil outline. Then Georgiana produced her album. I promised to contribute a water-colour drawing: this put her at once into good humour. She proposed a walk in the grounds. Before we had been out two hours, we were deep in a confidential conversation: she had favoured me with a description of the brilliant winter she had spent in London two seasons ago- of the admiration she had there excited- the attention she had received; and I even got hints of the titled conquest she had made. In the course of the afternoon and evening these hints were enlarged on: various soft conversations were reported, and sentimental scenes represented; and, in short, a volume of a novel of fashionable life was that day improvised by her for my benefit. The communications were renewed from day to day: they always ran on the same theme- herself, her loves, and woes. It was strange she never once adverted either to her mother's illness, or her brother's death, or the present gloomy state of the family prospects. Her mind seemed wholly taken up with reminiscences of past gaiety, and aspirations after dissipations to come. She passed about five minutes each day in her mother's sick-room, and no more.
Eliza still spoke little: she had evidently no time to talk. I never saw a busier person than she seemed to be; yet it was difficult to say what she did: or rather, to discover any result of her diligence. She had an alarm to call her up early. I know not how she occupied herself before breakfast, but after that meal she divided her time into regular portions, and each hour had its allotted task.
Three times a day she studied a little book, which I found, on inspection, was a Common Prayer Book. I asked her once what was the great attraction of that volume, and she said, 'the Rubric.' Three hours she gave to stitching, with gold thread, the border of a square crimson cloth, almost large enough for a carpet. In answer to my inquiries after the use of this article, she informed me it was a covering for the altar of a new church lately erected near Gateshead. Two hours she devoted to her diary; two to working by herself in the kitchen-garden; and one to the regulation of her accounts. She seemed to want no company; no conversation. I believe she was happy in her way: this routine sufficed for her; and nothing annoyed her so much as the occurrence of any incident which forced her to vary its clockwork regularity.
She told me one evening, when more disposed to be communicative than usual, that John's conduct, and the threatened ruin of the family, had been a source of profound affliction to her: but she had now, she said, settled her mind, and formed her resolution. Her own fortune she had taken care to secure; and when her mother died- and it was wholly improbable, she tranquilly remarked, that she should either recover or linger long- she would execute a long-cherished project: seek a retirement where punctual habits would be permanently secured from disturbance, and place safe barriers between herself and a frivolous world. I asked if Georgiana would accompany her.
'Of course not. Georgiana and she had nothing in common: they never had had. She would not be burdened with her society for any consideration. Georgiana should take her own course; and she, Eliza, would take hers.'
Georgiana, when not unburdening her heart to me, spent most of her time in lying on the sofa, fretting about the dulness of the house, and wishing over and over again that her aunt Gibson would send her an invitation up to town. 'It would be so much better,' she said, 'if she could only get out of the way for a month or two, till all was over.' I did not ask what she meant by 'all being over,' but I suppose she referred to the expected decease of her mother and the gloomy sequel of funeral rites. Eliza generally took no more notice of her sister's indolence and complaints than if no such murmuring, lounging object had been before her. One day, however, as she put away her account-book and unfolded her embroidery, she suddenly took her up thus-
'Georgiana, a more vain and absurd animal than you was certainly never allowed to cumber the earth. You had no right to be born, for you make no use of life. Instead of living for, in, and with yourself, as a reasonable being ought, you seek only to fasten your feebleness on some other person's strength: if no one can be found willing to burden her or himself with such a fat, weak, puffy, useless thing, you cry out that you are ill-treated, neglected, miserable. Then, too, existence for you must be a scene of continual change and excitement, or else the world is a dungeon: you must be admired, you must be courted, you must be flattered- you must have music, dancing, and society- or you languish, you die away. Have you no sense to devise a system which will make you independent of all efforts, and all wills, but your own? Take one day; share it into sections; to each section apportion its task: leave no stray unemployed quarters of an hour, ten minutes, five minutes- include all; do each piece of business in its turn with method, with rigid regularity. The day will close almost before you are aware it has begun; and you are indebted to no one for helping you to get rid of one vacant moment: you have had to seek no one's company, conversation, sympathy forbearance; you have lived, in short, as an independent being ought to do. Take this advice: the first and last I shall offer you; then you will not want me or any one else, happen what may. Neglect it-go on as heretofore, craving, whining, and idling- and suffer the results of your idiocy, however bad and insufferable they may be. I tell you this plainly; and listen: for though I shall no more repeat what I am now about to say, I shall steadily act on it. After my mother's death, I wash my hands of you: from the day her coffin is carried to the vault in Gateshead Church, you and I will be as separate as if we had never known each other. You need not think that because we chanced to be born of the same parents, I shall suffer you to fasten me down by even the feeblest claim: I can tell you this- if the whole human race, ourselves excepted, were swept away, and we two stood alone on the earth, I would leave you in the old world, and betake myself to the new.'
She closed her lips.
'You might have spared yourself the trouble of delivering that tirade,' answered Georgiana. 'Everybody knows you are the most selfish, heartless creature in existence: and I know your spiteful  hatred towards me: I have had a specimen of it before in the trick you played me about Lord Edwin Vere: you could not bear me to be raised above you, to have a title, to be received into circles where you dare not show your face, and so you acted the spy and informer, and ruined my prospects for ever.' Georgiana took out her handkerchief and blew her nose for an hour afterwards; Eliza sat cold, impassible, and assiduously industrious.
True, generous feeling is made small account of by some, but here were two natures rendered, the one intolerably acrid, the other despicably savourless for the want of it. Feeling without judgment is a washy draught indeed; but judgment untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.
It was a wet and windy afternoon: Georgiana had fallen asleep on the sofa over the perusal of a novel; Eliza was gone to attend a saint's-day service at the new church- for in matters of religion she was a rigid formalist: no weather ever prevented the punctual discharge of what she considered her devotional duties; fair or foul, she went to church thrice every Sunday, and as often on week-days as there were prayers.
I bethought myself to go upstairs and see how the dying woman sped, who lay there almost unheeded: the very servants paid her but a remittent attention: the hired nurse, being little looked after, would slip out of the room whenever she could. Bessie was faithful; but she had her own family to mind, and could only come occasionally to the hall. I found the sick-room unwatched, as I had expected: no nurse was there; the patient lay still, and seemingly lethargic; her livid face sunk in the pillows: the fire was dying in the grate. I renewed the fuel, re-arranged the bedclothes, gazed awhile on her who could not now gaze on me, and then I moved away to the window.
The rain beat strongly against the panes, the wind blew tempestuously: 'One lies there,' I thought, 'who will soon be beyond the war of earthly elements. Whither will that spirit- now struggling to quit its material tenement- flit when at length released?'
In pondering the great mystery, I thought of Helen Burns, recalled her dying words- her faith- her doctrine of the equality of disembodied souls. I was still listening in thought to her well-remembered tones- still picturing her pale and spiritual aspect, her wasted face and sublime gaze, as she lay on her placid deathbed, and whispered her longing to be restored to her divine Father's bosom- when a feeble voice murmured from the couch behind:
'Who is that?'
I knew Mrs. Reed had not spoken for days: was she reviving? I went up to her.
'It is I, Aunt Reed.'
'Who- I?' was her answer. 'Who are you?' looking at me with surprise and a sort of alarm, but still not wildly. 'You are quite a stranger to me- where is Bessie?'
'She is at the lodge, aunt.'
'Aunt,' she repeated. 'Who calls me aunt? You are not one of the Gibsons; and yet I know you- that face, and the eyes and forehead, are quite familiar to me: you are like- why, you are like Jane Eyre!' I said nothing: I was afraid of occasioning some shock by declaring my identity.
'Yet,' said she, 'I am afraid it is a mistake: my thoughts deceive me. I wished to see Jane Eyre, and I fancy a likeness where none exists: besides, in eight years she must be so changed.' I now gently assured her that I was the person she supposed and desired me to be: and seeing that I was understood, and that her senses were quite collected, I explained how Bessie had sent her husband to fetch me from Thornfield.
'I am very ill, I know,' she said ere long. 'I was trying to turn myself a few minutes since, and find I cannot move a limb. It is as well I should ease my mind before I die: what we think little of in health, burdens us at such an hour as the present is to me. Is the nurse here? or is there no one in the room but you?' I assured her we were alone.
'Well, I have twice done you a wrong which I regret now. One was in breaking the promise which I gave my husband to bring you up as my own child; the other-' she stopped. 'After all, it is of no great importance, perhaps,' she murmured to herself: 'and then I may get better; and to humble myself so to her is painful.'
She made an effort to alter her position, but failed: her face changed; she seemed to experience some inward sensation- the precursor, perhaps, of the last pang.
'Well, I must get it over. Eternity is before me: I had better tell her.- Go to my dressing-case, open it, and take out a letter you will see there.'
I obeyed her directions. 'Read the letter,' she said.
It was short, and thus conceived:-
'MADAM,- Will you have the goodness to send me the address of my niece, Jane Eyre, and to tell me how she is? It is my intention to write shortly and desire her to come to me at Madeira. Providence has blessed my endeavours to secure a competency; and as I am unmarried and childless, I wish to adopt her during my life, and bequeath her at my death whatever I may have to leave.- I am, Madam, etc., etc.,
'JOHN EYRE, Madeira.'
It was dated three years back.
'Why did I never hear of this?' I asked.
'Because I disliked you too fixedly and thoroughly ever to lend a hand in lifting you to prosperity. I could not forget your conduct to me, Jane- the fury with which you once turned on me; the tone in which you declared you abhorred me the worst of anybody in the world; the unchildlike look and voice with which you affirmed that the very thought of me made you sick, and asserted that I had treated you with miserable cruelty. I could not forget my own sensations when you thus started up and poured out the venom of your mind: I felt fear as if an animal that I had struck or pushed had looked up at me with human eyes and cursed me in a man's voice.- Bring me some water! Oh, make haste!'
'Dear Mrs. Reed,' said I, as I offered her the draught she required, 'think no more of all this, let it pass away from your mind.
Forgive me for my passionate language: I was a child then; eight, nine years have passed since that day.'
She heeded nothing of what I said; but when she had tasted the water and drawn breath, she went on thus-
'I tell you I could not forget it; and I took my revenge: for you to be adopted by your uncle, and placed in a state of ease and comfort, was what I could not endure. I wrote to him; I said I was sorry for his disappointment, but Jane Eyre was dead: she had died of typhus fever at Lowood. Now act as you please: write and contradict my assertion- expose my falsehood as soon as you like. You were born, I think, to be my torment: my last hour is racked by the recollection of a deed which, but for you, I should never have been tempted to commit.'
'If you could but be persuaded to think no more of it, aunt, and to regard me with kindness and forgiveness-'
'You have a very bad disposition,' said she, 'and one to this day I feel it impossible to understand: how for nine years you could be patient and quiescent under any treatment, and in the tenth break out all fire and violence, I can never comprehend.'
'My disposition is not so bad as you think: I am passionate, but not vindictive. Many a time, as a little child, I should have been glad to love you if you would have let me; and I long earnestly to be reconciled to you now: kiss me, aunt.'
I approached my cheek to her lips: she would not touch it. She said I oppressed her by leaning over the bed, and again demanded water.
As I laid her down- for I raised her and supported her on my arm while she drank- I covered her ice-cold and clammy hand with mine: the feeble fingers shrank from my touch- the glazing eyes shunned my gaze. 'Love me, then, or hate me, as you will,' I said at last, 'you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God's, and be at peace.'
Poor, suffering woman! it was too late for her to make now the effort to change her habitual frame of mind: living, she had ever hated me- dying, she must hate me still.
The nurse now entered, and Bessie followed. I yet lingered half an hour longer, hoping to see some sign of amity: but she gave none.
She was fast relapsing into stupor; nor did her mind again rally: at twelve o'clock that night she died. I was not present to close her eyes, nor were either of her daughters. They came to tell us the next morning that all was over. She was by that time laid out. Eliza and I went to look at her: Georgiana, who had burst out into loud weeping, said she dared not go. There was stretched Sarah Reed's once robust and active frame, rigid and still: her eye of flint was covered with its cold lid; her brow and strong traits wore yet the impress of her inexorable soul. A strange and solemn object was that corpse to me. I gazed on it with gloom and pain: nothing soft, nothing sweet, nothing pitying, or hopeful, or subduing did it inspire; only a grating anguish for her woes- not my loss- and a sombre tearless dismay at the fearfulness of death in such a form.
Eliza surveyed her parent calmly. After a silence of some minutes she observed- 'With her constitution she should have lived to a good old age: her life was shortened by trouble.' And then a spasm constricted her mouth for an instant: as it passed away she turned and left the room, and so did I. Neither of us had dropt a tear. 
预感真是个怪物！还有感应，还有征兆，都无不如此。三者合一构成了人类至今无法索解的秘密。我平生从未讥笑过预感，因为我自己也有过这种奇怪的经历。我相信心灵感应是存在的（例如在关系甚远、久不往来、完全生疏的亲戚之间，尽管彼此疏远，但都认不有着同一个渊源）。心灵感应究竟如何产生，却不是人类所能理解的。至于征兆，也许不过是自然与人的感应。
我还只是一个六岁的小女孩时，一天夜里听见贝茜.利文对马撒.艾博特说，她梦见了一个小孩，而梦见孩子无论对自己还是对亲人，肯定是不祥之兆。要不是紧接着发生的一件事给我留下了难以磨灭的印象，这种说法也许早就淡忘了。第二天贝茜被叫回家去看她咽气的小妹妹。
近来，我常常忆起这种说法和这件事情。因为上个星期，我几乎每晚都在床上梦见一个婴孩。有时抱在怀里哄它安静下来；有时放在膝头摆弄；有时看着它在草地上摸弄雏菊，或者伸手在流水中戏水。一晚是个哭着的孩子，另一晚是个笑着的孩子；一会儿它紧偎着我，一会又逃得远远的。但是不管这幽灵心情怎样，长相如何，一连七夜我一进入梦乡，它便来迎接我。
我不喜欢同一念头反复不去——不喜欢同一形象奇怪地一再出现。临要上床和幻象就要出现的时刻，我便局促不安起来。由于同这位梦中的婴孩形影不离，那个月夜，我听到了一声啼哭后便惊醒过来。第二天下午我被叫下楼去，捎来口信说有人要见我，等候在太敦，而她也许还没等你赶到就死了。更何况你说她把你抛弃了。”
“不错，先生，但那已是很久以前了，而且当时的情况不同。现在要是我无视她的心愿，我会不安心的。”
“你要呆多久？”
“尽量短些，先生。”
“答应我只呆一星期。”
“我还是不要许诺好，很可能我会不得不食言。”
“无论如何你要回来，在任何情况下都要经得住劝诱，不跟她一辈子住P舺&喱小姐，我的太太很健康，谢谢。两个月之前她又给我生了个小家伙——现在我们有三个了——大人和孩子都好。”
“盖茨黑德府全家都好吗，罗伯特？”
“很抱歉，我没法儿给你带来好消息，小姐。眼下他们都很糟——糟糕得很哪。”
“但愿没有人去世了，”我瞥了一下他黑色的丧服说。他也低头瞧了一下围在帽上的黑纱，并回答道：
“约翰先生在伦敦住所去世了，到昨天正好一周。”
“约翰先生？”
“不错。”
“他母亲怎么受得了呢？”
“哎呀你瞧，爱小姐，这不是一桩平平常常的不幸，他的生活非常放荡，最近三年他放纵得出奇，死得也吓人。”
“我从贝茜那儿听到他日子不好过。”
“不好过！不能再坏了，他在一批坏男女中间厮混，糟塌了身体，荡光了家产，负了债，坐了牢。他母亲两次帮他弄出来，但他一出来便又找到了老相识，恢复了旧习气。他的脑子不大健全，那些同他相处的无赖，不择手段欺骗他。三个礼拜之前，他来到盖茨黑德府，要夫人把什么都给他，被夫人拒绝了，因为她的财产早已被他挥霍掉很多。所以又只好返回去，随后的消息便是他死掉了。天知道他是怎么死的！——他们说他自杀了。”
我默默无语，这消息着实可怕。罗伯特．利文又往下说：
“夫人自己健康也不好，这已经有好长一段时间了。身体发胖，但并不强壮。她损失了钱，又怕变成穷光蛋，所以便垮了下来。约翰先生的死讯和这种死法来得很突然，害得她中风了。一连三天没有说话。不过上星期二似乎好些了，仿佛想说什么，不住地招呼我妻子，嘴里还叽哩咕噜。直到昨天早上贝茜才弄明白，她叨念着你的名字。最后贝茜把她的话搞清楚了，‘把简叫来——去把简.爱叫来，我有话要同她说。’贝茜不敢肯定她的神志是否清醒，这些话有没有意思。不过她告诉了里德小姐和乔治亚娜小姐，向她们建议把你去叫来。起初两位年轻小姐拖拖拉拉，但她们的母亲越来越焦躁不安，而旦‘简，简’地叫个不停，最后她们终算同意了。昨天我从盖茨黑德府动身。小姐，要是来得及准备，我想明天一早带你同我一起回去。”
“是的，罗伯特，我会准备好的，我似乎应当去。”
“我也是这么想的，小姐。贝茜说她可以肯定，你不会拒绝。不过我想，你动身之前得请个假。”
“是呀，我现在就去请假。”我把他领到了仆人室，将他交给约翰的妻子照应，并由约翰亲自过问后，便进去寻找罗切斯特先生了。
他不在底下几层的房间里，也不在院子里，马厩里或者庭园里。我问费尔法克斯太太有没有见到过他——不错，她想他跟英格拉姆小姐在玩台球。我急忙赶到台球房，那里回响着台球的咔嗒声和嗡嗡的说话声。罗切斯特先生、英格拉姆小姐、两位埃希顿小姐和她们的倾慕者正忙着玩那游戏呢。要去打搅这批兴致勃勃的人是需要有勇气的，但我的事儿又不能拖延。于是我便向我主人走去，他站在英格拉姆小姐旁边。我一走近，她便回过头来盛气凌人地看着我，她的眼睛似乎在说，“那个迟迟疑疑的家伙现在要干什么？”当我轻轻地叫了声，“罗切斯特先生”时，她移动了一下，仿佛按捺不住要命令我走开。我还记得她那时的样子——优雅而出众。她穿着一件天蓝的皱纱睡袍，头发上缠着一条青色薄纱头巾。她玩兴正浓，虽然触犯了自尊，但脸上骄矜之气未减。
“那人找你吗？”她问罗切斯特先生。罗切斯特先生回头看看“那人”是谁，作了个奇怪的鬼脸——异样而含糊的表情——扔下了球棒，随我走出了房门。
“怎么啦，简？”他关了房门后，身子倚在门上说。
“对不起，先生，我想请一、两周假。”
“干嘛？——上哪儿去呀？”
“去看一位生了病的太太，是她派人来叫我的。”
“哪位生病的太太？——她住在哪儿？”
“在××郡的盖茨黑德府。”
“××郡？离这儿有一百英里呢！这么远叫人回去看她，这人可是谁呀？”
“她叫里德，先生——里德太太。”
“盖茨黑德的里德吗？盖茨黑德府是有一个叫里德的，是个地方法官。”
“我说的是他的寡妇，先生。”
“那你与她有什么关系？怎么认得她的呢？”
“里德先生是我的舅舅——我母亲的哥哥。”
“哎呀他是你舅舅！你从来没有跟我说起过他，你总是说你没有亲戚。”
“没有一个亲戚肯承认我，先生。里德先生去世了，他的夫人抛弃了我。”
“为什么？”
“因为我穷，是个包袱，她不喜欢我。”
“可是里德他留下了孩子？——你一定有表兄妹的了？昨天乔治．林恩爵士说起盖茨黑德府一个叫里德的人——他说这人是城里一个十足的无赖，而英格拉姆提到了同一个地方叫乔治亚娜．里德的，一两个社交季节之前，因为美貌，在伦敦大受倾慕。”
“约翰.里德也死了，先生，他毁了自己，也差不多毁了他的家，据说他是自杀的。噩耗传来，他母亲大为震惊，一下子中风了。”
“你能帮她什么忙？胡闹，简？我才不会想跑一百英里去看一个老太太呢，而她也许还没等你赶到就死了。更何况你说她把你抛弃了。”
“不错，先生，但那已是很久以前了，而且当时的情况不同。现在要是我无视她的心愿，我会不安心的。”
“你要呆多久？”
“尽量短些，先生。”
“答应我只呆一星期。”
“我还是不要许诺好，很可能我会不得不食言。”
“无论如何你要回来，在任何情况下都要经得住劝诱，不跟她一辈子住在一起。”
“呵，对！要是一切顺利，我当然会回来的。”
“谁同你一起走？可不能独个儿跑一百英里路呀？”
“不，先生，她派了一个赶车人来。”
“一个信得过的人吗？”
“是的先生，他在那儿已经住了十年。”
罗切斯特先生沉思了一会。“你希望什么时候走？”
“明天一早，先生。”
“好吧，你得带些钱在身边，出门可不能没有钱。我猜想你钱不多。我还没有付你工资呢。你一古脑儿还有多少钱，简？”他笑着问。
我取出钱包，里面瘪瘪的。“五先令，先生。”他伸手拿过钱包，把里面的钱全倒在手掌上，噗吃一声笑了出来，仿佛是钱使他高兴似的。他立刻取出了自己的皮夹子，“拿着吧，”他说着递给我一张钞票：五十英镑，而他只欠我十五英镑。我告诉他我找不出。
“我不要你找，你知道的。拿着你的工资吧。”
我拒绝接受超过我应得的东西。他先是皱了皱眉，随后仿佛想起了什么似地说：
“行，行！现在还是不要全给你的好。要是你有五十镑，也许就会呆上三个月。十英镑，够吗？”
“够啦，先生，不过现在你欠我五英镑了。”
“那就回来拿吧，你有四十镑存在我这儿。”
“罗切斯特先生，我还是趁这个机会向你提一下另一桩事务吧。”
“事务？我听了很感到好奇。”
“你实际上已经通知我，先生，你很快就要结婚了。”
“是的，那又怎么样？”
“那样的话，先生，阿黛勒该去上学了，可以肯定你会觉察到这样做的必要性。”
“让她别碍着我新娘，不然她会过份地蔑视她。毫无疑问，你这建议有道理。像你说的，阿黛勒得上学，而你，当然，得直奔——魔鬼？”
“希望不是这样，先生。不过我得上什么地方另找个工作。”
“当然！”他大叫道，嗓门里带着鼻音，面部抽搐了一下，表情既古怪又可笑。他打量了我几分钟。
“你会去求老夫人里德，或者她的女儿，也就是那些小姐们给你找个工作，我猜是吧？”
“不，先生，我亲戚们没有那层可以请求帮忙的关系——不过我会登广告。”
“你还可以大步跨上埃及金字塔！”他咆哮着。“你登广告是冒险：但愿我刚才只给了你一镑，而不是十镑。把五镑还给我，简，我要派用处。”
“我也要派用处，先生，”我回嘴道，双手抓住钱包藏到了背后。“那钱我说什么也不放。”
“小气鬼！”他说，“问你要点儿钱你就拒绝！给我五镑，简。”
“连五镑也不给，先生，五便士也不给。”
“让我就瞧一瞧你的钱吧。”
“不，先生，我不能相信你。”
“简！”
“先生？”
“答应我一件事。”
“先生，凡是自己力所能及的，我都能答应。”
“不要去登广告，你就把找工作的事交给我办吧，到时候我会给你找一个。”
“我很乐意这么做，先生。只要你反过不答应我，在新娘进屋之前我和阿黛勒都太太平平离开这所房子。”
“好呀！好呀！我答应。那你明天动身？”
“是的，先生，一大早。”
“晚饭后你下楼来客厅吗？”
“不来了，先生，我还得收拾行装呢。”
“那你我得暂时告别了？”
“我想是这样，先生。”
“一般人采用怎样的仪式来告别，简？教一教我吧，我不大在行。”
“他们说再见，或者其他喜欢的方式。”
“那就说吧。”
“再见，罗切斯特先生，暂时告别了。”
“我该说什么呢？”
“一样说法，要是你高兴，先生。”
“再见了。简.爱，暂时告别了，就是这些吗？”
“是的。”
“在我看来，你好象有点太吝啬、干巴巴、不友好。我还想要点别的，一点礼仪之外的东西。比如，握握手，不，——那也不能使我满意。那你就只说‘再见’了，简？”
“这够了，先生，这两个亲切的字眼所表达的友好情意，跟许多字里一样多。”“很可能是这样，但这既空洞又冷淡——‘再见’”
“他背靠着门会站多久呢？”我暗自问道，“我要开始收拾了。”晚餐铃响了，他猛地跑开，一句话也没有说。那天我没有再见到他，第二天早晨，他还没起床我就动身走了。
五月一日下午五点左右，我到了盖茨黑德府门房，上府宅之前我先进去瞧瞧。里面十分整洁，装饰窗上挂着小小的白色窗帘，地板一尘不染，炉栅和炉具都擦得锃亮，炉子里燃着明净的火苗。贝茜坐在火炉边上，喂着最小的一个孩子，罗伯特和妹妹在墙角不声不响地玩着。
“哎呀！——我知道你会来的！”我进门时利文太太叫道。
“是呀，贝茜，”我吻了吻她说，“我相信来得还不至于太晚，里德太太怎么样了？——我希望还活着。”
“不错，她还活着，而且更明白事理，更泰然了。医生说她会拖上一周两周，但认为她很难好得了。”
“近来她提到过我吗？”
“今天早上还说起过你呢，希望你能来。不过她现在睡着了，或者说十分钟之前我在楼上的时候，正睡着呢。整个下午她总是那么懒洋洋地躺着，六七点钟左右醒来。小姐，你在这儿歇个把小时，然后我跟你一起上去好吗？”
这时罗伯特进来了，贝茜把睡着的孩子放进摇篮，上去迎接他。随后她硬要我脱掉帽子，用些茶点，说我显得既苍白又疲惫。我很乐意接受她的殷勤招待，顺从地任她脱去了行装，就像儿时任她脱掉衣服一样。
我瞧着她忙乎着，摆好茶盘，拿出最好的瓷器，切好面包和奶油，烤好茶点吐司，不时还轻轻地拍一拍，推一推罗伯特或简，就象小时候对待我一样；于是旧时的记忆又立刻浮上心头。贝茜的性子依然那么急，手脚依然那么轻，容貌依然那么姣好。
茶点备好以后，我正要走近桌子，她却要我坐着别动，用的还是过去那种专断的口气。她说得让我坐着，在火炉旁招待我。她把一个园园的架子放在我面前，架子上摆了杯子和一盘吐司，完全就像她过去一样，把我安顿在育儿室的椅子上，让我吃一些暗地里偷来的精美食品。我象往昔一样微笑着依了她。
她想知道我在桑菲尔德府是不是愉快，女主人是怎样一个人。当我告诉她只有一个男主人时，她问我那位先生好不好，我是不是喜欢。我告诉她这人长得比较难看，却很有教养，待我很好，我很满意。随后我继续给她描绘那批最近呆在府上寻欢作乐的客人，贝茜对这些细节听得津津有味，她恰巧就爱听这些东西。
谈着谈着一小时很快就过去了，贝茜把帽子等还给我。我由她陪着出了门房上府宅去。差不多九年之前我也是由她这么陪着，从我此刻登上的小径走下来的。一月的某个灰暗阴冷、雾气弥漫的早晨，我带着绝望和痛
Chapter 22
MR. ROCHESTER had given me but one week's leave of absence: yet a month elapsed before I quitted Gateshead. I wished to leave immediately after the funeral, but Georgiana entreated me to stay till she could get off to London, whither she was now at last invited by her uncle, Mr. Gibson, who had come down to direct his sister's interment and settle the family affairs. Georgiana said she dreaded being left alone with Eliza; from her she got neither sympathy in her dejection, support in her fears, nor aid in her preparations; so I bore with her feeble-minded wailings and selfish lamentations as well as I could, and did my best in sewing for her and packing her dresses. It is true, that while I worked, she would idle; and I thought to myself, 'If you and I were destined to live always together, cousin, we would commence matters on a different footing. I should not settle tamely down into being the forbearing party; I should assign you your share of labour, and compel you to accomplish it, or else it should be left undone: I should insist, also, on your keeping some of those drawling, half-insincere complaints hushed in your own breast. It is only because our connection happens to be very transitory, and comes at a peculiarly mournful season, that I consent thus to render it so patient and compliant on my part.'
At last I saw Georgiana off; but now it was Eliza's turn to request me to stay another week. Her plans required all her time and attention, she said; she was about to depart for some unknown bourne; and all day long she stayed in her own room, her door bolted within, filling trunks, emptying drawers, burning papers, and holding no communication with any one. She wished me to look after the house, to see callers, and answer notes of condolence.
One morning she told me I was at liberty. 'And,' she added, 'I am obliged to you for your valuable services and discreet conduct! 
There is some difference between living with such an one as you and with Georgiana: you perform your own part in life and burden no one.
To-morrow,' she continued, 'I set out for the Continent. I shall take up my abode in a religious house near Lisle- a nunnery you would call it; there I shall be quiet and unmolested. I shall devote myself for a time to the examination of the Roman Catholic dogmas, and to a careful study of the workings of their system: if I find it to be, as I half suspect it is, the one best calculated 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 to dissuade her from it. 'The vocation will fit you to a hair,' I thought: 'much good may it do you!'
When we parted, she said: 'Good-bye, cousin Jane Eyre; I wish you well: you have some sense.'
I then returned: 'You are not without sense, cousin Eliza; but what you have, I suppose, in another year will be walled up alive in a French convent. However, it is not my business, and so it suits you, I don't much care.'
'You are in the right,' said she; and with these words we each went our separate way. As I shall not have occasion to refer either to her or her sister again, I may as well mention here, that Georgiana made an advantageous match with a wealthy worn-out man of fashion, and that Eliza actually took the veil, and is at this day superior of the convent where she passed the period of her novitiate, and which she endowed with her fortune.
How people feel when they are returning home from an absence, long or 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 after a long walk, to be scolded for looking cold or gloomy; and later, what it was to come back from church to Lowood, to long for a plenteous meal and a good fire, and to be unable to get either. 
Neither of these returnings was very pleasant or desirable: no magnet drew me to a given point, increasing in its strength of attraction the nearer I came. The return to Thornfield was yet to be tried.
My journey seemed tedious- very tedious: fifty miles one day, a night spent at an inn; fifty miles the next day. During the first twelve hours I thought of Mrs. Reed in her last moments; I saw her disfigured and discoloured face, and heard her strangely altered voice. I mused on the funeral day, the coffin, the hearse, the black train of tenants and servants- few was the number of relatives- the gaping vault, the silent church, the solemn service. Then I thought of Eliza and Georgiana; I beheld one the cynosure of a ball-room, the other the inmate of a convent cell; and I dwelt on and analysed their separate peculiarities of person and character. The evening gave them quite another turn: laid down on my traveller's bed, 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 in the interim of my absence: the party at the hall was dispersed; Mr. Rochester had left for London three weeks ago, but he was then expected to return in a fortnight. Mrs. Fairfax surmised that he was gone to make arrangements for his wedding, as he had talked of purchasing a new carriage: she said the idea of his marrying Miss Ingram still seemed strange to her; but from what everybody said, and from what she had herself seen, she could no longer doubt that the event would shortly take place. 'You would be strangely incredulous if you did doubt it,' was my mental comment. 'I don't doubt it.'
The question followed, 'Where was I to go?' I dreamt of Miss Ingram all the night: in a vivid morning dream I saw her closing the gates of Thornfield against me and pointing me out another road; and Mr. Rochester looked on with his arms folded- smiling sardonically, as it seemed, at both her and me.
I had not notified to Mrs. Fairfax the exact day of my return; for I did not wish either car or carriage to meet me at Millcote. I proposed to walk the distance quietly by myself; and very quietly, after leaving my box in the ostler's care, did I slip away from the George Inn, about six o'clock of a June evening, and take the old 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, though far from cloudless, was such as promised well for the future: its blue- where blue was visible- was mild and settled, and its cloud strata high and thin. The west, too, was warm: no watery gleam chilled it- it seemed as if there was a fire lit, an altar burning behind its screen of marbled vapour, and out of apertures shone a golden redness.
I felt glad as the road shortened before me: so glad that I stopped once to ask myself what that joy meant: and to remind reason that it 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 my arrival. 
'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, and that 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 privilege of 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 him for ever!' And then I strangled a new-born agony- a deformed thing which I could not persuade myself to own and rear- and ran on. 
They are making hay, too, in Thornfield meadows: or rather, the labourers are just quitting their work, and returning home with their rakes on their shoulders, now, at the hour I arrive. I have but a field or two to traverse, and then I shall cross the road and reach the gates. How full the hedges are of roses! But I have no time to gather any; I want to be at the house. I passed a tall briar, shooting leafy and flowery branches across the path; I see the narrow stile with stone steps; and I see- Mr. Rochester sitting 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: for a moment I am beyond my own mastery. What does it mean? I did not think I should tremble in this way when I saw him, or lose my voice or the power of motion in his presence. I will go back as soon 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 knew twenty ways; for he has seen me.
'Hillo!' he cries; and he puts up his book and his pencil. 'There you are! Come on, if you please.'
I suppose I do come on; though in what fashion I know not; being scarcely cognisant of my movements, and solicitous only to appear calm; and, above all, to control the working muscles of my face- which I feel rebel insolently against my will, and struggle to express what I had resolved to conceal. But I have a veil- it is 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, and come clattering over street and road like a common mortal, but to steal into the vicinage of your home along with twilight, just as if you were a dream or a shade. What the deuce have you done with yourself 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 the other world- from the abode of people who are dead; and tells me so when she meets me alone here in the gloaming! If I dared, I'd touch you, to see if you are substance or shadow, you elf!- but I'd as soon offer to take hold of a blue ignis fatuus light in a marsh.
Truant! truant!' he added, when he had paused an instant. 'Absent from me a whole month, and forgetting me quite, I'll be sworn!'
I knew there would be pleasure in meeting my master again, even though broken by the fear that he was so soon to cease to be my master, and by the knowledge that I was nothing to him: but there was ever in Mr. Rochester (so at least I thought) such a wealth of the power of communicating happiness, that to taste but of the crumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me, was to feast genially. His last words were balm: they seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not. And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home- would that it were my home!
He did not leave the stile, and I hardly liked to ask to go by. I inquired 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 it will suit Mrs. Rochester exactly; and whether she won't look like Queen 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 a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?'
'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 handsome enough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty.' 
Mr. Rochester had sometimes read my unspoken thoughts with an acumen to me incomprehensible: in the present instance he took no notice of my abrupt vocal response; but he smiled at me with a certain smile 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 the real sunshine of feeling- he shed it over me now.
'Pass, Janet,' said he, making room for me to cross the stile: 'go up home, and stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend's threshold.'
All I had now to do was to obey him in silence: no need for me to colloquise further. I got over the stile without a word, and meant to leave him calmly. An impulse held me fast- a force turned me 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 strangely glad 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 me had he tried. Little Adele was half wild with delight when she saw me. 
Mrs. Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness. Leah smiled, and even Sophie bid me 'bon soir' with glee. This was very pleasant; there is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.
I that evening shut my eyes resolutely against the future: I stopped my ears against the voice that kept warning me of near separation and coming grief. When tea was over and Mrs. Fairfax had taken her 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 of mutual 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, and looking at us, seemed to take pleasure in the spectacle of a group so amicable- when he said he supposed the old lady was all right now that she had got her adopted daughter back again, and added that he saw Adele was 'prete a 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 preparation going on for such an event. Almost every day I asked Mrs. Fairfax if she had yet heard anything decided: her answer was always in the negative. Once she said she had actually put the question to Mr. Rochester as to when he was going to bring his bride home; but he had answered her only by a joke and one of his queer looks, and she could not tell what to make of him.
One thing specially surprised me, and that was, there were no journeyings backward and forward, no visits to Ingram Park: to be sure it was twenty miles off, on the borders of another county; but what was that distance to an ardent lover? To so practised and indefatigable a horseman as Mr. Rochester, it would be but a morning's ride. I began to cherish hopes I had no right to conceive: that the match was broken off; that rumour had been mistaken; that one or both parties had changed their minds. I used to look at my master's face to see if it were sad or fierce; but I could not remember the time when it had been so uniformly clear of clouds or evil feelings. 
If, in the moments I and my pupil spent with him, I lacked spirits and sank into inevitable dejection, he became even gay. Never had he called me more frequently to his presence; never been kinder to me when there- and, alas! never had I loved him so well. 
罗切斯特先生只准许我缺席一周，但我还没有离开盖茨黑德，一个月就已经过去了。我希望葬礼后立即动身，乔治亚娜却恳求我一直呆到她去伦敦，因为来这里张罗姐姐的葬礼和解决家庭事务的吉卜森舅舅，终于邀请她上那儿了。乔治亚娜害怕同伊丽莎单独相处，说是情绪低沉时得不到她的同情；胆怯时得不到她的支持；收拾行装时得不到她的帮助。所以乔治亚娜软弱无能、畏首畏尾、自私自利、怨天尤人，我都尽量忍受，并力尽所能替她做针线活，收拾衣装。确实，我忙着时她会闲着不干事。我暗自思讨道：“要是你我注定要一直共同生活，表姐，我们要重新处事，与以往全然不同。我不该乖乖地成为忍受的一方，而该把你的一份活儿分派给你，迫使你去完成，要不然就让它留着不做。我还该坚持让你那慢条斯理、半真半假的诉苦咽到你肚子里去。正是因为我们之间的关系十分短暂，偏又遇上特殊的凭吊期间，所以我才甘愿忍耐和屈从。”
我终于送别了乔治亚娜、可是现在却轮到了伊丽莎要求我再呆一周了。她说她的计划需要她全力以赴，因为就要动身去某个未知的目的地了。她成天闩了门呆在房间里，装箱子，理抽屉，烧文件，同谁都不来往。她希望我替她看管房子，接待来客，回复唁函。
一天早晨她告诉我没有我的事了。“而且，”她补充道，“我感激你宝贵的帮助和周到的办事。跟你共处和跟乔治亚娜共处，有所不同。你在生活中尽自己的责任，而不成为别人的负担。明天，”她继续说，“我要动身去大陆。我会在里斯尔附近一家寺院找到栖身之所——你会称它为修道院。在那里我会安静度日，不受干扰。我会暂时致力于考察罗马天主教信条，和细心研究它体制的运转。我虽然半信半疑，但要是发现它最适宜于使一切事情办得公平合理，井井有条，那我会皈依罗马教，很可能还会去当修女。”
我既没有对她的决定表示惊奇，也没有劝说她打消这个念头。“这一行对你再适合不过了，”我想，“但愿对你大有好处！”
我们分手时她说：“再见，简.爱表妹，祝你走运，你还是有些见识的。”
我随后回答道：“你也不是没有见识，伊丽莎表姐。但再过一年，我想你的禀赋会被活活地囚禁在法国修道院的围墙之内。不过这不是我的事儿，反正对你适合——我并不太在乎。”
“你说得很对，”她说。我们彼此说了这几句话后，便分道扬镳了。由于我没有机会再提起她或她妹妹了，我不妨在这儿说一下吧。乔治亚娜在婚事上得以高攀，嫁给了上流社会一个年老力衰的有钱男子。伊丽莎果真做了修女，度过了一段见习期后，现在做了修道院院长，并把全部财产赠给了修道院。
无论是短期还是长期外出回家的人是什么滋味，我并不知道，因为我从来没有这种感受。但我知道，小时候走了很远的路后回到盖茨黑德府，因为显得怕冷或情绪低沉而挨骂是什么滋味。后来，我也知道，从教堂里回到罗沃德，渴望一顿丰盛的饭菜和熊熊的炉火，结果却两者都落空时，又是什么滋味。那几次归途并不愉快，也不令人向往，因为没有一种磁力吸引我奔向目标，不是离得越近越具诱人的力量。这次返回桑菲尔德是什么滋味，还有待于体味。
旅途似乎有些乏味——很乏味。白天走五十英里，晚上投宿于旅店。第二天又走五十英里。最初十二个小时，我想起了里德太太临终的时刻。我看见了她变了形相、没有血色的脸，听见了她出奇地走了样的声调。我默默地忆起了出丧的日子，还有棺材、棂车、黑黑的一队佃户和佣人——亲戚参加的不多——张开的墓穴、寂静的教堂、庄严的仪式。随后我想起了伊丽莎和乔治亚娜。我看见一个是舞场中的皇后，另一个是修道院陋室的居士。我继续思索着，分析了她们各自的个性和品格。傍晚时抵达某个大城镇，驱散了这些想法。夜间，我的思绪转了向。我躺在这远游者的床榻上，撇开回忆，开始了对未来的向往。
我正在回桑菲尔德的归途中，可是我会在那儿呆多久呢？我确信不会太久。在外期间，费尔法克斯太太写信告诉我，府上的聚会已经散去，罗切斯特先生三周前动身上伦敦去了，不过预定二周后就返回。费尔法克斯太太推测，他此去是为张罗婚礼的，因为曾说起要购置一辆新马车。她还说，总觉得这不免有些蹊跷，罗切斯特先生尽想着要娶英格拉姆小姐。不过从大家说的和她亲眼见的来看，她不再怀疑婚礼很快就会举行。“要是连这也怀疑，那你真是疑心病重得出奇了。”我心里嘀咕着。“我并不怀疑。”
接踵而来的是这个问题，“我上哪儿去呢？”我彻夜梦见英格拉姆小姐，在活灵活现的晨梦中，我看见她当着我关上了桑菲尔德的大门，给我指了指另外一条路。罗切斯特先生袖手旁观——似乎对英格拉姆小姐和我冷笑着。
我没有通知费尔法克斯太太回家的确切日子，因为我不希望派普通马车或是高级马车到米尔科特来接我。我打算自己静静地走完这段路。这样，六月的某个黄昏，六时左右，我把自己的箱子交给饲马倌后，静悄悄地溜出乔治旅店，踏上了通向桑菲尔德的老路，这条路直穿田野，如今已很少有人光顾。
这是一个晴朗温和却并不明亮灿烂的夏夜，干草工们沿路忙碌着。天空虽然有云，却仍有好天气的兆头。天上的蓝色——在看得见蓝色的地方——柔和而稳定，云层又高又薄。西边也很暖和，没有湿润的微光来造就凉意——看上去仿佛点起了火，好似一个祭坛在大理石般雾气的屏障后面燃烧着，从缝隙中射出金色的红光。
面前的路越走越短，我心里非常高兴，高兴得有一次竟停下脚步问自己，这种喜悦的含义何在，并提醒理智，我不是回到自己家里，或是去一个永久的安身之处，我是到一个亲密的朋友们翘首以待、等候我到达的地方。“可以肯定，费尔法克斯太太会平静地笑笑，表示欢迎，”我说，“而小阿黛勒会拍手叫好，一见我就跳起来，不过你心里很明白，你想的不是她们，而是另外一个人，而这个人却并不在想你。”
但是，有什么比青春更任性吗？有什么比幼稚更盲目呢？青春与幼稚认定，有幸能再次见到罗切斯特先生是够令人愉快的，不管他见不见我，并且补充说：“快些！快些！在还能做到的时候跟他在一起，只要再过几天，至多几星期，你就与他永别了！”随后我抑制住了新的痛苦——我无法说服自己承认和培育的畸形儿——并继续赶路了。
在桑菲尔德的草地上，他们也在晒制干草呢，或者更确切些，我到达的时刻，农夫们正好下工，肩上扛着草耙回家去。我只要再走过一两块草地，就可以穿过大路，到达门口了。篱笆上长了那么多蔷薇花！但我已顾不上去采摘，巴不得立即赶到府上。我经过一棵高大的蔷薇，叶茂花盛的枝桠横穿过小径。我看到了窄小的石头台阶，我还看到——罗切斯特先生坐在那里，手中拿着一本书和一支铅笔，他在写着。
是呀，他不是鬼，但我的每一根神经都紧张起来。一时我无法自制。那是什么意思？我未曾想到一见他就这么颤抖起来——或者在他面前目瞪口呆，或者动弹不得。一旦我能够动弹，我一定要折回去，因为没有必要让自己变成个大傻瓜，我知道通往府上的另一条路。但是即使我认得二十条路也没有用了，因为他已经看到了我。
“你好！”他叫道，丢开了书和铅笔。“你来啦！请过来。”
我猜想我确实往前走了，尽管不知道怎么走过去的。我几乎没有意识到自己的行动，而一味切记着要显得镇定，尤其要控制活动的面部神经——而它却公然违抗我的意志，挣扎着要把我决心掩饰的东西表露出来。但我戴着面纱——这时已经拿下。我可以尽力做出镇定自若的样子。
“这可是简.爱？你从米尔科特来，而且是走来的？是呀——又是你的一个鬼点子，不叫一辆马车，像一个普通人一样咔嗒咔嗒穿过街道和大路，偏要在黄昏薄暮，偷偷来到你家附近，仿佛你是一个梦，是一个影子。真见鬼，上个月你干了些什么？”
“我与我舅妈在一起，先生，她去世了。”
“道地的简.爱式的回答！但愿善良的天使保护我吧！她是从另一个世界来的——从死人的住所来的，而且在黄昏碰见我一个人的时候这么告诉我。要是我有胆量，我会碰碰你，看你是实实在在的人，还是一个影子。你这精灵呀！——可是我甘愿去沼泽地里捕捉五色的鬼火。逃兵！逃兵！”他停了灯刻后又补充说：“离开我整整一个月，己经把我忘得一干二净，我敢担保！”
我知道，与主人重逢是一件乐事，尽管备受干扰，因为我担心他快要不再是我的主人，而且我也明白我对他无足轻重了。不过在罗切斯特先生身上（至少我认为）永远有着一种使人感染上愉快的巨大力量，只要尝一尝他撒给象我这样离群孤鸟的面包屑，就无异于饱餐一顿盛宴。他最后的几句话抚慰了我，似乎是说，他还挺在乎我有没有把他给忘了呢，而且他把桑菲尔德说成是我的家——但愿那是我的家！
他没有离开石阶，我很不情愿要求他让路。我立刻问他是不是去过伦敦了。
“去了，我想你再看一眼就看出来了。”
“费尔法克斯太太在一封信里告诉我了。”
“她告诉你我去干什么了吗？”
“呵，是的，先生！人人都知道你的伦敦之行。”
“你得看一看马车，简，告诉我是不是你认为它完全适合罗切斯特太太。她靠在紫色的软垫上，看上去像不像波狄西亚女王。简，但愿我在外貌上同她更般配一点。你是个小精灵，那现在你就告诉我——能不能给我一种魔力，或者有魔力的药，或是某种类似的东西，使我变成一个英俊的男子？”
“这不是魔力所能为的，先生，”我心里又补充道，“一个亲切的眼神是最需要的魔力，由此看来，你已经够漂亮了，或者不如说，你严厉的神情具有一种超越美的力量。”
罗切斯特先生有时有一种我所无法理解的敏锐，能看透我没有表露的思想，眼下他没有理会我唐突的口头回答，却以他特有而少见的笑容，朝我笑笑。他似乎认为这种笑容太美妙，犯不着用于一般的目的。这确实是情感的阳光——此刻他将它撒遍我周身。
“走过去吧，珍妮特，”他说着空出地方来让我跨过台阶。“回家去，在朋友的门槛里，歇歇你那双奔波不定、疲倦了的小脚吧。”
现在我该做的不过是默默地听从他罢了，没有必要再作口头交谈。我二话没说跨过石，打算平静地离开他。但是一种冲动攫住了我——一种力量使我回过头来。我说——或是内心的某种东西不由自主地替我说了：
“罗切斯特先生，谢谢你的关怀。回到你身边，我感到出奇地高兴，你在哪儿，那儿就是我的家——我唯一的家。”
我走得那么快，甚至就是他要追赶也追赶不上。小阿黛勒一见我乐得差点儿疯了，费尔法克斯太太照例以一种朴实的友情接待了我。莉娅朝我笑笑，甚至连索菲娅也愉快地对我说了声“bonsoir”我感到非常愉快。你为自己的同类所爱，并感觉到自己的存在为他们增添了快慰时，你的幸福是无与伦比的。
那天晚上，我紧闭双眼，无视将来；我塞住耳朵，不去听“离别在即，忧伤将临”的频频警告。茶点过后，费尔法克斯太太开始了编织，我在她旁边找了个低矮的座位，阿黛勒跪在地毯上，紧偎着我。亲密无间的气氛，像一个宁静的金色圆圈围着我们。我默默地祈祷着，愿我们彼此不要分离得太远，也不要太早。但是，当我们如此坐着，罗切斯特先生不宣而至，打量着我们，似乎对一伙人如此融洽的景象感到愉快时——当他说，既然老太太又弄回自己的养女，想必她已安心，并补充说他看到阿黛勒是“preteacroquersapetitemamanAnglaise”时——我近乎冒险地希望，即使在结婚以后，他也会把我们一起安置在某个地方，得到他的庇护，而不是远离他所辐射出的阳光。
我回到桑菲尔德府后的两周，是在令人生疑的平静中度过的。主人的婚事没有再提起，我也没有看到为这件大事在作准备。我几乎天天问费尔法克斯太太，是否听说已经作出了决定。她总是给予否定的回答。有一回她说，她事实上已经问过罗切斯特先生，什么时候把新娘接回家来，但他只开了个玩笑，作了个鬼脸，便算是回答了。她猜不透他的心思。
有一件事更让人感到奇怪，他没有来回奔波，造访英格拉姆小姐。说实在，那地方位于本郡与另一个郡的交界之处，相隔仅二十英里，这点距离对一个热恋中的情人来说算得了什么？对于罗切斯特先生这样一位熟练而不知疲倦的骑手，那不过是一个上午的工夫，我开始萌生不该有的希望：婚事告吹，谣言不确，一方或双方都改变了主意。我常常观察我主人的脸，看看是不是有伤心或恼恨之情，但是在我的记忆中，他的面部从来没有像现在这样毫无愁容或怒色。在我与我的学生同他相处的时刻，要是我无精打采，并难免情绪消沉，他反倒乐不可支了。我从来没有像现在这么频繁地被他叫到跟前，到了那里他又待我这么亲切——而且，哎呀？我也从来没有如此爱他过。
Chapter 23
A SPLENDID Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their dark prime;  hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between.On Midsummer-eve, Adele, weary with gathering wild strawberries in Hay Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. I watched her drop asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden.
It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:- 'Day its fervid fires had wasted,' and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit. Where the sun had gone down in simple state- pure of the pomp of clouds- spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven.
The east had its own charm of fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a rising and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon.
I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent- that of a cigar- stole from some window; I saw the library casement open a hand-breadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I went apart into the orchard. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. At the bottom was a sunk fence; its sole separation from lonely fields: a winding walk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the fence. Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, such silence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could haunt such shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterres at the upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light the now rising moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed-not by sound, not by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance.
Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is- I know it well- it is Mr. Rochester's cigar. I look round and I listen. I see trees laden with ripening fruit. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee. I make for the wicket leading to the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester entering. I step aside into the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he will soon return whence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me.
But no- eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antique garden as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which they are laden; now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stooping towards a knot of flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or to admire the dew-beads on their petals. A great moth goes humming by me; it alights on a plant at Mr. Rochester's foot: he sees it, and bends to examine it.
'Now, he has his back towards me,' thought I, 'and he is occupied too; perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed.'
I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravel might not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard or two distant from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engaged him. 'I shall get by very well,' I meditated. As I crossed his shadow, thrown long over the garden by the moon, not yet risen high, he said quietly, without turning-
'Jane, come and look at this fellow.'
I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind- could his shadow feel?
I started at first, and then I approached him.
'Look at his wings,' said he, 'he reminds me rather of a West Indian insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England; there! he is flown.'
The moth roamed away. I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr. Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said- 'Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise.'
It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him. I followed with lagging step, and thoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil- if evil existent or prospective there was- seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious and quiet.
'Jane,' he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowly strayed down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut, 'Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You must have become in some degree attached to the house,- you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?'
'I am attached to it, indeed.'
'And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adele, too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?'
'Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both.'
'And would be sorry to part with them?'
'Yes.'
'Pity!' he said, and sighed and paused. 'It is always the way of events in this life,' he continued presently: 'no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.'
'Must I move on, sir?' I asked. 'Must I leave Thornfield?'
'I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must.'
This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.
'Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes.'
'It is come now- I must give it to-night.'
'Then you are going to be married, sir?'
'Ex-act-ly- pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head.'
'Soon, sir?'
'Very soon, my- that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony- to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she's an extensive armful: but that's not to the point- one can't have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying- listen to me, Jane!
You're not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, "flying away home." I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you- with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position- that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adele had better trot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I'll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adele must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation.'
'Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose-' I was going to say, 'I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to': but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command.
'In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom,' continued Mr. Rochester; 'and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you.'
'Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give-'
'Oh, no need to apologise! I consider that when a dependant does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think: they're such warmhearted people there, they say.'
'It is a long way off, sir.'
'No matter- a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance.'
'Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier-'
'From what, Jane?'
'From England and from Thornfield: and-'
'Well?'
'From you, sir.'
I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean- wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably loved.
'It is a long way,' I again said.
'It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. 
Come! we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half an hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. 
Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together.' He seated me and himself.
'It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?'
I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.
'Because,' he said, 'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,- you'd forget me.'
'That I never should, sir: you know-' Impossible to proceed. 
'Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!'
In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.
'Because you are sorry to leave it?'
The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes,- and to speak.
'I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:- I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,- momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in,- with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.'
'Where do you see the necessity?' he asked suddenly.
'Where? You, sir, have placed it before me.'
'In what shape?'
'In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,- your bride.'
'My bride! What bride? I have no bride!'
'But you will have.'
'Yes;- I will!'- I will!' He set his teeth.
'Then I must go:- you have said it yourself.'
'No: you must stay! I swear it- and the oath shall be kept.'
'I tell you I must go!' I retorted, roused to something like passion. 'Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?- a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!- I have as much soul as you,- and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;- it is my spirit  that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,- as we are!'
'As we are!' repeated Mr. Rochester- 'so,' he added, enclosing me in his arms, gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips:
'so, Jane!'
'Yes, so, sir,' I rejoined: 'and yet not so; for you are a married man- or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you- to one with whom you have no sympathy- whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you- let me go!'
'Where, Jane? To Ireland?'
'Yes- to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now.'
'Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.'
'I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.'
Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him.
'And your will shall decide your destiny,' he said: 'I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions.'
'You play a farce, which I merely laugh at.'
'I ask you to pass through life at my side- to be my second self, and best earthly companion.'
'For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it.'
'Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too.'
A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away- away- to an indefinite distance- it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat
quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said-
'Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.'
'I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.'
'But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry.'
I was silent: I thought he mocked me. 
'Come, Jane- come hither.'
'Your bride stands between us.'
He rose, and with a stride reached me.
'My bride is here,' he said, again drawing me to him, 'because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?'
Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous.
'Do you doubt me, Jane?'
'Entirely.'
'You have no faith in me?'
'Not a whit.'
'Am I a liar in your eyes?' he asked passionately. 'Little sceptic, you shall be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not- I could not- marry Miss Ingram. You- you strange, you almost unearthly thing!- I love as my own flesh. You- poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are- I entreat to accept me as a husband.'
'What, me!' I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness- and especially in his incivility- to credit his sincerity: 'me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?'
'You, Jane, I must have you for my own- entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly.'
'Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.'
'Why?'
'Because I want to read your countenance- turn!'
'There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer.'
His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes.
'Oh, Jane, you torture me!' he exclaimed. 'With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!'
'How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion- they cannot torture.'
'Gratitude!' he ejaculated; and added wildly- 'Jane, accept me quickly. Say, Edward- give me my name- Edward- I will marry you.'
'Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?'
'I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it.'
'Then, sir, I will marry you.'
'Edward- my little wife!'
'Dear Edward!'
'Come to me- come to me entirely now,' said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, 'Make my happiness- I will make yours.'
'God pardon me!' he subjoined ere long; 'and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her.'
'There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere.'
'No- that is the best of it,' he said. And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting- called to the paradise of union- I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. Again and again he said, 'Are you happy, Jane?'
And again and again I answered, 'Yes,' After which he murmured, 'It will atone- it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do.
For the world's judgment- I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion- I defy it.'
But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.
'We must go in,' said Mr. Rochester: 'the weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane.'
'And so,' thought I, 'could I with you.' I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder.
The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. The dock was on the stroke of twelve.
'Hasten to take off your wet things,' said he; 'and before you go, good-night- good-night, my darling!'
He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. 'Explanation will do for another time,' thought I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours' duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength for anything.
Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away. 仲夏明媚的阳光普照英格兰。当时那种一连几天日丽天清的气候，甚至一天半天都难得惠顾我们这个波浪环绕的岛国。仿佛持续的意大利天气从南方飘移过来，像一群灿烂的候鸟，落在英格兰的悬崖上歇脚。干草己经收好，桑菲尔德周围的田野己经收割干净，显出一片新绿。道路晒得白煞煞仿佛烤过似的，林木葱郁，十分茂盛。树篱与林子都叶密色浓，与它们之间收割过的草地的金黄色，形成了鲜明的对比。
施洗约翰节前夕，阿黛勒在海村小路上采了半天的野草莓，累坏了，太阳一落山就上床睡觉。我看着她入睡后，便离开她向花园走去。
此刻是二十四小时中最甜蜜的时刻——“白昼己耗尽了它的烈火，”清凉的露水落在喘息的平原和烤灼过的山顶上。在夕阳朴实地西沉——并不伴有华丽的云彩——的地和谦卑，首先向我提出，万一我娶了英格拉姆小姐，你和小阿黛勒两个还是立刻就走好。我并不计较这一建议所隐含的对我意中人人格上的污辱。说实在，一旦你们走得远远的，珍妮特，我会努力把它忘掉。我所注意到的只是其中的智慧，它那么高明，我已把它奉为行动的准则。阿黛勒必须上学，爱小姐，你得找一个新的工作。”
“是的，先生，我会马上去登广告，而同时我想——”我想说，“我想我可以呆在这里，直到我找到另外一个安身之处”但我打住了，觉得不能冒险说一个长句，因为我的嗓门已经难以自制了。
“我希望大约一个月以后成为新郎，”罗切斯特先生继续说，“在这段期间，我会亲自为你留意找一个工作和落脚的地方。”
“谢谢你，先生，对不起给你——”
“呵——不必道歉！我认为一个下人把工作做得跟你自己一样出色时，她就有权要求雇主给予一点容易办到的小小帮助。其实我从未来的岳母那儿听到一个适合你去的地方。就是爱尔兰康诺特的苦果村，教迪奥尼修斯．奥加尔太太的五个女儿，我想你会喜欢爱尔兰的。他们说，那里的人都很热心。”贃筻挝诺搅艘恢治宜??醯南阄丁?br> 多花蔷蕾、老人蒿、茉莉花、石竹花和玫瑰花早就在奉献着它们的晚香，刚刚飘过来的气味既不是来自灌木，也不是来自花朵，但我很熟悉，它来自罗切斯特先生的雪茄。我举目四顾，侧耳静听。我看到树上沉甸甸垂着即将成熟的果子，听到一只夜莺在半英里外的林子里鸣啭。我看不见移动的身影，听不到走近的脚步声，但是那香气却越来越浓了。我得赶紧走掉。我往通向灌木林的边门走去，却看见罗切斯特先生正跨进门来。我往旁边一闪，躲进了长满长春藤的幽深处。他不会久待，很快会顺原路返回，只要我坐着不动，他就绝不会看见我。
可是不行——薄暮对他来说也象对我一样可爱，古老的园子也一样诱人。他继续往前踱步，一会儿拎起醋栗树枝，看看梅子般大压着枝头的果子；一会儿从墙上采下一颗熟了的樱挑；一会儿又向着一簇花弯下身子，不是闻一闻香味，就是欣赏花瓣上的露珠。一只大飞蛾嗡嗡地从我身旁飞过，落在罗切斯特先生脚边的花枝上，他见了便俯下身去打量。
“现在，他背对着我，”我想，“而且全神贯注，也许要是我脚步儿轻些，我可以人不知鬼不觉地溜走。”
我踩在路边的草皮上，免得沙石路的咔嚓声把自己给暴露。他站在离我必经之地一两码的花坛中间，显然飞蛾吸引了他的注意力。“我会顺利通过，”我暗自思忖。月亮还没有升得很高，在园子里投下了罗切斯特先生长长的身影，我正要跨过这影子，他却头也不回就低声说：
“简，过来看看这家伙。”
我不曾发出声响，他背后也不长眼睛——难道他的影子会有感觉不成？我先是吓了一跳，随后便朝他走去。
“瞧它的翅膀，”他说，“它使我想起一只西印度的昆虫，在英国不常见到这么又大又艳丽的夜游虫。瞧！它飞走了。”
飞蛾飘忽着飞走了。我也局促不安地退去。可是罗切斯特先生跟着我，到了边门，他说：
“回来，这么可爱的夜晚，坐在屋子里多可惜。在日落与月出相逢的时刻，肯定是没有谁愿意去睡觉的。”
我有一个缺陷，那就是尽管我口齿伶俐，对答如流，但需要寻找藉口的时候却往往一筹莫展。因此某些关键时刻，需要随口一句话，或者站得住脚的遁词来摆脱痛苦的窘境时，我便常常会出差错。我不愿在这个时候单独同罗切斯特先生漫步在阴影笼罩的果园里。但是我又找不出一个脱身的理由。我慢吞吞地跟在后头，一面在拼命动脑筋设法摆脱。可是他显得那么镇定，那么严肃，使我反而为自己的慌乱而感到羞愧了。如果说心中有鬼——不管是现在还是将来——那只能说我有。他心里十分平静，而且全然不觉。
“简，”他重又开腔了。我们正走进长满月桂的小径，缓步踱向矮篱笆和七叶树，“夏天，桑菲尔德是个可爱的地方，是吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“你一定有些依恋桑菲尔德府了——你有欣赏自然美的眼力，而且很有依恋之情。”
“说实在，我依恋这个地方。”
“而且，尽管我不理解这究竟是怎么回事，但我觉察出来，你已开始关切阿黛勒这个小傻瓜，甚至还有朴实的老妇费尔法克斯。”
“是的，先生，尽管性质不同，我对她们两人都有感情。”
“而同她们分手会感到难过。”
“是的。”
“可惜呀！”他说，叹了口气又打住了。“世上的事情总是这样，”他马上又继续说，“你刚在一个愉快的栖身之处安顿下来，一个声音便会叫你起来往前赶路，因为已过了休息的时辰。”
“我得往前赶路吗，先生？”我问。“我得离开桑菲尔德吗？”
“我想你得走了，简，很抱歉，珍妮特，但我的确认为你该走了。”
这是一个打击，但我不让它击倒我。
“行呀，先生，要我走的命令一下，我便走。”
“现在命令来了——我今晚就得下。”
“那你要结婚了，先生？”
“确——实——如——此，对——极——了。凭你一贯的机敏，你已经一语中的。”
“快了吗，先生？”
“很快，我的一—，那就是，爱小姐，你还记得吧，简，我第一次，或者说谣言明白向你表示，我有意把自己老单身汉的脖子套上神圣的绳索，进入圣洁的婚姻状态——把英格拉姆小姐搂入我的怀抱，总之（她足足有一大抱，但那无关紧要——像我漂亮的布兰奇那样的市民，是谁都不会嫌大的）。是呀，就像我刚才说的——听我说，简！你没有回头去看还有没有飞蛾吧？那不过是个瓢虫，孩子，‘正飞回家去’我想提醒你一下，正是你以我所敬佩的审慎，那种适合你责任重大、却并不独立的职业的远见、精明和谦卑，首先向我提出，万一我娶了英格拉姆小姐，你和小阿黛勒两个还是立刻就走好。我并不计较这一建议所隐含的对我意中人人格上的污辱。说实在，一旦你们走得远远的，珍妮特，我会努力把它忘掉。我所注意到的只是其中的智慧，它那么高明，我已把它奉为行动的准则。阿黛勒必须上学，爱小姐，你得找一个新的工作。”
“是的，先生，我会马上去登广告，而同时我想——”我想说，“我想我可以呆在这里，直到我找到另外一个安身之处”但我打住了，觉得不能冒险说一个长句，因为我的嗓门已经难以自制了。
“我希望大约一个月以后成为新郎，”罗切斯特先生继续说，“在这段期间，我会亲自为你留意找一个工作和落脚的地方。”
“谢谢你，先生，对不起给你——”
“呵——不必道歉！我认为一个下人把工作做得跟你自己一样出色时，她就有权要求雇主给予一点容易办到的小小帮助。其实我从未来的岳母那儿听到一个适合你去的地方。就是爱尔兰康诺特的苦果村，教迪奥尼修斯．奥加尔太太的五个女儿，我想你会喜欢爱尔兰的。他们说，那里的人都很热心。”
“离这儿很远呢，先生。”
“没有关系——像你这样一个通情达理的姑娘是不会反对航程或距离的。”
“不是航程，而是距离。还有大海是一大障碍——”
“离开什么地方，简？”
“离开英格兰和桑菲尔德，还有——”
“怎么？”
“离开你，先生。”
我几乎不知不觉中说了这话，眼泪不由自主夺眶而出。但我没有哭出声来，我也避免抽泣。一想起奥加尔太太和苦果村，我的心就凉了半截；一想起在我与此刻同我并肩而行的主人之间，注定要翻腾着大海和波涛，我的心就更凉了；而一记起在我同我自然和必然所爱的东西之间，横亘着财富、阶层和习俗的辽阔海洋，我的心凉透了。
“离这儿很远，”我又说了一句。
“确实加此。等你到了爱尔兰康诺特的苦果村，我就永远见不到你了，肯定就是这么回事。我从来不去爱尔兰，因为自己并不太喜欢这个国家。我们一直是好朋友，简，你说是不是？”
“是的，先生。”
“朋友们在离别的前夕，往往喜欢亲密无间地度过余下的不多时光。来——星星们在那边天上闪烁着光芒时，我们用上半个小时左右，平静地谈谈航行和离别。这儿是一棵七叶树，这边是围着老树根的凳子。来，今晚我们就安安心心地坐在这儿，虽然我们今后注定再也不会坐在一起了。”他让我坐下，然后自己也坐了下来。
“这儿到爱尔兰很远，珍妮特，很抱歉，把我的小朋友送上这么今人厌倦的旅程。但要是没有更好的主意了，那该怎么办呢？简，你认为你我之间有相近之处吗？”
这时我没敢回答，因为我内心很激动。
“因为，”他说，“有时我对你有一种奇怪的感觉——尤其是当你象现在这样靠近我的时候。仿佛我左面的肋骨有一根弦，跟你小小的身躯同一个部位相似的弦紧紧地维系着，难分难解。如果咆哮的海峡和二百英里左右的陆地，把我们远远分开，恐怕这根情感交流的弦会折断，于是我不安地想到，我的内心会流血。至于你——你会忘掉我。”
“那我永远不会，先生，你知道——”我不可能再说下去了。
“简，听见夜莺在林中歌唱吗？——听呀！”
我听着听着便抽抽噎噎地哭泣起来，再也抑制不住强忍住的感情，不得不任其流露了。我痛苦万分地浑身颤栗着。到了终于开口时，我便只能表达一个冲动的愿望：但愿自己从来没有生下来，从未到过桑菲尔德。
“因为要离开而难过吗？”
悲与爱在我内心所煽起的强烈情绪，正占上风，并竭力要支配一切，压倒一切，战胜一切，要求生存、扩展和最终主宰一切，不错——还要求吐露出来。
“离开桑菲尔德我很伤心，我爱桑菲尔德——我爱它是因为我在这里过着充实而愉快的生活——至少有一段时间。我没有遭人践踏，也没有弄得古板僵化，没有混迹于志向低下的人之中，也没有被排斥在同光明、健康、高尚的心灵交往的一切机会之外。我已面对面同我所敬重的人、同我所喜欢的人，——同一个独特、活跃、博大的心灵交谈过。我已经熟悉你，罗切斯特先生，硬要让我永远同你分开，使我感到恐惧和痛苦。我看到非分别不可，就像看到非死不可一样。”
“在哪儿看到的呢？”他猛地问道。
“哪儿？你，先生，已经把这种必要性摆在我面前了。”
“什么样的必要性？”
“就是英格拉姆小姐那模样，一个高尚而漂亮的女人——你的新娘。”
“我的新娘！什么新娘呀？我没有新娘！”
“但你会有的。”
“是的，我会！我会！”他咬紧牙齿。
“那我得走——你自己已经说了。”
“不，你非留下不可！我发誓——我信守誓言。”
“我告诉你我非走不可！”我回驳着，感情很有些冲动。“你难道认为，我会留下来甘愿做一个对你来说无足轻重的人？你以为我是一架机器？——一架没有感情的机器？能够容忍别人把一口面包从我嘴里抢走，把一滴生命之水从我杯子里泼掉？难道就因为我一贫如洗、默默无闻、长相平庸、个子瘦小，就没有灵魂，没有心肠了？——你不是想错了吗？——我的心灵跟你一样丰富，我的心胸跟你一样充实！要是上帝赐予我一点姿色和充足的财富，我会使你同我现在一样难分难舍，我不是根据习俗、常规，甚至也不是血肉之躯同你说话，而是我的灵魂同你的灵魂在对话，就仿佛我们两人穿过坟墓，站在上帝脚下，彼此平等——本来就如此！”
“本来就如此！”罗切斯特先生重复道——“所以，”他补充道，一面用胳膊把我抱住，搂到怀里，把嘴唇贴到我的嘴唇上。“所以是这样，简？”
“是呀，所以是这样，先生，”我回答，“可是并没有这样。因为你已结了婚——或者说无异于结了婚，跟一个远不如你的人结婚——一个跟你并不意气相投的人——我才不相信你真的会爱她，因为我看到过，也听到过你讥笑她。对这样的结合我会表示不屑，所以我比你强——让我走！”
“上哪儿，简？去爱尔兰？”
“是的——去爱尔兰。我已经把心里话都说了，现在上哪儿都行了。”
“简，平静些，别那挣扎着，像一只发疯的鸟儿，拚命撕掉自己的羽毛。”
“我不是鸟，也没有陷入罗网。我是一个具有独立意志的自由人，现在我要行施自己的意志，离开你。”
我再一挣扎便脱了身，在他跟前昂首而立。
“你的意志可以决定你的命运，”他说。“我把我的手，我的心和我的一份财产都献给你。”
“你在上演一出闹剧，我不过一笑置之。”
“我请求你在我身边度过余生——成为我的另一半，世上最好的伴侣。”
“那种命运，你已经作出了选择，那就应当坚持到底。”
“简，请你平静一会儿，你太激动了，我也会平静下来的。”
一阵风吹过月桂小径，穿过摇曳着的七叶树枝，飘走了——走了——到了天涯海角——消失了。夜莺的歌喉成了这时唯一的声响，听着它我再次哭了起来。罗切斯特先生静静地坐着，和蔼而严肃地瞧着我。过了好一会他才开口。最后他说：
“到我身边来，简，让我们解释一下，相互谅解吧。”
“我再也不会回到你身边了，我已经被拉走，不可能回头了。”
“不过，简，我唤你过来做我的妻子，我要娶的是你。”
我没有吭声，心里想他在讥笑我。
“过来，简——到这边来。”
“你的新娘阻挡着我们。”
他站了起来，一个箭步到了我跟前。
“我的新娘在这儿，”他说着，再次把我往身边拉，“因为与我相配的人在这儿，与我相像的人，简，你愿意嫁给我吗？”
我仍然没有回答，仍然要挣脱他，因为我仍然不相信。
“你怀疑我吗，简？”
“绝对怀疑。”
“你不相信我？”
“一点也不信。”
“你看我是个爱说谎的人吗？”他激动地问。“疑神疑鬼的小东西，我一定要使你信服。我同英格拉姆小姐有什么爱可言？没有，那你是知道的。她对我有什么爱？没有，我已经想方设法来证实。我放出了谣言，传到她耳朵里，说是我的财产还不到想象中的三分之一，然后我现身说法，亲自去看结果，她和她母亲对我都非常冷淡。我不愿意——也不可能——娶英格拉姆小姐。你——你这古怪的——你这近乎是精灵的家伙——我像爱我自己的肉体一样爱你。你——虽然一贫如洗、默默无闻、个子瘦小、相貌平庸—一我请求你把我当作你的丈夫。”
“什么，我！”我猛地叫出声来。出于他的认真，尤其是粗鲁的言行，我开始相信他的诚意了。“我，我这个人除了你，世上没有一个朋友，——如果你是我朋友的话。除了你给我的钱，一个子儿也没有。”
“就是你，简。我得让你属于我——完全属于我。你肯吗？快说‘好’呀。”
“罗切斯特先生，让我瞧瞧你的脸。转到朝月光的一边去。”
“为什么？”
“因为我要细看你的面容，转呀！”
“那儿，你能看到的无非是撕皱了的一页，往下看吧，只不过快些，因为我很不好受。”
他的脸焦急不安，涨得通红，五官在激烈抽动，眼睛射出奇怪的光芒。
“呵，简，你在折磨我！”他大嚷道。“你用那种犀利而慷慨可信的目光瞧着我，你在折磨我！”
“我怎么会呢？如果你是真的，你的提议也是真的，那么我对你的感情只会是感激和忠心——那就不可能是折磨。”
“感激！”他脱口喊道，并且狂乱地补充道——“简，快接受我吧。说，爱德华——叫我的名字——爱德华，我愿意嫁你。”
“你可当真？——你真的爱我？——你真心希望我成为你的妻子？”
“我真的是这样。要是有必要发誓才能使你满意，那我就以此发誓。”
“那么，先生，我愿意嫁给你。”
“叫爱德华——我的小夫人。”
“亲爱的爱德华！”
“到我身边来——完完全全过来。”他说，把他的脸颊贴着我的脸颊，用深沉的语调对着我耳朵补充说，“使我幸福吧——我也会使你幸福。”
“上帝呀，宽恕我吧！”他不久又添了一句，“还有人呀，别干涉我，我得到了她，我要紧紧抓住她。”
“没有人会干涉，先生。我没有亲人来干预。”
“不——那再好不过了。”他说。要是我不是那么爱他，我会认为他的腔调，他狂喜的表情有些粗野。但是我从离别的恶梦中醒来，被赐予天作之合，坐在他身旁，光想着啜饮源源而来的幸福的清泉。他一再问，“你幸福吗，简？”而我一再回答“是的”。随后他咕哝着，“会赎罪的，——会赎罪的。我不是发现她没有朋友，得不到抚慰，受到冷落吗？我不是会保护她，珍爱她，安慰她吗？我心里不是有爱，我的决心不是始终不变吗？那一切会在上帝的法庭上得到赎罪。我知道造物主会准许我的所作所为。至于世间的评判——我不去理睬。别人的意见——我断然拒绝。”
可是，夜晚发生什么变化了？月亮还没有下沉，我们已全湮没在阴影之中了。虽然主人离我近在咫尺，但我几乎看不清他的脸。七叶树受了什么病痛的折磨？它扭动着，呻吟着，狂风在月桂树小径咆哮，直向我们扑来。
“我们得进去了，”罗切斯特先生说。“天气变了。不然我可以同你坐到天明，简。”
“我也一样，”我想。也许我应该这么说出来，可是从我正仰望着的云层里，窜出了一道铅灰色的闪电，随后是喀啦啦一声霹雳和近处的一阵隆隆声。我只想把自己发花的眼睛贴在罗切斯特先生的肩膀上。大雨倾盆而下，他催我踏上小径，穿过庭园，进屋子去。但是我们还没跨进门槛就已经湿淋淋了。在厅里他取下了我的披肩，把水滴从我散了的头发中摇下来，正在这时，费尔法克斯太太从她房间里出来了。起初我没有觉察，罗切斯特先生也没有。灯亮着，时钟正敲十二点。
“快把湿衣服脱掉，”他说，“临走之前，说一声晚安——晚安，我的宝贝！”
他吻了我，吻了又吻。我离开他怀抱抬起头来一看，只见那位寡妇站在那儿，脸色苍白，神情严肃而惊讶。我只朝她微微一笑，便跑上楼去了。“下次再解释也行，”我想。但是到了房间里，想起她一时会对看到的情况产生误解，心里便感到一阵痛楚。然而喜悦抹去了一切其他感情。尽管在两小时的暴风雨中，狂风大作，雷声隆隆，电光闪闪，暴雨如注，我并不害怕，并不畏惧。这中间罗切斯特先生三次上门，问我是否平安无事。这无论如何给了我安慰和力量。
早晨我还没起床，小阿黛勒就跑来告诉我，果园尽头的大七叶树夜里遭了雷击，被劈去了一半。
Chapter 24
AS I rose and dressed, I thought over what had happened, and wondered if it were a dream. I could not be certain of the reality till I had seen Mr. Rochester again, and heard him renew his words of love and promise.While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and felt it was no longer plain: there was hope in its aspect and life in its colour; and my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of fruition, and borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple. I had often been unwilling to look at my master, because I feared he could not be pleased at my look; but I was sure I might lift my face to his now, and not cool his affection by its expression. I took a plain but clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on: it seemed no attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissful a mood.
I was not surprised, when I ran down into the hall, to see that a brilliant June morning had succeeded to the tempest of the night; and to feel, through the open glass door, the breathing of a fresh and fragrant breeze. Nature must be gladsome when I was so happy. A beggar-woman and her little boy- pale, ragged objects both- were coming up the walk, and I ran down and gave them all the money I happened to have in my purse- some three or four shillings: good or bad, they must partake of my jubilee. The rooks cawed, and blither birds sang; but nothing was so merry or so musical as my own rejoicing heart.
Mrs. Fairfax surprised me by looking out of the window with a sad countenance, and saying gravely- 'Miss Eyre, will you come to breakfast?' During the meal she was quiet and cool: but I could not undeceive her then. I must wait for my master to give explanations; and so must she. I ate what I could, and then I hastened upstairs. I met Adele leaving the schoolroom.
'Where are you going? It is time for lessons.'
'Mr. Rochester has sent me away to the nursery.'
'Where is he?'
'In there,' pointing to the apartment she had left; and I went in, and there he stood.
'Come and bid me good-morning,' said he. I gladly advanced; and it was not merely a cold word now, or even a shake of the hand that I received, but an embrace and a kiss. It seemed natural: it seemed genial to be so well loved, so caressed by him.
'Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty,' said he: 'truly pretty this morning. Is this my pale, little elf? Is this my mustard-seed? This little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips; the satin-smooth hazel hair, and the radiant hazel eyes?' (I had green eyes, reader; but you must excuse the mistake: for him they were new-dyed, I suppose.)
'It is Jane Eyre, sir.'
'Soon to be Jane Rochester,' he added: 'in four weeks, Janet; not a day more. Do you hear that?'
I did, and I could not quite comprehend it: it made me giddy. The feeling, the announcement sent through me, was something stronger than was consistent with joy- something that smote and stunned: it was, I think, almost fear.
'You blushed, and now you are white, Jane: what is that for?'
'Because you gave me a new name- Jane Rochester; and it seems so strange.'
'Yes, Mrs. Rochester,' said he; 'young Mrs. Rochester- Fairfax Rochester's girl-bride.'
'It can never be, sir; it does not sound likely. Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world. I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species: to imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale- a day-dream.'
'Which I can and will realise. I shall begin to-day. This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in his keeping,- heirlooms for the ladies of Thornfield. In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap: for every privilege, every attention shall be yours that I would accord a peer's daughter, if about to marry her.'
'Oh, sir!- never mind jewels! I don't like to hear them spoken of. Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange: I would rather not have them.'
'I will myself put the diamond chain round your neck, and the circlet on your forehead,- which it will become: for nature, at least, has stamped her patent of nobility on this brow, Jane; and I will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists, and load these fairy-like fingers with rings.'
'No, no, sir! think of other subjects, and speak of other things, and in another strain. Don't address me as if I were a beauty; I am your plain, Quakerish governess.'
'You are a beauty in my eyes, and a beauty just after the desire of my heart,- delicate and aerial.'
'Puny and insignificant, you mean. You are dreaming, sir,- or you are sneering. For God's sake, don't be ironical!'
'I will make the world acknowledge you a beauty, too,' he went on, while I really became uneasy at the strain he had adopted, because I felt he was either deluding himself or trying to delude me. 'I will attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her hair; and I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil.'
'And then you won't know me, sir; and I shall not be your Jane Eyre any longer, but an ape in a harlequin's jacket- a jay in borrowed plumes. I would as soon see you, Mr. Rochester, tricked out in stage-trappings, as myself clad in a court-lady's robe; and I don't call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly: far too dearly to flatter you. Don't flatter me.'
He pursued his theme, however, without noticing my deprecation. 
'This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Millcote, and you must choose some dresses for yourself. I told you we shall be married in four weeks. The wedding is to take place quietly, in the church down below yonder; and then I shall waft you away at once to town. After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions nearer the sun: to French vineyards and Italian plains; and she shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record: she shall taste, too, of the life of cities; and she shall learn to value herself by just comparison with others.'
'Shall I travel?- and with you, sir?'
'You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples: at Florence, Venice, and Vienna: all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden by you: wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step also.
Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with disgust, hate, and rage as my companions: now I shall revisit it healed and cleaned, with a very angel as my comforter.'
I laughed at him as he said this. 'I am not an angel,' I asserted; 'and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me- for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.'
'What do you anticipate of me?'
'For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now,- a very little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to please you: but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like me again,- like me, I say, not love me. I suppose your love will effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's ardour extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master.'
'Distasteful! and like you again! I think I shall like you again, and yet again: and I will make you confess I do not only like, but love you- with truth, fervour, constancy.'
'Yet are you not capricious, sir?'
'To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts- when they open to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility, coarseness, and ill-temper: but to the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break- at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent- I am ever tender and true.'
'Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such an one?'
'I love it now.'
'But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your difficult standard?'
'I never met your likeness. Jane, you please me, and you master me- you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced- conquered; and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win. Why do you smile, Jane?
What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of countenance mean?'
'I was thinking, sir (you will excuse the idea; it was involuntary), I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers-'
'You were, you little elfish-'
'Hush, sir! You don't talk very wisely just now; any more than those gentlemen acted very wisely. However, had they been married, they would no doubt by their severity as husbands have made up for their softness as suitors; and so will you, I fear. I wonder how you will answer me a year hence, should I ask a favour it does not suit your convenience or pleasure to grant.'
'Ask me something now, Janet- the least thing: I desire to be entreated-'
'Indeed I will sir; I have my petition all ready.'
'Speak! But if you look up and smile with that countenance, I shall swear concession before I know to what, and that will make a fool of me.'
'Not at all, sir; I ask only this: don't send for the jewels, and don't crown me with roses: you might as well put a border of gold lace round that plain pocket-handkerchief you have there.'
'I might as well "gild refined gold." I know it: your request is granted then- for the time. I will remand the order I despatched to my banker. But you have not yet asked for anything; you have prayed a gift to be withdrawn: try again.'
'Well, then, sir, have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which is much piqued on one point.'
He looked disturbed. 'What? what?' he said hastily. 'Curiosity is a dangerous petition: it is well I have not taken a vow to accord every request-'
'But there can be no danger in complying with this, sir.'
'Utter it, Jane: but I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into, perhaps, a secret, it was a wish for half my estate.'
'Now, King Ahasuerus! What do I want with half your estate? Do you think I am a Jew-usurer, seeking good investment in land? I would much rather have all your confidence. You will not exclude me from your confidence if you admit me to your heart?'
'You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having, Jane; but for God's sake, don't desire a useless burden! Don't long for poison- don't turn out a downright Eve on my hands!'
'Why not, sir? You have just been telling me how much you liked to be conquered, and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you. Don't you think I had better take advantage of the confession, and begin and coax and entreat- even cry and be sulky if necessary- for the sake of a mere essay of my power?'
'I dare you to any such experiment. Encroach, presume, and the game is up.'
'Is it, sir? You soon give in. How stern you look now! Your eyebrows have become as thick as my finger, and your forehead resembles what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once saw styled, "a blue-piled thunderloft." That will be your married look, sir, I suppose?'
'If that will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing,- out with it?'
'There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask,- Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?'
'Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!' And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. 'I think I may confess,' he continued, 'even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane- and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by the bye, it was you who made me the offer.'
'Of course I did. But to the point if you please, sir- Miss Ingram?'
'Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance of that end.'
'Excellent! Now you are small- not one whit bigger than the end of my little finger. It was a burning shame and a scandalous disgrace to act in that way. Did you think nothing of Miss Ingram's feelings, sir?'
'Her feelings are concentrated in one- pride; and that needs humbling. Were you jealous, Jane?'
'Never mind, Mr. Rochester: it is in no way interesting to you to know that. Answer me truly once more. Do you think Miss Ingram will not suffer from your dishonest coquetry? Won't she feel forsaken and deserted?'
'Impossible!- when I told you how she, on the contrary, deserted me: the idea of my insolvency cooled, or rather extinguished, her flame in a moment.'
'You have a curious, designing mind, Mr. Rochester. I am afraid your principles on some points are eccentric.'
'My principles were never trained, Jane: they may have grown a little awry for want of attention.'
'Once again, seriously; may I enjoy the great good that has been vouchsafed to me, without fearing that any one else is suffering the bitter pain I myself felt a while ago?'
'That you may, my good little girl: there is not another being in the world has the same pure love for me as yourself- for I lay that pleasant unction to my soul, Jane, a belief in your affection.'
I turned my lips to the hand that lay on my shoulder. I loved him very much- more than I could trust myself to say- more than words had power to express.
'Ask something more,' he said presently; 'it is my delight to be entreated, and to yield.'
I was again ready with my request. 'Communicate your intentions to Mrs. Fairfax, sir: she saw me with you last night in the hall, and she was shocked. Give her some explanation before I see her again.
It pains me to be misjudged by so good a woman.' 
'Go to your room, and put on your bonnet,' he replied. 'I mean you to accompany me to Millcote this morning; and while you prepare for the drive, I will enlighten the old lady's understanding. Did she think, Janet, you had given the world for love, and considered it well lost?'
'I believe she thought I had forgotten my station, and yours, sir.'
'Station! station!- your station is in my heart, and on the necks of those who would insult you, now or hereafter.- Go.'
I was soon dressed; and when I heard Mr. Rochester quit Mrs. Fairfax's parlour, I hurried down to it. The old lady had been reading her morning portion of Scripture- the Lesson for the day; her Bible lay open before her, and her spectacles were upon it. Her occupation, suspended by Mr. Rochester's announcement, seemed now forgotten: her eyes, fixed on the blank wall opposite, expressed the surprise of a quiet mind stirred by unwonted tidings. Seeing me, she roused herself: she made a sort of effort to smile, and framed a few words of congratulation; but the smile expired, and the sentence was abandoned unfinished. She put up her spectacles, shut the Bible, and pushed her chair back from the table.
'I feel so astonished,' she began, 'I hardly know what to say to you, Miss Eyre. I have surely not been dreaming, have I? Sometimes I half fall asleep when I am sitting alone and fancy things that have never happened. It has seemed to me more than once when I have  been in a doze, that my dear husband, who died fifteen years since, has come in and sat down beside me; and that I have even heard him call me by my name, Alice, as he used to do. Now, can you tell me whether it is actually true that Mr. Rochester has asked you to marry him? Don't laugh at me. But I really thought he came in here five minutes ago, and said that in a month you would be his wife.'
'He has said the same thing to me,' I replied.
'He has! Do you believe him? Have you accepted him?'
'Yes.'
She looked at me bewildered.
'I could never have thought it. He is a proud man: all the Rochesters were proud: and his father, at least, liked money. He, too, has always been called careful. He means to marry you?'
'He tells me so.'
She surveyed my whole person: in her eyes I read that they had there found no charm powerful enough to solve the enigma.
'It passes me!' she continued; 'but no doubt it is true since you say so. How it will answer, I cannot tell: I really don't know.
Equality of position and fortune is often advisable in such cases; and there are twenty years of difference in your ages. He might almost be your father.'
'No, indeed, Mrs. Fairfax!' exclaimed I, nettled; 'he is nothing like my father! No one, who saw us together, would suppose it for an instant. Mr. Rochester looks as young, and is as young, as some men at five-and-twenty.'
'Is it really for love he is going to marry you?' she asked.
I was so hurt by her coldness and scepticism, that the tears rose to my eyes.
'I am sorry to grieve you,' pursued the widow; 'but you are so young, and so little acquainted with men, I wished to put you on your guard. It is an old saying that "all is not gold that glitters"; and in this case I do fear there will be something found to be different to what either you or I expect.'
'Why?- am I a monster?' I said: 'is it impossible that Mr. Rochester should have a sincere affection for me?'
'No: you are very well; and much improved of late; and Mr. Rochester, I daresay, is fond of you. I have always noticed that you were a sort of pet of his. There are times when, for your sake, I have been a little uneasy at his marked preference, and have wished to put you on your guard: but I did not like to suggest even the possibility of wrong. I knew such an idea would shock, perhaps offend you; and you were so discreet, and so thoroughly modest and sensible, I hoped you might be trusted to protect yourself. Last night I cannot  tell you what I suffered when I sought all over the house, and could find you nowhere, nor the master either; and then, at twelve o'clock, saw you come in with him.'
'Well, never mind that now,' I interrupted impatiently; 'it is enough that all was right.'
'I hope all will be right in the end,' she said: 'but believe me, you cannot be too careful. Try and keep Mr. Rochester at a distance: distrust yourself as well as him. Gentlemen in his station are not accustomed to marry their governesses.'
I was growing truly irritated: happily, Adele ran in. 
'Let me go,- let me go to Millcote too!' she cried. 'Mr. Rochester won't: though there is so much room in the new carriage. Beg him to let me go, mademoiselle.'
'That I will, Adele'; and I hastened away with her, glad to quit my gloomy monitress. The carriage was ready: they were bringing it round to the front, and my master was pacing the pavement, Pilot following him backwards and forwards.
'Adele may accompany us, may she not, sir?'
'I told her no. I'll have no brats!- I'll have only you.'
'Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please: it would be better.'
'Not it: she will be a restraint.'
He was quite peremptory, both in look and voice. The chill of Mrs. Fairfax's warnings, and the damp of her doubts were upon me: something of unsubstantiality and uncertainty had beset my hopes. I half lost the sense of power over him. I was about mechanically to obey him, without further remonstrance; but as he helped me into the carriage, he looked at my face.
'What is the matter?' he asked; 'all the sunshine is gone. Do you really wish the bairn to go? Will it annoy you if she is left behind?'
'I would far rather she went, sir.'
'Then off for your bonnet, and back like a flash of lightning!' cried he to Adele.
She obeyed him with what speed she might. 'After all, a single morning's interruption will not matter much,' said he, 'when I mean shortly to claim you- your thoughts, conversation, and company- for life.'
Adele, when lifted in, commenced kissing me, by way of expressing her gratitude for my intercession: she was instantly stowed away into a corner on the other side of him. She then peeped round to where I sat; so stern a neighbour was too restrictive; to him, in his present fractious mood, she dared whisper no observations, nor ask of him any information.
'Let her come to me,' I entreated: 'she will, perhaps, trouble you, sir: there is plenty of room on this side.'
He handed her over as if she had been a lapdog. 'I'll send her to school yet,' he said, but now he was smiling.
Adele heard him, and asked if she was to go to school 'sans mademoiselle?'
'Yes,' he replied, 'absolutely sans mademoiselle; for I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.'
'She will have nothing to eat: you will starve her,' observed Adele.
'I shall gather manna for her morning and night: the plains and hillsides in the moon are bleached with manna, Adele.'
'She will want to warm herself: what will she do for a fire?'
'Fire rises out of the lunar mountains: when she is cold, I'll carry her up to a peak, and lay her down on the edge of a crater.'
'Oh, qu'elle y sera mal- peu comfortable! And her clothes, they will wear out: how can she get new ones?'
Mr. Rochester professed to be puzzled. 'Hem!' said he. 'What would you do, Adele? Cudgel your brains for an expedient. How would a white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think? And one could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow.'
'She is far better as she is,' concluded Adele, after musing some time: 'besides, she would get tired of living with only you in the moon. If I were mademoiselle, I would never consent to go with you.'
'She has consented: she has pledged her word.'
'But you can't get her there; there is no road to the moon: it is all air; and neither you nor she can fly.'
'Adele, look at that field.' We were now outside Thornfield gates, and bowling lightly along the smooth road to Millcote, where the dust was well laid by the thunderstorm, and where the low hedges and lofty timber trees on each side glistened green and rain-refreshed.
'In that field, Adele, I was walking late one evening about a fortnight since- the evening of the day you helped me to make hay in the orchard meadows; and as I was tired with raking swaths, I sat down to rest me on a stile; and there I took out a little book and a pencil, and began to write about a misfortune that befell me long ago, and a wish I had for happy days to come: I was writing away very fast, though daylight was fading from the leaf, when something came up the path and stopped two yards off me. I looked at it. It was a little thing with a veil of gossamer on its head. I beckoned it to come near me; it stood soon at my knee. I never spoke to it, and it never spoke to me, in words; but I read its eyes, and it read mine; and our speechless colloquy was to this effect-
'It was a fairy, and come from Elf-land, it said; and its errand was to make me happy: I must go with it out of the common world to a lonely place- such as the moon, for instance- and it nodded its head towards her horn, rising over Hayhill: it told me of the alabaster cave and silver vale where we might live. I said I should like to go; but reminded it, as you did me, that I had no wings to fly.
'"Oh," returned the fairy, "that does not signify! Here is a talisman will remove all difficulties"; and she held out a pretty gold ring. "Put it," she said, "on the fourth finger of my left hand, and I am yours, and you are mine; and we shall leave earth, and make our own heaven yonder." She nodded again at the moon. The ring, Adele, is in my breeches-pocket, under the disguise of a sovereign: but I mean soon to change it to a ring again.'
'But what has mademoiselle to do with it? I don't care for the fairy: you said it was mademoiselle you would take to the moon?' 
'Mademoiselle is a fairy,' he said, whispering mysteriously.
Whereupon I told her not to mind his badinage; and she, on her part, evinced a fund of genuine French scepticism: denominating Mr. Rochester 'un vrai menteur,' and assuring him that she made no account whatever of his 'contes de fee,' and that 'du reste, il n'y avait pas de fees, et quand meme il y en avait': she was sure they would never appear to him, nor ever give him rings, or offer to live with him in the moon.
The hour spent at Millcote was a somewhat harassing one to me. 
Mr. Rochester obliged me to go to a certain silk warehouse: there I was ordered to choose half a dozen dresses. I hated the business, I begged leave to defer it: no- it should be gone through with now. By dint of entreaties expressed in energetic whispers, I reduced the half-dozen to two: these, however, he vowed he would select himself.
With anxiety I watched his eye rove over the gay stores: he fixed on a rich silk of the most brilliant amethyst dye, and a superb pink satin. 
I told him in a new series of whispers, that he might as well buy me a gold gown and a silver bonnet at once: I should certainly never venture to wear his choice. With infinite difficulty, for he was stubborn as a stone, I persuaded him to make an exchange in favour of a sober black satin and pearl-grey silk. 'It might pass for the present,' he said; 'but he would yet see me glittering like a parterre.'
Glad was I to get him out of the silk warehouse, and then out of a jeweller's shop: the more he bought me, the more my cheek burned with a sense of annoyance and degradation. As we re-entered the carriage, and I sat back feverish and fagged, I remembered what, in the hurry of events, dark and bright, I had wholly forgotten- the letter of my uncle, John Eyre, to Mrs. Reed: his intention to adopt me and make me his legatee. 'It would, indeed, be a relief,' I thought, 'if I had ever so small an independency; I never can bear being dressed like a doll by Mr. Rochester, or sitting like a second Danae with the golden shower falling daily round me. I will write to Madeira the moment I get home, and tell my uncle John I am going to be married, and to whom: if I had but a prospect of one day bringing Mr. Rochester an accession of fortune, I could better endure to be kept by him now.' And somewhat relieved by this idea (which I failed not to execute that day), I ventured once more to meet my master's and lover's eye, which most pertinaciously sought mine, though I averted both face and gaze. He smiled; and I thought his smile was such as a sultan might, in a blissful and fond moment, bestow on a slave his gold and gems had enriched: I crushed his hand, which was ever hunting mine, vigorously, and thrust it back to him red with the passionate pressure.
'You need not look in that way,' I said; 'if you do, I'll wear nothing but my old Lowood frocks to the end of the chapter. I'll be married in this lilac gingham: you may make a dressing-gown for yourself out of the pearl-grey silk, and an infinite series of waistcoats out of the black satin.'
He chuckled; he rubbed his hands. 'Oh, it is rich to see and hear her!' he exclaimed. 'Is she original? Is she piquant? I would not exchange this one little English girl for the Grand Turk's whole seraglio, gazelle-eyes, houri forms, and all!'
The Eastern allusion bit me again. 'I'll not stand you an inch in the stead of a seraglio,' I said; 'so don't consider me an equivalent for one. If you have a fancy for anything in that line, away with you, sir, to the bazaars of Stamboul without delay, and lay out in extensive slave-purchases some of that spare cash you seem at a loss to spend satisfactorily here.'
'And what will you do, Janet, while I am bargaining for so many tons of flesh and such an assortment of black eyes?'
'I'll be preparing myself to go out as a missionary to preach liberty to them that are enslaved- your harem inmates amongst the rest. I'll get admitted there, and I'll stir up mutiny; and you, three-tailed bashaw as you are, sir, shall in a trice find yourself fettered amongst our hands: nor will I, for one, consent to cut your bonds till you have signed a charter, the most liberal that despot ever yet conferred.'
'I would consent to be at your mercy, Jane.'
'I would have no mercy, Mr. Rochester, if you supplicated for it with an eye like that. While you looked so, I should be certain that whatever charter you might grant under coercion, your first act, when released, would be to violate its conditions.'
'Why, Jane, what would you have? I fear you will compel me to go through a private marriage ceremony, besides that performed at the altar. You will stipulate, I see, for peculiar terms- what will they be?'
'I only want an easy mind, sir; not crushed by crowded obligations. 
Do you remember what you said of Celine Varens?- of the diamonds, the cashmeres you gave her? I will not be your English Celine Varens. I shall continue to act as Adele's governess; by that I shall earn my board and lodging, and thirty pounds a year besides.
I'll furnish my own wardrobe out of that money, and you shall give me nothing but-'
'Well, but what?'
'Your regard; and if I give you mine in return, that debt will be quit.'
'Well, for cool native impudence and pure innate pride, you haven't your equal,' said he. We were now approaching Thornfield. 'Will it please you to dine with me to-day?' he asked, as we re-entered the gates.
'No, thank you, sir.'
'And what for, "no, thank you?" if one may inquire.'
'I never have dined with you, sir: and I see no reason why I should now: till-'
'Till what? You delight in half-phrases.'
'Till I can't help it.'
'Do you suppose I eat like an ogre or a ghoul, that you dread being the companion of my repast?'
'I have formed no supposition on the subject, sir; but I want to go on as usual for another month.'
'You will give up your governessing slavery at once.'
'Indeed, begging your pardon, sir, I shall not. I shall just go on with it as usual. I shall keep out of your way all day, as I have been accustomed to do: you may send for me in the evening, when you feel disposed to see me, and I'll come then; but at no other time.'
'I want a smoke, Jane, or a pinch of snuff, to comfort me under all this, "pour me donner une contenance," as Adele would say; and unfortunately I have neither my cigar-case nor my snuff-box. But listen- whisper. It is your time now, little tyrant, but it will be mine presently; and when once I have fairly seized you, to have and to hold, I'll just- figuratively speaking- attach you to a chain like this' (touching his watch-guard). 'Yes, bonny wee thing, I'll wear you in my bosom, lest my jewel I should tyne.'
He said this as he helped me to alight from the carriage, and while he afterwards lifted out Adele, I entered the house, and made good my retreat upstairs.
He duly summoned me to his presence in the evening. I had prepared an occupation for him; for I was determined not to spend the whole time in a tete-a-tete conversation. I remembered his fine voice; I knew he liked to sing- good singers generally do. I was no vocalist myself, and, in his fastidious judgment, no musician, either; but I delighted in listening when the performance was good. No sooner had twilight, that hour of romance, began to lower her blue and starry banner over the lattice, than I rose, opened the piano, and entreated him, for the love of heaven, to give me a song. He said I was a capricious witch, and that he would rather sing another time; but I averred that no time was like the present.
'Did I like his voice?' he asked.
'Very much.' I was not fond of pampering that susceptible vanity of his; but for once, and from motives of expediency, I would e'en soothe and stimulate it.
'Then, Jane, you must play the accompaniment.'
'Very well, sir, I will try.'
I did try, but was presently swept off the stool and denominated 'a little bungler.' Being pushed unceremoniously to one side- which was precisely what I wished- he usurped my place, and proceeded to accompany himself: for he could play as well as sing. I hied me to the window-recess. And while I sat there and looked out on the still trees and dim lawn, to a sweet air was sung in mellow tones the following strain:-
'The truest love that ever heart Felt at its kindled core, Did through each vein, in quickened start, The tide of being pour.
Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain;
The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein.
I dreamed it would be nameless bliss, As I loved, loved to be;
And to this object did I press As blind as eagerly.
But wide as pathless was the space That lay our lives between, And dangerous as the foamy race Of ocean-surges green.
And haunted as a robber-path
Through wilderness or wood;
For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath,
Between our spirits stood.
I dangers dared; I hindrance scorned;
I omens did defy:
Whatever menaced, harassed, warned,
I passed impetuous by.
On sped my rainbow, fast as light;
I flew as in a dream;
For glorious rose upon my sight
That child of Shower and Gleam.
Still bright on clouds of suffering dim
Shines that soft, solemn joy;
Nor care I now, how dense and grim
Disasters gather nigh.
I care not in this moment sweet,
Though all I have rushed o'er
Should come on pinion, strong and fleet,
Proclaiming vengeance sore:
Though haughty Hate should strike me down,
Right, bar approach to me,
And grinding Might, with furious frown,
Swear endless enmity.
My love has placed her little hand
With noble faith in mine,
And vowed that wedlock's sacred band
Our nature shall entwine.
My love has sworn, with sealing kiss,
With me to live- to die;
I have at last my nameless bliss:
As I love- loved am I!'
He rose and came towards me, and I saw his face all kindled, and his full falcon-eye flashing, and tenderness and passion in every lineament. I quailed momentarily- then I rallied. Soft scene, daring demonstration, I would not have; and I stood in peril of both: a weapon of defence must be prepared- I whetted my tongue: as he reached me, I asked with asperity, 'whom he was going to marry now?'
'That was a strange question to be put by his darling Jane.' 
'Indeed! I considered it a very natural and necessary one: he had talked of his future wife dying with him. What did he mean by such a pagan idea? I had no intention of dying with him- he might depend on that.'
'Oh, all he longed, all he prayed for, was that I might live with him! Death was not for such as I.'
'Indeed it was: I had as good a right to die when my time came as he had: but I should bide that time, and not be hurried away in a suttee.'
'Would I forgive him for the selfish idea, and prove my pardon by a reconciling kiss?'
'No: I would rather be excused.'
Here I heard myself apostrophised as a 'hard little thing'; and it was added, 'any other woman would have been melted to marrow at hearing such stanzas crooned in her praise.'
I assured him I was naturally hard- very flinty, and that he would often find me so; and that, moreover, I was determined to show him divers rugged points in my character before the ensuing four weeks elapsed: he should know fully what sort of a bargain he had made, while there was yet time to rescind it.
'Would I be quiet and talk rationally?'
'I would be quiet if he liked, and as to talking rationally, I flattered myself I was doing that now.'
He fretted, pished, and pshawed. 'Very good,' I thought; 'you may fume and fidget as you please: but this is the best plan to pursue with you, I am certain. I like you more than I can say; but I'll not sink into a bathos of sentiment: and with this needle of repartee I'll keep you from the edge of the gulf too; and, moreover, maintain by its pungent aid that distance between you and myself most conducive to our real mutual advantage.'
From less to more, I worked him up to considerable irritation; then, after he had retired, in dudgeon, quite to the other end of the room, I got up, and saying, 'I wish you good-night, sir,' in my natural and wonted respectful manner, I slipped out by the side-door and got away.
The system thus entered on, I pursued during the whole season of probation; and with the best success. He was kept, to be sure, rather cross and crusty; but on the whole I could see he was excellently entertained, and that a lamb-like submission and turtle-dove sensibility, while fostering his despotism more, would have pleased his judgment, satisfied his common sense, and even suited his taste less.
In other people's presence I was, as formerly, deferential and quiet; any other line of conduct being uncalled for: it was only in the evening conferences I thus thwarted and afflicted him. He continued to send for me punctually the moment the clock struck seven; though when I appeared before him now, he had no such honeyed terms as 'love' and 'darling' on his lips: the best words at my service were 'provoking puppet,' 'malicious elf,' 'sprite,' 'changeling,' etc.
For caresses, too, I now got grimaces; for a pressure of the hand, a pinch on the arm; for a kiss on the cheek, a severe tweak of the ear. It was all right: at present I decidedly preferred these fierce favours to anything more tender. Mrs. Fairfax, I saw, approved me: her anxiety on my account vanished; therefore I was certain I did well.
Meantime, Mr. Rochester affirmed I was wearing him to skin and bone, and threatened awful vengeance for my present conduct at some period fast coming. I laughed in my sleeve at his menaces. 'I can keep you in reasonable check now,' I reflected; 'and I don't doubt to be able to do it hereafter: if one expedient loses its virtue, another must be devised.'
Yet after all my task was not an easy one; often I would rather have pleased than teased him. My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. 
He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol. 
我穿衣起身，把发生的事想了一遍，怀疑是不是一场梦。在我再次看见罗切斯特先生，听到他重复那番情话和诺言之前，是无法确定那是不是真实的。
我在梳头时朝镜子里打量了一下自己的脸，感到它不再平庸了。面容透出了希望，脸色有了活力，眼睛仿佛看到了果实的源泉，从光彩夺目的涟漪中借来了光芒。我向来不愿去看我主人，因为我怕我的目光会使他不愉快。但是现在我肯定可以扬起脸来看他的脸了，我的表情不会使他的爱心冷却。我从抽屉里拿了件朴实干净的薄夏装，穿在身上。似乎从来没有一件衣服像这件那么合身，因为没有一件是在这种狂喜的情绪中穿上的。
我跑下楼去，进了大厅，只见阳光灿烂的六月早晨，已经代替了暴风雨之夜。透过开着的玻璃门，我感受到了清新芬芳的微风，但我并不觉得惊奇。当我欣喜万分的时候，大自然也一定非常高兴。一个要饭的女人和她的小男孩——两个脸色苍白，衣衫褴褛的活物——顺着小径走上来，我跑下去，倾囊所有给了她们——大约三四个先令，好歹他们都得分享我的欢乐。白嘴鸦呱呱叫着，还有更活泼一点的鸟儿在啁鸣，但是我心儿的欢唱比谁都美妙动听。
使我吃惊的是，费尔法克斯太太神色忧伤地望着窗外，十分严肃地说：“爱小姐，请来用早餐好吗？”吃饭时她冷冷地一声不吭。但那时我无法替她解开疑团。我得等我主人来解释，所以她也只好等待了。我勉强吃了一点，便匆勿上了楼，碰见阿黛勒正离开读书室。
“你上哪儿去呀？上课的时间到了。”
“罗切斯特先生已经打发我到育儿室去了。”
“他在哪儿？”
“在那儿呢，”她指了指她刚离开的房间。我走进那里，原来他就站在里面。
“来，对我说声早安，”他说。我愉快地走上前。这回我所遇到的，不光是一句冷冰冰的话，或者是握一握手而已，而是拥抱和接吻。他那么爱我，抚慰我，显得既亲切又自然。
“简，你容光焕发，笑容满面，漂亮极了。”他说。“今天早晨真的很漂亮。这就是我苍白的小精灵吗？这不是我的小芥子吗？”不就是这个脸带笑靥，嘴唇鲜红，头发栗色光滑如缎，眼睛淡褐光芒四射，满面喜色的小姑娘吗？（读者，我的眼睛是青色的，但是你得原谅他的错误，对他来说我的眼睛染上了新的颜色。）
“我是简.爱，先生。”
“很快就要叫作简．罗切斯特了”他补充说，“再过四周，珍妮特，一天也不多，你听到了吗？”
我听到了，但我并不理解，它便我头昏目眩。他的宣布在我心头所引起的感觉，是不同于喜悦的更强烈的东西——是一种给人打击、使你发呆的东西。我想这近乎是恐惧。
“你刚才还脸红，现在脸色发白了，简。那是为什么？”
“因为你给了我一个新名字——简．罗切斯特，而且听来很奇怪。”
“是的，罗切斯特夫人，”他说，“年青的罗切斯特夫人——费尔法克斯．罗切斯特的少女新娘。”
“那永远不会，先生，听起来不大可能。在这个世界上，人类永远不能享受绝对幸福。我并不是生来与我的同类有不同的命运。只有在童话里，在白日梦里，才会想象这样的命运降临到我头上。”
“我能够而且也要实现这样的梦想，我要从今天开始。今天早上我已写信给伦敦的银行代理人，让他送些托他保管的珠宝来——桑菲尔德女士们的传家宝。我希望一两天后涌进你的衣兜，我给予一个贵族姑娘——如果我要娶她的话——的一切特权和注意力，都将属于你。”
“呵，先生！——别提珠宝了！我不喜欢说起珠宝。对简.爱来说，珠宝听来既不自然又很古怪，我宁可不要。”
“我会亲自把钻石项链套在你脖子上，把发箍戴在你额头——看上去会非常相配，因为大自然至少已把自己特有的高尚，烙在这个额头上了，简。而且我会把手镯按在纤细的手腕上，把戒指戴在仙女般的手指上。”
“不，不，先生，想想别的话题，讲讲别的事情，换种口气谈谈吧。不要当我美人似的同我说话，我不过是你普普通通，象贵格会教徒一样的家庭教师。”
“在我眼里，你是个美人。一位心向往之的美人——娇美而空灵。”
“你的意思是瘦小而无足轻重吧。你在做梦呢，先生——不然就是有意取笑。看在老天面上，别挖苦人了！”
“我还要全世界都承认，你是个美人，”他继续说，而我确实对他说话的口气感到不安，觉得他要不是自欺欺人，就是存心骗我。“我要让我的简.爱穿上缎子和花边衣服，头发上插玫瑰花，我还要在我最喜爱的头上，罩上无价的面纱。”
“那你就不认识我了，先生，我不再是你的简.爱，而是穿了丑角衣装的猴子——一只披了别人羽毛的八哥。那样倒不如看你罗切斯特先生，一身戏装打扮，而我自己则穿上宫庭贵妇的长袍。先生，我并没有说你漂亮，尽管我非常爱你，太爱你了，所以不愿吹捧你。你就别捧我了。”
然而他不顾我反对，扭住这个话题不放。“今天我就要坐着马车带你上米尔科特，你得为自己挑选些衣服。我同你说过了，四个星期后我们就结婚。婚礼将不事张扬，在下面那个教堂里举行。然后，我就立刻一阵风把你送到城里。短暂逗留后，我将带我的宝贝去阳光明媚的地方，到法国的葡萄园和意大利的平原去。古往今来凡有记载的名胜，她都得看看；城市风光，也该品尝。还得同别人公平地比较比较，让她知道自己的身价。”
“我要去旅行？——同你吗，先生？”
“你要住在巴黎、罗马和那不列斯，还有佛罗伦萨、威尼斯和维也纳。凡是我漫游过的地方，你都得重新去走走；凡我马蹄所至，你这位精灵也该涉足。十年之前，我几乎疯了似地跑遍了欧洲，只有厌恶、憎恨和愤怒同我作伴。如今我将旧地重游，痼疾己经痊愈，心灵已被涤荡，还有一位真正的天使给我安慰，与我同游。”
我笑他这么说话。“我不是天使，”我断言，“就是到死也不会是。我是我自己。罗切斯特先生，你不该在我身上指望或强求天上才有的东西。你不会得到的，就像我无法从你那儿得到一样，而且我是一点也不指望的。”
“那你指望我什么呢？”
“在短期内，你也许会同现在一样——很短的时期，随后你会冷静下来，你会反复无常，又会严厉起来，而我得费尽心机，使你高兴，不过等你完全同我习惯了，你也许又会喜欢我——我说呀喜欢我，而不是爱我。我猜想六个月后、或者更短一些，你的爱情就会化为泡影，在由男人撰写的书中，我注意到，那是一个丈夫的热情所能保持的最长时期。不过毕竟作为朋友和伙伴，我希望决不要太讨我亲爱主人的嫌。”
“讨厌？又会喜欢你呢！我想我会一而再，再而三地喜欢你。我会让你承认，我不仅喜欢你，而且爱你——真挚、热情、始终如一。”
“你不再反反复复了，先生？”
“对那些光靠容貌吸引我的女人，一旦我发现她们既没有灵魂也没有良心——一旦她们向我展示乏味、浅薄，也许还有愚蠢、粗俗和暴躁，我便成了真正的魔鬼。但是对眼明口快的，对心灵如火的，对既柔顺而又稳重、既驯服而又坚强，可弯而不可折的性格——我会永远温柔和真诚。”
“你遇到过这样的性格吗，先生？你爱上过这样的性格吗？”
“我现在爱它了。”
“在我以前呢，假如我真的在各方面都符合你那苛刻的标准？”
“我从来没有遇到过可以跟你相提并论的人，简，你使我愉快。使我倾倒，——你似乎很顺从，而我喜欢你给人的能屈能伸的感觉。我把一束柔软的丝线，绕过手指时，一阵颤栗，从我的胳膊涌向我心里。我受到了感染——我被征服了。这种感染之甜蜜，不是我所能表达，这种被征服感之魅力，远胜于我赢得的任何胜利。你为什么笑了，简？你那令人费解、不可思议的表情变化，有什么含义？”
“我在想，先生（你会原谅我这个想法，油然而生的想法），我想起了赫拉克勒斯、参孙和使他们着迷的美女。”
“你就这么想，你这小精灵——”
“唏，先生！就像那些先生们的举动并不聪明一样，你刚才说的话也并不聪明。不过，要是他们当初结了婚，毫无疑问，他们会一本正经地摆出夫君面孔，不再象求婚的时候那样柔情如水，我担心你也会一样。要是一年以后我请你做一件你不方便或者不乐意的事，不知你会怎样答复我。”
“你现在就说一件事吧，简——哪怕是件小事，我渴望你求我——”
“真的，我会的，先生。我已作好请求的准备。”
“说出来吧！不过你要是以那种神情抬头含笑，我会不知道你要求什么就满口答应，那就会使我上当。”
“绝对不会，先生。我只有一个要求，就是不要叫人送珠宝，不要让我头上戴满玫瑰花，你还不如把你那块普普通通的手帕镶上一条金边吧。”
“我还不如‘给纯金镶上金子’。我知道了，那么你的请求，我同意了——现在就这样。我会撤回送给银行代理人的订单。不过你还没有向我要什么呢，你只要求我收回礼物。再试一下吧。”
“那么，好呀，先生。请你满足我在某一个问题上大大激起的好奇心。”
他显得不安了。“什么？什么？”他忙不迭地问。“好奇心是一位危险的请求者：幸亏我没有发誓同意你的每个要求——”
“但是答应这个要求并没有什么危险，先生。”
“说吧，简。不过但愿这不只是打听——也许打听一个秘密，而是希望得到我的一半家产。”
“哎呀，亚哈随鲁王！我要你一半的家产干什么？你难道以为我是犹太高利贷者，要在土地上好好投资一番。我宁愿能同你推心置腹，要是你已答应向我敞开心扉，那你就不会不让我知道你的隐秘吧。”
“凡是一切值得知道的隐秘，简，都欢迎你知道。不过看在上帝面上，不要追求无用的负担！不要向往毒药——不要变成由我照管的十十足足的夏娃！”
“干嘛不呢，先生？你刚才还告诉我，你多么高兴被我征服，多么喜欢被我强行说服，你难道不认为，我不妨可利用一下你的表白，开始哄呀，求呀——必要时甚至还可哭哭闹闹，板起面孔——只不过为了尝试一下我的力量？”
“看你敢不敢做这样的试验。步步进犯，肆无忌惮，那就一切都完了。”
“是吗，先生？你很快就变卦了。这会儿你的表情多么严厉！你的眉头已皱得跟我的手指一般粗，你的前额像某些惊人诗篇所描写的那样犹如‘乌云重叠的雷霆。’我想那就是你结婚以后的神气了，先生？”
“如果你结婚后是那付样子，像我这样的基督徒，会立刻打消同无非是个小妖精或者水蛇厮混的念头。不过你该要什么呢，伙计？——说出来吧？”
“瞧，这会儿连礼貌也不讲了，我喜欢鲁莽，远胜于奉承。我宁愿做个伙计，也不愿做天使。我该问的就是——你为什么煞费苦心要我相信，你希望娶英格拉姆小姐？”
“就是这些吗？谢天谢地，不算太糟！”此时他松开了浓黑的眉头，低头朝我笑笑，还抚摸着我的头发，仿佛看到躲过了危险，十分庆幸似的。“我想还是坦率地说好。”他继续说。“尽管我要让你生点儿气，简——我看到了你一旦发怒，会变成怎样一位火妖。昨晚清凉的月光下，当你反抗命运，声言同我平等时，你的面容灼灼生光。珍妮特，顺便提一句，是你自己向我提出了那样的建议。”
“当然是我，但是请你不要环顾左右了，先生——英格拉姆小姐。”
“好吧，我假意向英格拉姆小姐求婚，因为我希望使你发疯似他同我相受，就象我那么爱你一样，我明白，嫉妒是为达到目的所能召唤的最好同盟军。”
“好极了！现在你很渺小——丝毫不比我的小手指尖要大。简直是奇耻大辱，这种想法可耻透顶，难道你一点也不想想英格拉姆小姐的感情吗，先生？”
“她的感情集于一点——自负。那就需要把她的气焰压下去。你妒嫉了吗，先生？”
“别管了，罗切斯特先生。你是不在乎知道这个的的。再次老实回答我，你不认为你不光彩的调情会使英格拉姆小姐感到痛苦吗？难道她不会有被遗弃的感觉吗？”
“不可能！——我曾同你说过，相反是她抛弃了我，一想到我无力还债，她的热情顿时一落千丈，化为乌有。”
“你有一个奇怪而工于心计的头脑，罗切斯特先生。恐怕你在某些方面的人生准则有违常理。”
“我的准则从来没有受过调教，简。由于缺乏照应，难免会出差错。”
“再严肃问一遍，我可以享受向我担保的巨大幸福，而不必担心别人也像我刚才一样蒙受剧痛吗？”
“你可以，我的好小姑娘。世上没有第二个人对我怀着同你一样纯洁的爱——因为我把那愉快的油膏，也就是对你的爱的信任，贴到了我的心坎上。”
我把嘴唇转过去，吻了吻搭在我肩上的手。我深深地爱着他——深得连我自己也难以相信能说得清楚——深得非语言所能表达。
“再提些要求吧，”他立刻说。“我很乐意被人请求并作出让步。”
我再次准备好了请求。“把你的意图同费尔法克斯太太谈谈吧，昨晚她看见我同你呆在厅里，大吃一惊，我见她之前，你给她解释一下吧。让这样好的女人误解总让我痛苦。”
“上你自己的房间去，戴上你的帽子，”他回答。“早上我想让你陪我上米尔科特去一趟。你准备上车的时候，我会让这位老妇人开开窍。难道她认为，珍妮特，你为了爱而付出了一切，完全是得不偿失？”
“我相信她认为我忘了自己的地位，还有你的地位，先生。”
“地位！地位！——现在，或者从今以后，你的地位在我的心里，紧卡着那些想要污辱你的人的脖子——走！”
我很快就穿好衣服，一听到罗切斯特先生离开费尔法克斯太太的起居室，便匆匆下楼赶到那里。这位老太太在读她早晨该读的一段《圣经》——那天的功课。面前摆着打开的《圣经》，《圣经》上放着一付眼镜。她忙着的事儿被罗切斯特先生的宣布打断后，此刻似乎已经忘记。她的眼睛呆呆地瞧着对面空无一物的墙上，流露出了一个平静的头脑被罕见的消息所激起的惊讶。见了我，她才回过神来，勉强笑了笑，凑了几句祝贺的话。但她的笑容收敛了，她的话讲了一半止住了。她戴上眼镜，合上《圣经》，把椅子从桌旁推开。
“我感到那么惊奇，”她开始说，“我真不知道对你说什么好，爱小姐。我肯定不是在做梦吧，是不是？有时候我独个儿坐着便朦朦胧胧地睡过去了，梦见了从来没有发生过的事情。在打盹的时候，我似乎不止一次看见我那位十年前去世的亲爱的丈夫，走进屋里，在我身边坐下，我甚至听他像以往一样叫唤我的名字艾丽斯。好吧，你能不能告诉我，罗切斯特先生真的已经向你求婚了吗？别笑话我，不过我真的认为他五分钟之前才进来对我说，一个月以后你就是他的妻子了。”
“他同我说了同样的话，”我回答。
“他同我说了同样的话，”我回答。
“他说啦！你相信他吗？你接受了吗？”
“是的。”
她大惑不解地看着我。
“绝对想不到这点。他是一个很高傲的人。罗切斯特家族的人都很高傲，至少他的父亲很看重金钱，他也常被说成很谨慎。他的意思是要娶你吗？”
“他这么告诉我的。”
她把我从头到脚打量了一番，从她的目光中我知道，她这双眼睛并没有在我身上发现足以解开这个谜的魅力。
“简直让我难以理解！”她继续说。“不过既然你这样说了，毫无疑问是真的了。以后的结局如何，我也说不上来。我真的不知道。在这类事情上，地位和财产方面彼此平等往往是明智的。何况你们两人的年龄相差二十岁，他差不多可以做你的父亲。”
“不，真的，费尔法克斯太太！”我恼火地大叫说，“他丝毫不像我父亲！谁看见我们在一起，都绝不会有这种想法。罗切斯特先生依然显得很年轻，跟有些二十五岁的人一样。”
“难道他真的是因为爱你而娶你的？”她问。
她的冷漠和怀疑使我心里非常难受，眼泪涌上了我的眼眶。
“对不起让你伤心了，”寡妇继续谈下去，“可是你那么年轻，跟男人接触又那么少，我希望让你存些戒心，老话说‘闪光的不一定都是金子’，而在这方面，我担心会出现你我所料想不到的事。”
“为什么？难道我是个妖怪？”我说，“难道罗切斯特先生不可能真心爱我？”
“不，你很好，而且近来大有长进。我想罗切斯特先生很喜欢你。我一直注意到，你好像深得他宠爱，有时候为你着想，我对他明显的偏爱感到不安，而且希望你提防着点，但我甚至不想暗示会有出事的可能，我知道这种想法会使你吃惊，也许还会得罪你。你那么审慎，那么谦逊，那么通情达理，我希望可以信赖你保护自己。昨天晚上，我找遍了整幢房子，既没有见到你，也没有见到主人，而后来十二点钟时瞧见你同他一起进来，这时我的痛苦实在难以言传。”
“好吧，现在就别去管它了，”我不耐烦地打断了她，“一切都很好，那就够了。”
“但愿能善始善终，”她说，“不过。请相信我，你还是小心为是。设法与罗切斯特先生保持一段距离，既不要太自信，也不要太相信他，像他那样有地位的绅士是不习惯娶家庭教师的。”
我真的要光火了，幸亏阿黛勒跑了进来。
“让我去——让我也去米尔科特！”她嚷嚷道。“罗切斯特先生不肯让我去，新马车里明明很空。求他让我去吧，小姐。”
“我会的，阿黛勒，”我急急忙忙同她一起走开了，很乐意逃离这位丧气的监视者。马车已经准备停当。他们绕道将它停在前门，我的主人在石子路上踱步，派洛特忽前忽后跟着他。
“阿黛勒可以跟我们一起去吗，先生？”
“我告诉过她了不行，我不要小丫头——我只要你。”
“请无论如何让她去，罗切斯特先生，那样会更好些。”
“不行，她会碍事。”
他声色俱厉。我想起了费尔法克斯太太令人寒心的警告和让我扫兴的疑虑，内心的希望便蒙上了一层虚幻渺茫的阴影。我自认能左右他的感觉失掉了一半。我正要机械地服从他，而不再规劝时，他扶我进了马车，瞧了瞧我的脸。，
“怎么啦？”他回答，“阳光全不见了，你真的希望这孩子去吗？要是把她拉下了，你会不高兴吗？”
“我很情愿她去，先生。”
“那就去戴上你的帽子，象闪电一样快赶回来！”他朝阿黛勒喊道。
她以最快的速度按他的吩咐去办了。
“打搅一个早上毕竟无伤大雅，”他说：“反正我马上就要得到你了——你的思想、你的谈话和你的陪伴——永生永世。”
阿黛勒一被拎进车子，便开始吻起我来，以表示对我替她说情的感激。她很快被藏到了靠他一边的角落里。她随后偷偷地朝我坐的地方扫视了一下，那么严肃的一位邻座使她很拘束。他眼下性情浮躁，所以她即使看到了什么，也不敢悄声说话，就是想要知道什么，也不敢问他。
“让她到我这边来，”我恳求道。“或许她会碍着你，先生，我这边很空呢。”
他把她像递一只膝头的狗那样递了过来。“我要送她上学去，”他说，不过这会儿脸上浮着笑容。
阿黛勒听了就问他是不是上学校“sans mademoiselle？”
“是的，”他回答，“完全‘sans mademoiselle，’因为我要带小姐到月亮上去，我要在火山顶上一个白色的山谷中找个山洞，小姐要同我住在那里，只同我一个人。”
“她会没有东西吃，你会把她饿坏的，”阿黛勒说。
“我会日夜采集吗哪给她，月亮上的平原和山边白茫茫一片都是吗哪，阿黛勒。”
“她得暖和暖和身子，用什么生火呢？”
“火会从月亮山上喷出来。她冷了，我会把她带到山巅，让她躺在火山口的边上。”
“Oh，qu'elle y sera mal peu confortable! 还有她的衣服呢，都会穿坏的，哪儿去弄新的呢？”
罗切斯特先生承认自己也搞不清楚了。“哼！”他说，“你会怎么办呢，阿黛勒？动动脑筋，想个应付的办法。一片白云，或者一片粉红色的云做件长袍，你觉得怎么样？一抹彩虹做条围巾绰绰有余。”
“那她现在这样要好得多，”阿黛勒沉思片刻后断言道。“另外，在月亮上只跟你生活在一起，她会觉得厌烦的。要我是小姐，就决不会同意跟你去。”
“她已经同意了，还许下了诺言。”
“但是你不可能把她弄到那儿，没有道路通月亮，全都是空气。而且你与她都不会飞。”
“阿黛勒，瞧那边的田野，”这会儿我们已经出了桑菲尔德大门，沿着通往米尔科特平坦的道路，平稳而轻快地行驶着，暴风雨已经把尘土洗涤干净，路两旁低矮的树篱和挺拔的大树，雨后吐翠，分外新鲜。
“在那边田野上，阿黛勒，两星期前的一个晚上，我溜达得晚了——就是你帮我在果园草地里晒干草的那天晚上。我耙着干草，不觉累了，便在一个草堆上躺下来休息一会。当时我取出一本小书和一枝铅笔，开始写起很久以前落到我头上的不幸，和对未来幸福日子的向往。我写得很快，但阳光从树叶上渐渐隐去，这时一个东西顺着小径走来，在离我两码远的地方停了下来。我看了看它，原来是个头上罩了薄纱的东西。我招呼它走近我，它很快就站到了我的膝头上，我没有同它说话，它也没有同我说话，我猜透它的眼神，它也猜透了我的眼神。我们之间无声的谈话大致的意思是这样：
‘它是个小精灵，从精灵仙境来的，它说。它的差使是使我幸福，我必须同它一起离开凡间，到一个人迹罕至的地方——譬如月亮上——它朝干草山上升起的月牙儿点了点头。它告诉我，我们可以住在石膏山洞和银色的溪谷里。我说我想去，但我就像你刚才提醒那样，提醒它我没有翅膀，不会飞。’”
“‘呵，’那精灵回答说，‘这没有关系！这里有个护身符，可以排除—切障碍。’她递过来一个漂亮的金戒指。‘戴上它吧’，‘戴在我左手第四个手指上，我就属于你，你就属于我了。我们将离开地球，到那边建立自己的天地。’她再次朝月亮点了点头。阿黛勒，这个戒指就在我裤子袋袋里，化作了一金镑硬币，不过我要它很快又变成戒子。”
“可是那与小姐有什么
Chapter 25
THE month of courtship had wasted: its very last hours were being numbered. There was no putting off the day that advanced- the bridal day; and all preparations for its arrival were complete. I, at least, had nothing more to do: there were my trunks, packed, locked, corded, ranged in a row along the wall of my little chamber; to-morrow, at this time, they would be far on their road to London: and so should I (D.V.),- or rather, not I, but one Jane Rochester, a person whom as yet I knew not. The cards of address alone remained to nail on: they lay, four little squares, in the drawer. Mr. Rochester had himself written the direction, 'Mrs. Rochester,- Hotel, London,' on each: I could not persuade myself to affix them, or to have them affixed. Mrs. Rochester! She did not exist: she would not be born till to-morrow, some time after eight o'clock A.M.; and I would wait to be assured she had come into the world alive before I assigned to her all that property. It was enough that in yonder closet, opposite my dressing-table, garments said to be hers had already displaced my black stuff Lowood frock and straw bonnet: for not to me appertained that suit of wedding raiment; the pearl-coloured robe, the vapoury veil pendent from the usurped portmanteau. I shut the closet to conceal the strange, wraith-like apparel it contained;which, at this evening hour- nine o'clock- gave out certainly a most ghostly shimmer through the shadow of my apartment. 'I will leave you by yourself, white dream,' I said. 'I am feverish: I hear the wind blowing: I will go out of doors and feel it.'
It was not only the hurry of preparation that made me feverish; not only the anticipation of the great change- the new life which was to commence to-morrow: both these circumstances had their share, doubtless, in producing that restless, excited mood which hurried me forth at this late hour into the darkening grounds: but a third cause influenced my mind more than they.
I had at heart a strange and anxious thought. Something had happened which I could not comprehend; no one knew of or had seen the event but myself: it had taken place the preceding night. Mr. Rochester that night was absent from home; nor was he yet returned: business had called him to a small estate of two or three farms he possessed thirty miles off- business it was requisite he should settle in person, previous to his meditated departure from England. I waited now his return; eager to disburthen my mind, and to seek of him the solution of the enigma that perplexed me. Stay till he comes, reader: and, when I disclose my secret to him, you shall share the confidence.
I sought the orchard, driven to its shelter by the wind, which all day had blown strong and full from the south, without, however, bringing a speck of rain. Instead of subsiding as night drew on, it seemed to augment its rush and deepen its roar: the trees blew steadfastly one way, never writhing round, and scarcely tossing back their boughs once in an hour; so continuous was the strain bending their branchy heads northward- the clouds drifted from pole to pole, fast following, mass on mass: no glimpse of blue sky had been visible that July day.
It was not without a certain wild pleasure I ran before the wind, delivering my trouble of mind to the measureless air-torrent thundering through space. Descending the laurel walk, I faced the wreck of the chestnut-tree; it stood up black and riven: the trunk, split down the centre, gaped ghastly. The cloven halves were not broken from each other, for the firm base and strong roots kept them unsundered below; though community of vitality was destroyed- the sap could flow no more: their great boughs on each side were dead, and next winter's tempests would be sure to fell one or both to earth: as yet, however, they might be said to form one tree- a ruin, but an entire ruin.
'You did right to hold fast to each other,' I said: as if the monster-splinters were living things, and could hear me. 'I think, scathed as you look, and charred and scorched, there must be a little sense of life in you yet, rising out of that adhesion at the faithful, honest roots: you will never have green leaves more- never more see birds making nests and singing idyls in your boughs; the time of pleasure and love is over with you: but you are not desolate: each of you has a comrade to sympathise with him in his decay.' As I looked up at them, the moon appeared momentarily in that part of the sky which filled their fissure; her disk was blood-red and half overcast; she seemed to throw on me one bewildered, dreary glance, and buried herself again instantly in the deep drift of cloud. The wind fell, for a second, round Thornfield; but far away over wood and water, poured a wild, melancholy wail: it was sad to listen to, and I ran off again.
Here and there I strayed through the orchard, gathered up the apples with which the grass round the tree roots was thickly strewn; then I employed myself in dividing the ripe from the unripe; I carried them into the house and put them away in the storeroom. Then I repaired to the library to ascertain whether the fire was lit, for, though summer, I knew on such a gloomy evening Mr. Rochester would like to see a cheerful hearth when he came in: yes, the fire had been kindled some time, and burnt well. I placed his arm-chair by the chimney-corner: I wheeled the table near it: I let down the  curtain, and had the candles brought in ready for lighting. More restless than ever, when I had completed these arrangements I could not sit still, nor even remain in the house: a little timepiece in the room and the old clock in the hall simultaneously struck ten.
'How late it grows!' I said. 'I will run down to the gates: it is moonlight at intervals; I can see a good way on the road. He may be coming now, and to meet him will save some minutes of suspense.'
The wind roared high in the great trees which embowered the gates; but the road as far as I could see, to the right hand and the left, was all still and solitary: save for the shadows of clouds crossing it at intervals as the moon looked out, it was a long pale line, unvaried by one moving speck.
A puerile tear dimmed my eye while I looked- a tear of disappointment and impatience; ashamed of it, I wiped it away. I lingered; the moon shut herself wholly within her chamber, and drew close her curtain of dense cloud: the night grew dark; rain came driving fast on the gale.
'I wish he would come! I wish he would come!' I exclaimed, seized with hypochondriac foreboding. I had expected his arrival before tea; now it was dark: what could keep him? Had an accident happened? 
The event of last night again recurred to me. I interpreted it as a warning of disaster. I feared my hopes were too bright to be realised; and I had enjoyed so much bliss lately that I imagined my fortune had passed its meridian, and must now decline.
'Well, I cannot return to the house,' I thought; 'I cannot sit by the fireside, while he is abroad in inclement weather: better tire my limbs than strain my heart; I will go forward and meet him.' 
I set out; I walked fast, but not far: ere I had measured a quarter of a mile, I heard the tramp of hoofs; a horseman came on, full gallop; a dog ran by his side. Away with evil presentiment! It was he: here he was, mounted on Mesrour, followed by Pilot. He saw me; for the moon had opened a blue field in the sky, and rode in it watery bright: he took his hat off, and waved it round his head. I now ran to meet him.
'There!' he exclaimed, as he stretched out his hand and bent from the saddle: 'you can't do without me, that is evident. Step on my boot-toe; give me both hands: mount!'
I obeyed: joy made me agile: I sprang up before him. A hearty kissing I got for a welcome, and some boastful triumph, which I swallowed as well as I could. He checked himself in his exultation to demand, 'But is there anything the matter, Janet, that you come to meet me at such an hour? Is there anything wrong?'
'No, but I thought you would never come. I could not bear to wait in the house for you, especially with this rain and wind.'
'Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid; pull my cloak round you: but I think you are feverish, Jane: both your cheek and hand are burning hot. I ask again, is there anything the matter?'
'Nothing now; I am neither afraid nor unhappy.'
'Then you have been both?'
'Rather: but I'll tell you all about it by and by, sir; and I daresay you will only laugh at me for my pains.'
'I'll laugh at you heartily when to-morrow is past; till then I dare not: my prize is not certain. This is you, who have been as slippery as an eel this last month, and as thorny as a briar-rose? I could not lay a finger anywhere but I was pricked; and now I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms. You wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?'
'I wanted you: but don't boast. Here we are at Thornfield: now let me get down.'
He landed me on the pavement. As John took his horse, and he followed me into the hall, he told me to make haste and put something dry on, and then return to him in the library; and he stopped me, as I made for the staircase, to extort a promise that I would not be long: nor was I long; in five minutes I rejoined him. I found him at supper.
'Take a seat and bear me company, Jane: please God, it is the last meal but one you will eat at Thornfield Hall for a long time.'
I sat down near him, but told him I could not eat.
'Is it because you have the prospect of a journey before you, Jane?
Is it the thoughts of going to London that takes away your appetite?'
'I cannot see my prospects clearly to-night, sir; and I hardly know what thoughts I have in my head. Everything in life seems unreal.'
'Except me: I am substantial enough- touch me.'
'You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all: you are a mere dream.'
He held out his hand, laughing. 'Is that a dream?' said he, placing it close to my eyes. He had a rounded, muscular, and vigorous hand, as well as a long, strong arm.
'Yes; though I touch it, it is a dream,' said I, as I put it down from before my face. 'Sir, have you finished supper?'
'Yes, Jane.'
I rang the bell and ordered away the tray. When we were again alone, I stirred the fire, and then took a low seat at my master's knee.
'It is near midnight,' I said.
'Yes: but remember, Jane, you promised to wake with me the night before my wedding.'
'I did; and I will keep my promise, for an hour or two at least: I have no wish to go to bed.'
'Are all your arrangements complete?'
'All, sir.'
'And on my part likewise,' he returned, 'I have settled everything; and we shall leave Thornfield to-morrow, within half an hour after our return from church.'
'Very well, sir.'
'With what an extraordinary smile you uttered that word- "very well," Jane! What a bright spot of colour you have on each cheek! and how strangely your eyes glitter! Are you well?'
'I believe I am.'
'Believe! What is the matter? Tell me what you feel.'
'I could not, sir: no words could tell you what I feel. I wish this present hour would never end: who knows with what fate the next day may come charged?'
'This is hypochondria, Jane. You have been over-excited, or over-fatigued.'
'Do you, sir, feel calm and happy?'
'Calm?- no: but happy- to the heart's core.'
I looked up at him to read the signs of bliss in his face: it was ardent and flushed.
'Give me your confidence, Jane,' he said: 'relieve your mind of any weight that oppresses it, by imparting it to me. What do you fear?- that I shall not prove a good husband?'
'It is the idea farthest from my thoughts.'
'Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?- of the new life into which you are passing?'
'No.'
'You puzzle me, Jane: your look and tone of sorrowful audacity perplex and pain me. I want an explanation.'
'Then, sir, listen. You were from home last night?'
'I was: I know that; and you hinted a while ago at something which had happened in my absence:- nothing, probably, of consequence; but, in short, it has disturbed you. Let me hear it. Mrs. Fairfax has said something, perhaps? or you have overheard the servants talk?- your sensitive self-respect has been wounded?'
'No, sir.' It struck twelve- I waited till the timepiece had concluded its silver chime, and the clock its hoarse, vibrating stroke, and then I proceeded.
'All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaseless bustle; for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere, et cetera: I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, because I love you. No, sir, don't caress me now- let me talk undisturbed.
Yesterday I trusted well in Providence, and believed that events were working together for your good and mine: it was a fine day, if you recollect- the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your safety or comfort on your journey. I walked a little while on the pavement after tea, thinking of you; and I beheld you in imagination so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence. I thought of the life that lay before me- your life, sir- an existence more expansive and stirring than my own: as much more so as the depths of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own strait channel. I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose. Just at sunset, the air turned cold and the sky cloudy: I went in, Sophie called me upstairs to look at my wedding-dress, which they had just brought; and under it in the box I found your present- the veil which, in your princely extravagance, you sent for from London: resolved, I suppose, since I would not have jewels, to cheat me into accepting something as costly.
I smiled as I unfolded it, and devised how I would tease you about your aristocratic tastes, and your efforts to masque your plebeian bride in the attributes of a peeress. I thought how I would carry down to you the square of unembroidered blond I had myself prepared as a covering for my low-born head, and ask if that was not good enough for a woman who could bring her husband neither fortune, beauty, nor connections. I saw plainly how you would look; and heard your impetuous republican answers, and your haughty disavowal of any necessity on your part to augment your wealth, or elevate your standing, by marrying either a purse or a coronet.'
'How well you read me, you witch!' interposed Mr. Rochester: 'but what did you find in the veil besides its embroidery? Did you find poison, or a dagger, that you look so mournful now?'
'No, no, sir; besides the delicacy and richness of the fabric, I found nothing save Fairfax Rochester's pride; and that did not scare me, because I am used to the sight of the demon. But, sir, as it grew dark, the wind rose: it blew yesterday evening, not as it blows now- wild and high- but "with a sullen, moaning sound" far more eerie.
I wished you were at home. I came into this room, and the sight of the empty chair and fireless hearth chilled me. For some time after I went to bed, I could not sleep- a sense of anxious excitement distressed me. The gale still rising, seemed to my ear to muffle a mournful under-sound; whether in the house or abroad I could not at first tell, but it recurred, doubtful yet doleful at every lull; at last I made out it must be some dog howling at a distance. I was glad when it ceased. On sleeping, I continued in dreams the idea of a dark and gusty night. I continued also the wish to be with you, and experienced a strange, regretful consciousness of some barrier dividing us. During all my first sleep, I was following the windings of an unknown road; total obscurity environed me; rain pelted me; I was burdened with the charge of a little child: a very small creature, too young andfeeble to walk, and which shivered in my cold arms, and wailed piteously in my ear. I thought, sir, that you were on the road a long way before me; and I strained every nerve to overtake you, and made effort on effort to utter your name and entreat you to stop- but my movements were fettered, and my voice still died away inarticulate; while you, I felt, withdrew farther and farther every moment.'
'And these dreams weigh on your spirits now, Jane, when I am close to you? Little nervous subject! Forget visionary woe, and think only of real happiness! You say you love me, Janet: yes- I will not forget that; and you cannot deny it. Those words did not die inarticulate on your lips. I heard them clear and soft: a thought too solemn perhaps, but sweet as music- "I think it is a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, Edward, because I love you." Do you love me, Jane?- repeat it.'
'I do, sir- I do, with my whole heart.'
'Well,' he said, after some minutes' silence, 'it is strange; but that sentence has penetrated my breast painfully. Why? I think because you said it with such an earnest, religious energy, and because your upward gaze at me now is the very sublime of faith, truth, and devotion: it is too much as if some spirit were near me. Look wicked, Jane: as you know well how to look: coin one of your wild, shy, provoking smiles, tell me you hate me- tease me, vex me; do anything but move me: I would rather be incensed than saddened.'
'I will tease you and vex you to your heart's content, when I have finished my tale: but hear me to the end.'
'I thought, Jane, you had told me all. I thought I had found the source of your melancholy in a dream.'
I shook my head. 'What! is there more? But I will not believe it to be anything important. I warn you of incredulity beforehand. Go on.'
The disquietude of his air, the somewhat apprehensive impatience of his manner, surprised me: but I proceeded.
'I dreamt another dream, sir: that Thornfield Hall was a dreary ruin, the retreat of bats and owls. I thought that of all the stately front nothing remained but a shell-like wall, very high and very fragile-looking. I wandered, on a moonlight night, through the grass-grown enclosure within: here I stumbled over a marble hearth, and there over a fallen fragment of cornice. Wrapped up in a shawl, I still carried the unknown little child: I might not lay it down anywhere, however tired were my arms- however much its weight impeded my progress, I must retain it. I heard the gallop of a horse at a distance on the road; I was sure it was you; and you were departing for many years and for a distant country. I climbed the thin wall with frantic perilous haste, eager to catch one glimpse of you from the top: the stones rolled from under my feet, the ivy branches I grasped gave way, the child clung round my neck in terror, and almost strangled me; at last I gained the summit. I saw you like a speck on a white track, lessening every moment. The blast blew so strong I could not stand. I sat down on the narrow ledge; I hushed the scared infant in my lap: you turned an angle of the road: I bent forward to take a last look; the wall crumbled; I was shaken; the child rolled from my knee, I lost my balance, fell, and woke.'
'Now, Jane, that is all.'
'All the preface, sir; the tale is yet to come. On waking, a gleam dazzled my eyes; I thought- Oh, it is daylight! But I was mistaken; it was only candlelight. Sophie, I supposed, had come in.
There was a light in the dressing-table, and the door of the closet, where, before going to bed, I had hung my wedding-dress and veil, stood open; I heard a rustling there. I asked, "Sophie, what are you doing?" No one answered; but a form emerged from the closet; it took the light, held it aloft, and surveyed the garments pendent from the portmanteau. "Sophie! Sophie!" I again cried: and still it was silent.
I had risen up in bed, I bent forward: first surprise, then bewilderment, came over me; and then my blood crept cold through my veins. Mr. Rochester, this was not Sophie, it was not Leah, it was not Mrs. Fairfax: it was not- no, I was sure of it, and am still- it was not even that strange woman, Grace Poole.'
'It must have been one of them,' interrupted my master.
'No, sir, I solemnly assure you to the contrary. The shape standing before me had never crossed my eyes within the precincts of Thornfield Hall before; the height, the contour were new to me.' 
'Describe it, Jane.'
'It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on: it was white and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I cannot tell.'
'Did you see her face?'
'Not at first. But presently she took my veil from its place; she held it up, gazed at it long, and then she threw it over her own head, and turned to the mirror. At that moment I saw the reflection of the visage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong glass.'
'And how were they?'
'Fearful and ghastly to me- oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! It was a discoloured face- it was a savage face. I wish I could forget the roll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of the lineaments!'
'Ghosts are usually pale, Jane.'
'This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the brow furrowed: the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes.
Shall I tell you of what it reminded me?'
'You may.'
'Of the foul German spectre- the Vampyre.'
'Ah!- what did it do?'
'Sir, it removed my veil from its gaunt head, rent it in two parts, and flinging both on the floor, trampled on them.'
'Afterwards?'
'It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw dawn approaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door.
Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared upon me- she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it under my eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lost consciousness: for the second time in my life- only the second time- I became insensible from terror.'
'Who was with you when you revived?'
'No one, sir, but the broad day. I rose, bathed my head and face in water, drank a long draught; felt that though enfeebled I was not ill, and determined that to none but you would I impart this vision. Now sir, tell me who and what that woman was?'
'The creature of an over-stimulated brain; that is certain. I must be careful of you, my treasure: nerves like yours were not made for rough handling.'
'Sir, depend on it, my nerves were not in fault; the thing was real: the transaction actually took place.'
'And your previous dreams, were they real too? Is Thornfield Hall a ruin? Am I severed from you by insuperable obstacles? Am I leaving you without a tear- without a kiss- without a word?'
'Not yet.'
'Am I about to do it? Why, the day is already commenced which is to bind us indissolubly; and when we are once united, there shall be no recurrence of these mental terrors: I guarantee that.'
'Mental terrors, sir! I wish I could believe them to be only such: I wish it more now than ever; since even you cannot explain to me the mystery of that awful visitant.'
'And since I cannot do it, Jane, it must have been unreal.'
'But, sir, when I said so to myself on rising this morning, and when I looked round the room to gather courage and comfort from the cheerful aspect of each familiar object in full daylight, there- on the carpet- I saw what gave the distinct lie to my hypothesis,- the veil, torn from top to bottom in two halves!'
I felt Mr. Rochester start and shudder; he hastily flung his arms round me. 'Thank God!' he exclaimed, 'that if anything malignant did come near you last night, it was only the veil that was harmed. Oh, to think what might have happened!'
He drew his breath short, and strained me so close to him, I could scarcely pant. After some minutes' silence, he continued, cheerily-
'Now, Janet, I'll explain to you all about it. It was half dream, half reality. A woman did, I doubt not, enter your room: and that woman was- must have been- Grace Poole. You call her a strange being yourself: from all you know, you have reason so to call her- what did she do to me? what to Mason? In a state between sleeping and waking, you noticed her entrance and her actions; but feverish, almost delirious as you were, you ascribed to her a goblin appearance different from her own: the long dishevelled hair, the swelled black face, the exaggerated stature, were figments of imagination; results of nightmare: the spiteful tearing of the veil was real: and it is like her. I see you would ask why I keep such a woman in my house: 
when we have been married a year and a day, I will tell you; but not now. Are you satisfied, Jane? Do you accept my solution of the mystery?'
I reflected, and in truth it appeared to me the only possible one: satisfied I was not, but to please him I endeavoured to appear so- relieved, I certainly did feel; so I answered him with a contented smile. And now, as it was long past one, I prepared to leave him.
'Does not Sophie sleep with Adele in the nursery?' he asked, as I lit my candle.
'Yes, sir.'
'And there is room enough in Adele's little bed for you. You must share it with her to-night, Jane: it is no wonder that the incident you have related should make you nervous, and I would rather you did not sleep alone: promise me to go to the nursery.'
'I shall be very glad to do so, sir.'
'And fasten the door securely on the inside. Wake Sophie when you go upstairs, under pretence of requesting her to rouse you in good time to-morrow; for you must be dressed and have finished breakfast before eight. And now, no more sombre thoughts: chase dull care away, Janet. Don't you hear to what soft whispers the wind has fallen? and there is no more beating of rain against the window-panes: look here' (he lifted up the curtain)- 'it is a lovely night!'
It was. Half heaven was pure and stainless: the clouds, now trooping before the wind, which had shifted to the west, were filing off eastward in long, silvered columns. The moon shone peacefully.
'Well,' said Mr. Rochester, gazing inquiringly into my eyes, 'how is my Janet now?'
'The night is serene, sir; and so am I.'
'And you will not dream of separation and sorrow to-night; but of happy love and blissful union.'
This prediction was but half fulfilled: I did not indeed dream of sorrow, but as little did I dream of joy; for I never slept at all.
With little Adele in my arms, I watched the slumber of childhood- so tranquil, so passionless, so innocent- and waited for the coming day: all my life was awake and astir in my frame: and as soon as the sun rose I rose too. I remember Adele clung to me as I left her: I remember I kissed her as I loosened her little hands from my neck; and I cried over her with strange emotion, and quitted her because I feared my sobs would break her still sound repose. She seemed the emblem of my past life; and he I was now to array myself to meet, the dread, but adored, type of my unknown future day. 
一个月的求婚期过去了，只剩下了最后几个小时。结婚的日子已经临近，不会推迟。一切准备工作也已就绪，至少我手头没有别的事儿要干了。我的箱子已收拾停当，锁好，捆好，沿小房间的墙根，一字儿摆开，明天这个时候，这些东西会早已登上去伦敦的旅程，还有我（如蒙上帝恩允）——或者不如说，不是我而是一位我目前尚不认识的，叫作简．罗切斯特的人，只有地址标签还没贴上，那四个小方块仍躺在抽屉里。罗切斯特先生亲自在每个标签上书写了：“伦敦××旅馆罗切斯特太太”这几个字。我无法让自己或者别人把它们贴上去。罗切斯特太太！她并不存在，要到明天八点钟后的某个时候才降生。我得等到完全相信她已经活生生地来到这个世界时，才把那份财产划归她。在我梳妆台对面的衣柜里，一些据说是她的衣物，已经取代了她罗沃德的黑呢上衣和草帽。这已经是足够的了，因为那套婚礼服，以及垂挂在临时占用的钩子上的珠白色长袍和簿雾似的面纱，本不属于她的。我关上了衣柜，隐去了里面幽灵似的奇装异服。在晚间九点这个时辰，这些衣著在我房间的暗影里，发出了阴森森的微光。“我要让你独个儿留着，白色的梦幻，”我说。“我兴奋难耐，我听见风在劲吹，我要出门去感受一下。”
使我兴奋的不仅是匆匆忙忙的结婚准备，也不仅是因为对巨大的变化，明天开始的新生活所怀的希望。毫无疑问，两者都起了作用，使我兴奋不安，这么晚了还匆匆来到越来越黑的庭园。但是第三个原因对我的心理影响更大。
我内心深处埋藏着一种古怪而焦急的念头。这儿发生了一件我无法理解的事情，而且除了我，既无人知道，也无人见过。那是在前一天晚上发生的。罗切斯特先生出门去了，还没有回来。他因为有事上三十英里外的两三个小农庄去了——这些事务需要他在计划离开英国之前亲自去办理。此刻我等着他回来，急于卸去心头的包袱，请他解开困惑着我的谜。我要呆到他回来，读者，我一向他倾诉我的秘密，你们也就不言自明了。
我朝果园走去了。风把我驱赶到了隐蔽的角落。强劲的南风刮了整整一天，却没有带来一滴雨。入夜，风势非但没有减弱，反而越来越强，咆哮声越来越响。树木被一个劲儿地往一边吹着，从不改向，一个小时里，树枝几乎一次都没有朝反方向倒去，树梢一直紧绷着往北弯着。云块从一头飘到另一头，接踵而来，层层叠叠，七月的这一天看不到一丝蓝天。
我被风推着往前奔跑，把心头的烦恼付诸呼啸而过、无穷无尽的气流，倒也不失为一种狂乱的喜悦。我走下月桂小径，面前是横遭洗劫的栗树，黑乎乎的已经被撕裂，却依然站立着，树干中一劈为二，可怕地张着大口。但裂开的两半并没有完全脱开，因为坚实的树基和强壮的树根使底部仍然连接着。尽管生命的整体遭到了破坏一—树汁已不再流动，每一片大树枝都已枯死，明年冬天的暴风雨一定会把裂开的一片或者两片都刮到地上，但是它们可以说合起来是一棵树一—虽已倒地，却完整无缺。
“你们这样彼此紧贴着做得很对，”我说，仿佛裂开的大树是有生命的东西，听得见我的话。“我想，尽管你看上去遍体鳞伤，焦黑一片，但你身上一定还有细微的生命，从朴实忠诚的树根的粘合处冒出来。你们再也不会吐出绿叶——再也看不到鸟儿在枝头筑巢，唱起悠闲的歌。你们欢乐的相爱时刻已经逝去，但你们不会感到孤寂，在朽败中你们彼此都有同病相怜的伙伴。”我抬头仰望树干，只见月亮瞬间出现在树干裂缝中的那一小片天空，血红的月轮被遮去了一半。她似乎向我投来困惑、忧郁的一瞥，随后又躲进了厚厚的云层。刹那之间，桑菲尔德一带的风势减弱了。但远处的树林里和水面上，却响起了狂野凄厉的哀号，听起来叫人伤心，于是我便跑开了。
我漫步穿过果园，把树根周围厚厚的青草底下的苹果捡起来，随后忙着把成熟了的苹果和其他苹果分开，带回屋里，放进储藏室。接着我上图书室去看看有没有生上火炉。因为虽是夏天，但我知道，在这祥一个阴沉的夜晚，罗切斯特先生喜欢一进门就看到令人愉快的炉火。不错，火生起来已经有一会儿了，烧得很旺。我把他的安乐椅放在炉角，把桌子推近它。我放下窗帘，让人送来蜡烛，以备点灯。
这一切都安排好以后，我很有些坐立不安，甚至连屋子里也呆不住了。房间里的小钟和厅里的老钟同时敲响了十点。
“这么晚了！”我自言自语地说：“我要跑下楼到大门口去。借着时隐时现的月光，我能看清楚很远的路。也许这会儿他就要来了，出去迎接他可以使我少担几分钟心。”
风在遮掩着大门的巨树中呼啸着。但我眼目所及，路的左右两旁都孤寂无声，只有云的阴影不时掠过。月亮探出头来时，也不过是苍白的一长条，单调得连一个移动的斑点都没有。
我仰望天空，一滴幼稚的眼泪蒙住了眼睛，那是失望和焦急之泪。我为此感到羞涩，赶紧把它抹去，但迟迟没有举步。月亮把自己整个儿关进了闺房，并拉上了厚实的云的窗帘。夜变得黑沉沉了，大风刮来了骤雨。
“但愿他会来！但愿他会来！”我大嚷着，心里产生了要发作疑病症的预感。茶点之前我就盼望他到了，而此刻天已经全黑。什么事儿耽搁了他呢？难道出了事故？我不由得想起了昨晚的一幕，我把它理解成是灾祸的预兆。我担心自己的希望过于光明而不可能实现，最近我享了那么多福，自己不免想到，我的运气已过了顶点，如今必然要走下坡路了。“是呀，我不能回屋去，”我思忖道，“我不能安坐在火炉边，而他却风风雨雨在外面闯荡。与其忧心如焚，不如脚头劳累一些，我要走上前去迎接他。”
我出发了，走得很快，但并不很远。还没到四分之一英里，我便听见了一阵马蹄声。一位骑手疾驰而来，旁边窜着一条狗。不祥的预感一扫而光！这正是他，骑着梅斯罗来了，身后跟着派洛特。他看见了我，因为月亮在空中开辟了一条蓝色的光带，在光带中飘移，晶莹透亮。他摘下帽子，在头顶挥动，我迎着他跑上去。
“瞧！”他大声叫道，一面伸出双手，从马鞍上弯下腰来。“显然你少了我不行，踩在我靴子尖上，把两只手都给我，上！”
我照他说的做了。心里一高兴身子也灵活了，我跳上马坐到他前面。他使劲吻我，表示对我的欢迎，随后又自鸣得意地吹了一番，我尽量一股脑儿都相信。得意之中他刹住话题问我：“怎么回事？珍妮特，你居然这个时候来接我？出了什么事了？”
“没有。不过我以为你永远不会回来了。我实在耐不住等在屋子里，尤其是雨下得那么大，风刮得那么紧。”
“确实是雨大风狂！是呀，看你像美人鱼一样滴着水。把我的斗篷拉过去盖住你。不过我想你有些发烧，简。你的脸颊和手都烫得厉害。我再问一句，出了什么事了吗？”
“现在没有。我既不害怕，也不难受。”
“那样的话，你刚才害怕过，难受过？”
“有一些，不过慢慢地我会告诉你的，先生。我猜想你只会讥笑我自寻烦恼。”
“明天一过，我要痛痛快快地笑你，但现在可不敢。我的宝贝还不一定到手。上个月你就像鳗鱼一样滑溜，像野蔷薇一样多刺，什么地方手指一碰就挨了刺。现在我好像己经把迷途的羔羊揣在怀里了，你溜出了羊栏来找你的牧羊人啦，简？”
“我需要你。可是别吹了，我们已经到了桑菲尔德，让我下去吧。”
他把我放到了石子路上。约翰牵走了马。他跟在我后头进了大厅，告诉我赶快换上干衣服，然后回到图书室他身边。我正向楼梯走去，他截住我，硬要我答应不要久待。我确实没有呆多久。五分钟后便回到了他身边，这时他正在用晚饭。
“坐下来陪我，简，要是上帝保佑，在很长一段时间内，这是你在桑菲尔德府吃的倒数第二顿饭了。”
我在他旁边坐下，但告诉他我吃不下了。
“难道是因为牵挂着面前的旅程，简？是不是因为想着去伦敦便弄得没有胃口了？”
“今晚我看不清自己的前景，先生。而且我几乎不知道脑子里想些什么？生活中的一切似乎都是虚幻的。”
“除了我。我是够实实在在的了——碰我一下吧。”
“你，先生，是最像幻影了，你只不过是个梦。”
他伸出手，大笑起来。“这也是个梦？”他把手放到紧挨我眼睛的地方说。他的手肌肉发达、强劲有力、十分匀称，他的胳膊又长又壮实。
“不错，我碰了它，但它是个梦，”我把他的手从面前按下说。“先生，你用完晚饭了吗？”
“吃好了，简。”
我打了铃，吩咐把托盘拿走。再次只剩下我们两人时，我拨了拔火，在我主人膝边找了个低矮的位置坐下。
“将近半夜了，”我说。
“不错，但记住，简，你答应过，在婚礼前夜同我一起守夜。”
“我的确答应过，而且我会信守诺言，至少陪你一两个小时，我不想睡觉。”
“你都收拾好了吗，”
“都好了，先生。”
“我也好了，”他说。“我什么都处理好了，明天从教堂里一回来，半小时之内我们就离开桑菲尔德。”
“很好，先生。”
“你说‘很好’两个字的时候，笑得真有些反常呀，简！你双颊上的一小块多亮！你眼睛里的闪光多怪呀！你身体好吗？”
“我相信很好。”
“相信！怎么回事？—一告诉我你觉得怎么样。”
“我没法告诉你，先生。我的感觉不是语言所能表达的。我真希望时光永远停留在此时此刻，谁知道下一个钟头的命运会怎样呢？”
“这是一种多疑症，简。这阵子你太激动了，要不太劳累了？”
个月光如水的夜晚，我漫步穿过里面杂草丛生的围场。一会儿这里绊着了大理石火炉，一会儿那里碰到了倒地的断梁。我披着头巾，仍然抱着那个不知名的孩子。尽管我的胳膊很吃力，我却不能把它随便放下—一尽管孩子拖累着我，但我必须带着它。我听见了远处路上一匹马的奔驰声。可以肯定那是你，而你离开已经多年，去了一个遥远的国家。我疯也似地不顾危险匆匆爬上那道薄薄的墙，急于从顶上看你一眼，石头从我的脚下滚落，我抓住的枝藤松开了，那孩子恐惧地紧抱住我的脖子，几乎使我窒息。最后我爬到了墙顶。我看见你在白色的路上象一个小点点，越来越小，越来越小。风刮得那么猛，我简直站都站不住。我坐在狭窄的壁架上，使膝头这个神圣婴儿安静下来。你在路上拐了一个弯，我俯下身子去看最后一眼。墙倒塌了，我抖动了一下，孩子从我膝头滚下，我失去了平衡，跌了下来，醒过来了。”
“现在，简，讲完了吧。”
“序幕完了，先生，故事还没有开场呢。醒来时一道强光弄得我眼睛发花。我想——呵，那是日光！可是我搞错了，那不过是烛光。我猜想索菲娅已经进屋了。梳妆台上有一盏灯，而衣橱门大开瓢T溧恼鸬床偶绦?迪氯ァ?br> “昨天我忙了一整天，在无休止的忙碌中，我非常愉快。因为不像你似乎设想的那样，我并没有为新天地之类的忧虑而烦恼。我认为有希望同你一起生活是令人高兴的，因为我爱你。——不，先生，现在别来抚摸我——不要打扰我，让我说下去。昨天我笃信上苍，相信对你我来说是天助人愿。你总还记得，那是个晴朗的日子，天空那么宁静，让人毋须为你路途的平安和舒适担忧。甩完茶以后，我在石子路上走了一会，思念着你。在想象中，我看见你离我很近，几乎就在我跟前。我思忖着展现在我面前的生活——你的生活，先生——比我的更奢华，更激动人心，就像容纳了江河的大海深处，同海峡的浅滩相比，有天壤之别。我觉得奇怪，为什么道德学家称这个世界为凄凉的荒漠，对我来说，它好像盛开的玫瑰。就在夕阳西下的时候，气温转冷，天空布满阴云，我便走进屋去了。索菲娅叫我上楼去看看刚买的婚礼服，在婚礼服底下的盒子里，我看见了你的礼物——是你以王子般的阔绰，叫人从伦敦送来的面纱，我猜想你是因为我不愿要珠宝，而决计哄我接受某种昂贵的东西。我打开面纱，会心地笑了笑，算计着我怎样来嘲弄你的贵族派头，取笑你费尽心机要给你的平民新娘戴上贵族的假面。我设想自己如何把那块早已准备好遮盖自己出身卑微的脑袋，没有绣花的花边方丝巾拿下来，问问你，对一个既无法给她的丈夫提供财富、美色，也无法给他带来社会关系的女人，是不是够好的了。我清清楚楚地看到了你的表情。听到了你激烈而开明的回答；听到你高傲地否认有必要仰仗同钱袋与桂冠结亲，来增加自己的财富，或者提高自己的地位。”
“你把我看得真透，你这女巫！”罗切斯特先生插嘴道，“但除了刺绣之外，你还在面纱里发现了什么，你是见到了毒药，还是匕首，弄得现在这么神色悲哀？”
“没有，没有，先生。除了织品的精致和华丽，以及费尔法克斯．罗切斯特的傲慢，我什么也没有看到。他的傲慢可吓不倒我，因为我己见惯了魔鬼。可是，先生，天越来越黑，风也越来越大了。昨天的风不像现在的这样刮得强劲肆虐，而是响着“沉闷的低吟声，，显得分外古怪。我真希望你还在家里。我走进这个房间，一见到空空荡荡的椅子和没有生火的炉子，心便凉了半截。上床以后，我因为激动不安、忧心忡忡而久久不能入睡。风势仍在增强，在我听来，它似乎裹夹着一阵低声的哀鸣。这声音来自屋内还是户外，起初我无法辨认，但后来重又响了起来，每次间歇听上去模糊而悲哀。最后我终于弄清楚那一定是远处的狗叫声。后来叫声停了，我非常高兴。但一睡着，又继续梦见月黑风高的夜晚，继续盼着同你在一起，并且奇怪而遗憾地意识到，某种障碍把我们隔开了。刚睡着的时候，我沿着一条弯弯曲曲的陌生的路走着，四周一片模糊，雨点打在我身上，我抱着一个孩子，不堪重负。一个小不点儿，年纪太小身体又弱，不能走路，在我冰冷的怀抱里颤抖，在我耳旁哀哀地哭泣。我想，先生，你远远地走在我前面，我使出浑身劲儿要赶上你，一次次奋力叫着你的名字，央求你停下来一—但我的行动被束缚着，我的嗓音渐渐地沉下去，变得模糊不清，而你，我觉得分分秒秒离我越来越远了。”
“难道现在我在你跟前了，简，这些梦还使你心情沉重吗？神经质的小东西！忘掉梦幻中的灾祸，单想现实中的幸福吧！你说你爱我，珍妮特，不错——那我不会忘记，你也不能否认。这些话并没有在你嘴边模糊不清地消失。我听来既清晰而又温柔。也许这个想法过于严肃了一些，但却象音乐一样甜蜜：‘我想有希望同你生活在一起是令人愉快的，因为我爱你。’你爱我吗，简？再说一遍。”
“我爱你，先生一—我爱你，全身心爱你。”
“行啦，”他沉默片刻后说，“真奇怪，那句话刺痛了我的胸膛。为什么呢？我想是因为你说得那么虔敬，那么富有力量，因为你抬眼看我时，目光里透出了极度的信赖、真诚和忠心。那太难受了，仿佛在我身边的是某个精灵。摆出凶相来吧，简，你很明白该怎么摆。装出任性、腼腆、挑衅的笑容来，告诉我你恨我——戏弄我，惹怒我吧，什么都行，就是别打动我。我宁愿发疯而不愿哀伤。”
“等我把故事讲完，我会让你心满意足地戏弄你，惹怒你，听我讲完吧。”
“我想，简，你已经全都告诉我啦，我认为我已经发现你的忧郁全因为一个梦！”
我摇了摇头。
“什么！还有别的！但我不相信是什么了不起的事情。有话在先，我表示怀疑，讲下去吧。”
他神态不安，举止有些忧虑焦躁，我感到很惊奇，但我继续说下去了。
“我还做了另外一个梦，先生。梦见桑菲尔德府已是一处凄凉的废墟，成了蝙蝠和猫头鹰出没的地方。我想，那气派非凡的正壁已荡然无存，只剩下了一道贝壳般的墙，看上去很高也很单簿。在一个月光如水的夜晚，我漫步穿过里面杂草丛生的围场。一会儿这里绊着了大理石火炉，一会儿那里碰到了倒地的断梁。我披着头巾，仍然抱着那个不知名的孩子。尽管我的胳膊很吃力，我却不能把它随便放下—一尽管孩子拖累着我，但我必须带着它。我听见了远处路上一匹马的奔驰声。可以肯定那是你，而你离开已经多年，去了一个遥远的国家。我疯也似地不顾危险匆匆爬上那道薄薄的墙，急于从顶上看你一眼，石头从我的脚下滚落，我抓住的枝藤松开了，那孩子恐惧地紧抱住我的脖子，几乎使我窒息。最后我爬到了墙顶。我看见你在白色的路上象一个小点点，越来越小，越来越小。风刮得那么猛，我简直站都站不住。我坐在狭窄的壁架上，使膝头这个神圣婴儿安静下来。你在路上拐了一个弯，我俯下身子去看最后一眼。墙倒塌了，我抖动了一下，孩子从我膝头滚下，我失去了平衡，跌了下来，醒过来了。”
“现在，简，讲完了吧。”
“序幕完了，先生，故事还没有开场呢。醒来时一道强光弄得我眼睛发花。我想——呵，那是日光！可是我搞错了，那不过是烛光。我猜想索菲娅已经进屋了。梳妆台上有一盏灯，而衣橱门大开着，睡觉前我曾把我的婚礼服和面纱放进橱里。我听见了一阵悉悉粹粹的声音。我问，‘索菲娅，你在干嘛？’没有人回答。但是一个人影从橱里出来。它端着蜡烛，举得高高的，并且仔细端详着从架子上垂下来的衣服，‘索菲娅！索菲娅！’我又叫了起来，但它依然默不作声。我已在床上坐了起来，俯身向前。我先是感到吃惊，继而迷惑不解。我血管里的血也冷了。罗切斯特先生，这不是索菲娅，不是莉娅，也不是费尔法克斯太太。它不是一—不，我当时很肯定，现在也很肯定——甚至也不是那个奇怪的女人格雷斯．普尔。”
“一定是她们中间的一个，”主人打断了我的话。
“不，先生，我庄严地向你保证，跟你说的恰恰相反。站在我面前的人影，以前我从来没有在桑菲尔德府地区见过。那身高和外形对我来说都是陌生的。”
“描绘一下吧，简。”
“先生，那似乎是个女人，又高又大，背上垂着粗黑的长发，我不知道她穿了什么衣服，反正又白又整齐。但究竟是袍子，被单，还是裹尸布，我说不上来。”
“你看见她的脸了吗？”
“起先没有。但她立刻把我的面纱从原来的地方取下来，拿起来呆呆地看了很久，随后往自己头上一盖，转身朝着镜子。这一刹那，在暗淡的鸭蛋形镜子里，我清清楚楚地看到了她面容与五官的映像。”
“看上去怎么样？”
“我觉得像鬼一样吓人——呵，先生，我从来没有见过这样的面孔！没有血色，一付凶相。但愿我忘掉那双骨碌碌转的红眼睛，那付黑乎乎五官鼓鼓的鬼相！”
“鬼魂总是苍白的，简。”
“先生，它却是紫色的。嘴唇又黑又肿，额头沟壑纵横，乌黑的眉毛怒竖着，两眼充满血丝，要我告诉你我想起了什么吗？”
“可以。”
“想起了可恶的德国幽灵——吸血鬼。”
“呵！——它干了什么啦？”
“先生，它从瘦削的头上取下面纱，撕成两半，扔在地上，踩了起来。”
“后来呢？”
“它拉开窗帘，往外张望。也许它看到已近拂晓，便拿着蜡烛朝房门退去。正好路过我床边时，鬼影停了下来。火一般的目光向我射来，她把蜡烛举起来靠近我的脸，在我眼皮底下把它吹灭了。我感到她白煞煞的脸朝我闪着光，我昏了过去。平生第二次—一只不过第二次——我吓昏了。”
“你醒过来时谁跟你在一起？”
“除了大白天，先生，谁也没有。我起身用水冲了头和脸，喝了一大口水。觉得身子虽然虚弱，却并没有生病，便决定除了你，对谁都不说这恶梦的事儿。好吧，先生，告诉我这女人是谁，干什么的？”
“无疑，那是头脑过于兴奋的产物。对你得小心翼翼，我的宝贝，象你这样的神经，生来就经不住粗暴对待的。”
“先生，毫无疑问，我的神经没有毛病，那东西是真的，事情确实发生了。”
“那么你以前的梦呢，都是真的吗？难道桑菲尔德府已化成一片废墟？难道你我被不可逾越的障碍隔开了？难道我离开了你，没有流一滴泪——没有吻一吻一—没有说一句话？”
“不，没有。”
“难道我就要这么干？一—嘿，把我们溶合在一起的日子已经到来，我们一旦结合，这种心理恐惧就再也不会发生，我敢保证。”
“心理恐惧！但愿我能相信不过如此而已！而既然连你都无法解释可怕的来访者之谜，现在我更希望只是心理恐惧了。”
“既然我无法解释，简，那就一定不会是真的。”
“不过，先生，我今天早晨起来，这么自言自语说着，在房间里东张西望，想从光天化日下每件眼熟的东西悦目的外表上，找到点勇气和慰籍——瞧，就在地毯上—一我看到了一件东西，完全否定了我原来的设想——那块从上到下被撕成两半的面纱！”
我觉得罗切斯特先生大吃一惊，打了个寒颤，急急忙忙搂住我脖子“谢天谢地！”他嚷道，“幸好昨晚你所遇到的险情，不过就是毁了面纱——哎呀，只要想一想还会出什么别的事呢？”
他喘着粗气，紧紧地搂住我，差点让我透不过气来。沉默片刻之后，他兴致十足地说下去：
“这一半是梦，一半是真。我并不怀疑确实有个女人进了你房间，那女人就是一—准是—一格雷斯．普尔。你自己把她叫作怪人，就你所知，你有理由这么叫她—一瞧她怎么对待我的？怎么对待梅森？在似睡非睡的状态下，你注意到她进了房间，看到了她的行动，但由于你兴奋得几乎发狂，你把她当成了不同于她本来面貌的鬼相：散乱的长发、黑黑的肿脸、夸大了的身材是你的臆想，恶梦的产物。恶狠狠撕毁面纱倒是真的，很象她干的事。我明白你会问，干嘛在屋里养着这样一个女人。等我们结婚一周年时，我会告诉你，而不是现在。你满意了吗，简？你同意对这个谜的解释吗？”
我想了一想，对我来说实在也只能这么解释了，说满意那倒未必，但为了使他高兴，我尽力装出这付样子来——说感到宽慰却是真的，于是我对他报之以满意的微笑。这时早过了一点钟，我准备向他告辞了。
“索菲娅不是同阿黛勒一起睡在育儿室吗？”我点起蜡烛时他问。
“是的，先生。”
“阿黛勒的小床还能睡得下你的，今晚得跟她一起睡，简。你说的事情会使你神经紧张，那也毫不奇怪。我倒情愿你不要单独睡，答应我到育儿室去。”
“我很乐意这样做，先生。”
“从里面把门拴牢。上楼的时候把索菲娅叫醒，就说请她明天及时把你叫醒，因为你得在八点前穿好衣服，吃好早饭。现在别再那么忧心忡忡了，抛开沉重的烦恼，珍妮特。你难道没有听见轻风的细语？雨点不再敲打窗户，瞧这儿——（他撩起窗帘）多么可爱的夜晚！”
确实如此。半个天空都明净如水。此刻，风已改由西面吹来，轻云在风前疾驰，朝东排列成长长的银色园柱，月亮洒下了宁静的光辉。
“好吧，”罗切斯特先生说，一边带着探询的目光窥视我。“这会儿我的珍妮特怎么样了？”
“夜晚非常平静，先生，我也一样。”
“明天除了欢乐的爱和幸福的结合，你再也不会梦见分离和悲伤了。”
这一预见只实现了一半。我的确没有梦见忧伤，但也没有梦见欢乐，因为我根本就没有睡着。我搂着阿黛勒，瞧着孩子沉沉睡去一—那么平静，那么安宁，那么天真——等待着来日，我的整个生命苏醒了，在我躯体内躁动着。太阳一出，我便起来了，我记得离开阿黛勒时她紧紧搂住我，我记得把她的小手从我脖子上松开的时候，我吻了吻她。我怀着一种莫名的情感对着她哭了起来，赶紧离开了她，生怕哭泣声会惊动她的酣睡。她似乎就是我往昔生活的标志，而他，我此刻梳装打扮前去会面的，他是既可怕而又亲切、却一无所知的未来的标志。
Chapter 26
SOPHIE came at seven to dress me: she was very long indeed in accomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester, grown, I suppose, impatient of my delay, sent up to ask why I did not come. She was just fastening my veil (the plain square of blond after all) to my hair with a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon as I could.'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, so unlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stranger. 'Jane!' called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester.
'Lingerer!' he said, 'my brain is on fire with impatience, and you 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 me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang the bell. One of his 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 the clerk 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 the moment we return: all the boxes and luggage arranged and strapped on, and the coachman in his seat.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Jane, are you ready?'
I rose. There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to wait for or marshal: none but Mr. Rochester and I. Mrs. Fairfax stood 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 a stride I could hardly follow; and to look at Mr. Rochester's face was to feel that not a second of delay would be tolerated for any purpose. I wonder what other bridegroom ever looked as he did- so bent up to a purpose, so grimly resolute: or who, under such steadfast brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.
I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending the drive, I gazed neither on sky nor earth: my heart was with my eyes; and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame. I wanted to see the invisible thing on which, as we went along, he appeared to fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel the thoughts whose force he seemed breasting and resisting.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped: he discovered I was quite out of 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 God rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the green grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures of strangers straying amongst the low hillocks and reading the mementoes graven on the few mossy head-stones. I noticed them, because, as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they were not observed; he was earnestly looking at my face, from which the blood had, I daresay, momentarily fled: for I felt my forehead dewy, and my cheeks and lips cold. When I rallied, which I soon did, he walked gently with me up the path to the porch.
We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited in his white surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All was still: two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My conjecture had been correct: the strangers had slipped in before us, and they now stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs towards us, viewing through the rails the old times-stained marble tomb, where a kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de Rochester, slain at Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars, and of Elizabeth, his wife.
Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a cautious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one of the strangers- a gentleman, evidently- was advancing up the chancel. The service began. 
The explanation of the intent of matrimony was gone through; and then the clergyman came a step farther forward, and, bending slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.
'I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed), that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful.'
He paused, as the custom is. When is the pause after that sentence ever broken by reply? Not, perhaps, once in a hundred years. And the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was proceeding: his hand was already stretched towards Mr. Rochester, as his lips unclosed to ask, '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 clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an earthquake had rolled under his feet: taking a firmer footing, and not turning his head or eyes, he said, 'Proceed.'
Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, with deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said-
'I cannot proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted, and evidence of its truth or falsehood.'
'The ceremony is quite broken off,' subjoined the voice behind us. 'I am in a condition to prove my allegation: an insuperable impediment 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 hot and strong grasp he had! and how like quarried marble was his pale, firm, massive front at this moment! How his eye shone, still watchful, 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 I speak 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 never vibrated to thunder- my blood felt their subtle violence as it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester: I made him look at me. His whole face was colourless rock: his eye was both spark and flint. He disavowed nothing: he seemed as if he would defy all things. Without speaking, without smiling, without seeming to recognise in me a human being, he only twined my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.
'Who are you?' he asked of the intruder.
'And you would thrust on me a wife?'
'I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the law recognises, 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, and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:- date of fifteen years back), Edward Fairfax Rochester, of Thornfield England, was married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at- church, Spanish Town, Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church- a copy of it is now in my possession. 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 wife is 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, will scarcely controvert.'
'Produce him- or go to hell.'
'I will produce him first- he is on the spot. Mr. Mason, have the 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, I felt 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 at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye: it had now a 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- he could have struck Mason, dashed him on the church-floor, shocked by 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 only asked- 'What have you to say?'
An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.
'The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again demand, what have you to say?'
'Sir- sir,' interrupted the clergyman, 'do not forget you are in a sacred place.' Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, 'Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?' 
'Courage,' urged the lawyer,- 'speak out.'
'She is now living at Thornfield Hall,' said Mason, in more articulate tones: 'I saw her there last April. I am her brother.'
'At Thornfield Hall!' ejaculated the clergyman. 'Impossible! I am an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I never heard of 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 held counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it-
'Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet from the barrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John Green (to the clerk), leave the church: there will be no wedding to-day.'  The man obeyed.
Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: 'Bigamy is an ugly 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 pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judgments of God, 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 gossip about the mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some, my cast-off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen years ago,-
Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks, showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!- never fear me!- I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you. Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole, was both a mad-woman and a drunkard!- as I found out after I had wed 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 I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe you no further explanation.
Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human. This girl,' he continued, looking at me, 'knew no more than you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and legal, and never dreamt she was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner! Come all of you- follow!'
Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentlemen came 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 to meet and greet us.
'To the right-about- every soul!' cried the master; 'away with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I!- they are fifteen years too late!'
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand, and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him, which they did. We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded to the third storey: the low, black door, opened by Mr. Rochester's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its great bed and its pictorial cabinet.
'You know this place, Mason,' said our guide; 'she bit and stabbed you here.'
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second door: this, too, he opened. In a room without a window, there burnt a fire guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over the fire, apparently cooking something in a saucepan. In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.
'Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!' said Mr. Rochester. 'How are you? and how is your charge to-day?'
'We're tolerable, sir, I thank you,' replied Grace, lifting the boiling mess carefully on to the hob: 'rather snappish, but not 'rageous.'
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet.
'Ah! sir, she sees you!' exclaimed Grace: 'you'd better not stay.'
'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 purple face,- 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 not in 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 grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: they struggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her husband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the contest- more than once she almost throttled him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow: but he would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he pinioned them behind her: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair. The operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the most convulsive 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 embrace I am ever to know- such are the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to have' (laying his hand on my shoulder): 'this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon. I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder- this face with that mask- this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, 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 give some further order to Grace Poole. The solicitor addressed me as he descended the stair.
'You, madam,' said he, 'are cleared from all blame: your uncle will 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 of his house for some years. When your uncle received your letter intimating the contemplated union between yourself and Mr. Rochester, Mr. Mason, who was staying at Madeira to recruit his health, on his way back to Jamaica, happened to be with him. Mr. Eyre mentioned the intelligence; for he knew that my client here was acquainted with a gentleman of the name of Rochester. Mr. Mason, astonished and distressed as you may suppose, revealed the real state of matters. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, is now on a sick-bed; from which, considering the nature of his disease- decline- and the stage it has reached, it is unlikely he will ever rise. He could not then hasten to England himself, to extricate you from the snare into which you had fallen, but he implored Mr. Mason to lose no time in taking steps to prevent the false marriage. He referred him to me for assistance. I used all despatch, and am thankful I was not too late: as you, doubtless, must be also. Were I not morally certain that your uncle will be dead ere you reach Madeira, I would advise you to accompany Mr. Mason back; but as it is, I think 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 without waiting to take leave of Mr. Rochester, they made their exit at the hall door. The clergyman stayed to exchange a few sentences, either of admonition or reproof, with his haughty parishioner; this duty done, he too departed. 
I heard him go as I stood at the half-open door of my own room, to which I had now withdrawn. The house cleared, I shut myself in, fastened the bolt that none might intrude, and proceeded- not to weep, not to mourn, I was yet too calm for that, but- mechanically to take off the wedding-dress, and replace it by the stuff gown I had worn yesterday, as I thought, for the last time. I then sat down: I felt weak and tired. I leaned my arms on a table, and my head dropped on them. And now I thought: till now I had only heard, 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 brief scene with the lunatic: the transaction in the church had not been noisy; there was no explosion of passion, no loud altercation, no dispute, no defiance or challenge, no tears, no sobs: a few words had been spoken, a calmly pronounced objection to the marriage made; some stern, short questions put by Mr. Rochester; answers, explanations given, evidence adduced; an open admission of the truth had been uttered by my master; then the living proof had been seen; the intruders were gone, and all was over.
I was in my own room as usual- just myself, without obvious change: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me. And yet where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday?- where was her life?- where were her prospects?
Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman- almost a bride, was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale; her prospects were desolate. A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and fragrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway. My hopes were all dead- struck with a subtle doom, such as, 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. I looked at my love: that feeling which was my master's- which he had created; it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in a cold cradle; sickness and anguish had seized it; it could not seek Mr. 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 had been; for he was not what I had thought him. I would not ascribe vice to him; I would not say he had betrayed me; but the attribute of stainless truth was gone from his idea, and from his presence I must go: that I perceived well. When- how- whither, I could not yet discern; but he himself, I doubted not, would hurry me from Thornfield. Real affection, it seemed, he could not have for me; it had been only fitful passion: that was balked; he would want me no more. I should fear even to cross his path now: my view must be hateful to him. Oh, how blind had been my eyes! How weak my conduct!
My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead. One idea only still throbbed life-like within me- a remembrance of God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be 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 moved my lips- it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured over me. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, 'the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing: I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me.'
索菲娅七点钟来替我打扮，确实费了好久才大功告成。那么久，我想罗切斯特先生对我的拖延有些不耐烦了，派人来问，我为什么还没有到。索菲娅正用一枚饰针把面纱（毕竟只是一块淡色的普通方巾）系到我头发上，一待完毕，我便急急忙忙从她手下钻了出去。
“慢着！”她用法语叫道。“往镜子里瞧一瞧你自己，你连一眼都还没看呢。”
于是我在门边转过身来，看到了一个穿了袍子，戴了面纱的人，一点都不像我往常的样子，就仿佛是一位陌生人的影像。“简！”一个声音嚷道，我赶紧走下楼去。罗切斯特先生在楼梯脚下迎着我。
“磨磨蹭蹭的家伙，”他说，“我的脑袋急得直冒火星、你太拖拉了！”
他带我进了餐室，急切地把我从头到脚打量了一遍，声称我“像百合花那么美丽，不仅是他生活中的骄傲，而且也让他大饱眼福。”随后他告诉我只给我十分钟吃早饭，并按了按铃。他新近雇用的一个仆人，一位管家应召而来。
“约翰把马车准备好了吗？”
“好了，先生。”
“行李拿下去了吗？”
“他们现在正往下拿呢，先生。”
“上教堂去一下，看看沃德先生（牧师）和执事在不在那里。回来告诉我。”
读者知道，大门那边就是教堂，所以管家很快就回来了。
“沃德先生在法衣室里，先生，正忙着穿法衣呢。”
“马车呢？”
“马匹正在上挽具。”
“我们上教堂不用马车，但回来时得准备停当。所有的箱子和行李都要装好捆好，车夫要在自己位置上坐好。”
“是，先生。”
“简，你准备好了吗？”
我站了起来，没有男傧相和女傧相，也没有亲戚等候或引领。除了罗切斯特先生和我，没有别人。我们经过大厅时，费尔法克斯太太站在那里。我本想同她说话，但我的手被铁钳似地捏住了，让我几乎跟不住的脚步把我匆匆推向前去。一看罗切斯特先生的脸我就觉得，不管什么原因，再拖一秒钟他都不能忍耐了。我不知道其他新郎看上去是不是像他这付样子——那么专注于一个目的，那么毅然决然；或者有谁在那对稳重的眉毛下，露出过那么火辣辣，光闪闪的眼睛。
我不知道那天天气是好还是不好，走下车道时，我既没观天也没看地，我的心灵与眼目都集中在罗切斯特先生身上。我边走边要看看他好像恶狠狠盯着的无形东西，要感受那些他似乎在对抗和抵御的念头。
我们在教堂院子边门停了下来，他发现我喘不过气来了。“我爱得有点残酷吗？”他问。“歇一会儿，靠着我，简。”
如今，我能回忆起当时的情景：灰色的老教堂宁静地耸立在我面前；一只白嘴鸦在教堂尖顶盘旋；远处的晨空通红通红。我还隐约记得绿色的坟墩；也并没有忘记两个陌生的人影，在低矮的小丘之间徘徊，—边读着刻在几块长满青苔的墓石上的铭文。这两个人引起了我的注意，因为一见到我们，他们便转到教堂背后去了。我相信他们要从侧廊的门进去，观看婚礼仪式。罗切斯特先生并没有注意到这两个人，他热切地瞧着我的脸，我想我的脸一时毫无血色，因为我觉得我额头汗涔涔，两颊和嘴唇冰凉。但我不久便定下神来，同他沿着小径，缓步走向门廊。
我们进了幽静而朴实的教堂，牧师身穿白色的法衣，在低矮的圣坛等候，旁边站着执事。一切都十分平静，那两个影子在远远的角落里走动。我的猜测没有错，这两个陌生人在我们之前溜了进来，此刻背朝着我们，站立在罗切斯特家族的墓穴旁边，透过栅栏，瞧着带有时间印迹的古老大理石坟墓，这里一位下跪的天使守卫着内战中死于马斯顿荒原的戴默尔．德．罗切斯特的遗骸和他的妻子伊丽莎白。
我们在圣坛栏杆前站好。我听见身后响起了小心翼翼的脚步声，便回头看了一眼，只见陌生人中的一位——显然是位绅士——正走向圣坛。仪式开始了，牧师对婚姻的目的作了解释，随后往前走了一步，向罗切斯特先生微微欠了欠身子，又继续了。
“我要求并告诫你们两人（因为在可怕的最后审判日，所有人内心的秘密都要袒露无遗时，你们也将作出回答），如果你们中的一位知道有什么障碍使你们不能合法地联姻，那就现在供认吧，因为你们要确信，凡是众多没有得到上帝允许而结合的人，都不是上帝结成的夫妇，他们的婚姻是非法的。”
他按照习惯顿了一下，那句话之后的停顿，什么时候曾被回答所打破呢？不，也许一百年才有一次。所以牧师依然盯着书，并没有抬眼，静默片刻之后又说了下去，他的手已伸向罗切斯特先生，一边张嘴问道，“你愿意娶这个女人为结发妻子吗？”就在这当儿，近处一个清晰的声音响了起来：
“婚礼不能继续下去了，我宣布存在着一个障碍。”
牧师抬头看了一下说话人，默默地站在那里，执事也一样，罗切斯特先生仿佛觉得地震滚过他脚下，稍稍移动了一下，随之便站稳了脚跟，既没有回头，也没有抬眼，便说，“继续下去。”
他用深沉的语调说这句话后，全场一片寂静。沃德先生立即说：
“不先对刚才宣布的事调查一下，证明它是真是假，我是无法继续的。”
“婚礼中止了，”我们背后的嗓音补充道。“我能够证实刚才的断言，这桩婚事存在着难以克服的障碍。”
罗切斯特先生听了置之不理。他顽固而僵直地站着，一动不动，但握住了我的手。他握得多紧！他的手多灼人！他那苍白、坚定的阔脸这时多么像开采下来的大理石！他的眼睛多么有光彩！表面平静警觉，底下却犹如翻江倒海！
沃德先生似乎不知所措，“是哪一类性质的障碍？”他问。“说不定可以排除——能够解释清楚呢？”
“几乎不可能，”那人回答，“我称它难以克服，是经过深思熟虑后才说的。”
说话人走到前面，倚在栏杆上。他往下说，每个字都说得那么清楚，那么镇定，那么稳重，但声音并不高。
“障碍完全在于一次以前的婚姻，罗切斯特先生有一个妻子还活着。”
这几个字轻轻道来，但对我神经所引起的震动，却甚过于雷霆——对我血液的细微侵蚀远甚于风霜水火，但我又镇定下来了，没有晕倒的危险，我瞧了瞧罗切斯特先生，让他瞧着我。他的整张脸成了一块苍白的岩石。他的眼睛直冒火星，却又坚如燧石。他一点也没有否认，似乎要无视一切。他没有说话，没有微笑，也似乎没有把我看作一个人，而只是胳膊紧紧搂住我的腰，把我紧贴在他身边。
“你是谁？”他问那个入侵者。
“我的名字叫布里格斯—一伦敦××街的一个律师。”
“你要把一个妻子强加于我吗？”
“我要提醒你，你有一个太太。先生，就是你不承认，法律也是承认的。”
“请替我描述一下她的情况——她的名字，她的父母，她的住处。”
“当然。”布里格斯先生镇定自若地从口袋里取出了一个文件，用一种一本正经的鼻音读了起来：
“我断言并证实，公元××年十月二十日（十五年前的一个日子），英国××郡桑菲尔德府、及××郡芬丁庄园的爱德华．费尔法克斯．罗切斯特同我的姐姐，商人乔纳斯．梅森及妻子克里奥尔人、安托万内特的女儿，伯莎．安托万内特．梅森，在牙买加的西班牙镇××教堂成婚。婚礼的记录可见于教堂的登记簿——其中一份现在我手中。里查德．梅森签字。”
“如果这份文件是真的，那也只能证明我结过婚，却不能证明里面作为我妻子而提到的女人还活着。”
“三个月之前她还活着，”律师反驳说。
“你怎么知道？”
“我有一位这件事情的证人，他的证词，先生，连你也难以反驳。”
“把他叫来吧——不然见鬼去。”
“我先把他叫来——他在场。梅森先生，请你到前面来。”
罗切斯特先生一听这个名字便咬紧了牙齿，抽搐似地剧烈颤抖起来，我离他很近，感觉得到他周身愤怒和绝望地痉挛起来。这时候一直躲在幕后的第二个陌生人，走了过来，律师的肩头上露出了一张苍白的脸来——不错，这是梅森本人。罗切斯特先生回头瞪着他。我常说他眼睛是黑的，而此刻因为愁上心头，便有了一种黄褐色，乃至带血丝的光。他的脸涨红了——橄榄色的脸颊和没有血色的额头，也由于心火不断上升和扩大而闪闪发亮。他动了动，举起了强壮的胳膊，——完全可以痛打梅森——把他击倒在地板上——无情地把他揍得断气——但梅森退缩了一下，低声叫了起来，“天哪！”一种冷冷的蔑视在罗切斯特先生心中油然而生。就仿佛蛀虫使植物枯萎一样，他的怒气消了，只不过问了一句，“你有什么要说的？”
从梅森苍白的唇间吐出了几乎听不见的回答。
“要是你回答不清，那就见鬼去吧，我再次要求，你有什么要说的？”
“先生——先生——”牧师插话了，“别忘了你在一个神圣的地方。”随后他转向梅森，和颜悦色地说，“你知道吗，先生，这位先生的妻子是不是还活着？”
“胆子大些，”律师怂恿着，——“说出来。”
“她现在住在桑菲尔德府，”梅森用更为清晰的声调说，“四月份我还见过她。我是她弟弟。”
“在桑菲尔德府！”牧师失声叫道。“不可能！我是这一带的老住客，先生，从来没有听到桑菲尔德府有一个叫罗切斯特太太的人。”
我看见一阵狞笑扭曲了罗切斯特先生的嘴唇，他咕哝道：
“不——天哪！我十分小心，不让人知道有这么回事，——或者知道她叫那个名字。”他沉思起来，琢磨了十来分钟，于是打定主意宣布道：
“行啦——一切都一齐窜出来了，就象子弹出了枪膛，——沃德，合上你的书本，脱下你的法衣吧，约翰．格林（面向执事）离开教堂吧。今天不举行婚礼了。”这人照办了。
罗切斯特先生厚着脸皮毫不在乎地说下去。“重婚是一个丑陋的字眼！——然而我有意重婚，但命运却挫败了我，或者上天制止了我—一也许是后者。此刻我并不比魔鬼好多少。就像我那位牧师会告诉我的那样，必定会受到上帝最严正的审判——甚至该受不灭的火和不死的虫的折磨。先生们，我的计划被打破了！——这位律师和他顾客所说的话是真的。我结了婚，同我结婚的女人还活着！你说你在府上那一带，从来没有听到过一位叫罗切斯特太太的人，沃德。不过我猜想有很多次你想竖起耳朵，听听关于一个神秘的疯子被看管着的流言，有人已经向你耳语，说她是我同父异母的私生姐姐，有人说她是被我抛弃的情妇，——现在我告诉你们，她是我妻子——十五年前我同她结的婚——名字叫伯莎．梅森，这位铁石心肠的人的姐姐。此刻他四肢打颤，脸色发白，向你们表示男子汉们的心是多么刚强。提起劲来，迪克？——别怕我！——我几乎宁愿揍一个女人而不揍你。伯莎．梅森是疯子，而且出身于一个疯人家庭——一连三代的白痴和疯子！她的母亲，那个克里奥人既是个疯女人，又是个酒鬼！——我是同她的女儿结婚后才发现的，因为以前他们对家庭的秘密守口如瓶。伯莎像是—个百依百顺的孩子，在这两方面承袭了她母亲。我曾有过一位迷人的伴侣——纯洁、聪明、谦逊。你可能想象我是一个幸福的男人——我经历了多么丰富的场面：呵！我的阅历真有趣，要是你们知道就好了！不过我不再进一步解释了，布里格斯、沃德、梅森一—我邀请你们都上我家去，拜访一下普尔太太的病人，我的妻子！——你们会看到我受骗上当所娶的是怎样一个人，评判一下我是不是有权撕毁协议，寻求至少是符合人性的同情。“这位姑娘，”他瞧着我往下说，“沃德，对讨厌的秘密，并不比你们知道得更多。她认为一切既公平又合法，从来没有想到自己会落入骗婚的圈套，同一个受了骗的可怜虫结亲，这个可怜虫早已跟一个恶劣、疯狂、没有人性的伴侣结合！来吧，你们都跟我来？”
他依然紧握着我的手，离开了教堂。三位先生跟在后面。我们发现马车停在大厅的前门口。
“把它送回马车房去，约翰，”罗切斯特先生冷冷地说，“今天不需要它了。”
我们进门时，费尔法克斯太太、阿黛勒、索菲娅、莉娅都走上前来迎接我们。
“统统都向后转。”主人喊道，“收起你们的祝贺吧？谁需要它呢？一一我可不要！一一它晚了十五年？”
他继续往前走，登上楼梯，一面仍紧握着我的手，一面招呼先生们跟着他，他们照办了。我们走上第一道楼梯，经过门廊，继续上了三楼。罗切斯特先生的万能钥匙打开了这扇又矮又黑的门，让我进了铺有花毯的房间，房内有一张大床和一个饰有图案的柜子。
“你知道这个地方，梅森，”我们的向导说，“她在这里咬了你，刺了你。”
他撩起墙上的帷幔，露出了第二扇门，又把它打开。在一间没有窗户的房间里，燃着一堆火，外面围着一个又高又坚固的火炉围栏，从天花板上垂下的铁链子上悬挂着一些灯。格雷斯．普尔俯身向着火，似乎在平底锅里炒着什么东西。在房间另一头的暗影里，一个人影在前后跑动，那究竟是什么，是动物还是人，粗粗一看难以辨认。它好象四肢着地趴着，又是抓又是叫，活象某种奇异的野生动物，只不过有衣服蔽体罢了。一头黑白相间、乱如鬃毛的头发遮去了她的头和脸。
“早上好，普尔太太？”罗切斯特先生说，“你好吗？你照管的人今天怎么样？”
“马马虎虎，先生，谢谢你，”格雷斯一面回答，一面小心地把烧滚了的乱七八糟的东西放在炉旁架子上。“有些急躁，但没有动武。”
一阵凶恶的叫声似乎揭穿了她报喜不报忧，这条穿了衣服的野狗直起身来，高高地站立在后腿上。
“哎呀，先生，她看见了你？”格雷斯嚷道，“你还是别呆在这儿。”
“只呆一会儿，格雷斯。你得让我呆一会儿。”
“那么当心点，先生！看在上帝面上，当心！”
这疯子咆哮着，把她乱蓬蓬的头发从脸上撩开，凶狠地盯着来访者。我完全记得那发紫的脸膛，肿胀的五言。普尔太太走上前来。
“走开，”罗切斯特先生说着把她推到了一边。“我想她现在手里没有刀吧？而且我防备着。”
“谁也不知道她手里有什么，先生，她那么狡猾，人再小心也斗不过她的诡计。”
“我们还是离开她吧。”梅森悄声说。
“见鬼去吧！”这便是他姐夫的建议。
“小心！”格雷斯大喝一声。三位先生不约而同地往后退缩，罗切斯特先生把我推到他背后。疯子猛扑过来，凶恶地卡住他喉咙，往脸上就咬。他们搏斗着。她是大个子女人，腰圆膀粗，身材几乎与她丈夫不相上下。厮打时显露出男性的力量，尽管罗切斯特先生有着运动员的体质，但不止一次险些儿被她闷死。他完全可以狠狠一拳将她制服，但他不愿出手，宁愿扭斗。最后他终于按住了她的一双胳膊。格雷斯递给他一根绳子，他将她的手反绑起来，又用身边的一根绳子将她绑在一把椅子上。这一连串动作是在凶神恶煞般地叫喊和猛烈的反扑中完成的。随后罗切斯特先生转向旁观者，带着刻毒而凄楚的笑看着他们。
“这就是我的妻子，”他说。“这就是我平生唯一一次尝到的夫妇间拥抱的滋味一—这就是我闲暇时所能得到的爱抚与慰藉，而这是我希望拥有的（他把他的手放在我肩上）。这位年青姑娘，那么严肃，那么平静地站在地狱门口，镇定自若地观看着—个魔鬼的游戏。我要她，是希望在那道呛人的菜之后换换口味。沃德和布里格斯，瞧瞧两者何等不同！把这双明净的眼睛同那边红红的眼珠比较一下吧．一—把这张脸跟那付鬼相一—这付身材与那个庞然大物比较一下吧，然后再来审判我吧。布道的牧师和护法的律师，都请记住，你们怎么来审判我，将来也会受到怎么样的审判。现在你们走吧，我得要把我的宝贝藏起来了。”
我们都走了出来。罗切斯特先生留后一步，对格雷斯．普尔再作了交代。我们下楼时律师对我说：
“你，小姐，”他说，“证明完全是无辜的，等梅森先生返回马德拉后，你的叔叔听说是这么回事会很高兴——真的，要是他还活着。”
“我的叔叔！他怎么样？你认识他吗？”
“梅森先生认识他，几年来爱先生一直与他丰沙尔的家保持通讯联系。你的叔叔接到你的信，得悉你与罗切斯特先生有意结合时，梅森先生正好也在，他是回牙买加的路上，逗留在马德拉群岛疗养的。爱先生提起了这个消息，因为他知道我的一个顾客同一位名叫罗切斯特先生的相熟。你可以想象，梅森先生既惊讶又难受，便披露了事情的真相。很遗憾，你的叔叔现在卧病在床，考虑到疾病的性质，一—肺病——以及疾病的程度，他很可能会一病不起。他不可能亲自赶到英国，把你从掉入的陷井中解救出来，但他恳求梅森先生立即采取措施，阻止这桩诈骗婚姻。他让我帮他的忙。我使用了一切公文快信，谢天谢地，总算并不太晚，无疑你也必定有同感。要不是我确信你还没赶到马德拉群岛，你的叔叔会去世，我会建议你同梅森先生结伴而行。但事情既然如此，你还是留在英国，等你接到他的信或者听到关于他的消息后再说。我们还有什么别的事需要呆着吗？”他问梅西森先生。
“不，没有了，—一我们走吧，”听者急不可耐地回答。他们没有等得及向罗切斯特先生告别，便从大厅门出去了。牧师呆着同他高傲的教区居民交换了几句劝导或是责备的话，尽了这番责任，也离去了。
我听见他走了，这时我已回到自己的房间里，正站在半掩着的门旁边。人去楼空，我把自己关进房间，拴上门，免得别人闯进来，然后开始——不是哭泣，不是悲伤，我很镇静，不会这样，而是——机械地脱下婚礼服，换上昨天我要最后一次穿戴的呢袍。随后我坐了下来，感到浑身疲软。我用胳膊支着桌子，将头靠在手上。现在我开始思考了。在此之前，我只是听，只是看，只是动——由别人领着或拖着，跟上跟下——观看事情一件件发生，秘密一桩桩揭开。而现在，我开始思考了。
早上是够平静的一—除了与疯子交手的短暂场面，一切都平平静静。教堂里的一幕也并没有高声大气，没有暴怒，没有大声吵闹，没有争辩，没有对抗或挑衅，没有眼泪，没有哭泣。几句话一说，平静地宣布对婚姻提出异议，罗切斯特先生问了几个严厉而简短的问题，对方作了回答和解释，援引了证据，我主人公开承认了事实，随后看了活的证据。闯入者走了，一切都过去了。
我像往常那样呆在我的房间里一—只有我自己，没有明显的变化。我没有受到折磨，损伤或者残害，然而昨天的简.爱又在哪儿呢？—一她的生命在哪儿？——她的前程在哪儿？
简.爱，她曾是一个热情洋溢、充满期待的女人——差一点做了新娘——再度成了冷漠、孤独的姑娘。她的生命很苍白，她的前程很凄凉。圣诞的霜冻在仲夏就降临；十二月的白色风暴六月里便刮得天旋地转；冰凌替成熟的苹果上了釉彩；积雪摧毁了怒放的玫瑰；干草田和玉米地里覆盖着一层冰冻的寿衣；昨夜还姹紫嫣红的小巷，今日无人踩踏的积雪已经封住了道路；十二小时之前还树叶婆娑、香气扑鼻犹如热带树丛的森林，现在已经白茫茫一片荒芜，犹如冬日挪威的松林，我的希望全都熄灭了——受到了微妙致命的一击，就像埃及的长子一夜之间所受到的一样。我观察了自己所抱的希望，昨天还是那么繁茂，那么光彩照人，现在却变得光秃秃、寒颤颤、铅灰色了——成了永远无法复活的尸体，我审视着我的爱情，我主人的那种感情——他所造成的感情，在我心里打着寒颤，象冰冷摇篮里的一个病孩，病痛已经缠身，却又难以回到罗切斯特先生的怀抱——无法从他的胸膛得到温暖。呵，永远也回不到他那儿去了，因为信念已被扼杀——信任感已被摧毁！对我来说，罗切斯特先生不是过去的他了，因为他已不像我所想象的那样。我不会把恶行加予他，我不会说他背叛了我，但是真理那种一尘不染的属性，已与他无缘了，我必须离他而去，这点我看得非常清楚，什么时侯起——怎样走——上哪儿去，我还不能明辨。但我相信他自己会急于把我从桑菲尔德撵走，他似乎已不可能对我怀有真情，而只有忽冷忽热的激情，而且受到压抑。他不再需要我了，现在我甚至竟害怕与他狭路相逢，他一见我准感到厌恶。呵，我的眼睛多瞎！我的行动多软弱！
我的眼晴被蒙住了，而且闭了起来。旋转的黑暗飘浮着似乎包围了我，思绪滚滚而来犹如黑色的浊流。我自暴自弃，浑身松弛，百无聊赖，仿佛躺在一条大河干枯的河床上，我听见洪水从远山奔泻而来，我感觉到激流逼近了，爬起来吧，我没有意志，逃走吧，我又没有力气。我昏昏沉沉地躺着，渴望死去。有一个念头仍像生命那样在我内心搏动——上帝的怀念，并由此而产生了无言的祈祷。这些话在我没有阳光的内心往复徘徊，仿佛某些话该悄声倾吐出来，却又无力去表达它们。
“求你不要远离我，因为急难临近了，没有人帮助我。”
急难确实近了，而我并没有请求上天消灾灭祸——我既没有合上双手，没有屈膝，也没有张嘴——急难降临了，洪流滚滚而来把我吞没。我意识到我的生活十分狐单，我的爱情己经失去，我的希望已被浇灭，我的信心受了致命的一击，这整个想法犹如—个色彩单调的块状物，在我头顶有力地大幅度摆动着。这痛苦的时刻不堪描述。真是“水灌进了我的灵魂，我陷入了深深的泥淖，觉得无处立足，坠进深渊，激流把我淹没了。”
Chapter 27
SOME time in the afternoon I raised my head, and looking round and seeing the western sun gilding the sign of its decline on the wall, I asked, 'What am I to do?'But the answer my mind gave- 'Leave Thornfield at once'- was so prompt, so dread, that I stopped my ears. I said I could not bear such words now. 'That I am not Edward Rochester's bride is the least part of my woe,' I alleged: 'that I have wakened out of most glorious dreams, and found them all void and vain, is a horror I could bear and master; but that I must leave him decidedly, instantly, entirely, is intolerable. I cannot do it.'
But, then, a voice within me averred that I could do it and foretold that I should do it. I wrestled with my own resolution: I wanted to be weak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I saw laid out for me; and Conscience, turned tyrant, held Passion by the throat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of iron he would thrust her down to unsounded depths of agony.
'Let me be torn away, then!' I cried. 'Let another help me!'
'No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall yourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand: your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.'
I rose up suddenly, terror-struck at the solitude which so ruthless a judge haunted,- at the silence which so awful a voice filled. My head swam as I stood erect. I perceived that I was sickening from excitement and inanition; neither meat nor drink had passed my lips that day, for I had taken no breakfast. And, with a strange pang, I now reflected that, long as I had been shut up here, no message had been sent to ask how I was, or to invite me to come down: not even little Adele had tapped at the door; not even Mrs. Fairfax had sought me. 'Friends always forget those whom fortune forsakes,' I murmured, as I undrew the bolt and passed out. I stumbled over an obstacle: my head was still dizzy, my sight was dim, and my limbs were feeble. I could not soon recover myself. I fell, but not on to the ground; an outstretched arm caught me. I looked up- I was supported by Mr. Rochester, who sat in a chair across my chamber threshold.
'You come out at last,' he said. 'Well, I have been waiting for you long, and listening: yet not one movement have I heard, nor one sob: five minutes more of that death-like hush, and I should have forced the lock like a burglar. So you shun me?- you shut yourself up and grieve alone! I would rather you had come and upbraided me with vehemence. You are passionate: I expected a scene of some kind. I was prepared for the hot rain of tears; only I wanted them to be shed on my breast: now a senseless floor has received them, or your drenched handkerchief. But I err: you have not wept at all! I see a white cheek and a faded eye, but no trace of tears. I suppose, then, your heart has been weeping blood?
'Well, Jane! not a word of reproach? Nothing bitter - nothing poignant? Nothing to cut a feeling or sting a passion? You sit quietly where I have placed you, and regard me with a weary, passive look.
'Jane, I never meant to wound you thus. If the man who had but one little ewe lamb that was dear to him as a daughter, that ate of his bread and drank of his cup, and lay in his bosom, had by some mistake slaughtered it at the shambles, he would not have rued his bloody blunder more than I now rue mine. Will you ever forgive me?'
Reader, I forgave him at the moment and on the spot. There was such deep remorse in his eye, such true pity in his tone, such manly energy in his manner; and besides, there was such unchanged love in his whole look and mien- I forgave him all: yet not in words, not outwardly; only at my heart's core.
'You know I am a scoundrel, Jane?' ere long he inquired wistfully- wondering, I suppose, at my continued silence and tameness, the result rather of weakness than of will.
'Yes, sir.'
'Then tell me so roundly and sharply- don't spare me.'
'I cannot: I am tired and sick. I want some water.' He heaved a sort of shuddering sigh, and taking me in his arms, carried me downstairs. At first I did not know to what room he had borne me; all was cloudy to my glazed sight: presently I felt the reviving warmth of a fire; for, summer as it was, I had become icy cold in my chamber. He put wine to my lips; I tasted it and revived; then I ate something he offered me, and was soon myself. I was in the library- sitting in his chair- he was quite near. 'If I could go out of life now, without too sharp a pang, it would be well for me,' I thought; 
'then I should not have to make the effort of cracking my heart-strings in rending them from among Mr. Rochester's. I must leave him, it appears. I do not want to leave him- I cannot leave him.'
'How are you now, Jane?'
'Much better, sir; I shall be well soon.'
'Taste the wine again, Jane.'
I obeyed him; then he put the glass on the table, stood before me, and looked at me attentively. Suddenly he turned away, with an inarticulate exclamation, full of passionate emotion of some kind; he walked fast through the room and came back; he stooped towards me as if to kiss me; but I remembered caresses were now forbidden. I turned my face away and put his aside.
'What!- How is this?' he exclaimed hastily. 'Oh, I know! you won't kiss the husband of Bertha Mason? You consider my arms filled and my embraces appropriated?'
'At any rate, there is neither room nor claim for me, sir.'
'Why, Jane? I will spare you the trouble of much talking; I will answer for you- Because I have a wife already, you would reply.- I guess rightly?'
'Yes.'
'If you think so, you must have a strange opinion of me; you must regard me as a plotting profligate- a base and low rake who has been simulating disinterested love in order to draw you into a snare deliberately laid, and strip you of honour and rob you of self-respect. What do you say to that? I see you can say nothing: in the first place, you are faint still, and have enough to do to draw your breath; in the second place, you cannot yet accustom yourself to accuse and revile me, and besides, the flood-gates of tears are opened, and they would rush out if you spoke much; and you have no desire to expostulate, to upbraid, to make a scene: you are thinking how to act- talking you consider is of no use. I know you- I am on my guard.'
'Sir, I do not wish to act against you,' I said; and my unsteady voice warned me to curtail my sentence.
'Not in your sense of the word, but in mine you are scheming to destroy me. You have as good as said that I am a married man- as a married man you will shun me, keep out of my way: just now you have refused to kiss me. You intend to make yourself a complete stranger to me: to live under this roof only as Adele's governess; if ever I say a friendly word to you, if ever a friendly feeling inclines you again to me, you will say,- "That man had nearly made me his mistress: I must be ice and rock to him"; and ice and rock you will accordingly become.'
I cleared and steadied my voice to reply: 'All is changed about me, sir; I must change too- there is no doubt of that; and to avoid fluctuations of feeling, and continual combats with recollections and associations, there is only one way- Adele must have a new governess, sir.'
'Oh, Adele will go to school- I have settled that already; nor do I mean to torment you with the hideous associations and recollections of Thornfield Hall- this accursed place- this tent of Achan- this insolent vault, offering the ghastliness of living death to the light of the open sky- this narrow stone hell, with its one real fiend, worse than a legion of such as we imagine. Jane, you shall not stay here, nor will I. I was wrong ever to bring you to Thornfield Hall, knowing as I did how it was haunted. I charged them to conceal from you, before I ever saw you, all knowledge of the curse of the place; merely because I feared Adele never would have a governess to stay if she knew with what inmate she was housed, and my plans would not permit me to remove the maniac elsewhere- though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even more retired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safely enough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, in the heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement. Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but to each villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirect assassination, even of what I most hate.
'Concealing the mad-woman's neighbourhood from you, however, was something like covering a child with a cloak and laying it down near a upas-tree: that demon's vicinage is poisoned, and always was. But I'll shut up Thornfield Hall: I'll nail up the front door and board the lower windows: I'll give Mrs. Poole two hundred a year to live here with my wife, as you term that fearful hag: Grace will do much for money, and she shall have her son, the keeper at Grimsby Retreat, to bear her company and be at hand to give her aid in the paroxysms, when my wife is prompted by her familiar to burn people in their beds at night, to stab them, to bite their flesh from their bones, and so on-'
'Sir,' I interrupted him, 'you are inexorable for that unfortunate lady: you speak of her with hate- with vindictive antipathy. It is cruel- she cannot help being mad.'
'Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), you don't know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is not because she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?'
'I do indeed, sir.'
'Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat- your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet  moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for me.- But why do I follow that train of ideas? I was talking of removing you from Thornfield. All, you know, is prepared for prompt departure: to-morrow you shall go. I only ask you to endure one more night under this roof, Jane; and then, farewell to its miseries and terrors for ever! I have a place to repair to, which will be a secure sanctuary from hateful reminiscences, from unwelcome intrusion- even from falsehood and slander.'
'And take Adele with you, sir,' I interrupted; 'she will be a companion for you.'
'What do you mean, Jane? I told you I would send Adele to school; and what do I want with a child for a companion, and not my own child,- a French dancer's bastard? Why do you importune me about her! I say, why do you assign Adele to me for a companion?'
'You spoke of a retirement, sir; and retirement and solitude are dull: too dull for you.'
'Solitude! solitude!' he reiterated with irritation. 'I see I must come to an explanation. I don't know what sphynx-like expression is forming in your countenance. You are to share my solitude. Do you understand?'
I shook my head: it required a degree of courage, excited as he was becoming, even to risk that mute sign of dissent. He had been walking fast about the room, and he stopped, as if suddenly rooted to one spot. He looked at me long and hard: I turned my eyes from him, fixed them on the fire, and tried to assume and maintain a quiet, collected aspect.
'Now for the hitch in Jane's character,' he said at last, speaking more calmly than from his look I had expected him to speak.
'The reel of silk has run smoothly enough so far; but I always knew there would come a knot and a puzzle: here it is. Now for vexation, and exasperation, and endless trouble! By God! I long to exert a fraction of Samson's strength, and break the entanglement like tow!'
He recommenced his walk, but soon again stopped, and this time just before me.
'Jane! will you hear reason?' (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); 'because, if you won't, I'll try violence. His voice was hoarse; his look that of a man who is just about to burst an insufferable bond and plunge headlong into wild license. I saw that in another moment, and with one impetus of frenzy more, I should be able to do nothing with him. The present- the passing second of time- was all I had in which to control and restrain him: a  movement of repulsion, flight, fear would have sealed my doom,- and his. But I was not afraid: not in the least. I felt an inward power; a sense of influence, which supported me. The crisis was perilous; but not without its charm: such as the Indian, perhaps, feels when he slips over the rapid in his canoe. I took hold of his clenched hand, loosened the contorted fingers, and said to him, soothingly-
'Sit down; I'll talk to you as long as you like, and hear all you have to say, whether reasonable or unreasonable.'
He sat down: but he did not get leave to speak directly. I had been struggling with tears for some time: I had taken great pains to repress them, because I knew he would not like to see me weep. Now, however, I considered it well to let them flow as freely and as long as they liked. If the flood annoyed him, so much the better. So I gave way and cried heartily.
Soon I heard him earnestly entreating me to be composed. I said I could not while he was in such a passion.
'But I am not angry, Jane: I only love you too well; and you had steeled your little pale face with such a resolute, frozen look, I could not endure it. Hush, now, and wipe your eyes.'
His softened voice announced that he was subdued; so I, in my turn,became calm. Now he made an effort to rest his head on my shoulder, but I would not permit it. Then he would draw me to him: no.
'Jane! Jane!' he said, in such an accent of bitter sadness it thrilled along every nerve I had; 'you don't love me, then? It was only my station, and the rank of my wife, that you valued? Now that you think me disqualified to become your husband, you recoil from my touch as if I were some toad or ape.'
These words cut me: yet what could I do or say? I ought probably to have done or said nothing; but I was so tortured by a sense of remorse at thus hurting his feelings, I could not control the wish to drop balm where I had wounded.
'I do love you,' I said, 'more than ever: but I must not show or indulge the feeling: and this is the last time I must express it.'
'The last time, Jane! What! do you think you can live with me, and see me daily, and yet, if you still love me, be always cold and distant?'
'No, sir; that I am certain I could not; and therefore I see there is but one way: but you will be furious if I mention it.'
'Oh, mention it! If I storm, you have the art of weeping.' 
'Mr. Rochester, I must leave you.'
'For how long, Jane? For a few minutes, while you smooth your hair- which is somewhat dishevelled; and bathe your face- which looks feverish?'
'I must leave Adele and Thornfield. I must part with you for my whole life: I must begin a new existence among strange faces and strange scenes.'
'Of course: I told you you should. I pass over the madness about parting from me. You mean you must become a part of me. As to the new existence, it is all right: you shall yet be my wife: I am not married. You shall be Mrs. Rochester- both virtually and nominally.
I shall keep only to you so long as you and I live. You shall go to a place I have in the south of France: a whitewashed villa on the shores of the Mediterranean. There you shall live a happy, and guarded, and most innocent life. Never fear that I wish to lure you into error- to make you my mistress. Why did you shake your head? 
Jane, you must be reasonable, or in truth I shall again become frantic.'
His voice and hand quivered: his large nostrils dilated; his eye blazed: still I dared to speak.
'Sir, your wife is living: that is a fact acknowledged this morning by yourself. If I lived with you as you desire, I should then be your mistress: to say otherwise is sophistical- is false.'
'Jane, I am not a gentle-tempered man- you forget that: I am not long-enduring; I am not cool and dispassionate. Out of pity to me and yourself, put your finger on my pulse, feel how it throbs, and- beware!'
He bared his wrist, and offered it to me: the blood was forsaking his cheek and lips, they were growing livid; I was distressed on all hands. To agitate him thus deeply, by a resistance he so abhorred, was cruel: to yield was out of the question. I did what human beings do instinctively when they are driven to utter extremity- looked for aid to one higher than man: the words 'God help me!' burst involuntarily from my lips.
'I am a fool!' cried Mr. Rochester suddenly. 'I keep telling her I am not married, and do not explain to her why. I forget she knows nothing of the character of that woman, or of the circumstances attending my infernal union with her. Oh, I am certain Jane will agree with me in opinion, when she knows all that I know! Just put your hand in mine, Janet- that I may have the evidence of touch as well as sight, to prove you are near me- and I will in a few words show you the real state of the case. Can you listen to me?'
'Yes, sir; for hours if you will.'
'I ask only minutes. Jane, did you ever hear or know that I was not the eldest son of my house: that I had once a brother older than I?'
'I remember Mrs. Fairfax told me so once.'
'And did you ever hear that my father was an avaricious, grasping man?'
'I have understood something to that effect.'
'Well, Jane, being so, it was his resolution to keep the property together; he could not bear the idea of dividing his estate and leaving me a fair portion: all, he resolved, should go to my brother, Rowland. Yet as little could he endure that a son of his should be a poor man. I must be provided for by a wealthy marriage. He sought me a partner betimes. Mr. Mason, a West India planter and merchant, was his old acquaintance. He was certain his possessions were real and vast: he made inquiries. Mr. Mason, he found, had a son and daughter; and he learned from him that he could and would give the latter a fortune of thirty thousand pounds: that sufficed. When I left college, I was sent out to Jamaica, to espouse a bride already courted for me. My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram: tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act!- an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her. I was not sure of the existence of one virtue in her nature:
I had marked neither modesty, nor benevolence, nor candour, nor refinement in her mind or manners- and, I married her:- gross, grovelling, mole-eyed blockhead that I was! With less sin I might have- But let me remember to whom I am speaking.
'My bride's mother I had never seen: I understood she was dead. The honeymoon over, I learned my mistake; she was only mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum. There was a younger brother, too- a complete dumb idiot. The elder one, whom you have seen (and whom I cannot hate, whilst I abhor all his kindred, because he has some grains of affection in his feeble mind, shown in the continued interest he takes in his wretched sister, and also in a dog-like attachment he once bore me), will probably be in the same state one day. My father and my brother Rowland knew all this; but they thought only of the thirty thousand pounds, and joined in the plot against me.
'These were vile discoveries; but except for the treachery of concealment, I should have made them no subject of reproach to my wife, even when I found her nature wholly alien to mine, her tastes obnoxious to me, her cast of mind common, low, narrow, and singularly incapable of being led to anything higher, expanded to anything larger- when I found that I could not pass a single evening, nor even a single hour of the day with her in comfort; that kindly conversation could not be sustained between us, because whatever topic I started, immediately received from her a turn at once coarse and trite, perverse and imbecile- when I perceived that I should never have a quiet or settled household, because no servant would bear the continued outbreaks of her violent and unreasonable temper, or the vexations of her absurd, contradictory, exacting orders- even then I restrained myself: I eschewed upbraiding, I curtailed remonstrance; I tried to devour my repentance and disgust in secret; I repressed the deep antipathy I felt.
'Jane, I will not trouble you with abominable details: some strong words shall express what I have to say. I lived with that woman upstairs four years, and before that time she had tried me indeed: her character ripened and developed with frightful rapidity; her vices sprang up fast and rank: they were so strong, only cruelty could check them, and I would not use cruelty. What a pigmy intellect she had, and what giant propensities! How fearful were the curses those propensities entailed on me! Bertha Mason, the true daughter of an infamous mother, dragged me through all the hideous and degrading agonies which must attend a man bound to a wife at once intemperate and unchaste.
'My brother in the interval was dead, and at the end of the four years my father died too. I was rich enough now- yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was  associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal proceedings: for the doctors now discovered that my wife was mad- her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity. Jane, you don't like my narrative; you look almost sick- shall I defer the rest to another day?'
'No, sir, finish it now; I pity you- I do earnestly pity you.' 
'Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort of tribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth of those who offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous, selfish hearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing of woes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have endured them. But that is not your pity, Jane; it is not the feeling of which your whole face is full at this moment- with which your eyes are now almost overflowing- with which your heart is heaving- with which your hand is trembling in mine. Your pity, my darling, is the suffering mother of love: its anguish is the very natal pang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let the daughter have free advent- my arms wait to receive her.'
'Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?' 
'Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respect was all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyes of the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved to be clean in my own sight- and to the last I repudiated the contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mental defects. Still, society associated my name and person with hers; I yet saw her and heard her daily: something of her breath (faugh!) mixed with the air I breathed; and besides, I remembered I had once been her husband- that recollection was then, and is now, inexpressibly odious to me; moreover, I knew that while she lived I could never be the husband of another and better wife; and, though five years my senior (her family and her father had lied to me even in the particular of her age), she was likely to live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she was infirm in mind. Thus, at the age of twenty-six, I was hopeless.
'One night I had been awakened by her yells- (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had, of course, been shut up)- it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precede the hurricanes of those climates. Being unable to sleep in bed, I got up and opened the window. The air was like sulphur-steams- I could find no refreshment anywhere. Mosquitoes came buzzing in and hummed sullenly round the room; the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake- black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball- she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest. I was physically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and my ears were filled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, with such language!- no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she: though two rooms off, I heard every word- the thin partitions of the West India house opposing but slight obstruction to her wolfish cries.
'"This life," said I at last, "is hell: this is the air- those are the sounds of the bottomless pit! I have a right to deliver myself from it if I can. The sufferings of this mortal state will leave me with the heavy flesh that now cumbers my soul. Of the fanatic's burning eternity I have no fear: there is not a future state worse than this present one- let me break away, and go home to God!"
'I said this whilst I knelt down at, and unlocked a trunk which contained a brace of loaded pistols: I meant to shoot myself. I only entertained the intention for a moment; for, not  being insane, the crisis of exquisite and unalloyed despair, which had originated the wish and design of self-destruction, was past in a second.
'A wind fresh from Europe blew over the ocean and rushed through the open casement: the storm broke, streamed, thundered, blazed, and the air grew pure. I then framed and fixed a resolution. While I walked under the dripping orange-trees of my wet garden, and amongst its drenched pomegranates and pineapples, and while the refulgent dawn of the tropics kindled round me- I reasoned thus, Jane- and now listen; for it was true Wisdom that consoled me in that hour, and showed me the right path to follow.
'The sweet wind from Europe was still whispering in the refreshed leaves, and the Atlantic was thundering in glorious liberty; my heart, dried up and scorched for a long time, swelled to the tone, and filled with living blood- my being longed for renewal- my soul thirsted for a pure draught. I saw hope revive- and felt regeneration possible.
From a flowery arch at the bottom of my garden I gazed over the sea-bluer than the sky: the old world was beyond; clear prospects opened thus:-
'"Go," said Hope, "and live again in Europe: there it is not known what a sullied name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is bound to you. You may take the maniac with you to  England; confine her with due attendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travel yourself to what clime you will, and form what new tie you like.
That woman, who has so abused your long-suffering, so sullied your name, so outraged your honour, so blighted your youth, is not your wife, nor are you her husband. See that she is cared for as her condition demands, and you have done all that God and humanity require of you. Let her identity, her connection with yourself, be buried in oblivion: you are bound to impart them to no living being. Place her in safety and comfort: shelter her degradation with secrecy, and leave her."
'I acted precisely on this suggestion. My father and brother had not made my marriage known to their acquaintance; because, in the very first letter I wrote to apprise them of the union- having already begun to experience extreme disgust of its consequences, and, from the family character and constitution, seeing a hideous future opening to me- I added an urgent charge to keep it secret: and very soon the infamous conduct of the wife my father had selected for me was such as to make him blush to own her as his daughter-in-law. Far from desiring to publish the connection, he became as anxious to conceal it as myself.
'To England, then, I conveyed her; a fearful voyage I had with such a monster in the vessel. Glad was I when I at last got her to Thornfield, and saw her safely lodged in that third storey room, of whose secret inner cabinet she has now for ten years made a wild beast's den- a goblin's cell. I had some trouble in finding an attendant for her, as it was necessary to select one on whose fidelity dependence could be placed; for her ravings would inevitably betray my secret: besides, she had lucid intervals of days- sometimes weeks- which she filled up with abuse of me. At last I hired Grace Poole from the Grimsby Retreat. She and the surgeon, Carter (who dressed Mason's wounds that night he was stabbed and worried), are the only two I have ever admitted to my confidence. Mrs. Fairfax may indeed have suspected something, but she could have gained no precise knowledge as to facts. Grace has, on the whole, proved a good keeper; though, owing partly to a fault of her own, of which it appears nothing can cure her, and which is incident to her harassing profession, her vigilance has been more than once lulled and baffled. The lunatic is both cunning and malignant; she has never failed to take advantage of her guardian's temporary lapses; once to secrete the knife with which she stabbed her brother, and twice to possess herself of the key of her cell, and issue therefrom in the night-time. On the first of these occasions, she perpetrated the attempt to burn me in my bed; on the second, she paid that ghastly visit to you. I thank Providence, who watched over you, that she then spent her fury on your wedding apparel, which perhaps brought back vague reminiscences of her own bridal days: but on what might have happened, I cannot endure to reflect. When I think of the thing which flew at my throat this morning, hanging its black and scarlet visage over the nest of my dove, my blood curdles-'
'And what, sir,' I asked, while he paused, 'did you do when you had settled her here? Where did you go?' 'What did I do, Jane? I transformed myself into a will-o'-the-wisp.
Where did I go? I pursued wanderings as wild as those of the March-spirit. I sought the Continent, and went devious through all its lands. My fixed desire was to seek and find a good and intelligent woman, whom I could love: a contrast to the fury I left at Thornfield-'
'But you could not marry, sir.' 
'I had determined and was convinced that I could and ought. It was not my original intention to deceive, as I have deceived you. I meant to tell my tale plainly, and make my proposals openly: and it appeared to me so absolutely rational that I should be considered free to love and be loved, I never doubted some woman might be found willing and able to understand my case and accept me, in spite of the curse with which I was burdened.'
'Well, sir?'
'When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart. But before I go on, tell me what you mean by your "Well, sir?" It is a small phrase very frequent with you; and which many a time has drawn me on and on through interminable talk: I don't very well know why.'
'I mean,- What next? How did you proceed? What came of such an event?'
'Precisely! and what do you wish to know now?'
'Whether you found any one you liked: whether you asked her to marry you; and what she said.'
'I can tell you whether I found any one I liked, and whether I asked her to marry me: but what she said is yet to be recorded in the book of Fate. For ten long years I roved about, living first in one capital, then another: sometimes in St. Petersburg; oftener in Paris; occasionally in Rome, Naples, and Florence. Provided with plenty of money and the passport of an old name, I could choose my own society: no circles were closed against me. I sought my ideal of a woman amongst English ladies, French countesses, Italian signoras, and German grafinnen. I could not find her. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glance, heard a tone, beheld a form, which announced the realisation of my dream: but I was presently undeceived. You are not to suppose that I desired perfection, either of mind or person. I longed only for what suited me- for the antipodes of the Creole: and I longed vainly. Amongst them all I found not one whom, had I been ever so free, I- warned as I was of the risks, the horrors, the loathings of incongruous unions- would have asked to marry me. Disappointment made me reckless. I tried dissipation-never debauchery: that I hated, and hate. That was my Indian Messalina's attribute: rooted disgust at it and her restrained me much, even in pleasure. Any enjoyment that bordered on riot seemed to approach me to her and her vices, and I eschewed it.
'Yet I could not live alone; so I tried the companionship of mistresses. The first I chose was Celine Varens- another of those steps which make a man spurn himself when he recalls them. You already know what she was, and how my liaison with her terminated. She had two successors: an Italian, Giacinta, and a German, Clara; both considered singularly handsome. What was their beauty to me in a few weeks?
Giacinta was unprincipled and violent: I tired of her in three months.
Clara was honest and quiet; but heavy, mindless, and unimpressible: not one whit to my taste. I was glad to give her a sufficient sum to set her up in a good line of business, and so get decently rid of her.
But, Jane, I see by your face you are not forming a very favourable opinion of me just now. You think me an unfeeling, loose-principled rake: don't you?'
'I don't like you so well as I have done sometimes, indeed, sir. 
Did it not seem to you in the least wrong to live in that way, first with one mistress and then another? You talk of it as a mere matter of course.'
'It was with me; and I did not like it. It was a grovelling fashion of existence: I should never like to return to it. Hiring a mistress is the next worse thing to buying a slave: both are often by nature, and always by position, inferior: and to live familiarly with inferiors is degrading. I now hate the recollection of the time I passed with Celine, Giacinta, and Clara.'
I felt the truth of these words; and I drew from them the certain inference, that if I were so far to forget myself and all the teaching that had ever been instilled into me, as- under any pretext- with any justification- through any temptation- to become the successor of these poor girls, he would one day regard me with the same feeling which now in his mind desecrated their memory. I did not give utterance to this conviction: it was enough to feel it. I impressed it on my heart, that it might remain there to serve me as aid in the time of trial.
'Now, Jane, why don't you say "Well, sir?" I have not done. You are looking grave. You disapprove of me still, I see. But let me come to the point. Last January, rid of all mistresses- in a harsh, bitter frame of mind, the result of a useless, roving, lonely life-corroded with disappointment, sourly disposed against all men, and especially against all womankind (for I began to regard the notion of an intellectual, faithful, loving woman as a mere dream), recalled by business, I came back to England.
'On a frosty winter afternoon, I rode in sight of Thornfield Hall. Abhorred spot! I expected no peace- no pleasure there. On a stile in Hay Lane I saw a quiet little figure sitting by itself. I passed it as negligently as I did the pollard willow opposite to it: I had no presentiment of what it would be to me; no inward warning that the arbitress of my life- my genius for good or evil- waited there in humble guise. I did not know it, even when, on the occasion of Mesrour's accident, it came up and gravely offered me help.
Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnet had hopped to my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing. I was surly; but the thing would not go: it stood by me with strange perseverance, and looked and spoke with a sort of authority. I must be aided, and by that hand: and aided I was.
'When once I had pressed the frail shoulder, something new- a fresh sap and sense- stole into my frame. It was well I had learnt that this elf must return to me- that it belonged to my house down below- or I could not have felt it pass away from under my hand, and seen it vanish behind the dim hedge, without singular regret. I heard you come home that night, Jane, though probably you were not aware that I thought of you or watched for you. The next day I observed you- myself unseen- for half an hour, while you played with Adele in the gallery. It was a snowy day, I recollect, and you could not go out of doors. I was in my room; the door was ajar: I could both listen and watch. Adele claimed your outward attention for a while; yet I fancied your thoughts were elsewhere: but you were very patient with her, my little Jane; you talked to her and amused her a long time. When at last she left you, you lapsed at once into deep reverie: you betook yourself slowly to pace the gallery. Now and then, in passing a casement, you glanced out at the thick-falling snow; you listened to the sobbing wind, and again you paced gently on and dreamed. I think those day visions were not dark: there was a pleasurable illumination in your eye occasionally, a soft excitement in your aspect, which told of no bitter, bilious, hypochondriac brooding: your look revealed rather the sweet musings of youth when its spirit follows on willing wings the flight of Hope up and on to an ideal heaven. The voice of Mrs. Fairfax, speaking to a servant in the hall, wakened you: and how curiously you smiled to and at yourself, Janet! There was much sense in your smile: it was very shrewd, and seemed to make light of your own abstraction. It seemed to say- "My fine visions are all very well, but I must not forget they are absolutely unreal. I have a rosy sky and a green flowery Eden in my brain; but without, I am perfectly aware, lies at my feet a rough tract to travel, and around me gather black tempests to encounter."
You ran downstairs and demanded of Mrs. Fairfax some occupation: the weekly house accounts to make up, or something of that sort, I think it was. I was vexed with you for getting out of my sight.
'Impatiently I waited for evening, when I might summon you to my presence. An unusual- to me- a perfectly new character I suspected was yours: I desired to search it deeper and know it better. You entered the room with a look and air at once shy and independent: you were quaintly dressed- much as you are now. I made you talk: ere long I found you full of strange contrasts. Your garb and manner were restricted by rule; your air was often diffident, and altogether that of one refined by nature, but absolutely unused to society, and a good deal afraid of making herself disadvantageously conspicuous by some solecism or blunder; yet when addressed, you lifted a keen, a daring, and a glowing eye to your interlocutor's face: there was penetration and power in each glance you gave; when plied by close questions, you found ready and round answers. Very soon you seemed to get used to me: I believe you felt the existence of sympathy between you and your grim and cross master, Jane; for it was astonishing to see how quickly a certain pleasant ease tranquillised your manner: snarl as I would, you showed no surprise, fear, annoyance, or displeasure at my moroseness; you watched me, and now and then smiled at me with a simple yet sagacious grace I cannot describe. I was at once content and stimulated with what I saw: I liked what I had seen, and wished to see more. Yet, for a long time, I treated you distantly, and sought your company rarely. I was an intellectual epicure, and wished to prolong the gratification of making this novel and piquant acquaintance: besides, I was for a while troubled with a haunting fear that if I handled the flower freely its bloom would fade- the sweet charm of freshness would leave it. I did not then know that it was no transitory blossom, but rather the radiant resemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem. Moreover, I wished to see whether you would seek me if I shunned you- but you did not; you kept in the schoolroom as still as your own desk and easel; if by chance I met you, you passed me as soon, and with as little token of recognition, as was consistent with respect. Your habitual expression in those days, Jane, was a thoughtful look; not despondent, for you were not sickly; but not buoyant, for you had little hope, and no actual pleasure. I wondered what you thought of me, or if you ever thought of me, and resolved to find this out.
'I resumed my notice of you. There was something glad in your glance, and genial in your manner, when you conversed: I saw you had a social heart; it was the silent schoolroom- it was the tedium of your life- that made you mournful. I permitted myself the delight of being kind to you; kindness stirred emotion soon: your face became soft in expression, your tones gentle; I liked my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful happy accent. I used to enjoy a chance meeting with you, Jane, at this time: there was a curious hesitation in your manner: you glanced at me with a slight trouble- a hovering doubt: you did not know what my caprice might be- whether I was going to play the master and be stern, or the friend and be benignant. I was now too fond of you often to simulate the first whim; and, when I stretched my hand out cordially, such bloom and light and bliss rose to your young, wistful features, I had much ado often to avoid straining you then and there to my heart.'
'Don't talk any more of those days, sir,' I interrupted, furtively dashing away some tears from my eyes; his language was torture to me; for I knew what I must do- and do soon- and these reminiscences, and these revelations of his feelings, only made my work more difficult.
'No, Jane,' he returned: 'what necessity is there to dwell on the Past, when the Present is so much surer- the Future so much brighter?'
I shuddered to hear the infatuated assertion.
'You see now how the case stands- do you not?' he continued. 'After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love- I have found you. You are my sympathy- my better self- my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.
'It was because I felt and knew this, that I resolved to marry you. 
To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery: you know now that I had but a hideous demon. I was wrong to attempt to deceive you; but I feared a stubbornness that exists in your character. I feared early instilled prejudice: I wanted to have you safe before hazarding confidences. This was cowardly: I should have appealed to your nobleness and magnanimity at first, as I do now- opened to you plainly my life of agony- described to you my hunger and thirst after a higher and worthier existence- shown to you, not my resolution (that word is weak), but my resistless bent to love faithfully and well, where I am faithfully and well loved in return. Then I should have asked you to accept my pledge of fidelity and to give me yours. 
Jane- give it me now.'
A pause.
'Why are you silent, Jane?'
I was experiencing an ordeal: a hand of fiery iron grasped my vitals. Terrible moment: full of struggle, blackness, burning! Not a human being that ever lived could wish to be loved better than I was loved; and him who thus loved me I absolutely worshipped: and I must renounce love and idol. One drear word comprised my intolerable duty- 'Depart!'
'Jane, you understand what I want of you? Just this promise- "I will be yours, Mr. Rochester."'
'Mr. Rochester, I will not be yours.'
Another long silence.
'Jane!' recommenced he, with a gentleness that broke me down with grief, and turned me stone-cold with ominous terror- for this still voice was the pant of a lion rising- 'Jane, do you mean to go one way in the world, and to let me go another?'
'I do.'
'Jane' (bending towards and embracing me), 'do you mean it now?'
'I do.'
'And now?' softly kissing my forehead and cheek.
'I do,' extricating myself from restraint rapidly and completely.
'Oh, Jane, this is bitter! This- this is wicked. It would not be wicked to love me.'
'It would to obey you.'
A wild look raised his brows- crossed his features: he rose; but he forbore yet. I laid my hand on the back of a chair for support: I shook, I feared- but I resolved.
'One instant, Jane. Give one glance to my horrible life when you are gone. All happiness will be torn away with you. What then is left?
For a wife I have but the maniac upstairs: as well might you refer me to some corpse in yonder churchyard. What shall I do, Jane? Where turn for a companion and for some hope?'
'Do as I do: trust in God and yourself. Believe in heaven. Hope to meet again there.'
'Then you will not yield?'
'No.'
'Then you condemn me to live wretched and to die accursed?' His voice rose.
'I advise you to live sinless, and I wish you to die tranquil.'
'Then you snatch love and innocence from me? You fling me back on lust for a passion- vice for an occupation?'
'Mr. Rochester, I no more assign this fate to you than I grasp at it for myself. We were born to strive and endure- you as well as I: do so. You will forget me before I forget you.'
'You make me a liar by such language: you sully my honour. I declared I could not change: you tell me to my face I shall change soon. And what a distortion in your judgment, what a perversity in your ideas, is proved by your conduct! Is it better to drive a fellow-creature to despair than to transgress a mere human law, no man being injured by the breach? for you have neither relatives nor acquaintances whom you need fear to offend by living with me?'
This was true: and while he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. 'Oh, comply!' it said. 'Think of his misery; think of his danger- look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair- soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?'
Still indomitable was the reply- 'I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad- as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they;  inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth- so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane- quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.'
I did. Mr. Rochester, reading my countenance, saw I had done so.
His fury was wrought to the highest: he must yield to it for a moment, whatever followed; he crossed the floor and seized my arm and grasped my waist. He seemed to devour me with his flaming glance: physically, I felt, at the moment, powerless as stubble exposed to the draught and glow of a furnace: mentally, I still possessed my soul, and with it the certainty of ultimate safety. The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter- often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter- in the eye. My eye rose to his; and while I looked in his fierce face I gave an involuntary sigh; his gripe was painful, and my overtaxed strength almost exhausted.
'Never,' said he, as he ground his teeth, 'never was anything at once so frail and so indomitable. A mere reed she feels in my hand!' (And he shook me with the force of his hold.) 'I could bend her with my finger and thumb: and what good would it do if I bent, if I uptore, if I crushed her? Consider that eye: consider the resolute, wild, free thing looking out of it, defying me, with more than courage- with a stern triumph. Whatever I do with its cage, I cannot get at it- the savage, beautiful creature! If I tear, if I rend the slight prison, my outrage will only let the captive loose. Conqueror I might be of the house; but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dwelling-place. And it is you, spirit- with will and energy, and virtue and purity- that I want: not alone your brittle frame. Of yourself you could come with soft flight and nestle against my heart, if you would: seized against your will, you will elude the grasp like an essence- you will vanish ere I inhale your fragrance. Oh! come, Jane, come!'
As he said this, he released me from his clutch, and only looked at me. The look was far worse to resist than the frantic strain: only an idiot, however, would have succumbed now. I had dared and baffled his fury; I must elude his sorrow: retired to the door.
'You are going, Jane?'
'I am going, sir.'
'You are leaving me?'
'Yes.'
'You will not come? You will not be my comforter, my rescuer? My deep love, my wild woe, my frantic prayer, are all nothing to you?' What unutterable pathos was in his voice! How hard it was to reiterate firmly, 'I am going.'
'Jane!'
'Mr. Rochester!'
'Withdraw, then,- I consent; but remember, you leave me here in anguish. Go up to your own room; think over all I have said, and, Jane, cast a glance on my sufferings- think of me.'
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. 'Oh, Jane! my hope- my love- my life!' broke in anguish from his lips. Then came a deep, strong sob.
I had already gained the door; but, reader, I walked back- walked back as determinedly as I had retreated. I knelt down by him; I turned his face from the cushion to me; I kissed his cheek; I smoothed his hair with my hand.
'God bless you, my dear master!' I said. 'God keep you from harm and wrong- direct you, solace you- reward you well for your past kindness to me.'
'Little Jane's love would have been my best reward,' he answered; 'without it, my heart is broken. But Jane will give me her love: yes- nobly, generously.'
Up the blood rushed to his face; forth flashed the fire from his eyes; erect he sprang; he held his arms out; but I evaded the embrace, and at once quitted the room.
'Farewell!' was the cry of my heart as I left him. Despair added, 'Farewell for ever!'
. . . . . .
That night I never thought to sleep; but a slumber fell on me as soon as I lay down in bed. I was transported in thought to the scenes of childhood: I dreamt I lay in the red-room at Gateshead; that the night was dark, and my mind impressed with strange fears. The light that long ago had struck me into syncope, recalled in this vision, seemed glidingly to mount the wall, and tremblingly to pause in the centre of the obscured ceiling. I lifted up my head to look: the roof resolved to clouds, high and dim; the gleam was such as the moon imparts to vapours she is about to sever. I watched her come- watched with the strangest anticipation; as though some word of doom were to be written on her disk. She broke forth as never moon yet burst from cloud: a hand first penetrated the sable folds and waved them away; then, not a moon, but a white human form shone in the azure, inclining a glorious brow earthward. It gazed and gazed on me. It spoke to my spirit: immeasurably distant was the tone, yet so near, it whispered in my heart-
'My daughter, flee temptation.'
'Mother, I will.'
So I answered after I had waked from the trancelike dream. It was yet night, but July nights are short: soon after midnight, dawn comes. 
'It cannot be too early to commence the task I have to fulfil,' thought I. I rose: I was dressed; for I had taken off nothing but my shoes. I knew where to find in my drawers some linen, a locket, a ring. In seeking these articles, I encountered the beads of a pearl necklace Mr. Rochester had forced me to accept a few days ago. I left that; it was not mine: it was the visionary bride's who had melted in air. The other articles I made up in a parcel; my purse, containing twenty shillings (it was all I had), I put in my pocket:
I tied on my straw bonnet, pinned my shawl, took the parcel and my slippers, which I would not put on yet, and stole from my room.
'Farewell, kind Mrs. Fairfax!' I whispered, as I glided past her door. 'Farewell, my darling Adele! I said, as I glanced towards the nursery. No thought could be admitted of entering to embrace her. I had to deceive a fine ear: for aught I knew it might now be listening.
I would have got past Mr. Rochester's chamber without a pause; but my heart momentarily stopping its beat at that threshold, my foot was forced to stop also. No sleep was there: the inmate was walking restlessly from wall to wall; and again and again he sighed while I listened. There was a heaven- a temporary heaven- in this room for me, if I chose: I had but to go in and to say- 
'Mr. Rochester, I will love you and live with you through life till death,' and a fount of rapture would spring to my lips. I thought of this.
That kind master, who could not sleep now, was waiting with impatience for day. He would send for me in the morning; I should be gone. He would have me sought for: vainly. He would feel himself forsaken; his love rejected: he would suffer; perhaps grow desperate. I thought of this too. My hand moved towards the lock: I caught it back, and glided on.
Drearily I wound my way downstairs: I knew what I had to do, and I did it mechanically. I sought the key of the side-door in the kitchen; I sought, too, a phial of oil and a feather; I oiled the key and the lock. I got some water, I got some bread: for perhaps I should have to walk far; and my strength, sorely shaken of late, must not break down. All this I did without one sound. I opened the door, passed out, shut it softly. Dim dawn glimmered in the yard. 
The great gates were closed and locked; but a wicket in one of them was only latched. Through that I departed: it, too, I shut; and now I was out of Thornfield.
A mile off, beyond the fields, lay a road which stretched in the contrary direction to Millcote; a road I had never travelled, but often noticed, and wondered where it led: thither I bent my steps.
No reflection was to be allowed now: not one glance was to be cast back; not even one forward. Not one thought was to be given either to the past or to the future. The first was a page so heavenly sweet- so deadly sad- that to read one line of it would dissolve my courage and break down my energy. The last was an awful blank: something like the world when the deluge was gone by.
I skirted fields, and hedges, and lanes till after sunrise. I believe it was a lovely summer morning: I know my shoes, which I had put on when I left the house, were soon wet with dew. But I looked neither to rising sun, nor smiling sky, nor wakening nature. He who is taken out to pass through a fair scene to the scaffold, thinks not of the flowers that smile on his road, but of the block and axe-edge; of the disseverment of bone and vein; of the grave gaping at the end: and I thought of drear flight and homeless wandering- and oh!  with agony I thought of what I left. I could not help it. I thought of him now- in his room- watching the sunrise; hoping I should soon come to say I would stay with him and be his. I longed to be his; I panted to return: it was not too late; I could yet spare him the bitter pang of bereavement. As yet my flight, I was sure, was undiscovered. I could go back and be his comforter- his pride; his redeemer from misery, perhaps from ruin. Oh, that fear of his self-abandonment- far worse than my abandonment- how it goaded me!
It was a barbed arrow-head in my breast; it tore me when I tried to extract it; it sickened me when remembrance thrust it farther in.
Birds began singing in brake and copse: birds were faithful to their mates; birds were emblems of love. What was I? In the midst of my pain of heart and frantic effort of principle, I abhorred myself. I had no solace from self-approbation: none even from self-respect. I had injured- wounded- left my master. I was hateful in my own eyes.
Still I could not turn, nor retrace one step. God must have led me on. 
As to my own will or conscience, impassioned grief had trampled one and stifled the other. I was weeping wildly as I walked along my solitary way: fast, fast I went like one delirious. A weakness, beginning inwardly, extending to the limbs, seized me, and I fell: I lay on the ground some minutes, pressing my face to the wet turf. I had some fear- or hope- that here I should die: but I was soon up; crawling forwards on my hands and knees, and then again raised to my feet- as eager and as determined as ever to reach the road.
When I got there, I was forced to sit to rest me under the hedge;  and while I sat, I heard wheels, and saw a coach come on. I stood up and lifted my hand; it stopped. I asked where it was going: the driver named a place a long way off, and where I was sure Mr. Rochester had no connections. I asked for what sum he would take me there; he said thirty shillings; I answered I had but twenty; well, he would try to make it do. He further gave me leave to get into the inside, as the vehicle was empty: I entered, was shut in, and it rolled on its way.
Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonised as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love. 
下午某个时候，我抬起头来，向四周瞧了瞧，看见西沉的太阳正在墙上涂上金色的落日印记，我问道，“我该怎么办？”
我心灵的回答一一“立即离开桑菲尔德”——是那么及时，又那么可怕，我立即捂住了耳朵。我说，这些话我现在可受不了。“我不当爱德华．罗切斯特先生的新娘，是我痛苦中最小的一部份，”我断言，“我从一场美梦中醒来，发现全是竹篮打水一场空，这种恐惧我既能忍受，也能克服。不过要我义无反顾地马上离他而去却让我受不了，我不能这么做。”
但是，我内心的另一个声音却认为我能这样做，而且预言我应当这么做。我斟酌着这个决定，希望自己软弱些，以躲避已经为我铺下的可怕的痛苦道路。而良心己变成暴君，抓住激情的喉咙，嘲弄地告诉她，她那美丽的脚已经陷入了泥沼，还发誓要用铁臂把她推入深不可测的痛苦深渊。
“那么把我拉走吧！”我嚷道，“让别人来帮助我！”
“不，你得自己挣脱，没有人帮助你。你自己得剜出你的右眼；砍下你的右手，把你的心作为祭品而且要由你这位祭司把它刺穿。
我蓦地站了起来，被如此无情的法官所铸就的孤独，被充斥着如此可怕声音的寂静吓坏了。我站直时只觉得脑袋发晕。我明白自己由于激动和缺乏营养而感到不舒服。那天我没有吃早饭，肉和饮料都没有进过嘴。带着一种莫名的痛苦，我忽然回想起来，尽管我已在这里关了很久，但没有人带口信来问问我怎么样了，或者邀请我下楼去，甚至连阿黛勒也没有来敲我的门，费尔法克斯太太也没有来找我。“朋友们总是忘记那些被命运所抛弃的人，”我咕哝着，一面拉开门闩，走了出去。我在一个什么东西上绊了一下。因为我依然头脑发晕，视觉模糊，四肢无力，所以无法立刻控制住自己。我跌倒了，但没有倒在地上，一只伸出的手抓住了我。我抬起头来。——罗切斯特先生扶着我，他坐在我房门口的一把椅子上。
“你终于出来了，”他说，“是呀，我已经等了你很久了，而且细听着，但既没有听到一点动静，也没有听到一声哭泣，再过五分钟那么死一般的沉寂，我可要像盗贼那样破门而入了。看来，你避开我？——你把自己关起来，独自伤心？我倒情愿你厉声责备我。你易动感情，因此我估计会大闹一场。我准备你热泪如雨，只不过希望它落在我胸膛上，而现在，没有知觉的地板，或是你湿透了的手帕，接受了你的眼泪。可是我错了，你根本没有哭！我看到了白白的脸颊，暗淡的眼睛，却没有泪痕。那么我猜想，你的心一定哭泣着在流血？
“听着，简，没有一句责备的话吗？没有尖刻、辛辣的言词？没有挫伤感情或者打击热情的字眼？你静静地坐在我让你坐的地方，无精打采地看着我。
“简，我决不想这么伤害你，要是某人有一头亲如女儿的母羊，吃他的面包，饮用他的杯子，躺在他怀抱里，而由于某种疏忽，在屠场里宰了它，他对血的错误的悔恨决不会超过我现在的悔恨，你能宽恕我吗？”
读者！——我当时当地就宽恕了他。他的目光隐含着那么深沉的忏悔；语调里透出这样真实的憾意，举止中富有如此男子气的活力。此外，他的整个神态和风度中流露出那么矢志不移的爱情—一我全都宽恕了他，不过没有诉诸语言，没有表露出来，而只是掩藏在心底里。
“你知道我是个恶棍吗，简？”不久他若有所思地问——我想是对我继续缄默令神而感到纳闷，我那种心情是软弱而不是意志力的表现。
“是的，先生。”
“那就直截了当毫不留情地告诉我吧——别姑息我，”
“我不能，我既疲倦又不舒服。我想喝点儿水。”
他颤抖着叹了口气
Chapter 28
TWO days are passed. It is a summer evening; the coachman has set me down at a place called Whitcross; he could take me no farther for the sum I had given, and I was not possessed of another shilling in the world. The coach is a mile off by this time; I am alone. At this moment I discover that I forgot to take my parcel out of the pocket of the coach, where I had placed it for safety; there it remains, there it must remain; and now, I am absolutely destitute.Whitcross is no town, nor even a hamlet; it is but a stone pillar set up where four roads meet: whitewashed, I suppose, to be more obvious at a distance and in darkness. Four arms spring from its summit: the nearest town to which these point is, according to the inscription, distant ten miles; the farthest, above twenty. From the well-known names of these towns I learn in what county I have lighted; a north-midland shire, dusk with moorland, ridged with mountain: this I see. There are great moors behind and on each hand of me; there are waves of mountains far beyond that deep valley at my feet. The population here must be thin, and I see no passengers on these roads: they stretch out east, west, north, and south-white, broad, lonely; they are all cut in the moor, and the heather grows deep and wild to their very verge. Yet a chance traveller might pass by; and I wish no eye to see me now: strangers would wonder what I am doing, lingering here at the sign-post, evidently objectless and lost. I might be questioned: I could give no answer but what would sound incredible and excite suspicion. Not a tie holds me to human society at this moment- not a charm or hope calls me where my fellow-creatures are- none that saw me would have a kind thought or a good wish for me.
I have no relative but the universal mother, Nature: I will seek her breast and ask repose.
I struck straight into the heath; I held on to a hollow I saw deeply furrowing the brown moorside; I waded knee-deep in its dark growth; I turned with its turnings, and finding a moss-blackened granite crag in a hidden angle, I sat down under it. High banks of moor were about me; the crag protected my head: the sky was over that.
Some time passed before I felt tranquil even here: I had a vague dread that wild cattle might be near, or that some sportsman or poacher might discover me. If a gust of wind swept the waste, I looked up, fearing it was the rush of a bull; if a plover whistled, I imagined it a man. Finding my apprehensions unfounded, however, and calmed by the deep silence that reigned as evening declined at nightfall, I took confidence. As yet I had not thought; I had only listened, watched, dreaded; now I regained the faculty of reflection.
What was I to do? Where to go? Oh, intolerable questions, when I could do nothing and go nowhere!- when a long way must yet be measured by my weary, trembling limbs before I could reach human habitation- when cold charity must be entreated before I could get a lodging: reluctant sympathy importuned, almost certain repulse incurred, before my tale could be listened to, or one of my wants relieved!
I touched the heath: it was dry, and yet warm with the heat of the summer day. I looked at the sky; it was pure: a kindly star twinkled just above the chasm ridge. The day fell, but with propitious softness; no breeze whispered. Nature seemed to me benign and good;
I thought she loved me, outcast as I was; and I, who from man could anticipate only mistrust, rejection, insult, clung to her with filial fondness. To-night, at least, I would be her guest, as I was her child: my mother would lodge me without money and without price. I had one morsel of bread yet: the remnant of a roll I had bought in a town we passed through at noon with a stray penny- my last coin. I saw ripe bilberries gleaming here and there, like jet beads in the heath: I gathered a handful and ate them with the bread. My hunger, sharp before, was, if not satisfied, appeased by this hermit's meal. I said my evening prayers at its conclusion, and then chose my couch. 
Beside the crag the heath was very deep: when I lay down my feet were buried in it; rising high on each side, it left only a narrow space for the night-air to invade. I folded my shawl double, and spread it over me for a coverlet; a low, mossy swell was my pillow.
Thus lodged, I was not, at least at the commencement of the night, cold.
My rest might have been blissful enough, only a sad heart broke it.
It plained of its gaping wounds, its inward bleeding, its riven chords. It trembled for Mr. Rochester and his doom; it bemoaned him with bitter pity; it demanded him with ceaseless longing; and, impotent as a bird with both wings broken, it still quivered its shattered pinions in vain attempts to seek him.
Worn out with this torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky-way. Remembering what it was- what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light- I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Saviour of spirits.
Mr. Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded. I again nestled to the breast of the hill; and ere long in sleep forgot sorrow.
But next day, Want came to me pale and bare. Long after the little birds had left their nests; long after bees had come in the sweet prime of day to gather the heath honey before the dew was dried- when the long morning shadows were curtailed, and the sun filled earth and sky- I got up, and I looked round me.
What a still, hot, perfect day! What a golden desert this spreading moor! Everywhere sunshine. I wished I could live in it and on it. I saw a lizard run over the crag; I saw a bee busy among the sweet bilberries. I would fain at the moment have become bee or lizard, that I might have found fitting nutriment, permanent shelter here. But I was a human being, and had a human being's wants: I must not linger where there was nothing to supply them. I rose; I looked back at the bed I had left. Hopeless of the future, I wished but this- that my Maker had that night thought good to require my soul of me while I slept; and that this weary frame, absolved by death from further conflict with fate, had now but to decay quietly, and mingle in peace with the soil of this wilderness. Life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled. I set out.
Whitcross regained, I followed a road which led from the sun, now fervent and high. By no other circumstance had I will to decide my choice. I walked a long time, and when I thought I had nearly done enough, and might conscientiously yield to the fatigue that almost overpowered me- might relax this forced action, and, sitting down on a stone I saw near, submit resistlessly to the apathy that clogged heart and limb- I heard a bell chime- a church bell.
I turned in the direction of the sound, and there, amongst the romantic hills, whose changes and aspect I had ceased to note an hour ago, I saw a hamlet and a spire. All the valley at my right hand was full of pasture-fields, and cornfields, and wood; and a glittering stream ran zigzag through the varied shades of green, the mellowing grain, the sombre woodland, the clear and sunny lea.
Recalled by the rumbling of wheels to the road before me, I saw a heavily-laden waggon labouring up the hill, and not far beyond were two cows and their drover. Human life and human labour were near. I must struggle on: strive to live and bend to toil like the rest.
About two o'clock P.M. I entered the village. At the bottom of its one street there was a little shop with some cakes of bread in the window. I coveted a cake of bread. With that refreshment I could perhaps regain a degree of energy: without it, it would be difficult to proceed. The wish to have some strength and some vigour returned to me as soon as I was amongst my fellow-beings. I felt it would be degrading to faint with hunger on the causeway of a hamlet. Had I nothing about me I could offer in exchange for one of these rolls? I considered. I had a small silk handkerchief tied round my throat; I had my gloves. I could hardly tell how men and women in extremities of destitution proceeded. I did not know whether either of these articles would be accepted: probably they would not; but I must try.
I entered the shop: a woman was there. Seeing a respectably-dressed person, a lady as she supposed, she came forward with civility. How could she serve me? I was seized with shame: my tongue would not utter the request I had prepared. I dared not offer her the half-worn gloves, the creased handkerchief: besides, I felt it would be absurd. I only begged permission to sit down a moment, as I was tired.
Disappointed in the expectation of a customer, she coolly acceded to my request. She pointed to a seat; I sank into it. I felt sorely urged to weep; but conscious how unseasonable such a manifestation would be, I restrained it. Soon I asked her 'if there were any dressmaker or plain-workwoman in the village?'
'Yes; two or three. Quite as many as there was employment for.'
I reflected. I was driven to the point now. I was brought face to face with Necessity. I stood in the position of one without a resource, without a friend, without a coin. I must do something. What? I must apply somewhere. Where?
'Did she know of any place in the neighbourhood where a servant was wanted?'
'Nay; she couldn't say.'
'What was the chief trade in this place? What did most of the people do?'
'Some were farm labourers; a good deal worked at Mr. Oliver's needle-factory, and at the foundry.'
'Did Mr. Oliver employ women?'
'Nay; it was men's work.'
'And what do the women do?'
'I knawn't,' was the answer. 'Some does one thing, and some another. Poor folk mun get on as they can.'
She seemed to be tired of my questions: and, indeed, what claim had I to importune her? A neighbour or two came in; my chair was evidently wanted. I took leave.
I passed up the street, looking as I went at all the houses to the right hand and to the left; but I could discover no pretext, nor see an inducement to enter any. I rambled round the hamlet, going sometimes to a little distance and returning again, for an hour or more. Much exhausted, and suffering greatly now for want of food, I turned aside into a lane and sat down under the hedge. Ere many minutes had elapsed, I was again on my feet, however, and again searching something- a resource, or at least an informant. A pretty little house stood at the top of the lane, with a garden before it, exquisitely neat and brilliantly blooming. I stopped at it. What business had I to approach the white door or touch the glittering knocker? In what way could it possibly be the interest of the inhabitants of that dwelling to serve me? Yet I drew near and knocked.
A mild-looking, cleanly-attired young woman opened the door. In such a voice as might be expected from a hopeless heart and fainting frame- a voice wretchedly low and faltering- I asked if a servant was wanted here?
'No,' said she; 'we do not keep a servant.'
'Can you tell me where I could get employment of any kind?' I continued. 'I am a stranger, without acquaintance in this place. I want some work: no matter what.'
But it was not her business to think for me, or to seek a place for me: besides, in her eyes, how doubtful must have appeared my character, position, tale. She shook her head, she 'was sorry she could give me no information,' and the white door closed, quite gently and civilly: but it shut me out. If she had held it open a little longer, I believe I should have begged a piece of bread; for I was now brought low.
I could not bear to return to the sordid village, where, besides, no prospect of aid was visible. I should have longed rather to deviate to a wood I saw not far off, which appeared in its thick shade to offer inviting shelter; but I was so sick, so weak, so gnawed with nature's cravings, instinct kept me roaming round abodes where there was a chance of food. Solitude would be no solitude- rest no rest- while the vulture, hunger, thus sank beak and talons in my side.
I drew near houses; I left them, and came back again, and again I wandered away: always repelled by the consciousness of having no claim to ask- no right to expect interest in my isolated lot. Meantime, the afternoon advanced, while I thus wandered about like a lost and starving dog. In crossing a field, I saw the church spire before me: I hastened towards it. Near the churchyard, and in the middle of a garden, stood a well-built though small house, which I had no doubt was the parsonage. I remembered that strangers who arrive at a place where they have no friends, and who want employment, sometimes apply to the clergyman for introduction and aid. It is the clergyman's function to help- at least with advice- those who wished to help themselves. I seemed to have something like a right to seek counsel here. Renewing then my courage, and gathering my feeble remains of strength, I pushed on. I reached the house, and knocked at the kitchen-door. An old woman opened: I asked was this the parsonage?
'Yes.'
'Was the clergyman in?'
'No.'
'Would he be in soon?'
'No, he was gone from home.'
'To a distance?'
'Not so far- happen three mile. He had been called away by the sudden death of his father: he was at Marsh End now, and would very likely stay there a fortnight longer.'
'Was there any lady of the house?'
'Nay, there was naught but her, and she was housekeeper'; and of her, reader, I could not bear to ask the relief for want of which I was sinking; I could not yet beg; and again I crawled away.
Once more I took off my handkerchief- once more I thought of the cakes of bread in the little shop. Oh, for but a crust! for but one mouthful to allay the pang of famine! Instinctively I turned my face again to the village; I found the shop again, and I went in; and though others were there besides the woman I ventured the request- 
'Would she give me a roll for this handkerchief?'
She looked at me with evident suspicion: 'Nay, she never sold stuff i' that way.'
Almost desperate, I asked for half a cake; she again refused.
'How could she tell where I had got the handkerchief?' she said.
'Would she take my gloves?'
'No! what could she do with them?'
Reader, it is not pleasant to dwell on these details. Some say there is enjoyment in looking back to painful experience past; but at this day I can scarcely bear to review the times to which I allude: the moral degradation, blent with the physical suffering, form too distressing a recollection ever to be willingly dwelt on. I blamed none of those who repulsed me. I felt it was what was to be expected, and what could not be helped: an ordinary beggar is frequently an object of suspicion; a well-dressed beggar inevitably so. To be sure, what I begged was employment; but whose business was it to provide me with employment? Not, certainly, that of persons who saw me then for the first time, and who knew nothing about my character. And as to the woman who would not take my handkerchief in exchange for her bread, why, she was right, if the offer appeared to her sinister or the exchange unprofitable. Let me condense now. I am sick of the subject.
A little before dark I passed a farmhouse, at the open door of which the farmer was sitting, eating his supper of bread and cheese. I stopped and said-
'Will you give me a piece of bread? for I am very hungry.' He cast on me a glance of surprise; but without answering, he cut a thick slice from his loaf, and gave it to me. I imagine he did not think I was a beggar, but only an eccentric sort of lady, who had taken a fancy to his brown loaf. As soon as I was out of sight of his house, I sat down and ate it.
I could not hope to get a lodging under a roof, and sought it in the wood I have before alluded to. But my night was wretched, my rest broken: the ground was damp, the air cold: besides, intruders passed near me more than once, and I had again and again to change my quarters: no sense of safety or tranquillity befriended me. Towards morning it rained; the whole of the following day was wet. Do not ask me, reader, to give a minute account of that day; as before, I sought work; as before, I was repulsed; as before, I starved; but once did food pass my lips. At the door of a cottage I saw a little girl about to throw a mess of cold porridge into a pig trough. 'Will you give me that?' I asked.
She stared at me. 'Mother!' she exclaimed, 'there is a woman wants me to give her these porridge.'
'Well, lass,' replied a voice within, 'give it her if she's a beggar. T' pig doesn't want it.'
The girl emptied the stiffened mould into my hands and I devoured it ravenously.
As the wet twilight deepened, I stopped in a solitary bridle-path, which I had been pursuing an hour or more.
'My strength is quite failing me,' I said in a soliloquy. 'I feel I cannot go much farther. Shall I be an outcast again this night?
While the rain descends so, must I lay my head on the cold, drenched ground? I fear I cannot do otherwise: for who will receive me? But it will be very dreadful, with this feeling of hunger, faintness, chill, and this sense of desolation- this total prostration of hope.
In all likelihood, though, I should die before morning. And why cannot I reconcile myself to the prospect of death? Why do I struggle to retain a valueless life? Because I know, or believe, Mr. Rochester is living: and then, to die of want and cold is a fate to which nature cannot submit passively. Oh, Providence! sustain me a little longer!
Aid!- direct me!'
My glazed eye wandered over the dim and misty landscape. I saw I had strayed far from the village: it was quite out of sight. The very cultivation surrounding it had disappeared. I had, by cross-ways and by-paths, once more drawn near the tract of moorland; and now, only a few fields, almost as wild and unproductive as the heath from which they were scarcely reclaimed, lay between me and the dusky hill.
'Well, I would rather die yonder than in a street or on a frequented road,' I reflected. 'And far better that crows and ravens- if any ravens there be in these regions- should pick my flesh from my bones, than that they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and moulder in a pauper's grave.'
To the hill, then, I turned. I reached it. It remained now only to find a hollow where I could lie down, and feel at least hidden, if not secure. But all the surface of the waste looked level. It showed no variation but of tint: green, where rush and moss overgrew the marshes; black, where the dry soil bore only heath. Dark as it was getting, I could still see these changes, though but as mere alternations of light and shade; for colour had faded with the daylight.
My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor-edge, vanishing amidst the wildest scenery, when at one dim point, far in among the marshes and the ridges, a light sprang up. 'That is an ignis fatuus,' was my first thought; and I expected it would soon vanish. It burnt on, however, quite steadily, neither receding nor advancing. 'Is it, then, a bonfire just kindled?' I questioned. I watched to see whether it would spread: but no; as it did not diminish, 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 much too 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.'
And I sank down where I stood, and hid my face against the ground. I lay still a while: the night-wind swept over the hill and over me, and died moaning in the distance; the rain fell fast, wetting me afresh to the skin. Could I but have stiffened to the still frost- the friendly numbness of death- it might have pelted on; I should not have felt it; but my yet living flesh shuddered at its chilling influence. I rose ere long.
The light was yet there, shining dim but constant through the rain. 
I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towards it.
It led me aslant over the hill, through a wide bog, which would have been impassable in winter, and was splashy and shaking even now, in the height of summer. Here I fell twice; but as often I 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 to the light, which now beamed from a sort of knoll, amidst a clump of trees- firs, apparently, from what I could distinguish of the character of their forms and foliage through the gloom. My star vanished as I drew near: some obstacle had intervened between me and it. I put out my hand to feel the dark mass before me: I discriminated the rough stones of a low wall- above it, something like palisades, and within, a high and prickly hedge. I groped on. Again a whitish object gleamed before me: it was a gate- a wicket; it moved on its hinges as I touched it. On each side stood a sable bush- holly or yew.
Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a house rose to view, black, low, and rather long; but the guiding light shone nowhere. All was obscurity. Were the inmates retired to rest? I feared it must be so. In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot out the friendly gleam again, from the lozenged panes of a very small latticed window, within a foot of the ground, made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was set. The aperture was so screened and narrow, that curtain or shutter had been deemed unnecessary; and when I stooped down and put aside the spray of foliage shooting over it, I could see all within. I could see clearly a room with a sanded floor, clean scoured; a dresser of walnut, with pewter plates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness and radiance of a glowing peat-fire. I could see a clock, a white deal table, some chairs. The candle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on the table; and by its light an elderly woman, somewhat rough-looking, but scrupulously clean, like all about her, was knitting a stocking.
I noticed these objects cursorily only- in them there was nothing extraordinary. A group of more interest appeared near the hearth, sitting still amidst the rosy peace and warmth suffusing it. Two young, graceful women- ladies in every point- sat, one in a low rocking-chair, the other on a lower stool; both wore deep mourning of crape and bombazeen, which sombre garb singularly set off very fair necks and faces: a large old pointer dog rested its massive head on the knee of one girl- in the lap of the other was cushioned a black cat.
A strange place was this humble kitchen for such occupants! Who were they? They could not be the daughters of the elderly person at the table; for she looked like a rustic, and they were all delicacy 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 for the word: as they each bent over a book, they looked thoughtful almost to severity. A stand between them supported a second candle and two great volumes, to which they frequently referred, comparing them, seemingly, with the smaller books they held in their hands, like people consulting a dictionary to aid them in the task of translation. This scene was as silent as if all the figures had been shadows and the firelit apartment a picture: so hushed was it, I could hear the cinders fall from the grate, the clock tick in its obscure corner; and I even fancied I could distinguish the click-click of the woman's knitting-needles. When, therefore, a voice broke the strange stillness at last, it was audible enough to me.
'Listen, Diana,' said one of the absorbed students; 'Franz and old Daniel are together in the night-time, and Franz is telling a dream from which he has awakened in terror- listen!' And in a low voice she read something, of which not one word was intelligible to 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 been read. 
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 was only 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. 'There you have a dim and mighty archangel fitly set before you! The line is worth a hundred pages of fustian. "Ich wage die Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms." I like it!'
Both were again silent.
'Is there ony country where they talk i' that way?' asked the old woman, looking up from her knitting.
'Yes, Hannah- a far larger country than England, where they talk in no other way.'
'Well, for sure case, I knawn't how they can understand t'one t'other: and if either o' ye went there, ye could tell what they said, 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 speak German, 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 they say; 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 language with no master but a lexicon.'
'It is, especially such a language as this crabbed but glorious Deutsch. I wonder when St. John will come home.'
'Surely he will not be long now: it is just ten (looking at a little 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 saw a passage: soon I heard her stir a fire in an inner room; she presently 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 back in 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't wish him here again. And then, nobody need to have a quieter death nor 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 be sent for, he fair laughed at him. He began again with a bit of a heaviness in his head the next day- that is, a fortnight sin'- and he went to sleep and niver wakened: he wor a'most stark when your 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 like of different soart to them 'at's gone; for all your mother wor mich i' 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 were fair complexioned and slenderly made; both possessed faces full of distinction and intelligence. One, to be sure, had hair a shade darker than the other, and there was a difference in their style of wearing it; Mary's pale brown locks were parted and braided smooth: 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 will Mr. St. John when he comes in.'
And she proceeded to prepare the meal. The ladies rose; they seemed about to withdraw to the parlour. Till this moment, I had been so intent on watching them, their appearance and conversation had excited in me so keen an interest, I had half-forgotten my own wretched position: now it recurred to me. More desolate, more desperate than ever, it seemed from contrast. And how impossible did it appear to touch the inmates of this house with concern on my behalf; to make them believe in the truth of my wants and woes- to induce them to vouchsafe a rest for my wanderings! As I groped out the door, and knocked at it hesitatingly, I felt that last idea to be a mere chimera. Hannah opened.
'What do you want?' she inquired, in a voice of surprise, as she surveyed 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 do you 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 morsel of 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 we can'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 roving about 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. Mind you 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-'
'Indeed, I will not. You are not what you ought to be, or you wouldn't make such a noise. Move off.'
'But I must die if I am turned away.'
'Not you. I'm fear'd you have some ill plans agate, that bring you about folk's houses at this time o' night. If you've any followers- housebreakers or such like- anywhere near, you may tell them we are not by ourselves in the house; we have a gentleman, and dogs, and guns.' Here the honest but inflexible servant clapped the door to and bolted it within.
This was the climax. A pang of exquisite suffering- a throe of true despair- rent and heaved my heart. Worn out, indeed, I was; not another step could I stir. I sank on the wet doorstep: I groaned- I wrung my hands- I wept in utter anguish. Oh, this spectre of death!
Oh, this last hour, approaching in such horror! Alas, this isolation- this banishment from my kind! Not only the anchor of hope, but the footing of fortitude was gone- at least for 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 wait His will in silence.'
These words I not only thought, but uttered; and thrusting back all my misery into my heart, I made an effort to compel it to remain there- dumb and still.
'All men must die,' said a voice quite close at hand; 'but all are not condemned to meet a lingering and premature doom, such as yours 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. A form was near- what form, the pitch-dark night and my enfeebled vision prevented me from distinguishing. With a loud long knock, the newcomer 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 believe there are bad folks about. There has been a beggar-woman- I declare she is not gone yet!- laid down there. Get up! for shame! Move off, I say!'
'Hush, Hannah! I have a word to say to the woman. You have done your duty in excluding, now let me do mine in admitting her. I was near, and listened to both you and her. I think this is a peculiar case- I must at least examine into it. Young woman, rise, and pass before me into the house.'
With difficulty I obeyed him. Presently I stood within that clean, bright kitchen- on the very hearth- trembling, sickening; conscious of an aspect in the last degree ghastly, wild, and weather-beaten. The two ladies, their brother, Mr. St. John, the old 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: let her sit.'
And indeed my head swam: I dropped, but a chair received me. I still 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 piece of bread.'
Diana (I knew her by the long curls which I saw drooping between me and the fire as she bent over me) broke some bread, dipped it in milk, and put it to my lips. Her face was near mine: I saw there was pity in it, and I felt sympathy in her hurried breathing. In her simple words, too, the same balm-like emotion spoke: 'Try to eat.'
'Yes- try,' repeated Mary gently; and Mary's hand removed my sodden 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; 'she has had enough.' And he withdrew the cup of milk and the plate of bread.
'A little more, St. John- look at the avidity in her eyes.'
'No more at present, sister. Try if she can speak now- ask her her 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 assume an alias.
'And where do you live? Where are your friends?'
I was silent.
'Can we send for any one you know?'
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 longer outcast, vagrant, and disowned by the wide world. I dared to put off the mendicant- to resume my natural manner and character. I began once more to know myself; and when Mr. St. John demanded an 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 short answers.
Diana took the word- 
'Do you mean,' she asked, 'that we have now given you what aid you require? and that we may dismiss you to the moor and the rainy night?'
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 will trust you. If I were a masterless and stray dog, I know that you would not turn me from your hearth to-night: as it is, I really have no fear. Do with me and for me as you like; but excuse me from much discourse- my breath is short- I feel a spasm when I speak.' All three surveyed me, and all three were silent.
'Hannah,' said Mr. St. John, at last, 'let her sit there at present, and ask her no questions; in ten minutes more, give her the remainder of that milk and bread. Mary and Diana, let us go into the parlour and talk the matter over.'
They withdrew. Very soon one of the ladies returned- I could not tell which. A kind of pleasant stupor was stealing over me as I sat by the genial fire. In an undertone she gave some directions to Hannah.
Ere long, with the servant's aid, I contrived to mount a staircase; my dripping clothes were removed; soon a warm, dry bed received me. I thanked God- experienced amidst unutterable exhaustion a glow of grateful joy- and slept. 两天过去了。夏天的一个傍晚，马车夫让我在一个叫作惠特克劳斯的地方下了车，凭我给的那点钱他已无法再把我往前拉，而在这个世上，我连一个先令也拿不出来了。此刻，马车已驶出一英里，撇下我孤单一人。这时我才发现忘了从马车贮物箱里把包裹拿出来了，我把它放在那儿原本是为了安全，不想就那么留下了，准是留在那儿，而我已经莫名一文了。
惠特克劳斯不是一个镇，连乡村也不是。它不过是一根石柱，竖在四条路汇合的地方：粉刷得很白，想必是为了在远处和黑夜显得更醒目。柱顶上伸出四个指路标，按上面的标识看，这个交汇点距最近的城镇十英里，离最远的超过二十英里。从这些熟悉的镇名来判断，我明白我在什么郡下了车。这是中部偏北的一个郡，看得出来荒野幽暗，山峦层叠。我身后和左右是大荒原，我脚下深谷的远处，是一片起伏的山林。这里人口必定稀少，因为路上不见行人。一条条道路伸向东南西北——灰白、宽敞、孤零，全都穿过荒原，路边长着茂密的欧石南。但偶尔也有路人经过，现在我却不希望有人看见我那么在路标下徘徊，显得毫无目的，不知所措，陌生人会不知道我在干什么。我也许会受到盘问，除了说些听来不可信和令人生疑的话之外，会无言以对。这一时刻我与人类社会完全失去了联系——没有一丝魅力或是希望把我召唤到我的同类那里，——没有谁见到我会对我表示一丝善意或良好的祝愿。我没有亲人，只有万物之母大自然。我会投向她的怀抱，寻求安息。
我径直走进欧石南丛，看见棕色的荒原边上有一条深陷的沟壑，便一直沿着它往前走去，穿行在没膝的青色树丛中，顺着一个个弯道拐了弯，在一个隐蔽的角落找到了一块布满青苔的花岗岩，在底下坐了下来。我周围是荒原高高的边沿，头上有岩石保护着，岩石上面是天空。即使在这儿，我也过了好一会才感到宁静。我隐约担心附近会有野兽。或者某个狩猎人或偷猎者会发现我。要是一阵风刮起了荒草，我就会抬起头来，深怕是一头野牛冲将过来了。要是一只行鸟叫了一下，我会想象是一个人的声音。然而我发现自己的担忧不过是捕风捉影，此外黄昏过后夜幕降临时深沉的寂静，使我镇定了下来，我便有了信心。但在这之前我没有思考过，只不过细听着，担心着，观察着。而现在我又恢复了思索的能力。
我该怎么办？往哪儿去？呵，当我无法可想，无处可去的时候，那些问题多么难以忍受呀！我得用疲乏颤抖的双腿走完很长的路，才能抵达有人烟的地方——我要恳求发点冷冷的慈悲，才能找到一个投宿之处；我要强求勉为其难的同情，而且多半还会遭人嫌弃，才能使人听听我的经历，满足我的需要。
我碰了碰欧石南，只觉得它很干燥，还带着夏日热力的微温。我看了看天空，只见它清明纯净，一颗星星在山凹上空和蔼地眨眼。露水降下来了，带着慈爱的温柔。没有微风在低语。大自然似乎对我很慈祥，虽然我成了流浪者，但我想她很爱我。我从人那儿只能期待怀疑、嫌弃和侮辱，我要忠心耿耿一往情深地依恋大自然。至少今晚我可以在那儿作客了——因为我是她的孩子，我的母亲会收留我，不要钱，不要付出代价。我还有一口吃剩的面包，那面包是我用一便士零钱——我最后的一枚硬币，从下午路过的小镇买来的。我看到了成熟的越桔——像欧石南丛中的煤玉那样，随处闪着光。我采集了一大把，和着面包吃。我刚才还饥肠辘辘，隐士的食品虽然吃不饱，却足以充饥了。吃完饭我做了夜祷告，随后便择榻就寝了。
岩石旁边，欧石南长得很高。我一躺下，双脚便陷了进去，两边的石楠高高坚起，只留下很窄的一块地方要受夜气侵袭。我把披肩一摺为二，铺在身上作盖被，一个长满青苔的低矮小墩当了枕头。我就这么住下了，至少在夜刚来临时，是觉得冷的。
我的安息本来也许是够幸福的，可惜让一颗悲伤的心破坏了，它泣诉着自己张开的伤口、流血的心扉、折断的心弦。它为罗切斯特先生和他的灭亡而颤抖，因为痛惜而为他恸哭。它带着无休止的渴望召唤他，尽管它像断了双翅的小鸟那样无能为力，却仍旧抖动着断翅，徒劳地找寻着他。
我被这种念头折磨得疲乏不堪，于是便起来跪着。夜已来临，星星已经升起，这是一个平安宁静的夜，平静得与恐怖无缘。我们知道上帝无处不在，但当他的劳作壮丽地展现在我们面前时，我们才最感觉到他的存在。在万里无云的夜空中，在他的宇宙无声地滚滚向前的地方，我们清楚地看到了他的无边无涯，他的万能，他无处不在。我已起来跪着为罗切斯特先生祈祷。抬起头来，我泪眼朦胧地看到了浩瀚的银河。一想起银河是什么——那里有无数的星系像一道微光那么扫过太空——我便感到了上帝的巨大力量。我确信他有能力拯救他的创造物，更相信无论是地球，还是它所珍爱的一个灵魂，都不会毁灭。我把祈祷的内容改为感恩。生命的源泉也是灵魂的救星。罗切斯特先生会安然无恙。他属于上帝，上帝会保护他。我再次投入小山的怀抱，不久，在沉睡中便忘掉了忧愁。
但第二天，苍白赤裸的匮乏，幽灵似地来到我身边。小鸟早已离开他们的巢穴，早露未干蜜蜂便早已在一天的黄金时刻飞到欧石南丛中采蜜，早晨长长的影子缩短了，太阳普照大地和天空——我才起身，朝四周看了看。
一个多么宁静、炎热的好天！一望无际的荒原多像一片金灿灿的沙漠！处处都是阳光。我真希望自己能住在这里，并以此为生。我看见一条蜥蜴爬过岩石，一只蜜蜂在甜蜜的越桔中间忙碌。此刻我愿做蜜蜂或蜥蜴，能在这里找到合适的养料和永久的住处。但我是人，有着人的需求。我可不能逗留在一个无法满足这种需求的地方，我站了起来，回头看了一眼我留下的床铺。我感到前途无望，但愿造物主认为有必要在夜里我熟睡时把我的灵魂要去；但愿我这疲乏的身躯能因为死亡而摆脱同命运的进一步搏斗；但愿它此刻无声无息地腐败，平静地同这荒原的泥土融为一体。然而，我还有生命，还有生命的一切需要、痛苦和责任。包袱还得背着；需要还得满足；痛苦还得忍受；责任还是要尽。于是我出发了。
我再次来到惠特克劳斯，这时骄阳高照。我选了一条背阳的路，我已无心根据其他请况来作出选择了。我走了很久，以为自己差不多走得够了，可以心安理得地向几乎把我压垮的疲劳屈服——可以放松一下这种强迫的活动了，于是在我附近看到的一块石头上坐了下来，听任心脏和四肢感到麻木。就在这时我听见钟声响了—一教堂的钟声。
我转向声音传来的方向。在那里，我一小时之前就已不去注意其变幻和外观富有浪漫色彩的山峦之间，我看到了一个村庄和尖顶。我左侧的山谷满眼都是牧地、玉米地和树林。一条闪光的小溪弯弯曲曲地流过深浅各异的绿荫，流过正在成熟的稻谷，暗淡的树林，明净而充满阳光的草地。前面路上传来了隆隆的车轮声，我回过神来，看见一辆重载的大车，吃力地爬上了小山。不远的地方有两头牛和一个牧人。附近就有人在生活和劳作，我得挣扎下去，像别人那样努力去生活和操劳。
约摸下午两点，我进了村庄。一条街的尽头开着一个小店，窗里放着一些面包。我对一块面包很眼馋。有那样一块点心，我也许还能恢复一点力气，要是没有，再往前走就困难了。一回到我的同类之间，心头便又升起了要恢复精力的愿望。我觉得昏倒在一个小村的大路上很丢脸。难道我身上就连换取几块面包的东西都没有了吗？我想了一想。我有一小块丝绸围巾围在脖子上，还有一双手套。我难以表达贫困潦倒中的男女是怎么度日的。我不知道这两件东西是否会被人接受。可能他们不会要，但我得试一试。
我走进了店里，里面有一个女人。她见是一位穿著体面的人，猜想是位贵妇，于是便很有礼貌地走上前来。她怎么来照应我呢？我羞愧难当。我的舌头不愿吐出早已想好的要求。我不敢拿出旧了的手套，皱巴巴的围巾。另外，我还觉得这很荒唐。我只求她让我坐一会儿，因为我累了。她没有盼到一位雇客，很是失望，冷冷地答应了我的要求。她指了指一个座位，我一屁股坐了下来。我很想哭，但意识到那种表现会不合情理，便忍住了。我立刻问她“村子里有没有裁缝或者做做一般针线活的女人？”
“有，有两三个。按活计算也就够多的了。”
我沉思了一下。现在我不得不直说了。我己经面临困境，落到了没有食物，没有朋友，没有一文钱的地步。我得想点办法。什么办法呢？我得上什么地方去求助。上哪个地方呢？
“你知道附近有谁需要佣人吗？”
“不，我说不上来。”
“这个地方的主要行业是什么？大多数人是干什么活儿的？”
“有些是农场工，很多人在奥利弗先生的缝纫厂和翻砂厂工作。”
“奥利弗先生雇用女人吗？”
“不，那是男人的工作。”
“那么女人干什么呢，”
“我说不上来，”对方回答，
“有的干这，有的干那，穷人总得想方设法把日子过下去呀。”
她似乎对我的回话不耐烦了，其实我又何必强人所难呢？这时进来了一两位邻居，很明显看中了我的椅子，我起身告辞了。
我沿街走去，一面走一面左顾右盼，打量着所有的房子，但找不到进门的借口或动机。我这么漫无目的地绕着村庄走了一个来小时，有时走远了一些，又折回来。因为没有东西下肚，我筋疲力尽难受极了，于是折进一条小巷，在树篱下坐了下来。可是没过几分钟我又站起来，再去找些什么——食物，或者至少打听到一点消息。小巷的高处有一间漂亮的小房子，房子前有一个精致整洁、繁花盛开的花园，我在花园旁边停了下来，我有什么理由走近白色的门，去敲响闪光的门环呢？房主人又怎么会有兴趣来照应我呢？但我还是走近去敲了门。一位和颜悦色穿著干净的年轻女子开了门。我用一个内心绝望，身怀虚弱的人那种可怜低沉、吞吞吐吐的音调——问她是不是要一个佣人？
“不要，”她说“我们不雇佣人。”
“你能不能告诉我，哪儿能找到工作吗？”我继续问。“这个地方我很陌生，没有熟人，想找个工作，什么样的都行。”
但为我想一个，或者找一个工作不是她的事儿，更何况在她看来，我的为人、我的状况和我说的原委一定显得很可疑，她摇了摇头，“很遗憾我没法给你提供消息，”白色的门尽管轻轻地、很有礼貌地合上了，但毕竟把我关出了门外。要是她让门再开一会儿，我相信准会向她讨点面包，因为现在我已落到十分下贱的地步了。
我不忍再返回龌龊的庄子，况且那儿也没有希望得到帮助。我本想绕道去一个看得见的不远的林子。那里浓荫盖地，似乎有可能提供诱人的落脚地方。但是我那么病弱，那么为天性的渴求所折磨、本能使我只绕着有机会得到食品的住处转。当饥饿像猛禽—样嘴爪俱下抓住我时、孤独也不成其孤独，歇息也谈不上歇息了。
我走近了住家，走开了又回来，回来了又走开。总有被一种意识所击退，觉得没有理由提出要求，没有权利期望别人对我孤独的命运发生兴趣。我像一条迷路的饿狗那么转来转去，一直到了下午，我穿过田野的时候，看到前面的教堂尖顶，便急步朝它走去。靠近教堂院子和一个花园的中间，有一所虽然不大但建造得很好的房子，我确信那是牧师的住所，我想起来，陌生人到了一个无亲无故的地方，想找个工作，有时会去找牧师引荐和帮助。给那些希望自立的人帮忙一—至少是出主意是牧师份内的事儿。我似乎有某种权利上那儿去听主意。于是我鼓起勇气，集中起一点点残留的力气，奋力往前走去。我到了房子跟前，敲了敲厨房的门。一位老妇开了门，我问她这是不是牧师的住所。
“是的。”
“牧师在吗？”
“没有。”
“很快会回来吗？”
“不，他离开家了。”
“去很远的地方？”
“不太远一—三英里。他因为父亲突然去世被叫走了，眼下住在沼泽居，很可能还要再呆上两周。”
“家里有哪位小姐在吗？”
“没有，除了我没有别人，而我是管家。”读者呀，我不忍求她帮我摆脱越陷越深的困境，而我又不能乞讨，于是我再次退缩
我又取下了围巾—一又想起了小店的面包。呵，就是一片面包屑也好！只要有一口就能减轻饥饿的痛苦，我本能地又把脸转向了村庄，我又看见了那个店，走了进去，尽管除了那女人里面还有其他人，我冒昧地提出了请求“你肯让我用这块围巾换一个面包卷吗？”
她显然满腹狐疑地看着我，“不，我从来不那么卖东西。”
在几乎走投无路之中，我央求她换半个，她再次拒绝了。“我怎么知道你从什么地方弄来的围巾？”她说。
“你肯收这双手套吗？”
“不行，我要它干什么？”
读者呀，叙述这些细节是不愉快的。有人说，回首痛苦的往事是一种享受。但就是在今天，我也不忍回顾我提到的那些时日，道德的堕落搀和着肉体的煎熬，构成了我不愿重提的痛苦回忆。我不责备任何一个冷眼待我的人，觉得这尽在意料之中，也是无可避免的。一个普通的乞丐往往是怀疑的对象，而一个穿著体面的乞丐，就必定是这样了。当然，我只恳求工作，但给我活干又是谁的事儿呢？当然不是那些初次见我，对我的为人一无所知的人的事。至于那个女人不肯让我用围巾换面包，那也是难怪的，要是我的提议在她后来居心叵测，或是这桩交换无利可图，那她的做法也是不错的。让我长话短说吧，我讨厌这个话题。
天快黑的时候，我走过一家农户。农夫坐在敞开着的门口，正用面包和奶酪作晚餐。我站住说：
“能给我一片面包吗？因为我实在饿得慌。”他惊异地看了我一眼，但二话没说，便切了一厚片面包给我。我估计他并不认为我是个乞丐，而只是一位怪僻的贵妇，看中了他的黑面包了。我一走到望不见他屋子的地方，便坐下吃了起来。
既然我无法期望在屋檐下借宿，那就让我到前面提到的林子里去过夜吧。但是那晚很糟糕，休息断断续续，地面很潮湿，空气十分寒冷，此外，不止一次地有外人路过，弄得我一次次换地方，没有安全感，也得不到清静。临近早晨天下雨了，第二天下了一整天。读者呀，别要我把那天的情况说个仔细。我像以前一样寻找工作，像以前一样遭到拒绝，像以前一样挨饿。不过有一回食物倒是进了嘴。在一间小茅屋门口，我看见一个小女孩正要把糊糟糟的冷粥倒进猪槽里。
“可以把它给我吗？”我问。
她瞪着我。“妈妈！”她嚷道，“有个女的要我把粥给她。”
“行呵，孩子，”里边的一个声音回答，“要是她是个乞丐，那就给了她吧，猪也不会要吃的。”
这女孩把结了块的粥倒在我手上，我狼吞虎咽地吃掉了。
湿润的黄昏越来越浓时，我在一条偏僻的马道上走了一个多小时后停了下来。
“我体力不行了，”我自言自语地说。“自己觉得走不了多远了。难道今晚又没有地方投宿？雨下得那么大，难道我又得把头靠在阴冷湿透的地面上吗？我担心自己别无选择了。谁肯接纳我呢？但是带着这种饥饿、昏眩、寒冷、凄楚的感觉—一一种绝望的心情，那着实可怕。不过很可能我捱不到早上就会死去。那么我为什么不能心甘情愿地死掉呢？为什么我还要挣扎来维持没有价值的生命？因为我知道，或是相信，罗切斯特先生还活着，另外，死于饥寒是天性所不能默认的命运。呵，上天呀！再支撑我一会儿！帮助我一—指引我吧！”
我那呆滞的眼睛徘徊在暗沉沉、雾蒙蒙的山水之间。我发现自己已远离村庄，因为它已在我视线中消失，村子周围的耕地也不见了。我已经穿小径，抄近路再次靠近了一大片荒原。此刻，在我与黑糊糊的小山之间，只有几小片田野，几乎没有很好开垦，和原来的欧石南差不多一样荒芜和贫瘠。
“是呀，与其倒毙街头或死在人来人往的路上，倒不加死到那边去，”我沉思着。“让乌鸦和渡鸦——要是那些地区有渡鸦的话——啄我骨头上的肉比装在贫民院的棺材里和穷光蛋的墓穴中要强。”
随后我折向那座小山，并到了那里。现在就只剩找个能躺下来的地方了，就是并不安全，至少也是隐蔽的。可是荒原的表面看上去都一样平坦，只有色彩上有些差别；灯心草和苔藓茂密生长的湿地呈青色；而只长欧石南的干土壤是黑色的。虽然夜越来越黑，但我仍能看清这些差别，尽管它不过是光影的交替，因为颜色已经随日光而褪尽了。
我的目光仍在暗淡的高地游弋，并沿着消失在最荒凉的景色中的荒原边缘逡巡。这时，远在沼泽和山脊之中，一个模糊的点，一道光跃入我眼帘。“那是鬼火，”是我第一个想法，我估计它会立即消失。然而，那光继续亮着，显得很稳定，既不后退，也不前进。“难道是刚点燃的篝火？”我产生了疑问。我注视着，看它会不会扩散。但没有，它既不缩小，也不扩大。“这也许是一间房子里的烛光。”我随后揣想着，“即便那样，我也永远到不了那儿了。它离这儿太远，可就是离我一码远，又有什么用？我只会敲，开门，又当着我面关上。”
我就在站立的地方颓然倒下，把头埋进地里，静静地躺了一会。夜风刮过小山，吹过我身上，呜咽着在远处消失。雨下得很大，重又把我浇透。要是这么冻成了冰块一—那么友好地麻木而死——雨点也许还会那么敲击着；而我毫无感觉。可是我依然活着的肉体，在寒气的侵袭下颤抖，不久我便站了起来。
那光仍在那边，在雨中显得朦胧和遥远。我试着再走，拖着疲乏的双腿慢慢地朝它走去。它引导我穿过一个宽阔的泥沼，从斜刺里上了山。要是在冬天，这个泥沼是没法通过的，就是眼下盛夏，也是泥浆四溅，一步一摇晃。我跌倒了两次，两次都爬起来，振作起精神。那道光是我几乎无望的希望，我得赶到那里。
穿过沼泽我看到荒原上有一条白印子，我向它走去，见是一条大路或是小径，直通那道正从树丛中一个小土墩上射来的光。在昏暗中从树形和树叶能分辨出，那显然是杉木树丛，我一走近，我的星星便不见了，原来某些障碍把它和我隔开了，我伸出手在面前一团漆黑中摸索。我辨认出了一堵矮墙的粗糙石头—一上面象是—道栅栏，里面是高而带刺的篱笆。我继续往前摸。那白色东西歪又在我面前闪光了，原来是一条门——一条旋转门，我一碰便在铰链上转了起来。门两边各有一丛黑黑的灌木——是冬青或是紫杉。
进了门，走过灌木，眼前便现出了一所房子的剪影，又黑又矮却相当长。但是那道引路的光却消失了，一切都模模糊糊。难道屋里的人都安息了？我担心准是这样。我转了一个角度去找门，那里又闪起了友好的灯光，是从一尺之内一扇格子小窗的菱形玻璃上射出来的，那扇窗因为长青藤或是满墙的爬藤类植物的叶子，显得更小了。留下的空隙那么小，又覆盖得那么好，窗帘和百叶窗似乎都没有必要了。我弯腰撩开窗户上浓密的小枝条，里面的一切便看得清清楚楚了。我能看得清房间的沙子地板擦得干干净净。还有一个核桃木餐具柜，上面放着一排排锡盘，映出了燃烧着的泥炭火的红光。我能看得见一只钟、一张白色的松木桌和几把椅子，桌子上点着一根蜡烛，烛光一直是我的灯塔。一个看去有些粗糙，但也像她周围的一切那样一尘不染的老妇人，借着烛光在编织袜子。
我只是粗略地看了看这些东西，——它们并没有不同寻常的地方。令我更感兴趣的是火炉旁的一群人，在洋溢着的玫瑰色的宁静和暖意中默默地坐着。两个年轻高雅的女子一一从各方面看都像贵妇人——坐着，一个坐在低低的摇椅里；另一个坐在一条更矮的凳子上。两人都穿戴了黑纱和毛葛的重丧服，暗沉沉的服饰格外烘托出她们白皙的脖子和面孔。一只大猎狗把它巨大无比的头靠在一个姑娘膝头，——另一个姑娘的膝头则偎着一只黑猫。
这个简陋的厨房里居然呆着这样两个人，真是奇怪。她们会是谁呢，不可能是桌子旁边那个长者的女儿，因为她显得很土，而她们却完全是高雅而有教养。我没有在别处看到过这样的面容，然而我盯着她们看时，却似乎觉得熟悉每一个面部特征。她们说不上漂亮一—过份苍白严肃了些，够不上这个词。两人都低头看书，显得若有所思，甚至还有些严厉。她们之间的架子上放着第二根蜡烛，和两大卷书，两人不时地翻阅着，似乎还在与手中的小书作比较，像是在查阅词典，翻译什么一样。这一幕静得仿佛所有的人都成了影子，生了火的房间活像一幅画。这儿那么静谧，我能听到煤渣从炉栅上落下的声音，昏暗的角落时钟的嘀嗒声，我甚至想象我能分辨出那女人嚓嚓嚓嚓的编织声，因而当一个嗓音终于打破奇怪的宁静时，我足以听得分明。
“听着，黛安娜，”两位专心致志的学生中的一位说，“费朗茨和老丹尼尔在一起过夜。费朗茨正说起一个梦，这个梦把他给吓醒——听着！”她声音放得很低，读了什么东西，我连一个字也没听懂，因为这是一种完全陌生的语言——既不是法文，也不是拉丁。至于是希腊文还是德文，我无法判断。
“那说得很有力，”她念完后说，“我很欣赏。”另一位抬头听着她妹妹的站娘，一面凝视炉火，一面重复了刚才读过的一行。后来，我知道了那种语言和那本书，所以我要在这里加以引用，尽管我当初听来，仿佛是敲在铜器上的响声一—不传达任何意义：
“Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehn wie die Sternen Nacht”“妙！妙！”她大嚷着，乌黑深沉的眼睛闪着光芒。“你面前恰好站了一位模糊而伟大的天使！这一行胜过一百页浮华的文章。‘Ich wage die Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms’我喜欢它！”
两人沉默了，
“有哪个国家的人是那么说话的？”那老妇人停下手头的编织、抬起头来问。
“有的、汉娜一—一个比英国要大得多的国家、那里的人就只这么说。”
“噢，说真的，我不知道他们彼此怎么能明白，要是你们谁上那儿去，我想你们能懂他说的话吧？”
“他们说的我们很可能只懂—些，不是全部都懂——因为我们不像你想象的那么聪明，汉娜，我们不会说德语，而且不借助词典还读不懂。”
“那这对你们有什么用？”
“某一天我们想教德语——或者像他们说的，至少教基础，然后我们会比现在赚更多的钱，”
“很可能的，不过今晚你们读得够多了。该停止了。”
“我想是够多了，至少我倦了，玛丽，你呢？”
“累极了，那么孜孜不倦学一门语言，没有老师，只靠一部词典，毕竟是吃力的。”
“是呀，尤其是像德语这样艰涩而出色的语言。不知道圣.约翰什么时候会回家来。”
“现在肯定不会太久了，才十点呢（她从腰带里掏出一只小小的金表来，看了一眼）”。“雨下得很大，汉娜。请你看一下客厅里的火炉好吗？”
那妇人站起来，开了门。从门外望进去，我依稀看到了一条过道。不一会我听她在内间拨着火，她马上又返回了。
“呵，孩子们！”她说，“这会儿进那边的房间真让我难受。椅子空空的，都靠后摆在角落里，看上去很冷清。”
她用围裙揩了揩眼睛，两位神情严肃的姑娘这时也显得很关心。
“不过他在一个更好的地方了，”汉娜继续说：“我们不该再盼他在这里。而且，谁也不会比他死得更安详了。”
“你说他从没提起过我们？”一位小姐问。
“他来不及提了，孩子，他一下子就去了——你们的父亲。像前一天一样，他一直有点痛，但不严重。圣.约翰先生问他，是否要派人去叫你们两个中的一个回来，他还笑他呢。第二天他的头开始有点沉重——那是两周以前——他睡过去了，再也没有醒来。你们兄弟进房间发现他的时候，他差不多已经
Chapter 29
THE recollection of about three days and nights succeeding this is very dim in my mind. I can recall some sensations felt in that interval; but few thoughts framed, and no actions performed. I knew I was in a small room and in a narrow bed. To that bed I seemed to have grown; I lay on it motionless as a stone; and to have torn me from it would have been almost to kill me. I took no note of the lapse of time- of the change from morning to noon, from noon to evening. I observed when any one entered or left the apartment: I could even tell who they were; I could understand what was said when the speaker stood near to me; but I could not answer; to open my lips or move my limbs was equally impossible. Hannah, the servant, was my most frequent visitor. Her coming disturbed me. I had a feeling that she wished me away: that she did not understand me or my circumstances; that she was prejudiced against me. Diana and Mary appeared in the chamber once or twice a day. They would whisper sentences of this sort at my bedside-'It is very well we took her in.'
'Yes; she would certainly have been found dead at the door in the morning had she been left out all night. I wonder what she has gone through?'
'Strange hardships, I imagine- poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer?' 
'She is not an uneducated person, I should think, by her manner of speaking; her accent was quite pure; and the clothes she took off, though splashed and wet, were little worn and fine.'
'She has a peculiar face; fleshless and haggard as it is, I rather like it; and when in good health and animated, I can fancy her physiognomy would be agreeable.'
Never once in their dialogues did I hear a syllable of regret at the hospitality they had extended to me, or of suspicion of, or aversion to, myself. I was comforted.
Mr. St. John came but once: he looked at me, and said my state of lethargy was the result of reaction from excessive and protracted fatigue. He pronounced it needless to send for a doctor: nature, he was sure, would manage best, left to herself. He said every nerve had been overstrained in some way, and the whole system must sleep torpid a while. There was no disease. He imagined my recovery would be rapid enough when once commenced. These opinions he delivered in a few words, in a quiet, low voice; and added, after a pause, in the tone of a man little accustomed to expansive comment, 'Rather an unusual physiognomy; certainly, not indicative of vulgarity or degradation.'
'Far otherwise,' responded Diana. 'To speak truth, St. John, my heart rather warms to the poor little soul. I wish we may be able to benefit her permanently.'
'That is hardly likely,' was the reply. 'You will find she is some young lady who has had a misunderstanding with her friends, and has probably injudiciously left them. We may, perhaps, succeed in restoring her to them, if she is not obstinate: but I trace lines of force in her face which make me sceptical of her tractability.' He stood considering me some minutes; then added, 'She looks sensible, but not at all handsome.'
'She is so ill, St. John.'
'Ill or well, she would always be plain. The grace and harmony of beauty are quite wanting in those features.'
On the third day I was better; on the fourth, I could speak, move, rise in bed, and turn. Hannah had brought me some gruel and dry toast, about, as I supposed, the dinner-hour. I had eaten with relish: the food was good- void of the feverish flavour which had hitherto poisoned what I had swallowed. When she left me, I felt comparatively strong and revived: ere long satiety of repose and desire for action stirred me. I wished to rise; but what could I put on? Only my damp and bemired apparel; in which I had slept on the ground and fallen in the marsh. I felt ashamed to appear before my benefactors so clad. I was spared the humiliation.
On a chair by the bedside were all my own things, clean and dry. My black silk frock hung against the wall. The traces of the bog were removed from it; the creases left by the wet smoothed out: it was quite decent. My very shoes and stockings were purified and rendered presentable. There were the means of washing in the room, and a comb and brush to smooth my hair. After a weary process, and resting every five minutes, I succeeded in dressing myself. My clothes hung loose on me; for I was much wasted, but I covered deficiencies with a shawl, and once more, clean and respectable looking- no speck of the dirt, no trace of the disorder I so hated, and which seemed so to degrade me, left- I crept down a stone staircase with the aid of the banisters, to a narrow low passage, and found my way presently to the kitchen.
It was full of the fragrance of new bread and the warmth of a generous fire. Hannah was baking. Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones. Hannah had been cold and stiff, indeed, at the first: latterly she had begun to relent a little; and when she saw me come in tidy and well-dressed, she even smiled.
'What, you have got up!' she said. 'You are better, then. You may sit you down in my chair on the hearthstone, if you will.'
She pointed to the rocking-chair: I took it. She bustled about, examining me every now and then with the corner of her eye. Turning to me, as she took some loaves from the oven, she asked bluntly-
'Did you ever go a-begging afore you came here?'
I was indignant for a moment; but remembering that anger was out of the question, and that I had indeed appeared as a beggar to her, I answered quietly, but still not without a certain marked firmness- 'You are mistaken in supposing me a beggar. I am no beggar;  any more than yourself or your young ladies.'
After a pause she said, 'I dunnut understand that: you've like no house, nor no brass, I guess?'
'The want of house or brass (by which I suppose you mean money) does not make a beggar in your sense of the word.'
'Are you book-learned?' she inquired presently.
'Yes, very.'
'But you've never been to a boarding-school?'
'I was at a boarding-school eight years.'
She opened her eyes wide. 'Whatever cannot ye keep yourself for, then?'
'I have kept myself; and, I trust, shall keep myself again. What are you going to do with these gooseberries?' I inquired as she brought out a basket of the fruit.
'Mak' 'em into pies.'
'Give them to me and I'll pick them.'
'Nay; I dunnut want ye to do nought.'
'But I must do something. Let me have them.'
She consented; and she even brought me a clean towel to spread over my dress, 'lest,' as she said, 'I should mucky it.'
'Ye've not been used to sarvant's wark, I see by your hands,' she remarked. 'Happen ye've been a dressmaker?'
'No, you are wrong. And now, never mind what I have been: don't trouble your head further about me; but tell me the name of the house where we are.'
'Some calls it Marsh End, and some calls it Moor House.'
'And the gentleman who lives here is called Mr. St. John?'
'Nay; he doesn't live here: he is only staying a while. When he is at home, he is in his own parish at Morton.'
'That village a few miles off?'
'Aye.'
'And what is he?'
'He is a parson.'
I remembered the answer of the old housekeeper at the parsonage, when I had asked to see the clergyman. 'This, then, was his father's residence?'
'Aye; old Mr. Rivers lived here, and his father, and grandfather, and gurt (great) grandfather afore him.'
'The name, then, of that gentleman, is Mr. St. John Rivers?'
'Aye; St. John is like his kirstened name.'
'And his sisters are called Diana and Mary Rivers?'
'Yes.'
'Their father is dead?'
'Dead three weeks sin' of a stroke.'
'They have no mother?'
'The mistress has been dead this mony a year.'
'Have you lived with the family long?'
'I've lived here thirty year. I nursed them all three'
'That proves you must have been an honest and faithful servant. I will say so much for you, though you have had the incivility to call me a beggar.'
She again regarded me with a surprised stare. 'I believe,' she said, 'I was quite mista'en in my thoughts of you: but there is so mony cheats goes about, you mun forgie me.'
'And though,' I continued, rather severely, 'you wished to turn me from the door, on a night when you should not have shut out a dog.'
'Well, it was hard: but what can a body do? I thought more o' th' childer nor of mysel: poor things! They've like nobody to tak' care on 'em but me. I'm like to look sharpish.'
I maintained a grave silence for some minutes.
'You munnut think too hardly of me,' she again remarked.
'But I do think hardly of you,' I said; 'and I'll tell you why- not so much because you refused to give me shelter, or regarded me as an impostor, as because you just now made it a species of reproach that I had no "brass" and no house. Some of the best people that ever lived have been as destitute as I am; and if you are a Christian, you ought not to consider poverty a crime.'
'No more I ought,' said she: 'Mr. St. John tells me so too; and I see I wor wrang- but I've clear a different notion on you now to what I had. You look a raight down dacent little crater.'
'That will do- I forgive you now. Shake hands.'
She put her floury and horny hand into mine; another and heartier smile illumined her rough face, and from that moment we were friends. 
Hannah was evidently fond of talking. While I picked the fruit, and she made the paste for the pies, she proceeded to give me sundry details about her deceased master and mistress, and 'the childer,' as she called the young people.
Old Mr. Rivers, she said, was a plain man enough, but a gentleman, and of as ancient a family as could be found. Marsh End had belonged to the Rivers ever since it was a house: and it was, she affirmed, 'aboon two hundred year old- for all it looked but a small, humble place, naught to compare wi' Mr. Oliver's grand hall down i' Morton Vale. But she could remember Bill Oliver's father a journeyman needle-maker; and th' Rivers wor gentry i' th' owd days o' th' Henrys, as onybody might see by looking into th' registers i' Morton Church vestry.' Still, she allowed, 'the owd maister was like other folk- naught mich out o' th' common way: stark mad o' shooting, and farming, and sich like.' The mistress was different. She was a great reader, and studied a deal; and the 'bairns' had taken after her. There was nothing like them in these parts, nor ever had been; they had liked learning, all three, almost from the time they could speak; and they had always been 'of a mak' of their own.' Mr. St. John, when he grew up, would go to college and be a parson; and the girls, as soon as they left school, would seek places as governesses: for they had told her their father had some years ago lost a great deal of money by a man he had trusted turning bankrupt; and as he was now not rich enough to give them fortunes, they must provide for themselves. They had lived very little at home for a long while, and were only come now to stay a few weeks on account of their father's death; but they did so like Marsh End and Morton, and all these moors and hills about. They had been in London, and many other grand towns; but they always said there was no place like home; and then they were so agreeable with each other- never fell out nor 'threaped.' She did not know where there was such a family for being united.
Having finished my task of gooseberry picking, I asked where the two ladies and their brother were now.
'Gone over to Morton for a walk; but they would be back in half an hour to tea.'
They returned within the time Hannah had allotted them: they entered by the kitchen door. Mr. St. John, when he saw me, merely bowed and passed through; the two ladies stopped: Mary, in a few words, kindly and calmly expressed the pleasure she felt in seeing me well enough to be able to come down; Diana took my hand: she shook her head at me.
'You should have waited for my leave to descend,' she said. 'You still look very pale- and so thin! Poor child!- poor girl!'
Diana had a voice toned, to my ear, like the cooing of a dove.
She possessed eyes whose gaze I delighted to encounter. Her whole face seemed to me full of charm. Mary's countenance was equally intelligent- her features equally pretty; but her expression was more reserved, and her manners, though gentle, more distant. Diana looked and spoke with a certain authority: she had a will, evidently. It was my nature to feel pleasure in yielding to an authority supported like hers, and to bend, where my conscience and self-respect permitted, to an active will.
'And what business have you here?' she continued. 'It is not your place. Mary and I sit in the kitchen sometimes, because at home we like to be free, even to license- but you are a visitor, and must go into the parlour.'
'I am very well here.'
'Not at all, with Hannah bustling about and covering you with flour.'
'Besides, the fire is too hot for you,' interposed Mary.
'To be sure,' added her sister. 'Come, you must be obedient.' And still holding my hand she made me rise, and led me into the inner room.
'Sit there,' she said, placing me on the sofa, 'while we take our things off and get the tea ready; it is another privilege we exercise in our little moorland home- to prepare our own meals when we are so inclined, or when Hannah is baking, brewing, washing, or ironing.'
She closed the door, leaving me solus with Mr. St. John, who sat opposite, a book or newspaper in his hand. I examined first, the parlour, and then its occupant.
The parlour was rather a small room, very plainly furnished, yet comfortable, because clean and neat. The old-fashioned chairs were very bright, and the walnut-wood table was like a looking-glass. A few strange, antique portraits of the men and women of other days decorated the stained walls; a cupboard with glass doors contained some books and an ancient set of china. There was no superfluous ornament in the room- not one modern piece of furniture, save a brace of workboxes and a lady's desk in rosewood, which stood on a side-table: everything- including the carpet and curtains- looked at once well worn and well saved.
Mr. St. John- sitting as still as one of the dusty pictures on the walls, keeping his eyes fixed on the page he perused, and his lips mutely sealed- was easy enough to examine. Had he been a statue instead of a man, he could not have been easier. He was young- perhaps from twenty-eight to thirty- tall, slender; his face riveted the eye; it was like a Greek face, very pure in outline: quite a straight, classic nose; quite an Athenian mouth and chin. It is seldom, indeed, an English face comes so near the antique models as did his.
He might well be a little shocked at the irregularity of my lineaments, his own being so harmonious. His eyes were large and blue, with brown lashes; his high forehead, colourless as ivory, was partially streaked over by careless locks of fair hair.
This is a gentle delineation, is it not, reader? Yet he whom it describes scarcely impressed one with the idea of a gentle, a yielding, an impressible, or even of a placid nature.  Quiescent as he now sat, there was something about his nostril, his mouth, his brow, which, to my perceptions, indicated elements within either restless, or hard, or eager. He did not speak to me one word, nor even direct to me one glance, till his sisters returned. Diana, as she passed in and out, in the course of preparing tea, brought me a little cake, baked on the top of the oven.
'Eat that now,' she said: 'you must be hungry. Hannah says you have had nothing but some gruel since breakfast.'
I did not refuse it, for my appetite was awakened and keen. Mr. Rivers now closed his book, approached the table, and, as he took a seat, fixed his blue pictorial-looking eyes full on me. There was an unceremonious directness, a searching, decided steadfastness in his gaze now, which told that intention and not diffidence, had hitherto kept it averted from the stranger.
'You are very hungry,' he said.
'I am, sir.' It is my way- it always was my way, by instinct- ever to meet the brief with brevity, the direct with plainness.
'It is well for you that a low fever has forced you to abstain for the last three days: there would have been danger in yielding to the cravings of your appetite at first. Now you may eat, though still not immoderately.'
'I trust I shall not eat long at your expense, sir,' was my very clumsily-contrived, unpolished answer.
'No,' he said coolly: 'when you have indicated to us the residence of your friends, we can write to them, and you may be restored to home.'
'That, I must plainly tell you, is out of my power to do; being absolutely without home and friends.'
The three looked at me, but not distrustfully; I felt there was no suspicion in their glances: there was more of curiosity. I speak particularly of the young ladies. St. John's eyes, though clear enough in a literal sense, in a figurative one were difficult to fathom. He seemed to use them rather as instruments to search other people's thoughts, than as agents to reveal his own: the which combination of keenness and reserve was considerably more calculated to embarrass than to encourage.
'Do you mean to say,' he asked, 'that you are completely isolated from every connection?'
'I do. Not a tie links me to any living thing: not a claim do I possess to admittance under any roof in England.'
'A most singular position at your age!'
Here I saw his glance directed to my hands, which were folded on the table before me. I wondered what he sought there: his words soon explained the quest.
'You have never been married? You are a spinster?'
Diana laughed. 'Why, she can't be above seventeen or eighteen years old, St. John,' said she.
'I am near nineteen: but I am not married. No.'
I felt a burning glow mount to my face; for bitter and agitating recollections were awakened by the allusion to marriage. They all saw the embarrassment and the emotion. Diana and Mary relieved me by turning their eyes elsewhere than to my crimsoned visage; but the colder and sterner brother continued to gaze, till the trouble he had excited forced out tears as well as colour.
'Where did you last reside?' he now asked.
'You are too inquisitive, St. John,' murmured Mary in a low voice; but he leaned over the table and required an answer by a second firm and piercing look.
'The name of the place where, and of the person with whom I lived, is my secret,' I replied concisely.
'Which, if you like, you have, in my opinion, a right to keep, both from St. John and every other questioner,' remarked Diana.
'Yet if I know nothing about you or your history, I cannot help you,' he said. 'And you need help, do you not?'
'I need it, and I seek it so far, sir, that some true philanthropist will put me in the way of getting work which I can do, and the remuneration for which will keep me, if but in the barest necessaries of life.'
'I know not whether I am a true philanthropist; yet I am willing to aid you to the utmost of my power in a purpose so honest. First, then, tell me what you have been accustomed to do, and what you can do.'
I had now swallowed my tea. I was mightily refreshed by the beverage; as much so as a giant with wine: it gave new tone to my unstrung nerves, and enabled me to address this penetrating young judge steadily.
'Mr. Rivers,' I said, turning to him, and looking at him, as he looked at me, openly and without diffidence, 'you and your sisters have done me a great service- the greatest man can do his fellow-being; you have rescued me, by your noble hospitality, from death. This benefit conferred gives you an unlimited claim on my gratitude, and a claim, to a certain extent, on my confidence. I will tell you as much of the history of the wanderer you have harboured, as I can tell without compromising my own peace of mind- my own security, moral and physical, and that of others.
'I am an orphan, the daughter of a clergyman. My parents died before I could know them. I was brought up a dependant; educated in a charitable institution. I will even tell you the name of the establishment, where I passed six years as a pupil, and two as a Mr. Rivers?- the Rev. Robert Brocklehurst is the treasurer.'
'I have heard of Mr. Brocklehurst, and I have seen the school.'
'I left Lowood nearly a year since to become a private governess. I obtained a good situation, and was happy. This place I was obliged to leave four days before I came here. The reason of my departure I cannot and ought not to explain: it would be useless, dangerous, and would sound incredible. No blame attached to me: I am as free from culpability as any one of you three. Miserable I am, and must be for a time; for the catastrophe which drove me from a house I had found a paradise was of a strange and direful nature. I observed but two points in planning my departure- speed, secrecy: to secure these, I had to leave behind me everything I possessed except a small parcel;
which, in my hurry and trouble of mind, I forgot to take out of the coach that brought me to Whitcross. To this neighbourhood, then, I came, quite destitute. I slept two nights in the open air, and wandered about two days without crossing a threshold: but twice in that space of time did I taste food; and it was when brought by hunger, exhaustion, and despair almost to the last gasp, that you, Mr. Rivers, forbade me to perish of want at your door, and took me under the shelter of your roof. I know all your sisters have done for me since- for I have not been insensible during my seeming torpor- and I owe to their spontaneous, genuine, genial compassion as large a debt as to your evangelical charity.'
'Don't make her talk any more now, St. John,' said Diana, as I paused; 'she is evidently not yet fit for excitement. Come to the sofa and sit down now, Miss Elliott.'
I gave an involuntary half start at hearing the alias: I had forgotten my new name. Mr. Rivers, whom nothing seemed to escape, noticed it at once.
'You said your name was Jane Elliott?' he observed.
'I did say so; and it is the name by which I think it expedient to be called at present, but it is not my real name, and when I hear it, it sounds strange to me.'
'Your real name you will not give?'
'No: I fear discovery above all things; and whatever disclosure would lead to it, I avoid.'
'You are quite right, I am sure,' said Diana. 'Now do, brother, let her be at peace a while.'
But when St. John had mused a few moments he recommenced as imperturbably and with as much acumen as ever. 
'You would not like to be long dependent on our hospitality- you would wish, I see, to dispense as soon as may be with my sisters' compassion, and, above all, with my charity (I am quite sensible of the distinction drawn, nor do I resent it- it is just): you desire to be independent of us?'
'I do: I have already said so. Show me how to work, or how to seek work: that is all I now ask; then let me go, if it be but to the meanest cottage; but till then, allow me to stay here: I dread another essay of the horrors of homeless destitution.'
'Indeed you shall stay here,' said Diana, putting her white hand on my head. 'You shall,' repeated Mary, in the tone of undemonstrative sincerity which seemed natural to her.
'My sisters, you see, have a pleasure in keeping you,' said Mr. St. John, 'as they would have a pleasure in keeping and cherishing a half-frozen bird, some wintry wind might have driven through their casement. I feel more inclination to put you in the way of keeping yourself, and shall endeavour to do so; but observe, my sphere is narrow. I am but the incumbent of a poor country parish: my aid must be of the humblest sort. And if you are inclined to despise the day of small things, seek some more efficient succour than such as I can offer.'
'She has already said that she is willing to do anything honest she can do,' answered Diana for me; 'and you know, St. John, she has no choice of helpers: she is forced to put up with such crusty people as you.'
'I will be a dressmaker; I will be a plain-workwoman; I will be a servant, a nurse-girl, if I can be no better,' I answered.
'Right,' said Mr. St. John, quite coolly. 'If such is your spirit, I promise to aid you, in my own time and way.'
He now resumed the book with which he had been occupied before tea. 
I soon withdrew, for I had talked as much, and sat up as long, as my present strength would permit. 
这以后的三天三夜，我脑子里的记忆很模糊。我能回忆起那段时间一鳞半爪的感觉，但形不成什么想法，付诸不了行动。我知道自己在一个小房间里，躺在狭窄的床上，我与那张床似乎已难舍难分。我躺着一动不动，像块石头。把我从那儿挣开，几乎等于要我的命。我并不在乎时间的流逝——不在乎上午转为下午、下午转为晚上的变化。我观察别人进出房间，甚至还能分辨出他们是谁，能听懂别人在我身旁所说的话，但回答不上来。动嘴唇与动手脚一样不行。佣人汉娜来得最多，她一来就使我感到不安。我有一种感觉，她希望我走。她不了解我和我的处境，对我怀有偏见。黛安娜和玛丽每天到房间来一两回。她们会在我床边悄声说着这一类话：
“幸好我们把她收留下来了。”
“是呀，要是她整夜给关在房子外面，第二天早晨准会死有门口。不知道她吃了什么苦头。”
“我想象是少见的苦头吧，——消瘦、苍白、可怜的流浪者！”
“从她说话的神态看，我认为她不是一个没有受过教育的人、她的口音很纯。她脱下的衣服虽然湿淋淋溅了泥，但不旧，而且很精致。”
“她的脸很奇特，尽管皮包骨头又很憔悴，但我比较喜欢。可以想见她健康而有生气时、面孔一定很可爱。”
在她们的交谈中，我从来没有听到她们说过一句话，对自己的好客，表示懊悔，或者对我表示怀疑或厌恶。我得到了安慰。
圣.约翰先生只来过一次，他瞧着我，说我昏睡不醒是长期疲劳过度的反应，认为不必去叫医生，确信最好的办法是顺其自然。他说每根神经都有些紧张过度，所以整个机体得有一段沉睡麻木的时期，而并不是什么病。他想锨而不是我自己，他们也怪可怜的，除了我没有人照应。我总该当心些。”
我沉着脸几分钟没有吱声。
“你别把我想得太坏，”她又说。
“不过我确实把你想得很坏”，我说，“而且我告?Dh囙“说实话，圣.约翰，我内心对这可怜的小幽灵产生了好感。但愿我们永远能够帮助她。”
“这不大可能，”对方回答，“你会发现她是某个年轻小姐，与自己朋友产生了误会，可能轻率地一走了之。要是她不固执，我们也许可以把她送回去。但是我注意到了她脸上很有力的线条，这使我怀疑她脾气很倔强。”他站着端详了我一会，随后补充说，”她看上去很聪明，但一点也不漂亮。”
“她病得那么重，圣.约翰。”
“不管身体好不好，反正长得很一般。那些五官缺少美的雅致与和谐。”
到了第三天我好些了，第四天我已能说话，移动，从床上坐起来，转动身子。我想大约晚饭时间，汉娜端来一些粥和烤面包。我吃得津津有味，觉得这些东西很好吃——不像前几天发烧时，吃什么都没有味道，她离开我时，我觉得已有些力气，恢复了元气。不久，我对休息感到厌腻，很想起来动动，想从床上爬起来。但是穿什么好呢？只有溅了泥的湿衣服，我就是那么穿着睡在地上，倒在沼泽地里的，我羞于以这身打扮出现在我的恩人们面前。不过我免掉了这种羞辱。
我床边的椅子上摆着我所有的衣物，又干净又干燥。我的黑丝上衣挂在墙上。泥沼的印迹已经洗去，潮湿留下的褶皱己经熨平，看上去很不错了，我的鞋子和袜子已洗得干干净净，很是象样了，房子里有流洗的工具，有一把梳子和一把刷子可把头发梳理整齐。我疲乏地挣扎了一番，每隔五分钟休息一下，终于穿好了衣服。因为消瘦，衣服穿在身上很宽松，不过我用披肩掩盖了这个不足。于是我再一次清清爽爽体体面面了—一没有—丝我最讨厌、并似乎很降低我身份的尘土和凌乱——我扶着栏杆，爬下了石头楼梯，到了一条低矮窄小的过道，立刻进了厨房。
厨房里弥漫着新鲜面包的香气和熊熊炉火的暖意。汉娜正在烤面包。众所周知，偏见很难从没有用教育松过土施过肥的心田里根除。它象野草钻出石缝那样顽强地在那儿生长。说实在，起初汉娜冷淡生硬。近来开始和气一点了，而这回见我衣冠楚楚，竟笑了起来。
“什么，你已经起来了？”她说，“那么你好些了。要是你愿意，你可以坐在炉边我的椅子上，”
她指了指那把摇椅。我坐了下来。她忙碌着，不时从眼角瞟我。她一边从烤炉里取出面包，一面转向我生硬地问道：
“你到这个地方来之前也讨过饭吗？”
我一时很生气，但想起发火是不行的，何况在她看来我曾像个乞丐，于是便平心静气地回答了她，不过仍带着明显的强硬口气
“你错把我当成乞丐了，跟你自己或者你的小姐们一样，我不是什么乞丐。”
她顿了一下后说：“那我就不大明白了，你象是既没有房子，也没有铜子儿？”
“没有房子或铜子儿（我猜你指的是钱）并不就成了你说的那个意思上的乞丐。”
“你读过书吗？”她立刻问，
“是的，读过不少书。”
“不过你从来没有进过寄宿学校吧？”
“我在寄宿学校呆了八年。”
她眼睛睁得大大的。“那你为什么还养不活自己呢？”
“我养活了自己，而且我相信以后还能养活自己。拿这些鹅莓干什么呀？”她拎出一篮子鹅莓时我问。
“做饼。”
“给我吧，我来拣。”
“不，我什么也不要你干。”
“但我总得干点什么。还是让我来吧。”
她同意了，甚至还拿来一块干净的毛巾铺在我衣服上，一面还说：“怕你把衣服弄脏了。”
“你不是干惯佣人活的，从你的手上看得出来，”她说，“也许是个裁缝吧？”
“不是，你猜错啦，现在别管我以前是干什么的。不要为我再去伤你的脑筋，不过告诉我你们这所房子叫什么名字。”
“有人叫它沼泽居，有人叫它沼泽宅。”
“住在这儿的那位先生叫圣.约翰先生？”
“不，他不住在这儿，只不过暂时呆一下。他的家在自己的教区莫尔顿。”
“离这儿几英里的那个村子？”
“是呀。”
“他干什么的。”
“是个牧师。”
我还记得我要求见牧师时那所住宅里老管家的回答。
“那么这里是他父亲的居所了？”
“不错。老里弗斯先生在这儿住过，还有他父亲，他祖父，他曾祖父。”
“那么，那位先生的名字是圣.约翰.里弗斯先生了。”
“是呀，圣.约翰是他受洗礼时的名字。”
“他的妹妹名叫黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯？”
“是的。”
“他们的父亲去世了？”
“三个星期前中风死的。”
“他们没有母亲吗，”
“太太去世已经多年了。”
“你同这家人生活得很久了吗？”
“我住在这里三十年了，三个人都是我带大的。”
“那说明你准是个忠厚的仆人。尽管你那么没有礼貌地把我当作乞丐，我还是愿意那么说你的好话。”
她再次诧异地打量着我。“我相信，”她说，“我完全把你看错了，不过这里来往的骗子很多，你得原谅我。”
“而且，”我往下说，口气颇有些严厉，“尽管你要在一个连条狗都不该撵走的夜晚，把我赶出门外。”
“嗯，是有点狠心。可是叫人怎么办呢？我想得更多的是孩子们而不是我自己，他们也怪可怜的，除了我没有人照应。我总该当心些。”
我沉着脸几分钟没有吱声。
“你别把我想得太坏，”她又说。
“不过我确实把你想得很坏”，我说，“而且我告诉你为什么——倒不是因为你不许我投宿，或者把我看成了骗子，而是因为你刚才把我没‘铜子儿’没房子当成了一种耻辱。有些在世的好人像我一样穷得一个子儿也没有。如果你是个基督徒，你就不该把贫困看作罪过。”
“以后不该这样了，”她说，“圣.约翰先生也是这么同我说的。我知道自己错了一一但是，我现在对你的看法跟以前明显不同了。你看来完全是个体面的小家伙。”
“那行了——我现在原谅你了，握握手吧。”她把沾了面粉布满老茧的手塞进我手里，她粗糙的脸上闪起了一个更亲切的笑容，从那时起我们便成了朋友。
汉娜显然很健谈。我拣果子她捏面团做饼时，她继续细谈着过世的主人和女主人，以及她称作“孩子们”的年轻人。
她说老里弗斯先生是个极为朴实的人，但是位绅士，出身于一个十分古老的家庭。沼泽居自建成以后就一直属于里弗斯先生，她还肯定，这座房子“已有两百年左右历史了——尽管它看上去不过是个不起眼的小地方，丝毫比不上奥利弗先生在莫尔顿谷的豪华富宅，但我还记得比尔．奥利弗的父亲是个走家穿户的制针人，而里弗斯家族在过去亨利时代都是贵族，看看莫尔顿教堂法衣室记事簿，就谁都知道。”不过她仍认为“老主人像别人一样——并没有太出格，只是完全迷恋于狩猎种田等等。”女主人可不同。她爱读书，而且学得很多。“孩子们”像她。这一带没有人跟他们一样的，以往也没有。三个人都喜欢学习，差不多从能说话的时候起就这样了，他们自己一直“另有一套”。圣.约翰先生长大了就进大学，做起牧师来、而姑娘们一离开学校就去找家庭教师的活，他们告诉她，他们的父亲，几年前由于信托人破产，而丧失了一大笔钱。他现在已不富裕，没法给他们财产，他们就得自谋生计了。好久以来他们已很少住在家里了，这会儿是因为父亲去世才来这里小住几周的。不过他们确实也喜欢沼泽居和莫尔顿，以及附近所有的荒原和小山。他们到过伦敦和其他很多大城市，但总是说什么地方也比不上家里。另外，他们彼此又是那么融洽一—从来不争不吵。她不知道哪里还找得到这样一个和睦的家庭。
我拣完了鹅莓后问她，两位小姐和她们的哥哥上哪儿去了。
“散步上莫尔顿去了，半小时内会回来吃茶点。”
他们在汉娜规定的时间内回来了，是从厨房门进来的。圣.约翰先生见了我不过点了点头就走过了。两位小姐停了下来。玛丽心平气和地说了几句话，表示很高兴见我己经好到能下楼了。黛安娜握住我的手，对我摇摇头。
“你该等我允许后才好下楼，”她说。“你脸色还是很苍白——又那么瘦！可怜的孩子？——可怜的姑娘！”
黛安娜的声调在我听来象鸽子的咕咕声。她有一双我很乐意接触她目光的眼睛。她的整张脸似乎都充满魅力。玛丽的面容，一样聪明—一她的五官一样漂亮，但她的表情更加冷淡，她的仪态虽然文雅却更显得隔膜。黛安娜的神态和说话的样子都有一种权威派头，显然很有主意。我生性喜欢服从像她那样有依靠的权威，在我的良心和自尊允许范围内，向富有活力的意志低头。
“你在这儿干什么？”她继续说。“这不是你呆的地方。玛丽和我有时在厨房里坐坐，因为在家里我们爱随便些，甚至有些放肆——但你是客人，得到客厅去。”
“我在这儿很舒服。”
“一点也不——汉娜这么忙这忙那会把面粉沾在你身上。”
“另外，火炉对你也有些太热，”玛丽插嘴说。
“没有错，”她姐姐补充说。“来吧，你得听话。”她一面握着我的手一面拉我起来，领进内室。
“那儿坐着吧，”她说着把我安顿在沙发上，“我们来脱掉衣服，准备好茶点。在沼泽居小家庭中享受的另一个特权，是自己准备饭菜，那往往是想要这么干，或者汉娜忙着烘烤，调制、烫衣的时候，”
她关了门，留下我与圣.约翰先生单独呆着。他坐在我对面，手里捧着一本书或一张报纸。我先是打量了一下客厅。随后再看看厅主人。
客厅不大，陈设也很朴实，但于净整洁十分舒服。老式椅子油光锃亮，那张胡桃木桌子象面穿衣镜。斑驳的墙上装饰着几张过去时代奇怪而古老的男女画像。在一个装有玻璃门的橱里，放着几本书和一套古瓷器。除了放在书桌上的—对针线盒和青龙木女用书台，房间里没有多余的装饰品——没有一件现代家具。包括地毯和窗帘在内的一切，看上去既陈旧而又保养得很好。
圣.约翰先生——一动不动地坐着，犹如墙上色彩暗淡的画，眼睛盯着他细读着的那页书，嘴唇默默地闭着，——很容易让我细看个究竟，他要是装成塑像，而不是人，那是再容易不过了，他很年青——二十八至三十光景——高挑个子，身材颀长。他的脸引人注目，像一张希腊人的脸，轮廓完美、长着一个笔直的古典式鼻子，一张十足雅典人的嘴和下巴。说实在，英国人的脸很少像他那样如此酷似古典脸型的。他自己的五官那么匀称，也许对我的不匀称便有点儿吃惊了。他的眼睛又大又蓝，长着棕色的睫毛，高高的额头跟象牙一般苍白，额头上不经意披下了几绺金色的头发。
这是一幅线条柔和的写生，是不是，读者？然而画中的人给人的印象却并不属于那种温和忍让、容易打动甚至十分平静的个性。虽然他此刻默默地坐着，但我觉察到，他的鼻孔、嘴巴、额头有着某种东西，表现出内心的不安、冷酷或急切。他的妹妹们回来之前、他还没有同我说过一个字，或者朝我看过一眼。黛安娜走进走出，准备着茶点，给我带来了一块在炉顶上烤着的小饼。
“这会儿就把它吃掉吧，”她说、“你准饿了。汉娜说从早饭到现在，你只喝了点粥，什么也没吃。”
我没有谢绝，我的胃口恢复了，而且很好，这时里弗斯先生合上书，走到桌子旁边。他就座时，那双画一般的蓝眼晴紧盯着我。目光里有一种不拘礼节的直率，一种锐利、明确的坚定，说明他一直避开陌生人不是出于腼腆，而是故意的。
“你很饿，”他说。
“是的，先生。”这是我的习惯——向来的习惯，完全是直觉—一简问简答，直问直说。
“幸好三天来的低烧迫使你禁食，要是一开始便放开肚子吃就危险了。现在你可以吃了，不过还是得节制。”
“我相信不会花你的钱吃得很久的，先生，”这是我笨嘴笨舌、粗里粗气的回答。
“不，”他冷冷地说：“等你把朋友的住址告诉我们后，我们可以写信给他们，你就又可以回家了。”
“我得直率地告诉你们，我没有能力这么做，因为我既没有家，也没有朋友。”
三位都看着我，但并非不信任。我觉得他们的眼神里没有怀疑的表情，而更多的是好奇。我尤其指小姐们。圣.约翰的眼晴表面看来相当明净，但实际上深不可测。他似乎要把它用作探测别人思想的工具，而不是暴露自己内心的窗口。眼神里热情与冷漠的交融，很大程度上不是为了鼓励别人，而是要使人感到窘迫。
“你的意思是说，”他问，“你孤孤单单，没有一个亲朋？”
“是的。没有一根纽带把我同哪位活着的人维系在一起，我也没有任何权利走进英国的任何人家里？”
“像你这样年纪，这种状况是绝无仅有的。”
说到这里我看到他的目光扫到了我手上，这时我双乎交叉，放在面前的桌子上。我不知道他在找什么。但他的话立刻解释了那种探寻。
“你没有结婚？是个单身女人？”
黛安娜大笑起来。“嗨，她不会超过十七、十八岁，圣.约翰。”她说。
“我快十九了，不过没有结过婚，没有。”
我只觉得脸上—阵热辣辣的火烧，一提起结婚又勾起了我痛苦和兴奋的回忆。他们都看出了我的发窘和激动。黛安娜和玛丽把目光从我涨得通红的脸上转向别处，以便使我得到宽慰，但是她们那位有些冷漠和严厉的哥哥却继续盯着我，直至他引起的麻烦弄得我既流泪又变脸，
“你以前住在什么地方，”他此刻又问了。
“你也太爱打听了，圣.约翰，”玛丽低声咕哝着。但他带着诱人肺腑的坚定的眼光，将身子俯过桌子，要求得到回答。
“我住在哪儿，跟谁住在一起，这是我的秘密，”我回答得很简略。
“在我看来，要是你高兴，不管是圣.约翰还是其他人的提问，你都有权不说，”黛安娜回答说。
“不过要是我不了解你和你的身世，我无法帮助你，”他说。“而你是需要帮助的，是不是？”
“到现在为止我需要帮助，也寻求帮助，先生——希望某个真正的慈善家会让我有一份力所能及的工作，以及让我把日子过下去的报酬，就是能满足生活的必需也好。”
“我不知道自己是不是位真正的慈善家，不过我愿意真诚地竭尽全力帮助你。那么首先你得告诉我，你习惯于干什么，你能干什么。”
这会儿我已经吞下了茶点，饮料使我犹如喝了酒的巨人，精神大为振作，它给我衰弱的神经注入了新的活力，使我能够不慌不忙同这位目光敏锐的年轻法官说话，
“里弗斯先生，”我说着转向了他，像他看我那样，堂而皇之毫无羞色地看着他，“你和你的妹妹们己经帮了我很大的忙——一个最伟大的人，能为他的同类所做的，你以你高尚的殷勤，从死亡中拯救了我。你所施予的恩惠，使你绝对有权要求我感激你，并且某种程度上要求知道我的秘密。我会在不损害我心境的平静、自身及他人道德和人身的安全的前提下，尽量把你们所庇护的流浪者的身世说个明白。”
“我是一个孤儿，一个牧师的女儿。我还不能记事父母就去世了。我靠人赡养长大，在一个慈善机构受了教育。我甚至可以告诉你这个机构的名字，在那里我做了六年学生，两年教师一—××郡罗沃德孤儿院，你可能听到过它，里弗斯先主？——罗伯特．布罗克赫斯特牧师是司库。”
“我听说过布罗克赫斯特先生，也见过这学校。”
“差不多一年前我离开了罗沃德，去当私人家庭教师。我得到了一份很好的工作，也很愉快。来这里的四天前，我不得不离开那个地方。离开的原因我不能也不该解释，就是解释也没有用——会招来危险，听起来也难以令人置信。我没有责任，像你们三位中的任何一位那样是无罪的。我很难过，以后一段时间还得这样，因为把我从我看作天堂的房子里赶出来的原因，奇怪而可怕。在计划逃离时我看到了两点——速度和秘密，为了做到这两点，我不得不把我的所有统统留下，只拿了一包裹。就是这个小包裹，我也在匆忙和烦恼中，忘了从把我带到惠特克劳斯的马车上拿下来了。于是我囊空如洗来到这附近。我在露天宿了两夜，游荡了两天，没有跨进过一条门槛，在这段时间只有两回吃过东西。正当我由于饥饿、疲乏和绝望到了几乎只剩最后一口气时，你里弗斯先生，不让我饿死冻死在家门口，把我收留进你们的房子。我知道从那时起你妹妹们为我所做的一切——因为在我外表上麻木迟钝的那些日子里，我并不是没有感觉的——我对你们自然、真诚、亲切的怜悯，如同对你合乎福音的慈善，欠下了一笔很大的债。”
“这会儿别要她再谈下去了，圣.约翰，”我停下来时黛安娜说。“显然她不宜激动，上沙发这儿来，坐下吧，爱略特小姐。”
一听这个别名，我不由自主地微微一惊，我己忘了我新起的名字。但什么都逃不过他眼睛的里弗斯先生，立刻注意到了。
“你说你的名字叫简.爱略特是吗？”他说，
“我是这么说过的，这个名字，我想是作为权宜之计暂时用用的，但不是我的真名、所以初一听有些陌生。”
“你不愿讲你的真名，”
“不愿。我尤其担心被人发现。凡是要导致这种后果的事，我都要避开，”
“我敢肯定你做得很对，”黛安娜说。“现在，哥哥，一定得让她安宁，一会儿了。”
但是，圣.约翰静默了一会儿后，又开腔了，还是像刚才那样目光敏锐，不慌不忙。
“你不愿长期依赖我们的好客吧—一我看你会希望尽快摆脱我妹妹们的怜悯，尤其是我的慈善（我对他的强调很敏感，但也不生气——因为那是正当的），你希望不依赖我们吗？”
“是的。我已经这么说过了。告诉我怎么干活，或者怎么找活干，这就是我现在所要求的，然后我走，即使是到最简陋的草屋去———但在那之前，请让我呆在这儿，我害怕再去品尝无家可归饥寒交迫的恐怖。”
“说实在你应当留在这儿，”黛安娜把她白皙的手搭在我头上说。“你应当这样，”玛丽重复说，口气里透出了含蓄的真诚，这在她似乎是自然的流露。
“你瞧，我的妹妹们很乐意收留你，”圣.约翰先生说，“就像乐意收留和抚育一只被寒风驱赶到了窗前，快要冻僵的鸟一样。我更倾向于让你自己养活自己，而且要努力这样做。但是请注意，我的活动范围很窄，不过是个贫苦乡村教区的牧师。我的帮助肯定是最微不足道的。要是你不屑于干日常琐事，那就去寻找比我所能提供的更有效的帮助吧。”
“她已经说过，凡是力所能及的正当活儿，她都愿意干。”黛安娜替我作了回答。“而且你知道，圣.约翰，她无法挑谁来帮忙，连你这种犟脾气的人，她也不得不忍受。”
“我可以当个裁缝，我可以当个普通女工，要是干不了更好的活，我可以当个仆人，做个护理女。”我回答。
“行，”圣.约翰先生十分冷淡地说。“如果你有这志气，我就答应帮你忙了，用我自己的时间，按我自己的方式。”
这时他又继续看他那本茶点之前就已埋头在看的书了。我立刻退了出去，因为就眼下体力所及，我已经谈得够多，坐得够长了。
Chapter 30
THE more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I liked them. In a few days I had so far recovered my health that I could sit up all day, and walk out sometimes. I could join with Diana and Mary in all their occupations; converse with them as much as they wished, and aid them when and where they would allow me. There was a reviving pleasure in this intercourse, of a kind now tasted by me for the first time- the pleasure arising from perfect congeniality of tastes, sentiments, and principles.I liked to read what they liked to read: what they enjoyed, delighted me; what they approved, I reverenced. They loved their sequestered home. I, too, in the grey, small, antique structure, with its low roof, its latticed casements, its mouldering walls, its avenue of aged firs- all grown aslant under the stress of mountain winds; its garden, dark with yew and holly- and where no flowers but of the hardiest species would bloom- found a charm both potent and permanent. They clung to the purple moors behind and around their dwelling- to the hollow vale into which the pebbly bridle-path leading from their gate descended, and which wound between fern-banks first, and then amongst a few of the wildest little pasture-fields that ever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock of grey moorland sheep, with their little mossy-faced lambs:- they clung to this scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. I could comprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. I saw the fascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep- on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag. These details were just to me what they were to them- so many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft breeze; the rough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and sunset; the moonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in these regions, the same attraction as for them- wound round my faculties the same spell that entranced theirs.
Indoors we agreed equally well. They were both more accomplished and better read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the path of knowledge they had trodden before me. I devoured the books they lent me: then it was full satisfaction to discuss with them in the evening what I had perused during the day. Thought fitted thought; opinion met opinion: we coincided, in short, perfectly.
If in our trio there was a superior and a leader, it was Diana.
Physically, she far excelled me: she was handsome; she was vigorous.
In her animal spirits there was an affluence of life and certainty of flow, such as excited my wonder, while it baffled my comprehension. 
I could talk a while when the evening commenced, but the first gush of vivacity and fluency gone, I was fain to sit on a stool at Diana's feet, to rest my head on her knee, and listen alternately to her and Mary, while they sounded thoroughly the topic on which I had but touched. Diana offered to teach me German. I liked to learn of her:
I saw the part of instructress pleased and suited her; that of scholar pleased and suited me no less. Our natures dovetailed: mutual affection- of the strongest kind- was the result. They discovered I could draw: their pencils and colour-boxes were immediately at my service. My skill, greater in this one point than theirs, surprised and charmed them. Mary would sit and watch me by the hour together: then she would take lessons; and a docile, intelligent, assiduous pupil she made. Thus occupied, and mutually entertained, days passed like hours, and weeks like days.
As to Mr. St. John, the intimacy which had arisen so naturally and rapidly between me and his sisters did not extend to him. One reason of the distance yet observed between us was, that he was comparatively seldom at home: a large proportion of his time appeared devoted to visiting the sick and poor among the scattered population of his parish.
No weather seemed to hinder him in these pastoral excursions: rain or fair, he would, when his hours of morning study were over, take his hat, and, followed by his father's old pointer, Carlo, go out on his mission of love or duty- I scarcely know in which light he regarded it. Sometimes, when the day was very unfavourable, his sisters would expostulate. He would then say, with a peculiar smile, more solemn than cheerful-
'And if I let a gust of wind or a sprinkling of rain turn me aside from these easy tasks, what preparation would such sloth be for the future I propose to myself?'
Diana and Mary's general answer to this question was a sigh, and some minutes of apparently mournful meditation.
But besides his frequent absences, there was another barrier to friendship with him: he seemed of a reserved, an abstracted, and even of a brooding nature. Zealous in his ministerial labours, blameless in his life and habits, he yet did not appear to enjoy that mental serenity, that inward content, which should be the reward of every sincere Christian and practical philanthropist. Often, of an evening, when he sat at the window, his desk and papers before him, he would cease reading or writing, rest his chin on his hand, and deliver himself up to I know not what course of thought; but that it was perturbed and exciting might be seen in the frequent flash and changeful dilation of his eye.
I think, moreover, that Nature was not to him that treasury of delight it was to his sisters. He expressed once, and but once in my hearing, a strong sense of the rugged charm of the hills, and an inborn affection for the dark roof and hoary walls he called his home; but there was more of gloom than pleasure in the tone and words in which the sentiment was manifested; and never did he seem to roam the moors for the sake of their soothing silence- never seek out or dwell upon the thousand peaceful delights they could yield.
Incommunicative as he was, some time elapsed before I had an opportunity of gauging his mind. I first got an idea of its calibre when I heard him preach in his own church at Morton. I wish I could describe that sermon: but it is past my power. I cannot even render faithfully the effect it produced on me.
It began calm- and indeed, as far as delivery and pitch of voice went, it was calm to the end: an earnestly felt, yet strictly restrained zeal breathed soon in the distinct accents, and prompted the nervous language. This grew to force- compressed, condensed, controlled. The heart was thrilled, the mind astonished, by the power of the preacher: neither were softened. Throughout there was a strange bitterness; an absence of consolatory gentleness; stern allusions to Calvinistic doctrines- election, predestination, reprobation- were frequent; and each reference to these points sounded like a sentence pronounced for doom. When he had done, instead of feeling better, calmer, more enlightened by his discourse, I experienced an expressible sadness; for it seemed to me- I know not whether equally so to others- that the eloquence to which I had been listening had sprung from a depth where lay turbid dregs of disappointment- where moved troubling impulses of insatiate yearnings and disquieting aspirations. I was sure St. John Rivers- pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was- had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding; he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium- regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly.
Meantime a month was gone. Diana and Mary were soon to leave Moor House, and return to the far different life and scene which awaited them, as governesses in a large, fashionable, south-of-England city, where each held a situation in families by whose wealthy and haughty members they were regarded only as humble dependants, and who neither knew nor sought out their innate excellences, and appreciated only their acquired accomplishments as they appreciated the skill of their cook or the taste of their waiting-woman. Mr. St. John had said nothing to me yet about the employment he had promised to obtain for me; yet it became urgent that I should have a vocation of some kind. One morning, being left alone with him a few minutes in the parlour, I ventured to approach the window-recess- which his table, chair, and desk consecrated as a kind of study- and I was going to speak, though not very well knowing in what words to frame my inquiry- for it is at all times difficult to break the ice of reserve glassing over such natures as his- when he saved me the trouble by being the first to commence a dialogue.
Looking up as I drew near- 'You have a question to ask of me?' he said.
'Yes; I wish to know whether you have heard of any service I can offer myself to undertake?'
'I found or devised something for you three weeks ago; but as you seemed both useful and happy here- as my sisters had evidently become attached to you, and your society gave them unusual pleasure- I deemed it inexpedient to break in on your mutual comfort till their approaching departure from Marsh End should render yours necessary.'
'And they will go in three days now?' I said.
'Yes; and when they go, I shall return to the parsonage at Morton: Hannah will accompany me; and this old house will be shut up.'
I waited a few moments, expecting he would go on with the subject first broached: but he seemed to have entered another train of reflection: his look denoted abstraction from me and my business. I was obliged to recall him to a theme which was of necessity one of close and anxious interest to me.
'What is the employment you had in view, Mr. Rivers? I hope this delay will not have increased the difficulty of securing it.'
'Oh, no; since it is an employment which depends only on me to give, and you to accept.'
He again paused: there seemed a reluctance to continue. I grew impatient: a restless movement or two, and an eager and exacting glance fastened on his face, conveyed the feeling to him as effectually as words could have done, and with less trouble.
'You need be in no hurry to hear,' he said: 'let me frankly tell you, I have nothing eligible or profitable to suggest. Before I explain, recall, if you please, my notice, clearly given, that if I helped you, it must be as the blind man would help the lame. I am poor; for I find that, when I have paid my father's debts, all the patrimony remaining to me will be this crumbling grange, the row of scathed firs behind, and the patch of moorish soil, with the yew-trees and holly-bushes in front. I am obscure: Rivers is an old name; but of the three sole descendants of the race, two earn the dependant's crust among strangers, and the third considers himself an alien from his native country- not only for life, but in death. Yes, and deems, and is bound to deem, himself honoured by the lot, and aspires but after the day when the cross of separation from fleshly ties shall be laid on his shoulders, and when the Head of that church-militant of whose humblest members he is one, shall give the word, "Rise, follow Me!"'
St. John said these words as he pronounced his sermons, with a quiet, deep voice; with an unflushed cheek, and a coruscating radiance of glance. He resumed- 
'And since I am myself poor and obscure, I can offer you but a service of poverty and obscurity. You may even think it degrading- for I see now your habits have been what the world calls refined: your tastes lean to the ideal, and your society has at least been amongst the educated; but I consider that no service degrades which can better our race. I hold that the more arid and unreclaimed the soil where the Christian labourer's task of tillage is appointed him- the scantier the meed his toil brings- the higher the honour. His, under such circumstances, is the destiny of the pioneer; and the first pioneers of the Gospel were the Apostles- their captain was Jesus, the Redeemer, Himself.'
'Well?' I said, as he again paused- 'proceed.'
He looked at me before he proceeded: indeed, he seemed leisurely to read my face, as if its features and lines were characters on a page. The conclusions drawn from this scrutiny he partially expressed in his succeeding observations.
'I believe you will accept the post I offer you,' said he, 'and hold it for a while: not permanently, though: any more than I could permanently keep the narrow and narrowing- the tranquil, hidden office of English country incumbent; for in your nature is an alloy as detrimental to repose as that in mine, though of a different kind.'
'Do explain,' I urged, when he halted once more. 
'I will; and you shall hear how poor the proposal is,- how trivial- how cramping. I shall not stay long at Morton, now that my father is dead, and that I am my own master. I shall leave the place probably in the course of a twelvemonth; but while I do stay, I will exert myself to the utmost for its improvement. Morton, when I came to it two years ago, had no school: the children of the poor were excluded from every hope of progress. I established one for boys: I mean now to open a second school for girls. I have hired a building for the purpose, with a cottage of two rooms attached to it for the mistress's house. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year: her house is already furnished, very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady, Miss Oliver; the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish-
Mr. Oliver, the proprietor of a needle-factory and iron-foundry in the valley. The same lady pays for the education and clothing of an orphan from the workhouse, on condition that she shall aid the mistress in such menial offices connected with her own house and the school as her occupation of teaching will prevent her having time to discharge in person. Will you be this mistress?'
He put the question rather hurriedly; he seemed half to expect an indignant, or at least a disdainful rejection of the offer: not knowing all my thoughts and feelings, though guessing some, he could not tell in what light the lot would appear to me. In truth it was humble- but then it was sheltered, and I wanted a safe asylum: it was plodding- but then, compared with that of a governess in a rich house, it was independent; and the fear of servitude with strangers entered my soul like iron: it was not ignoble- not unworthy- not mentally degrading. I made my decision.
'I thank you for the proposal, Mr. Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart.'
'But you comprehend me?' he said. 'It is a village school: your scholars will be only poor girls- cottagers' children- at the best, farmers' daughters. Knitting, sewing, reading, writing, ciphering, will be all you will have to teach. What will you do with your accomplishments? What, with the largest portion of your mind- sentiments- tastes?'
'Save them till they are wanted. They will keep.'
'You know what you undertake, then?'
'I do.'
He now smiled: and not a bitter or a sad smile, but one well pleased and deeply gratified.
'And when will you commence the exercise of your function?'
'I will go to my house to-morrow, and open the school, if you like, next week.'
'Very well: so be it.'
He rose and walked through the room. Standing still, he again looked at me. He shook his head.
'What do you disapprove of, Mr. Rivers?' I asked.
'You will not stay at Morton long: no, no!'
'Why? What is your reason for saying so?'
'I read it in your eye; it is not of that description which promises the maintenance of an even tenor in life.'
'I am not ambitious.'
He started at the word 'ambitious.' He repeated, 'No. What made you think of ambition? Who is ambitious? I know I am: but how did you find it out?'
'I was speaking of myself.'
'Well, if you are not ambitious, you are-' He paused.
'What?'
'I was going to say, impassioned: but perhaps you would have misunderstood the word, and been displeased. I mean, that human affections and sympathies have a most powerful hold on you. I am sure you cannot long be content to pass your leisure in solitude, and to devote your working hours to a monotonous labour wholly void of stimulus: any more than I can be content,' he added, with emphasis, 'to live here buried in morass, pent in with mountains- my nature, that God gave me, contravened; my faculties, heaven-bestowed, paralysed- made useless. You hear now how I contradict myself. I, who preached contentment with a humble lot, and justified the vocation even of hewers of wood and drawers of water in God's service- I, His ordained minister, almost rave in my restlessness. Well, propensities and principles must be reconciled by some means.'
He left the room. In this brief hour I had learnt more of him than in the whole previous month: yet still he puzzled me.
Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home. They both tried to appear as usual; but the sorrow they had to struggle against was one that could not be entirely conquered or concealed. Diana intimated that this would be a different parting from any they had ever yet known. It would probably, as far as St. John was concerned, be a parting for years: it might be a parting for life.
'He will sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves,' she said: 'natural affection and feelings more potent still. St. John looks quiet, Jane; but he hides a fever in his vitals. You would think him gentle, yet in some things he is inexorable as death; and the worst of it is, my conscience will hardly permit me to dissuade him from his severe decision: certainly, I cannot for a moment blame him for it. It is right, noble, Christian: yet it breaks my heart!' And the tears gushed to her fine eyes. Mary bent her head low over her work.
'We are now without father: we shall soon be without home and brother,' she murmured.
At that moment a little accident supervened, which seemed decreed by fate purposely to prove the truth of the adage, that 'misfortunes never come singly,' and to add to their distresses the vexing one of the slip between the cup and the lip. St. John passed the window reading a letter. He entered.
'Our uncle John is dead,' said he.
Both the sisters seemed struck: not shocked or appalled; the tidings appeared in their eyes rather momentous than afflicting. 
'Dead?' repeated Diana.
'Yes.'
She riveted a searching gaze on her brother's face. 'And what then?' she demanded, in a low voice.
'What then, Die?' he replied, maintaining a marble immobility of feature. 'What then? Why- nothing. Read.'
He threw the letter into her lap. She glanced over it, and handed it to Mary. Mary perused it in silence, and returned it to her brother. All three looked at each other, and all three smiled- a dreary, pensive smile enough.
'Amen! We can yet live,' said Diana at last.
'At any rate, it makes us no worse off than we were before,' remarked Mary.
'Only it forces rather strongly on the mind the picture of what might have been; said Mr. Rivers, 'and contrasts it somewhat too vividly with what is.'
He folded the letter, locked it in his desk, and again went out. 
For some minutes no one spoke. Diana then turned to me.
'Jane, you will wonder at us and our mysteries,' she said, 'and think us hard-hearted beings not to be more moved at the death of so near a relation as an uncle; but we have never seen him or known him. He was my mother's brother. My father and he quarrelled long ago.
It was by his advice that my father risked most of his property in the speculation that ruined him. Mutual recrimination passed between them: they parted in anger, and were never reconciled. My uncle engaged afterwards in more prosperous undertakings: it appears he realised a fortune of twenty thousand pounds. He was never married, and had no near kindred but ourselves and one other person, not more closely related than we. My father always cherished the idea that he would atone for his error by leaving his possessions to us; that letter informs us that he has bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception of thirty guineas, to be divided between St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers, for the purchase of three mourning rings. He had a right, of course, to do as he pleased: and yet a momentary damp is cast on the spirits by the receipt of such news.
Mary and I would have esteemed ourselves rich with a thousand pounds each; and to St. John such a sum would have been valuable, for the good it would have enabled him to do.'
This explanation given, the subject was dropped, and no further reference made to it by either Mr. Rivers or his sisters. The next day I left Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary quitted the parsonage: and so the old grange was abandoned. 我越了解沼泽居的人就越是喜欢他们。不到几天工夫，我的身体便很快地恢复，已经可以整天坐着，有时还能出去走走。我已能参加黛安娜和玛丽的一切活动，她们爱谈多久就谈多久，什么时候，什么地方，只要她们允许，就去帮忙。在这些交往中，有一种令人振奋的愉悦—一在我还是第一次体会到—一这种愉悦产生于趣味、情调和原则的融洽。
我爱读她们喜欢读的书，她们所欣赏的使我感到愉快，她们所赞同的我也尊重。她们喜欢这个与世隔绝的家，我也在灰色、古老、小巧的建筑中找到了巨大而永久的魅力。这里有低矮的屋顶、带格子的窗户、消蚀的小径和古杉夹道的大路——强劲的山风使这些古杉都已倾斜。还有长着紫杉和冬青而呈黑色的花园一—这里除了顽强的花种，什么花都不开放。她们眷恋住宅后面和周围紫色的荒原一—眷恋凹陷的溪谷。一条鹅卵石筑成的马道，从大门口由高而低通向那里，先在蔽树丛生的两岸之间蜿蜒着，随后又经过与欧石南荒原交界的几个最荒芜的小牧场。一群灰色的荒原羊和苔藓般面孔的羊羔，都靠这些牧场来维持生命——嗨，她们热情满怀地眷恋着这番景色。我能理解她们的感情，同她们一样感受这个地方的力量与真谛，我看到了这—带诱人的魅力，体会到它所奉献的孤寂。我的眼目尽情地享受着起伏的荒原，享受着山脊上与山谷中由青苔、灰色欧石南、小花点点的草地、鲜艳夺目的欧洲蕨和颜色柔和的花岗岩所形成的荒野色彩。这些点滴景物之于我如同之于她们一—都是无数纯洁可爱的快乐源泉。猛烈的狂风和柔和的微风、凄风苦雨的天气和平平静静的日子、日出时分和日落时刻、月光皎洁的夜晚和乌云密布的黑夜，都使我同他们一样深为这个地区所吸引，都对我如同对他们一样，产生了一种魔力。
在家里我们一样相处得很融洽。她们比我更有造诣，读的书也更多。但是我急切地走着她们在我前面踩踏出来的知识之路。我狼吞虎咽地读着他们借给我的书，而夜晚与她们切磋我白天读过的书是—种极大的满足。我们想法一致，观点相合，总之大家意气相投。
如果我们三人中有一位更出色者和领袖，那就是黛安娜。体态上她远胜于我，漂亮而精力过人，活泼而有生气，流动着一种使我为之惊异又难以理解的丰富的生命力，夜晚的最初时刻，我还能谈一会儿，但第一阵子轻松自如的谈话之后，我便只好坐在黛安娜脚边的矮凳上，把头靠在她膝头上，轮流听着她和玛丽深谈着我只触及了皮毛的话题。黛安娜愿意教我德语，我喜欢跟她学。我发觉教师的角色很适合她，使她高兴，而同样学生的角色也适合我，使我高兴。我们的个性十分吻合，结果彼此之间感情深厚。她们知道我能作画，就立刻把铅笔和颜料盒供我使用。这项唯一胜过她们的技能，使她们感到惊奇，也让她们着了迷。我绘画时玛丽会坐着看我作画，随后也学了起来，而且是位聪明、听话、用功的学生。就这样忙这忙那，彼此都得到了乐趣，一周的日子像一天，一天的时间像一小时那么过去了。
至于圣.约翰先生，我与他妹妹之间自然而迅速形成的亲密无间的感情，与他无缘。我们之间显得疏远的一个原因，是他难得在家，一大部份时间都奔忙于他教区分散的居民之间，走访病人和穷人。
任何天气似乎都阻挡不住牧师的短途行程。不管晴天还是雨天，每天早晨的学习时间一结束，他会戴上帽子，带着他父亲的老猎狗卡罗，出门开始了出于爱好或是职责的使命——我几乎不知道他怎样看待它。天气很糟的时候妹妹们会劝他别去，但他脸上浮起了庄严甚于愉快的笑容说：
“要是一阵风和几滴雨就弄得我放弃这些轻而易举的工作，那么这样懒懒散散，又怎么能为我设想的未来作准备呢？”
黛安娜和玛丽对这个问题的回答，往往是一声叹息和几分钟明显伤心的沉默。
但是除了因为他频繁外出之外，还有另一大障碍使我无法与他建立友情。他似乎是个生性寡言少语、心不在焉、沉思默想的人，尽管他对牧师工作非常热情，生活习惯上也无可指摘，但他好像并没有享受到每个虔诚的基督徒和脚踏实地的慈善家应得的酬报：内心的宁静和满足。晚上，他常常坐在窗前，对着面前的书桌和纸张会停止阅读和写作，把下巴靠在手上，任自己的思绪不知向什么方向飘忽，但显得局促不安，从他眼睛频繁的闪烁和变幻莫测的张合中，可以看到兴奋与激动。
此外，我认为大自然对于他并不像对于她妹妹那样是快乐的源泉。我听到过一次，也只有—次，他表示自己被崎岖的小山深深地迷住了，同时对被他称之为自己家的黑色屋顶和灰白的墙壁，怀着一种眷恋之情。但是在表达这种情感的音调和语言中，隐含的忧郁甚于愉快。而且他从来没有因为要感受一下荒原舒心的字静而漫步其中，—一从来没有去发现或谈及荒原给人千百种平静的乐趣。
由于他不爱交际，我过了一些时候才有机会探究他的思想。我听了他在莫尔顿自己的教堂讲道后，对他的能力有了初步的了解。我希望能描绘一下他那次讲道，但无能为力，我甚至无法确切表达它给我的印象。
开头很平静一—其实，以讲演的风格和语调而言，那是自始至终很平静的。一种发自肺腑而严加控制的热情，很快注进了清晰的语调，激发起了生动的语言，话渐渐地变得有力起来——简练、浓缩而有分寸。牧师的力量使人内心为之震颤，头脑为之惊异，但两者都没有被感化。他的讲演自始至终有着一种奇怪的痛苦，缺乏一种抚慰人的温柔。他不断严厉地提到加尔文主义——上帝的选拔、命定和天罚，每次的提醒听起来仿佛是在宣布末日的来临。布道结束以后，我不是受到他讲演的启发，感觉更好更平静了，而是体会到了一种难以言喻的哀伤。因为我似乎觉得——我不知道别人是不是有同样感觉——我所倾听的雄辩，出自于充满混浊的失望之渣的心灵深处—一那里躁动着无法满足的愿望和不安的憧憬。我确信圣.约翰.里弗斯尽管生活单纯，又真诚热情，却并没有找到不可理解的上帝的安宁。我想他与我一样，都没有找到。我是因为打碎了偶像，失去了天堂而产生了隐蔽而焦躁不安的悔恨一—这些悔恨我虽然最近已避而不谈，但仍无情地纠缠着、威压着我。
与此同时，一个月过去了。黛安娜和玛丽不久就离开沼泽居，回到等待着的截然不同的生活环境中去，在英国南部一个时髦的城市当家庭教师。她们各自在别人家里谋职，被富有而高傲的家庭成员们视为低下的附庸。这些人既不了解也不去发现她们内在的美德，而只赏识她们已经获得的技艺，如同赏识他们厨师的手艺和侍女的情趣。圣.约翰先生一句也没有说起答应帮我找的工作，而对我来说谋个职业已是迫在眉睫的事了。一天早晨，我与他单独在客厅里呆了几分钟，我冒昧地走近窗子的凹陷处——他的桌子、椅子和书桌已使这里成了个书房——我正要开口，尽管还不十分明白该用怎样的措词把问题提出来——因为无论何时要打破包裹着他这种性格的拘谨外壳，都是十分困难的一—他省了我麻烦，先开口了。
我走近时他抬起头来，“你有问题要问我吗，”他说。
“是的，我想知道一下你是否听到过什么我能够做的工作。”
“三个星期前我找到了或是替你设计了某个工作，但你在这里似乎既很有用处，自己又很愉快——我的妹妹们显然同你形影不离，有你作伴她们格外开心一—我觉得妨碍你们彼此所感到的快慰是不适宜的，还是等她们快要离开沼泽居因而你也有必要离开时再说。”
“现在她们三天后就要走了：”我说。
“是呀，她们一走我就要回到莫尔顿的牧师住所去，汉娜随我走，这所老房子要关闭。”
我等了一会儿，以为他会继续他首次提出的话题，但他似乎已另有所思。他明显走了神，忘了我和我的事儿。我不得不把他拉回出于需要已成为我最迫切最关心的话题。
“你想到了什么工作，里弗斯先生？我希望这次拖延不至于增加谋职的难度。”
“呵，不会。既然这项工作只决定于我来提供，你来接受。”
他又不吱声了，仿佛不愿再继续说下去。我有些耐不住了，——两个不安的动作以及一个急切而严厉的眼神落在他脸上，向他表达了同语言一样有效，但省却了不少麻烦的情感。
“你不必急于听到，”他说，“坦率告诉你吧，我没有什么合适的或是挣钱的工作可以建议。我解释之前，请回忆一下，我明明白白地向你打过招呼，要是我帮你，那得是瞎子帮助跛子。我很穷，因为我发现偿付了父亲的债务后，父亲留给我的全部遗产就只有这个摇摇欲坠的田庄，庄后一排枯萎的杉树，一片前面长着紫杉和冬青灌木的荒土。我出身卑微，里弗斯是个古老的名字。但这个族的三个仅存的后裔，两个在陌生人中间依赖他人为生，第三个认为自己是远离故土的异乡人——活着和死了都是如此。是的，他认为，必然认为这样的命运是他的光荣，他盼望有朝一日摆脱尘世束缚的十字架会放在他肩上，那位自己也是最卑微一员的教会斗士的首领会传下号令：起来，跟着我？”
圣.约翰像布道一样说着这些话，语调平静而深沉，脸不发红，目光炯炯。他继续说：
“既然我自己也贫穷卑微，我只能向你提供贫穷卑微的工作，你甚至可能认为这很低俗——因为我现在知道你的举止属于世人所说的高雅；你的情趣倾向于理想化；你所交往的至少是受过教育的人，——但我认为凡是有益于人类进步的工作都不能说低俗。越是贫瘠和没有开垦的土地，基督教徒越是要承担去那儿开垦的使命一一他的劳动所挣得的报酬越少，他的荣誉就越高。在这种情况下，他的命运就是先驱者的命运，传播福音的第一批先驱者就是使徒们——他们的首领就是耶稣，他本人就是救世主。”
“嗯？”他再次停下时我说一—“说下去。”
他还没有说下去便又瞧了瞧我，似乎悠闲地读着我的面孔，仿佛它的五官和线条是一页书上的人物。他仔细打量后所得出的结论，部份地表露在后来的谈话中。
“我相信你会接受我提供的职位，”他说，“而且会干一会儿，尽管不会永久干下去，就像我不会永久担任英国乡村牧师这狭隘，使人越来越狭隘——平静而神秘的职位。因为你的性格也像我的一样，有一种不安分的东西，尽管本质上有所区别。”
“请务必解释一下，”他再次停下来时我催促道。
“一定。你会听到这工作多么可怜——多么琐碎——多么束缚人。我父亲已去世，我自己也就独立了，所以我不会在莫尔顿久待。我很可能在一年之内离开这个地方，但我还在时，我要竭尽全力使它有所改进。两年前我来到时，莫尔顿没有学校，穷人的孩子都被排除在一切渴求上进的希望之外，我为男孩子们建立了一所学校。现在我有意为女孩子开设第二所学校。我已租了一幢楼用于这个目的，附带两间破屋作为女教师的住房。她的工资为三十镑一年，她的房子已安上家具，虽然简陋，但已够用，那是奥利弗小姐做的好事，她是我教区内唯一的一位富人奥利弗先生的独生女，奥利弗先生是山谷中制针厂和铁铸厂的业主。这位女士还为一个从济贫院来的孤儿付教育费和服装费，条件是这位孤儿得协助教师，干些跟她住所和学校有关的琐碎事务，因为教学工作不允许女教师亲自来过问。你愿意做这样一位教师吗？”
他的问题问得有些匆忙。他似乎估计这个建议多半会遭到愤怒的，或者至少轻蔑的拒绝。他虽然可以作些猜测，但不完全了解我的思想和感情，无法判断我会怎样看待自己的命运。说实在，这工作很低下——但提供了住所，而我需要一个安全的避难所。这工作沉闷乏味—一但比之富人家庭的女教师，它却是无拘无束的。而替陌生人操劳的恐惧象铁钳一样夹住了我的心。这个工作并不丢脸——不是不值得一一精神上也并不低下，我下定了决心。
“谢谢你的建议，里弗斯先生。我欣然接受这份工作。”
“可是你理解我的意思吗？”他说。“这是一所乡村学校。你的学生都只是穷苦女孩——茅屋里的孩子——至多是农夫的女儿。编织、缝纫和读、写、算你都得教。你自己的技艺派什么用处呢？你大部份的思想——感情——情趣又有什么用呢？”
“留着它们等有用时再说。它们可以保存下来。”
“那你知道你要干的事了。”
“我知道。”
这时他笑了，不是苦笑，也不是伤心的笑，而是十分满意并深为感激的笑容。
“你什么时候开始履行职务？”
“我明天就到自己的房子去，要是你高兴，下周就开学。”
“很好，就这样吧。”
他立起身来，穿过房间，一动不动地站着再次看着我。他摇了摇头。
“你有什么不赞成呢，里弗斯先生？”我问。
“你不会在莫尔顿呆得很久，不，不会的：”
“为什么？你这么说的理由是什么？”
“我从你的眼睛里看到了。不是那种预示着要安度一生的表情。”
“我没有雄心。”
他听了“雄心”两个字吃了一惊，便重复说：“不，你怎么会想到雄心？谁雄心勃勃呢？我知道自己是这样。但你怎么发现的？”
“我在说我自己。”
“嗯，要是你并不雄心勃勃，那你是——”他打住了。
“是什么呢？”
“我正要说多情，但也许你会误解这个字，而会不高兴。我的意思是，人类的爱心和同情心在你的身上表现得很强烈。我确信你不会长期满足于在孤寂中度过闲暇，把你的工作时间用于一项完全没有刺激的单调劳动，”他又强调着补充说，“就象我不会满足于住在这里，埋没在沼泽地里，封闭在大山之中—一上帝赐予我的天性与此格格不入，上天所赋予的才能会被断送——会弄得．一无用处。这会儿你听见了我如何自相矛盾了吧。我自己讲道时说要安于自己卑贱的命运，只要为上帝效劳，即使当砍柴工和汲水人也心甘情愿一一而我，上帝所任命的牧师，几乎是焦躁不安地咆哮着。哎呀，爱好与原则总得想个办法统一起来。”
他走出了房间。短短的一小时之内，我对他的了解胜过于以前的一个月。不过他仍使我无法理解。
随着同哥哥和家园告别的日子越来越近，黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯也越来越伤心，越来越沉默了。她们都想装得同往常一样，但是她们所要驱除的忧愁是无法完全克制或是掩饰的。黛娜说，这次离别与以往所经历的完全不同。就圣.约翰来说，那可能是一去几年，也可能是一辈子。
“他会为他长期形成的决定而牺牲一切，”她说：“但天性的爱恋与感情却更加强烈。圣.约翰看上去文文静静，简，但是他的躯体里隐藏着一种热情。你可能认为他很温顺，但在某些事情上，他可以像死一般冷酷。最糟糕的是，我的良心几乎不容我说服他放弃自己苛刻的决定。当然我也绝不能为此而责备他。这是正当、高尚、符合基督教精神的，但使我心碎。”说完，眼泪一下子涌上了她漂亮的眼睛。玛丽低着头干着自己的活儿。
“如今我们已没有父亲，很快就要没有家，没有哥哥了，”她喃喃地说。
这时候发生了一个小小的插曲，仿佛也是天意，要证实“祸不单行”的格言，伤心之中因眼看到手的东西又失掉而更添恼怒。圣.约翰走过窗前，读着一封信，他走进房间。
“我们的舅舅去世了，”他说。
两位姐妹都似乎一怔，既不感到震惊也不表示惊讶。在她们的眼睛里这消息显得很重要，但并不令人痛苦。
“死了？”黛安娜重复说。
“是的。”
她带着搜索的目光紧盯着她哥哥的脸庞。“那又怎样呢？”她低声问。
“那又怎样，死了？”他回答，面部象大理石一样毫无表情。“那又怎样？哎呀—一没有怎样。自己看吧。”
他把信扔到她膝头。她眼睛粗略地扫了一下，把它交给了玛丽。玛丽默默地细读着，后来又把信还给了她哥哥。三人彼此你看我，我看你，都笑了起来——那是一种凄凉、忧郁的笑容。
“阿门！我们还能活着，”黛安娜终于说。
“不管怎么说，这并没有弄得我们比以前更糟，”玛丽说。
“只不过它强行使人想起本来可能会出现的景象，”里弗斯先生说，“而同实际的景象形成有些过份鲜明的对照。”
他折好信，锁进抽屉，又走了出去。
几分钟内没有人开腔。黛安娜转向我。
“简，你会对我们和我们的秘密感到奇怪，”她说，“而且会认为我们心肠太狠，居然象舅舅这样一位近亲去世了却并不那么动情。但是我们从来没有见过他，也不知道他。他是我们母亲的兄弟。很久以前我父亲和他曾有过争吵。听从他的建议，我们父亲把大部分资产冒险投入一桩后来毁了他的买卖。彼此都责备对方。他们怒气冲冲地分别了，从此没有和好。我舅舅后来又投资了几家使他财运亨通的企业。他似乎积攒了二万英镑的财产。他—直单身，除了我们也没有近亲，另外有一个关系比我们要离得远些。我的父亲一直希望他会把遗产留给我们，以弥补他的过失。这封信通知我们，他已把每个子儿都给了另外一位亲戚，只留下三十畿尼，由圣.约翰、黛安娜和玛丽．里弗斯三平分，用来购置三枚丧戒。当然他有权按他高兴的去做，但是收到这样的消息暂时总使我们有些扫兴。玛丽和我都会认为各得一千英镑是很富的了，而这样一笔钱对圣.约翰所要做的好事也是很可贵的。”
这番解释以后，这个话题也就扔到了一边，里弗斯先生和他的妹妹也没有再提起。第二天我离开沼泽居去莫尔顿。第三天黛安娜和玛丽告别这里去遥远的Ｂ城。一周后里弗斯先生和汉娜去了牧师住宅，于是这古老的田庄就被废弃了。
Chapter 31
MY home, then,- when I at last find a home,- is a cottage; a little room with whitewashed walls and a sanded floor, containing four painted chairs and a table, a clock, a cupboard, with two or three plates and dishes, and a set of tea-things in delf. Above, a chamber of the same dimensions as the kitchen, with a deal bedstead and chest of drawers; small, yet too large to be filled with my scanty wardrobe: though the kindness of my gentle and generous friends has increased that, by a modest stock of such things as are necessary.It is evening. I have dismissed, with the fee of an orange, the little orphan who serves me as a handmaid. I am sitting alone on the hearth. This morning, the village school opened. I had twenty scholars. But three of the number can read: none write or cipher.
Several knit, and a few sew a little. They speak with the broadest accent of the district. At present, they and I have a difficulty in 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 of flesh and blood as good as the scions of gentlest genealogy; and that the germs of native excellence, refinement, intelligence, kind feeling, are as likely to exist in their hearts as in those of the best-born. My duty will be to develop these germs: surely I shall find some happiness in discharging that office. Much enjoyment I do 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 me enough to live on from day to day.
Was I very gleeful, settled, content, during the hours I passed in yonder bare, humble schoolroom this morning and afternoon? Not to deceive myself, I must reply- No: I felt desolate to a degree. I felt- yes, idiot that I am- I felt degraded. I doubted I had taken a step which sank instead of raising me in the scale of social existence. I was weakly dismayed at the ignorance, the poverty, the coarseness of all I heard and saw round me. But let me not hate and despise myself too much for these feelings; I know them to be wrong- that is a great step gained; I shall strive to overcome them. To-morrow, I trust, I shall get the better of them partially; and in a few weeks, perhaps, they will be quite subdued. In a few months, it is possible, the happiness of seeing progress, and a change for the better in my scholars may substitute gratification for disgust.
Meantime, let me ask myself one question- Which is better?- To have surrendered to temptation; listened to passion; made no painful effort- no struggle;- but to have sunk down in the silken snare; fallen asleep on the flowers covering it; wakened in a southern clime, amongst the luxuries of a pleasure villa: to have been now living in France, Mr. Rochester's mistress; delirious with his love half my time- for he would- oh, yes, he would have loved me well for a while. He did love me- no one will ever love me so again. I shall never more know the sweet homage given to beauty, youth, and grace- for never to any one else shall I seem to possess these charms. He was fond and proud of me- it is what no man besides will ever be.- But where am I wandering, and what am I saying, and above all, feeling? 
Whether is it better, I ask, to be a slave in a fool's paradise at Marseilles- fevered with delusive bliss one hour- suffocating with the bitterest tears of remorse and shame the next- or to be a village-schoolmistress, free and honest, in a breezy mountain nook in the healthy heart of England?
Yes; I feel now that I was right when I adhered to principle and law, and scorned and crushed the insane promptings of a frenzied moment. God directed me to a correct choice: I thank His providence for the guidance!
Having brought my eventide musings to this point, I rose, went to my door, and looked at the sunset of the harvest-day, and at the quiet fields before my cottage, which, with the school, was distant half a mile from the village. The birds were singing their last strains- 'The air was mild, the dew was balm.'
While I looked, I thought myself happy, and was surprised to find myself ere long weeping- and why? For the doom which had reft me from adhesion to my master: for him I was no more to see; for the 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 this thought, I turned my face aside from the lovely sky of eve and lonely vale of Morton- I say lonely, for in that bend of it visible to me there was no building apparent save the church and the parsonage, half-hid in trees, and, quite at the extremity, the roof of Vale Hall, where the rich Mr. Oliver and his daughter lived. I hid my eyes, and leant my head against the stone frame of my door; but soon a slight noise near the wicket which shut in my tiny garden from the meadow beyond it made me look up. A dog- old Carlo, Mr. Rivers' pointer, as I saw in a moment- was pushing the gate with 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 My sisters 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 my face, I thought, with austerity, as I came near: the traces of tears 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 my scholars 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 sufficient and commodious. All I see has made me thankful, not despondent. I am not absolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret the absence of a carpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeks ago I had nothing- I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now I have acquaintance, a home, a business. I wonder at the goodness of God; the generosity of my friends; the bounty of my lot. I do not repine.' 
'But you feel solitude an oppression? The little house there behind you is dark and empty.'
'I have hardly had time yet to enjoy a sense of tranquillity, much less 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 to the vacillating fears of Lot's wife. What you had left before I saw you, of course I do not know; but I counsel you to resist firmly every temptation which would incline you to look back: pursue your present 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 turn the 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 need neither starve from inanition, nor stand still in despair: we have but to seek another nourishment for the mind, as strong as the forbidden food it longed to taste- and perhaps purer; and to hew out for the adventurous foot a road as direct and broad as the one Fortune has blocked up against us, if rougher than it.
'A year ago I was myself intensely miserable, because I thought I had made a mistake in entering the ministry: its uniform duties wearied me to death. I burnt for the more active life of the world- for the more exciting toils of a literary career- for the destiny of an artist, author, orator; anything rather than that of a priest: yes, the heart of a politician, of a soldier, of a votary of glory, a lover of renown, a luster after power, beat under my curate's surplice. I considered; my life was so wretched, it must be changed, or I must die. After a season of darkness and struggling, light broke and relief fell: my cramped existence all at once spread out to a plain without bounds- my powers heard a call from heaven to rise, gather their full strength, spread their wings, and mount beyond ken. God had an errand for me; to bear which afar, to deliver it well, skill and strength, courage and eloquence, the best qualifications of soldier, statesman, and orator, were all needed: for these all centre in the good missionary.
'A missionary I resolved to be. From that moment my state of mind changed; the fetters dissolved and dropped from every faculty, leaving nothing of bondage but its galling soreness- which time only can heal. 
My father, indeed, opposed the determination, but since his death, I have not a legitimate obstacle to contend with; some affairs settled, a successor for Morton provided, an entanglement or two of the feelings broken through or cut asunder- a last conflict with human weakness, in which I know I shall overcome, because I have vowed that I will overcome- and I leave Europe 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, at which I looked too. Both he and I had our backs towards the path leading up the field to the wicket. We had heard no step on the grass-grown track; the water running in the vale was the one lulling sound of the hour and scene; we might well then start when a gay voice, sweet as a silver bell, exclaimed-
'Good evening, Mr. Rivers. And good evening, old Carlo. Your dog is quicker to recognise his friends than you are, sir; he pricked his 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 those musical accents, as if a thunderbolt had split a cloud over his head, he stood yet, at the close of the sentence, in the same attitude in which the speaker had surprised him- his arm resting on the gate, his face directed towards the west. He turned at last, with measured deliberation. A vision, as it seemed to me, had risen at his side.
There appeared, within three feet of him, a form clad in pure white-a youthful, graceful form: full, yet fine in contour; and when, after bending to caress Carlo, it lifted up its head, and threw back a long veil, there bloomed under his glance a face of perfect beauty. Perfect beauty is a strong expression; but I do not retrace or qualify it: as sweet features as ever the temperate clime of Albion moulded; as pure hues of rose and lily as ever her humid gales and vapoury skies generated and screened, justified, in this instance, the term. No charm was wanting, no defect was perceptible; the young girl had regular and delicate lineaments; eyes shaped and coloured as we see them in lovely pictures, large, and dark, and full; the long and shadowy eyelash which encircles a fine eye with so soft a fascination; the pencilled brow which gives such clearness; the white smooth forehead, which adds such repose to the livelier beauties of tint and ray; the cheek oval, fresh, and smooth; the lips, fresh too, ruddy, healthy, sweetly formed; the even and gleaming teeth without flaw; the small dimpled chin; the ornament of rich, plenteous tresses- all advantages, 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 her in a partial mood; and, forgetting her usual stinted step-mother dole of gifts, had endowed this, her darling, with a grand-dame's bounty.
What did St. John Rivers think of this earthly angel? I naturally asked myself that question as I saw him turn to her and look at her; and, as naturally, I sought the answer to the inquiry in his countenance. He had already withdrawn his eye from the Peri, and was 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, as he crushed the snowy heads of the closed flowers with his foot.
town some twenty miles distant) 'this afternoon. Papa told me you had opened your school, and that the new mistress was come; and so 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 direct and 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 of fortune, as well as in those of nature! What happy combination of the planets presided over her birth, I wonder?)
'I shall come up and help you to teach sometimes,' she added. 'It will be a change for me to visit you now and then; and I like a night, or rather this morning, I was dancing till two o'clock. The are the most agreeable men in the world: they put all our young knife-grinders and scissor merchants to shame.'
It seemed to me that Mr. St. John's under lip protruded, and his upper lip curled a moment. His mouth certainly looked a good deal compressed, and the lower part of his face unusually stern and square, as the laughing girl gave him this information. He lifted his gaze, too, from the daisies, and turned it on her. An unsmiling, a searching, a meaning gaze it was. She answered it with a second laugh, 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 to his friends; and if he could speak, he would not be silent.'
As she patted the dog's head, bending with native grace before his young and austere master, I saw a glow rise to that master's face. 
I saw his solemn eye melt with sudden fire, and flicker with resistless emotion. Flushed and kindled thus, he looked nearly as beautiful for a man as she for a woman. His chest heaved once, as if his large heart, weary of despotic constriction, had expanded, despite the will, and made a vigorous bound for the attainment of liberty. But he curbed it, I think, as a resolute rider would curb a rearing steed. 
He responded neither by word nor movement to the gentle advances made him.
'Papa says you never come to see us now,' continued Mis Oliver, looking up. 'You are quite a stranger at Vale Hall. He is alone this evening, and not very well: will you return with me and visit him?'
'It is not a seasonable hour to intrude on Mr. Oliver,' answered St. John.
'Not a seasonable hour! But I declare it is. It is just the hour when papa most wants company: when the works are closed and he has no business to occupy him. Now, Mr. Rivers, do come. Why are you so very shy, and so very sombre?' She filled up the hiatus his silence left by a reply of her own.
'I forgot!' she exclaimed, shaking her beautiful curled head, as if shocked at herself. 'I am so giddy and thoughtless! Do excuse me. It had slipped my memory that you have good reasons to be indisposed for joining in my chatter. Diana and Mary have left you, and Moor House is shut up, and you are so lonely. I am sure I 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 knew the effort it cost him thus to refuse.
'Well, if you are so obstinate, I will leave you; for I dare not stay any longer: the dew begins to fall. Good evening!' She held out her hand. He just touched it. 'Good evening!' he repeated, in a voice low and hollow as an echo. She turned, but in a moment returned.
'Are you well?' she asked. Well might she put the question: his face 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 him as she tripped fairy-like down the field; he, as he strode firmly across, never turned at all.
This spectacle of another's suffering and sacrifice rapt my thoughts from exclusive meditation on my own. Diana Rivers had designated her brother 'inexorable as death.' She had not exaggerated.
我的家呀——我终干找到了一个家——是一间小屋。小房间里墙壁已粉刷过，地面是用沙铺成的。房间内有四把漆过的椅子，一张桌子，一个钟，一个碗橱。橱里有两三个盘子和碟子，还有一套荷兰白釉蓝彩陶器茶具。楼上有一个面积跟厨房一般大小的房间，里面有一个松木床架和一个衣柜，虽然很小，盛放我为数不多的衣物绰绰有余，尽管我的和蔼可亲、慷慨大方的朋友，已经为我增添了一些必要的衣服。
这会儿正是傍晚时分，我给了当我女仆的小孤女一个桔子，打发她走了。我独自坐在火炉旁。今天早上，村校开学了。我有二十个学生，但只有三个能读，没有人会写会算，有几个能编织，少数几个会一点缝纫，她们说起话来地方口音很重。眼下我和她们彼此难以听懂对方的语言。其中有几个没有礼貌，十分粗野。难以驾驭，同时又很无知。但其余的却容易管教，愿意学习，显露出一种令人愉快的气质。我决不能忘记，这些衣衫粗陋的小农民，像最高贵血统的后裔一样有血有肉的；跟出身最好的人一样，天生的美德、雅致，智慧、善良的的情感，都可能在她们的心田里发芽，我的职责是帮助这些萌芽成长，当然在尽责时我能获得某种愉快。但我并不期望从展现在我面前的生活中尝到多大乐趣。不过无疑要是我调节自己的心态，尽力去做，它也会给我以足够的酬报，让我一天天生活下去。
今天上午和下午我在那边四壁空空、简陋不堪的教室里度过的几小时，难道自己就快乐、安心、知足吗，为了不自欺欺人，我得回答——没有。我觉得有些孤寂，我感到——是呀．自己真愚蠢——我感到有失身份。我怀疑我所跨出的一步不是提高而是降低了自己的社会地位。我对周围见到和听到的无知、贫穷和粗俗略微有点失望。但别让我因为这些情感而痛恨和蔑视自己。我知道这些情感是不对的——这是一大进步。我要努力驱除这些情感。我相信明天我将部分地战胜它们；几周之后或许完全征服它们；几个月后，我会高兴地看到进步，看到学生们大有进展，于是满意就会取代厌恶了。
同时，也让我问自己一个问题——何者为好？——经不住诱惑听凭欲念摆布，不作痛苦的努力——没有搏斗——落入温柔的陷阱，在覆盖着陷阱的花丛中沉沉睡去。在南方的气候中一觉醒来，置身于享乐别墅的奢华之中，原来已住在法国，做了罗切斯特先生的情妇，一半的时间因为他的爱而发狂——因为他会——呵，不错，他暂时会很爱我。他确实爱我——再也没有谁会这么爱我了。我永远也看不到有谁会对美丽、青春、优雅如此虔敬了——因为我不会对任何其他人产生这样的魅力。他非常喜欢我，为我感到自豪——而其他人是谁也做不到的——可是我会在哪儿漫游，我会说什么，尤其是我会有什么感觉呢？我问，在马赛愚人的天堂做一个奴隶——一会儿开心得浑身发烧，头脑发昏——一会儿因为羞愧和悔恨而痛苦流涕，是这样好呢，还是——在健康的英国中部一个山风吹拂的角落，做一个无忧无虑老老实实的乡村女教师好呢？
是的，我现在感到，自己坚持原则和法规，蔑视和控制狂乱时刻缺乏理智的冲动是对的。上帝指引我作了正确的选择，我感谢上苍的指导！
薄暮时分，我想到这里便站了起来，走向门边，看看收获日子的夕阳，看看小屋前面静悄悄的田野，田野与学校离村庄有半英里。鸟儿们正唱着它们最后的一曲。
“微风和煦，露水芬芳。”
这么瞧着感到很愉快，而且惊异地发觉自己不久哭起来了——为什么？因为厄运硬是把两情依依的我与主人拆开；因为我再也见不到他了；因为绝望的忧伤和极度的愤怒一一我离开的后果——这些也许正拉着他远远离开正道，失去了最后改邪归正的希望。一想到这里我从黄昏可爱的天空和莫尔顿孤独的溪谷转过脸来——我说孤独，那是因为在山弯里，除了掩映在树从中的教堂和牧师住宅，以及另一头顶端住着有钱的奥利弗先生和他的女儿的溪谷庄园，再也看不见其他建筑了。我蒙住眼睛，把头靠在房子的石门框上。但不久那扇把我的小花园与外边草地分开的小门附近，传来了轻轻的响动，我便抬起头来。一条狗——不一会儿我看到是里弗斯先生的猎狗卡罗一—正用鼻子推着门。圣.约翰自己抱臂靠在门上，他双眉紧锁，严肃得近乎不快的目光盯着我，我把他请进了屋。
“不，我不能久呆，我不过给你捎来了一个小包裹，是我妹妹们留给你的。我想里面有一个颜色盒，一些铅笔和纸张。”
走过去收了下来，这是一件值得欢迎的礼品。我走近他时，我想他用严厉的目光审视着我。毫无疑问，我脸上明显有泪痕。
“你发觉第一天的工作比你预料的要难吗？”他问。
“呵，没有！相反，我想到时候我会跟学生们处得很好。”
“可是也许你的居住条件——你的房子——你的家具一—使你大失所望？说真的是够寒碜的，不过——”我打断了他：
“我的小屋很干净，也经得住风雨。我的家具很充足，使用起来也方便。我所看到的只能使我感到幸运，而不是沮丧。我绝不是这样一个傻瓜和享乐主义者，居然对缺少地毯、沙发、银盘而懊悔不已。更何况五周前我一无所有——我当时是一个弃儿、一个乞丐、一个流浪者。现在我有了熟人，有了家，有了工作。我惊异于上帝的仁慈，朋友的慷慨，命运的恩惠。我并不感到烦恼。”
“可是你不觉得孤独是一种压抑吗？你身后的小房子黑咕隆咚，空空荡荡，”
“我几乎还没有时间来欣赏一种宁静感，更没有时间为孤独感而显得不耐烦了。”
“很好。我希望你体会到了你自己所说的满足，不管怎么说，你健全的理智会告诉你，像罗得的妻子那样犹犹豫豫，畏首畏尾，还为时过早。我见到你之前你遇到了什么，我无从知道，但我劝你要坚决抵制回头看的诱惑，坚守你现在的事业，至少干它几个月。”
“那正是我想做的，”我回答。圣.约翰继续说：
“要控制意愿，改变天性并不容易，但从经验来看是可以做到的。上帝给了我们一定力量来创造自己的命运。我们的精力需要补充而又难以如愿的时候——我们的意志一意孤行，要走不该走的路的时候一—我们不必因食物不足而挨饿，或者因为绝望而止步。我们只要为心灵寻找另一种养料，它像渴望一尝的禁果那样滋养，也许还更为清醇。要为敢于冒险的双脚开辟出一条路来，虽然更加坎坷，却同命运将我们堵塞的路一样直，一样宽。”
“一年之前，我也极其痛苦，觉得当牧师是一大错误。它千篇一律的职责乏味得要死。我热烈向往世间更活跃的生活—一向往文学经历更激动人心的劳作一—向往艺术家、作家、演说家的命运，只要不当牧师，随便当什么都可以。是的，一个政治家、一个士兵、一个光荣事业的献身者、一个沽名钓誉者、一个权力欲很强的人的一颗心，在牧师的法衣下跳动。我认为我的生活是悲惨的，必须加以改变，否则我得死去。经过一段黑暗和挣扎的时期，光明到来，宽慰降临。我那原先狭窄的生活，突然间扩展到一望无垠的平原—一我的能力听到了上天的召唤，起来，全力以赴，张开翅膀，任意飞翔。上帝赐予我一项使命，要做到底做得好，技巧和力量、勇气和雄辩等士兵、政治家、演说家的最好质都是必不可少的，因为一个出色的传教士都集这些于一身。
“我决心当个传教士。从那一刻起我的心态起了变化，镣铐熔化了，纷纷脱离我的官能，留下的不是羁绊而是擦伤的疼痛—一那只有时间才能治愈。其实我父亲反对我的决定，但自他去世以后，我已没有合法的障碍需要排除。一些事务已经妥善处理，莫尔顿的后继者也已经找到。一两桩感情纠葛已经冲破或者割断——这是与人类弱点的最后斗争，我知道我能克服，因为我发誓我一定要克服它——我离开欧洲去东方。”
他说这话的时候用的是奇怪、克制却又强调的口吻。说完了抬起头来，不是看我，而是看着落日，我也看了起来。他和我都背朝着从田野通向小门的小径。在杂草丛生的小径上，我们没有听到脚步声，此时此刻此情此景中，唯一让人陶醉的声音是潺潺的溪流声。因此当一个银铃似的欢快甜蜜的嗓音叫起来时，我们很吃了一惊：
“晚上好，里弗斯先生，晚上好，老卡罗。你的狗比你先认出了你的朋友来呢，我还在底下田野上，他已经竖起耳朵，摇起尾巴来了，而你到现在还把背向着我。”
确实如此。尽管里弗斯先生刚听到音乐般的声调时吃了一惊，仿佛一个霹雳在他头上撕裂了云层似的。但就是对方把话说完了，他还是保持着说话人惊吓了他时的姿势，胳膊靠在门上，脸朝西。最后他从容地转过头来，我似乎觉得他旁边出现了一个幻影。离他三尺的地方，有一个穿着纯白衣服的形体一一年青而优美的形体，丰满而线条很美。这人弯下腰下去抚摸卡罗时，抬起了头，把长长的面纱扔到后头，于是一张花也似的美妙绝伦的面孔，映入了他的眼帘。美妙绝伦是说重了一点，但我不愿收回这个词，或者另加修饰。英格兰温和的气候所能塑造的最可爱的面容，英格兰湿润的风和雾蒙蒙的天空所能催生，所能庇护的最纯正的玫瑰色和百合色这种描绘，在眼前这个例子中证明是恰到好处的。不缺一丝妩媚，不见任何缺陷。这位年轻姑娘面部匀称娇嫩，眼睛的形状和颜色就跟我们在可爱的图画上看到的无异，又大又黑又圆，眼睫毛又长又浓，以一种柔和的魅力围着一对美丽的眼睛。画过的眉毛异常清晰。白皙光滑的额头给色泽与光彩所形成的活泼美增添了一种宁静。脸颊呈椭圆形，鲜嫩而滑润。嘴唇也一样鲜嫩，红通通十分健康，外形非常可爱。整齐而闪光的牙齿，没有缺点，下巴有一个小小的酒窝。头发浓密成了一个很好的装饰。总之，合在一起构成理想美的一切优点都是属于她的，我瞧着这个漂亮的家伙，不胜惊讶，对她一心为之赞叹。大自然显然出于偏爱创造了她，忘记给予她通常吝啬的后母会给的小礼，而授予了她外祖母会给的慷慨恩赐。
沖?熐樯涎罢艺飧鑫侍獾拇鸢浮Ｋ?寻涯抗獯诱馕幌膳?砩弦瓶???谱懦ぴ诿疟叩囊淮夭黄鹧鄣某?铡?br> “是个可爱的傍晚，不过你一个人外出就有些太晚了，”他一面说，一面用脚把没有开的雪白的花头踩烂了。
“呵，我下午刚从Ｓ市回来（她提了一下相距大约二十英里的一个城市）。爸爸告诉我你己经开办了一所学校，新的女教师已经来了，所以我用完茶后戴上草帽跑到山谷来看她了。就是她吗？”她指着我。
“是的，”圣.约翰说。
“你觉得会喜欢莫尔顿吗？”她问我，语调和举止里带着一种直率而幼稚的单纯，虽然有些孩子气，但讨人喜欢。
“我希望我会这样。我很想这么做。”
“你发现学生像你预料的那么专心么？”
“十分专心。”
“你喜欢你的房子吗？”
“很喜欢。”
“我布置得好吗？”
“真的很好。”
“而且选了爱丽丝．伍德来服侍你，不错吧？”
“确实这样。她可以管教，也很派用处。（那么我想这位就是继承人奥利弗小姐了。她似乎既在家产上又在那些天生丽质上得到了偏爱！我不知道她的出生碰上了什么行星的幸运组合呢？）”
“有时我会上来帮你教书，”她补充说。“这么时时来看看你，对我也可以换换口味，而我喜欢换口味。里弗斯先生，我呆在Ｓ市的时候非常愉快。昨天晚上，或者说今天早晨，我跳舞一直跳到两点。那，那个，——自从骚乱以后，那个团一直驻扎在那里，而军官们是世上最讨人喜欢的人，他们使我们所有年青的磨刀制剪商相形见绌。
我好像觉得圣.约翰先生的下唇突了出来，上唇卷起了一会儿。这位哈哈笑着的姑娘告诉他这些情况时，他的嘴看上去紧抿着，下半个脸异乎寻常地严肃和古板。他还从雏菊那儿抬起眼来凝视着她。这是一种没有笑容、搜索探寻、意味深长的目光。她再次一笑，算是对他的回答。笑声很适合她的青春年华，她那玫瑰色的面容，她的酒窝，她那晶莹的眸子。
圣.约翰默不作声十分严肃地站着时，她又开始抚摸起卡罗来。“可怜的，卡罗喜欢我，”她说，“它对朋友不严肃，不疏远。而且要是它能说话，它是不会不吭声的。”
她以天生的优美姿态，在年青而严峻的狗主人面前弯下腰，拍拍狗头时，我看见主人的脸上升起了红晕，看见他严肃的目光，已被突如其来的火花所融化，闪烁着难以克制的激情，因此他的脸烧得通红。作为一个男子，他看上去几乎象她作为一个女人那么漂亮。他的胸部一度起伏着，仿佛那颗巨大的心对专横的约束感到厌倦，已经违背意志扩展起来，强劲有力地跳动了一下，希望获得自由。但他把它控制住了，我想就像一位坚定的骑手勒住了腾起的马一样。对她那种饱含温情的友好表示，他既没用语言也没通过动作来回答。
“爸爸说你现在从不来看我们了，”奥利弗小姐抬起头来继续说。“你简直成了溪谷庄园的陌生人了。今天晚上他只有一个人，而且不大舒服。你愿意同我一起回去看看他吗？”
“现在这个时候去打扰奥利弗先生是不合时宜的，”圣.约翰回答。
“不会不合时宜的！但我宣布现在恰是时候，这是爸爸最需要有人陪伴的时刻。工厂一关，他便没事可干了。好吧，里弗斯先生，你可—定得来。你干嘛这么怕羞，这么忧郁？”她自己作了回答，填补了他的沉默所留下的空隙。
“我倒忘了，”她大叫起来，摇着美丽的、头发卷曲的脑袋，仿佛对自己感到震惊。“我实在是昏头昏脑，太粗心大意了！—定得原谅我。我倒是忘了你有充分理由不愿跟我闲聊。黛安娜和玛丽已经离开了你，沼泽居已经关闭，你那么孤独。我确实很同情你，一定要来看看爸爸呀。”
“今晚不去了，罗莎蒙德小姐，今晚不去了。”
圣.约翰先生几乎像一台机器那样说着话。只有他自己知道要拒绝对方所要付出的力气。
“好吧，要是你那么固执，我就离开你了，可不敢再这么呆下去，露水已开始落下来了，晚安！”
她伸出手来。他只碰了一碰。“晚安！”他重复道，音调低沉，而且像回音那么沉闷。她转过身去，但过了一会儿又回过身来。
“你身体好吗？”她问。她难怪会提出这个问题来，因为他的脸色像她的衣服那么苍白。
“很好，”他宣称，随后点了点头离开了大门。她走一条路，他走的是另一条路。她像仙女一样轻快地走下田野时，两次回头盯着他；而他坚定地大步走过，从没回头。
别人受苦和作出牺牲的情景，使我不再只耽于对自己的受苦和牺牲的沉思了。黛安娜．里弗斯曾说她的哥哥“象死一般的冷酷，”她并没有夸张。
Chapter 32
I CONTINUED the labours of the village-school as actively and faithfully as I could. It was truly hard work at first. Some time elapsed before, with all my efforts, I could comprehend my scholars and their nature. Wholly untaught, with faculties quite torpid, they seemed to me hopelessly dull; and, at first sight, all dull alike: but I soon found I was mistaken. There was a difference amongst them as amongst the educated; and when I got to know them, and they me, this difference rapidly developed itself. Their amazement at me, my language, my rules, and ways, once subsided, I found some of these heavy-looking, gaping rustics wake up into sharp-witted girls enough. Many showed themselves obliging, and amiable too; and I discovered amongst them not a few examples of natural politeness, and innate self-respect, as well as of excellent capacity, that won both my good-will and my admiration. These soon took a pleasure in doing their work well, in keeping their persons neat, in learning their tasks regularly, in acquiring quiet and orderly manners. The rapidity of their progress, in some instances, was even surprising; and an honest and happy pride I took in it: besides, I began  personally to like some of the best girls; and they liked me. I had amongst my scholars several farmers' daughters: young women grown, almost. These could already read, write, and sew; and to them I taught the elements of grammar, geography, history, and the finer kinds of needlework. I found estimable characters amongst them- characters desirous of information and disposed for improvement- with whom I passed many a pleasant evening hour in their own homes. Their parents then (the farmer and his wife) loaded me with attentions.There was an enjoyment in accepting their simple kindness, and in repaying it by a consideration- a scrupulous regard to their feelings- to which they were not, perhaps, at all times accustomed, and which both charmed and benefited them; because, while it elevated them in their own eyes, it made them emulous to merit the deferential treatment they received.
I felt I became a favourite in the neighbourhood. Whenever I went out, I heard on all sides cordial salutations, and was welcomed with friendly smiles. To live amidst general regard, though it be but the regard of working people, is like 'sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet'; serene inward feelings bud and bloom under the ray. At this period of my life, my heart far oftener swelled with thankfulness than sank with dejection: and yet, reader, to tell you all, in the midst of this calm, this useful existence- after a day passed in honourable exertion amongst my scholars, an evening spent in drawing or reading contentedly alone- I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured, agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy- dreams where, amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk and romantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always at some exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him- the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then I recalled where I was, and how situated.
Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; and then the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, and heard the burst of passion. By nine o'clock the next morning I was punctually opening the school; tranquil, settled, prepared for the steady duties of the day.
Rosamond Oliver kept her word in coming to visit me. Her call at the school was generally made in the course of her morning ride. She would canter up to the door on her pony, followed by a mounted livery servant. Anything more exquisite than her appearance, in her purple habit, with her Amazon's cap of black velvet placed gracefully above the long curls that kissed her cheek and floated to her shoulders, can scarcely be imagined: and it was thus she would enter the rustic building, and glide through the dazzled ranks of the village children. She generally came at the hour when Mr. Rivers was engaged in giving his daily catechising lesson. Keenly, I fear, did the eye of the visitress pierce the young pastor's heart. A sort of instinct seemed to warn him of her entrance, even when he did not see it; and when he was looking quite away from the door, if she appeared at it, his cheek would glow, and his marble-seeming features, though they refused to relax, changed indescribably, and in their very quiescence became expressive of a repressed fervour, stronger than working muscle or darting glance could indicate.
Of course, she knew her power: indeed, he did not, because he could not, conceal it from her. In spite of his Christian stoicism, when she went up and addressed him, and smiled gaily, encouragingly, even fondly in his face, his hand would tremble and his eye burn. He seemed to say, with his sad and resolute look, if he did not say it with his lips, 'I love you, and I know you prefer me. It is not despair of success that keeps me dumb. If I offered my heart, I believe you would accept it. But that heart is already laid on a sacred altar: the fire is arranged round it. It will soon be no more than a sacrifice consumed.'
And then she would pout like a disappointed child; a pensive cloud would soften her radiant vivacity; she would withdraw her hand hastily from his, and turn in transient petulance from his aspect, at once so heroic and so martyr-like. St. John, no doubt, would have given the world to follow, recall, retain her, when she thus left him; but he would not give one chance of heaven, nor relinquish, for the elysium of her love, one hope of the true, eternal Paradise.
Besides, he could not bind all that he had in his nature- the rover, the aspirant, the poet, the priest- in the limits of a single passion.
He could not- he would not- renounce his wild field of mission warfare for the parlours and the peace of Vale Hall. I learnt so much from himself in an inroad I once, despite his reserve, had the daring to make on his confidence.
Miss Oliver already honoured me with frequent visits to my cottage.
I had learnt her whole character, which was without mystery or disguise: she was coquettish, but not heartless; exacting, but not worthlessly selfish. She had been indulged from her birth, but was not absolutely spoilt. She was hasty, but good-humoured; vain (she could not help it, when every glance in the glass showed her such a flush of loveliness), but not affected; liberal-handed; innocent of the pride of wealth; ingenuous; sufficiently intelligent; gay, lively, and unthinking: she was very charming, in short, even to a cool observer of her own sex like me; but she was not profoundly interesting or thoroughly impressive. A very different sort of mind was hers from that, for instance, of the sisters of St. John. Still, I liked her almost as I liked my pupil Adele; except that, for a child whom we have watched over and taught, a closer affection is engendered than we can give an equally attractive adult acquaintance.
She had taken an amiable caprice to me. She said I was like Mr. Rivers, only, certainly, she allowed, 'not one-tenth so handsome, though I was a nice neat little soul enough, but he was an angel.' I was, however, good, clever, composed, and firm, like him. I was a lusus naturae, she affirmed, as a village schoolmistress: she was sure my previous history, if known, would make a delightful romance.
One evening, while, with her usual child-like activity, and thoughtless yet not offensive inquisitiveness, she was rummaging the cupboard and the table-drawer of my little kitchen, she discovered first two French books, a volume of Schiller, a German grammar and dictionary, and then my drawing-materials and some sketches, including a pencil-head of a pretty little cherub-like girl, one of my scholars, and sundry views from nature, taken in the Vale of Morton and on the surrounding moors. She was first transfixed with surprise, and then electrified with delight.
'Had I done these pictures? Did I know French and German? What a love- what a miracle I was! I drew better than her master in the first 'With pleasure,' I replied; and I felt a thrill of artist-delight at the idea of copying from so perfect and radiant a model. She had then on a dark-blue silk dress; her arms and her neck were bare; her only ornament was her chestnut tresses, which waved over her shoulders with all the wild grace of natural curls. I took a sheet of fine card-board, and drew a careful outline. I promised myself the pleasure of colouring it; and, as it was getting late then, I told her she must come and sit another day.
She made such a report of me to her father, that Mr. Oliver himself accompanied her next evening- a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged, and grey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a bright flower near a hoary turret. He appeared a taciturn, and perhaps a proud personage; but he was very kind to me. The sketch of Rosamond's portrait pleased him highly: he said I must make a finished picture of it. He insisted, too, on my coming the next day to spend the evening at Vale Hall.
I went. I found it a large, handsome residence, showing abundant evidences of wealth in the proprietor. Rosamond was full of glee and pleasure all the time I stayed. Her father was affable; and when he entered into conversation with me after tea, he expressed in strong terms his approbation of what I had done in Morton school, and said he only feared, from what he saw and heard, I was too good for the place, and would soon quit it for one more suitable.
'Indeed,' cried Rosamond, 'she is clever enough to be a governess in a high family, papa.'
I thought I would far rather be where I am than in any high family in the land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers- of the Rivers family- with great respect. He said it was a very old name in that neighbourhood; that the ancestors of the house were wealthy; that all Morton had once belonged to them; that even now he considered the representative of that house might, if he liked, make an alliance with the best. He accounted it a pity that so fine and talented a young man should have formed the design of going out as a missionary; it was quite throwing a valuable life away. It appeared, then, that her father would throw no obstacle in the way of Rosamond's union with St. John. Mr. Oliver evidently regarded the young clergyman's good birth, old name, and sacred profession as sufficient compensation for the want of fortune.
It was the 5th of November, and a holiday. My little servant, after helping me to clean my house, was gone, well satisfied with the fee of a penny for her aid. All about me was spotless and bright- scoured floor, polished grate, and well-rubbed chairs. I had also made myself neat, and had now the afternoon before me to spend as I would.
The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I got my palette and pencils, and fell to the more soothing, because easier occupation, of completing Rosamond Oliver's miniature. The head was finished already: there was but the background to tint and the drapery to shade off; a touch of carmine, too, to add to the ripe lips- a soft curl here and there to the tresses- a deeper tinge to the shadow of the lash under the azured eyelid. I was absorbed in the execution of these nice details, when, after one rapid tap, my door unclosed, admitting St. John Rivers.
'I am come to see how you are spending your holiday,' he said.
'Not, I hope, in thought? No, that is well: while you draw you will not feel lonely. You see, I mistrust you still, though you have borne up wonderfully so far. I have brought you a book for evening solace,' and he laid on the table a new publication- a poem: one of those genuine productions so often vouchsafed to the fortunate public of those days- the golden age of modern literature. Alas! the readers of our era are less favoured. But courage! I will not pause either to accuse or repine. I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to bind or slay: they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strength again one day. Powerful angels, safe in heaven! they smile when sordid souls triumph, and feeble ones weep over their destruction. Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no: do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No; they not only live, but reign and redeem: and without their divine influence spread everywhere, you would be in hell- the hell of your own meanness.
While I was eagerly glancing at the bright pages of Marmion (for Marmion it was), St. John stooped to examine my drawing. His tall figure sprang erect again with a start: he said nothing. I looked up at him: he shunned my eye. I knew his thoughts well, and could read his heart plainly; at the moment I felt calmer and cooler than he: I had then temporarily the advantage of him, and I conceived an inclination to do him some good, if I could.
'With all his firmness and self-control,' thought I, 'he tasks himself too far: locks every feeling and pang within- expresses, confesses, imparts nothing. I am sure it would benefit him to talk a little about this sweet Rosamond, whom he thinks he ought not to marry: I will make him talk.'
I said first, 'Take a chair, Mr. Rivers.' But he answered, as he always did, that he could not stay. 'Very well,' I responded, mentally, 'stand if you like; but you shall not go just yet, I am determined: solitude is at least as bad for you as it is for me.
I'll try if I cannot discover the secret spring of your confidence, and find an aperture in that marble breast through which I can shed one drop of the balm of sympathy.'
'Is this portrait like?' I asked bluntly.
'Like! Like whom? I did not observe it closely.'
'You did, Mr. Rivers.'
He almost started at my sudden and strange abruptness: he looked at me astonished. 'Oh, that is nothing yet,' I muttered within. 'I don't mean to be baffled by a little stiffness on your part; I'm prepared to go to considerable lengths.' I continued, 'You observed it closely and distinctly; but I have no objection to your looking at it again,' and I rose and placed it in his hand.
'A well-executed picture,' he said; 'very soft, clear colouring; very graceful and correct drawing.'
'Yes, yes; I know all that. But what of the resemblance? Who is it like?'
Mastering some hesitation, he answered, 'Miss Oliver, I presume.'
'Of course. And now, sir, to reward you for the accurate guess, I will promise to paint you a careful and faithful duplicate of this very picture, provided you admit that the gift would be acceptable to you. I don't wish to throw away my time and trouble on an offering you would deem worthless.'
He continued to gaze at the picture: the longer he looked, the firmer he held it, the more he seemed to covet it. 'It is like!' he murmured; 'the eye is well managed: the colour, light, expression, are perfect. It smiles!'
'Would it comfort, or would it wound you to have a similar painting? Tell me that. When you are at Madagascar, or at the Cape, or in India, would it be a consolation to have that memento in your possession? or would the sight of it bring recollections calculated to enervate and distress?'
He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me, irresolute, disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.
'That I should like to have it is certain: whether it would be judicious or wise is another question.'
Since I had ascertained that Rosamond really preferred him, and that her father was not likely to oppose the match, I- less exalted in my views than St. John- had been strongly disposed in my own heart to advocate their union. It seemed to me that, should he become the possessor of Mr. Oliver's large fortune, he might do as much good with  it as if he went and laid his genius out to wither, and his strength to waste, under a tropical sun. With this persuasion I now answered-
'As far as I can see, it would be wiser and more judicious if you were to take to yourself the original at once.'
By this time he had sat down: he had laid the picture on the table before him, and with his brow supported on both hands, hung fondly over it. I discerned he was now neither angry nor shocked at my audacity. I saw even that to be thus frankly addressed on a subject he had deemed unapproachable- to hear it thus freely handled- was beginning to be felt by him as a new pleasure- an unhoped-for relief. Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive. The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all; and to 'burst' with boldness and good-will into 'the silent sea' of their souls is often to confer on them the first of obligations.
'She likes you, I am sure,' said I, as I stood behind his chair, 'and her father respects you. Moreover, she is a sweet girl- rather thoughtless; but you would have sufficient thought for both yourself and her. You ought to marry her.'
'Does she like me?' he asked.
'Certainly; better than she likes any one else. She talks of you continually: there is no subject she enjoys so much or touches upon so often.'
'It is very pleasant to hear this,' he said- 'very: go on for another quarter of an hour.' And he actually took out his watch and laid it upon the table to measure the time.
'But where is the use of going on,' I asked, 'when you are probably preparing some iron blow of contradiction, or forging a fresh chain to fetter your heart?'
'Don't imagine such hard things. Fancy me yielding and melting, as I am doing: human love rising like a freshly opened fountain in my mind and overflowing with sweet inundation all the field I have so carefully and with such labour prepared- so assiduously sown with the seeds of good intentions, of self-denying plans. And now it is deluged with a nectarous flood- the young germs swamped- delicious poison cankering them: now I see myself stretched on an ottoman in the drawing-room at Vale Hall at my bride Rosamond Oliver's feet: she is talking to me with her sweet voice- gazing down on me with those eyes your skilful hand has copied so well- smiling at me with these coral lips. She is mine- I am hers- this present life and passing world suffice to me. Hush! say nothing- my heart is full of delight- my senses are entranced- let the time I marked pass in peace.'
I humoured him: the watch ticked on: he breathed fast and low: I stood silent. Amidst this hush the quarter sped; he replaced the watch, laid the picture down, rose, and stood on the hearth.
'Now,' said he, 'that little space was given to delirium and delusion. I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put my neck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers; I tasted her cup. The pillow was burning: there is an asp in the garland: the wine has a bitter taste: her promises are hollow- her offers false: I see and know all this.'
I gazed at him in wonder.
'It is strange,' pursued he, 'that while I love Rosamond Oliver so wildly- with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the object of which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating- I experience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that she would not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me; that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that to twelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know.'
'Strange indeed!' I could not help ejaculating.
'While something in me,' he went on, 'is acutely sensible to her charms, something else is as deeply impressed with her defects: they are such that she could sympathise in nothing I aspired to- co-operate in nothing I undertook. Rosamond a sufferer, a labourer, a female apostle? Rosamond a missionary's wife? No!'
'But you need not be a missionary. You might relinquish that scheme.'
'Relinquish! What! my vocation? My great work? My foundation laid on earth for a mansion in heaven? My hopes of being numbered in the band who have merged all ambitions in the glorious one of bettering their race- of carrying knowledge into the realms of ignorance- of substituting peace for war- freedom for bondage- religion for superstition- the hope of heaven for the fear of hell? Must I relinquish that? It is dearer than the blood in my veins. It is what I have to look forward to, and to live for.'
After a considerable pause, I said- 'And Miss Oliver? Are her disappointment and sorrow of no interest to you?'
'Miss Oliver is ever surrounded by suitors and flatterers: in less than a month, my image will be effaced from her heart. She will forget me; and will marry, probably, some one who will make her far happier than I should do.'
'You speak coolly enough; but you suffer in the conflict. You are wasting away.'
'No. If I get a little thin, it is with anxiety about my prospects, yet unsettled- my departure, continually procrastinated. Only this morning, I received intelligence that the successor, whose arrival I have been so long expecting, cannot be ready to replace me for three months to come yet; and perhaps the three months may extend to six.'
'You tremble and become flushed whenever Miss Oliver enters the schoolroom.'
Again the surprised expression crossed his face. He had not imagined that a woman would dare to speak so to a man. For me, I felt at home in this sort of discourse. I could never rest in communication with strong, discreet, and refined minds, whether male or female, till I had passed the outworks of conventional reserve, and crossed the threshold of confidence, and won a place by their heart's very hearthstone.
'You are original,' said he, 'and not timid. There is something brave in your spirit, as well as penetrating in your eye; but allow me to assure you that you partially misinterpret my emotions. You think them more profound and potent than they are. You give me a larger allowance of sympathy than I have a just claim to. When I colour, and when I shake before Miss Oliver, I do not pity myself. I scorn the weakness. I know it is ignoble: a mere fever of the flesh: not, I declare, the convulsion of the soul. That is just as fixed as a rock, firm set in the depths of a restless sea. Know me to be what I am- a cold, hard man.'
I smiled incredulously.
'You have taken my confidence by storm,' he continued, 'and now it is much at your service. I am simply, in my original state-
stripped of that blood-bleached robe with which Christianity covers human deformity- a cold, hard, ambitious man. Natural affection only, of all the sentiments, has permanent power over me. Reason, and not feeling, is my guide; my ambition is unlimited: my desire to rise higher, to do more than others, insatiable. I honour endurance, perseverance, industry, talent; because these are the means by which men achieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence. I watch your career with interest, because I consider you a specimen of a  diligent, orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply compassionate what you have gone through, or what you still suffer.'
'You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher,' I said.
'No. There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers: I believe; and I believe the Gospel. You missed your epithet. I am not a pagan, but a Christian philosopher- a follower of the sect of Jesus. As His disciple I adopt His pure, His merciful, His benignant doctrines. I advocate them: I am sworn to spread them. Won in youth to religion, she has cultivated my original qualities thus:- From the minute germ, natural affection, she has developed the overshadowing tree, philanthropy. From the wild stringy root of human uprightness, she has reared a due sense of the Divine justice. Of the ambition to win power and renown for my wretched self, she has formed the ambition to spread my Master's kingdom; to achieve victories for the standard of the cross. So much has religion done for me; turning the original materials to the best account; pruning and training nature. But she could not eradicate nature: nor will it be eradicated "till this mortal shall put on immortality."'
Having said this, he took his hat, which lay on the table beside my palette. Once more he looked at the portrait. 
'She is lovely,' he murmured. 'She is well named the Rose of the World, indeed!'
'And may I not paint one like it for you?'
'Cui bono? No.'
He drew over the picture the sheet of thin paper on which I was accustomed to rest my hand in painting, to prevent the card-board from being sullied. What he suddenly saw on this blank paper, it was impossible for me to tell; but something had caught his eye. He took it up with a snatch; he looked at the edge; then shot a glance at me, inexpressibly peculiar, and quite incomprehensible: a glance that seemed to take and make note of every point in my shape, face, and dress; for it traversed all, quick, keen as lightning. His lips parted, as if to speak: but he checked the coming sentence, whatever it was.
'What is the matter?' I asked.
'Nothing in the world,' was the reply; and, replacing the paper, I saw him dexterously tear a narrow slip from the margin. It disappeared in his glove; and, with one hasty nod and 'good-afternoon,' he vanished. 
'Well!' I exclaimed, using an expression of the district, 'that caps the globe, however!'
I, in my turn, scrutinised the paper; but saw nothing on it save a few dingy stains of paint where I had tried the tint in my pencil. I pondered the mystery a minute or two; but finding it insolvable, and being certain it could not be of much moment, I dismissed, and soon forgot it.
 我继续为积极办好乡村学校尽心尽力。起初确实困难重重。尽管我使出浑身解数，还是过了一段时间才了解我的学生和她们的天性。她们完全没有受过教育，官能都很迟钝，使我觉得这些人笨得无可救药。粗粗一看，个个都是呆头呆脑的，但不久我便发现自己错了。就像受过教育的人之间是有区别的一样，她们之间也有区别。我了解她们，她们也了解我之后，这种区别很快便不知不觉地扩大了。一旦她们对我的语言、习惯和生活方式不再感到惊讶，我便发现一些神态呆滞、目光迟钝的乡巴佬，蜕变成了头脑机灵的姑娘。很多人亲切可爱很有礼貌。我发现她们中间不少人天性就懂礼貌，自尊自爱，很有能力，赢得了我的好感和敬佩。这些人不久便很乐意把工作做好，保持自身整洁，按时做功课，养成斯斯文文有条有理的习惯。在某些方面，她们进步之快甚至令人吃惊，我真诚愉快地为此感到骄傲。另外，我本人也开始喜欢上几位最好的姑娘，她们也喜欢我。学生中有几个农夫的女儿，差不多已经长成了少女。她们已经会读，会写，会缝，于是我就教她们语法、地理和历史的基本知识，以及更精细的针线活。我还在她们中间发现了几位可贵的人物一一这些人渴求知识，希望上进——我在她们家里一起度过了不少愉快的夜晚。而她们的父母（农夫和妻子）对我很殷勤。我乐于接受他们纯朴的善意，并以尊重他们的情感来作为回报一—对此他们不一定会随时都感到习惯，但这既让她们着迷，也对他们有益，因为他们眼看自己提高了地位，并渴望无愧于所受到的厚待。
我觉得自己成了附近地区的宠儿。无论什么时候出门，我都会处处听到亲切的招呼，受到满脸笑容的欢迎。生活在众人的关心之，即便是劳动者的关心，也如同“坐在阳光下，既宁静又舒心”。内心的恬静感觉开始萌芽，并在阳光下开放出花朵。在这段时间的生活中，我的心常常涌起感激之情，而没有颓唐沮丧。可是，读者呀，让我全都告诉你吧，在平静而充实的生活中——白天为学生作出了高尚的努力，晚上心满意足地独自作画和读书——之后我常常匆匆忙忙地进入了夜间奇异的梦境，多姿多彩的梦，有骚动不安的、充满理想的、激动人心的，也有急风骤雨式的——这些梦有着千奇百怪的场景，充满冒险的经历，揪心的险情和浪漫的机遇。梦中我依旧一次次遇见罗切斯特先生，往往是在激动人心的关键时刻。随后我感到投入了他的怀抱，听见了他的声音，遇见了他的目光，碰到了他的手和脸颊，爱他而又被他所爱。于是重又燃起在他身边度过一生的希望，像当初那么强烈，那么火热，随后我醒了过来。于是我想起了自己身在何处，处境如何。接着我颤颤巍巍地从没有帐幔的床上爬起来。沉沉黑夜目睹了我绝望的痉挛，听见了我怒火的爆发。到了第二天早上九点，我按时开学，平心静气地为一天的例行公事作好准备。
罗莎蒙德．奥利弗守信来看我。她一般是在早上遛马时到学校里来的，骑着她的小马慢跑到门口，后面跟了一位骑马的随从。她穿了一套紫色的骑装，戴一顶亚马逊式黑丝绒帽，很有风度地戴在从脸颊一直披到肩的卷发上，很难想象世上还有比她的外貌更标致的东西了。于是她会走进土里土气的房子，穿过被弄得眼花缭乱的乡村孩子的队伍。她总是在里弗斯先主上教义回答课时到。我猜想这位女来访者的目光，锐利地穿透了年青牧师的心。一种直觉向他提醒她已经进来了，即使他没有看到，或者视线正好从门口转开时也是如此。而要是她出现在门口，他的脸会灼灼生光，他那大理石一般的五官尽管拒不松弛，但难以形容地变了形。恬静中流露出一种受压抑的热情，要比肌肉的活动和目光的顾盼所显现的强烈得多。
当然她知道自己的魅力。其实他倒没有在她面前掩饰自己所感受到的魅力，因为他无法掩饰。虽然他信奉基督教禁欲主义，但她走近他，同他说话，对着他兴高彩烈、满含鼓励乃至多情地笑起来时，他的手会颤抖起来，他的眼睛会燃烧起来。他似乎不是用嘴巴，而是用哀伤而坚定的目光在说：“我爱你，我知道你也喜欢我。我不是因为毫无成功的希望而保持缄默。要是我献出这颗心来，我相信你会接受它，但是这颗心已经摆到了神圣的祭坛上了，周围燃起了火，很快它会成为耗尽的供品。”
而随后她会像失望的孩子那样板着脸，一片阴沉的乌云会掩去她光芒四射的活力。她会急忙从他那里抽出手来，使一会儿性子，从他既像英雄又像殉道者的面孔转开。她离开他时，圣.约翰无疑愿意不顾一切地跟随着，叫唤她，留她下来、但是他不愿放弃进入天国的机会，也不愿为了她爱情的一片乐土，而放弃踏进真正的、永久的天堂的希望。此外，他无法把他的一切集于自己的个性之中，——流浪汉、追求者、诗人和牧师——集中于一种情感的局限之内。他不能——也不会——放弃布道的战场，而要溪谷庄的客厅和宁静。尽管他守口如瓶，但我有一次还是大胆地闯进他内心的密室，因此从他本人那儿了解到了如许秘密。
奥利弗小姐经常造访我的小屋，使我不胜荣幸。我已了解她的全部性格，它既无秘密，也没有遮掩。她爱卖弄风情，但并不冷酷；她苛刻，但并非自私得一钱不值；她从小受到宠爱，但并没有被完全惯坏；她性子急，但脾气好；爱慕虚荣（在她也难怪，镜子里随便瞟一眼都照出了她的可爱），但并不装腔作势；她出手大方。却并不因为有钱而自鸣得意；她头脑机灵，相当聪明，快乐活泼而无所用心。总之她很迷人，即使是对象我这样同性别的冷眼旁观者，也是如此。但她并不能使人深感兴趣，或者留下难以磨灭的印象。譬如同圣.约翰的妹妹们相比，属于一种截然不同的头脑。但我仍象喜欢我的学生阿黛勒那样喜欢她，所不同的是，我们会对自己看护和教育的孩子，产生一种比对同祥可爱的成年朋友亲近的感情。
她心血来潮，对我产生了好感。她说我像里弗斯先生（当然只不过她宣布“没有他的十分之一漂亮，尽管你是个整洁可爱的小个子，但他是个天使”）。然而我象他那样为人很好，聪明、冷静、坚定。她断言，作为一个乡村女教师，我天性是个怪人。她确信，要是我以前的历史给透露出来，一定会成为一部有趣的传奇。
一天晚上，她照例像孩子一样好动，粗心却并不冒犯地问这问那，一面翻着我小厨房里的碗橱和桌子的抽屉。她看到了两本法文书，一卷席勒的作品，一本德文语法和词典。随后又看到了我的绘画材料，几张速写，其中包括用铅笔画的一个小天使般的小姑娘、我的一个学生的头像和取自莫尔顿溪谷及周围荒原的不同自然景色。她先是惊讶得发呆，随后是高兴得激动不已。
“是你画的吗？你懂法文和德文？你真可爱—一真是个奇迹！你比Ｓ城第一所学校的教师还画得好。你愿意为我画一张让我爸爸看看吗？”
“很乐意，”我回答。一想到要照着这样一个如此完美、如此容光焕发的模特儿画，我便感到了艺术家喜悦的颤栗。那时她穿了深蓝色的丝绸衣服；裸露着胳膊和脖子，唯一的装饰是她栗色的头发，以一种天然卷曲所有的不加修饰的雅致，波浪似地从肩上披下来。我拿了一张精致的卡纸，仔细地画了轮廓，并打算享受将它上彩的乐趣。由于当时天色已晚，我告诉她得改天再坐下来让我画了。
她把我的情况向她父亲作了详尽的报告，结果第二天晚上奥利弗先生居然亲自陪着她来了。他高个子，五官粗大，中等年纪，头发灰白。身边那位可爱的的女儿看上去象一座古塔旁的一朵鲜花。他似乎是个沉默寡言，或许还很自负的人，但对我很客气。罗莎蒙德的那张速写画很使他高兴。他嘱我千万要把它完成，还坚持要我第二天去溪谷庄度过一个夜晚。
我去了，发现这是一所宽敞漂亮的住宅，充分显出主人的富有。我呆在那里时罗莎蒙德一直非常高兴。她父亲和蔼可亲，茶点以后开始同我们交谈时，用很强烈的字眼，对我在莫尔顿学校所做的，表示十分满意。还说就他所见所闻，他担心我在这个地方大材小用，会很快离去干一项更合适的工作。
“真的!”罗莎蒙德嚷道，“她那么聪明，做一个名门家庭的女教师绰绰有余，爸爸。”
我想——与其到国内哪个名门家庭，远不如在这里。奥利弗先生说起了里弗斯先生——说起了里弗斯的家庭——肃然起敬。他说在附近地区，这是一个古老的名字，这家的祖宗都很有钱，整个莫尔顿一度属于他们。甚至现在，他认为这家的代表要是乐意，满可以同最好的家庭联姻。他觉得这么好、这么有才能的一个年青人竟然决定出家当传教士，实在可惜。那等于抛弃了一种很有价值的生活。那么看来罗莎蒙德的父亲不会在她与圣.约翰结合的道路上设置任何障碍。奥利弗先生显然认为青年牧师的良好出身、古老的名字和神圣的职业是对他缺乏家财的足够补偿。
那天是十一月五日，一个假日。我的小佣人帮我清扫了房子后走掉了，对一个便士的酬劳十分满意。我周围窗明几净，一尘不染——擦洗过的地板，磨得锃亮的炉格和擦得干干净净的椅子。我把自己也弄得整整齐齐，这会儿整个下午就随我度过了。
翻译几页德文占去了我一个小时。随后我拿了画板和画笔，开始了更为容易因而也更加惬意的工作，完成罗莎蒙德．奥利弗的小画像。头部已经画好，剩下的只是给背景着色，给服饰画上阴影，再在成熟的嘴唇上添一抹胭脂红，——头发这儿那儿再画上一点柔软的卷发——把天蓝的眼盖下睫毛的阴影加深一些。我正全神贯注地画着这些有趣的细节，一阵急促的敲门声响了起来，我那扇门开了，圣.约翰.里弗斯先生走了进来。
“我来看看你怎么过假日，”他说。“但愿没有动什么脑筋？没有，那很好，你一画画就不感到寂莫了。你瞧，我还是不大相信，尽管你到目前为止还是很好地挺过来了，我给你带来了一本书供你晚上消遣，”他把一本新出版的书放在桌上——一部诗：是那个时代——现代文学的黄金时代常常赐予幸运的公众一本货真价实的出版物。哎呀！我们这个时代的读者却没有那份福气。不过拿出勇气来！我不会停下来控诉或者发牢骚。我知道诗歌并没有死亡，天才并未销声匿迹，财神爷也没有把两者征服，把他们捆绑起来或者杀掉，总有一天两者都会表明自己的存在、风采、自由和力量。强大的天使，稳坐天堂吧！当肮脏的灵魂获得胜利，弱者为自己的毁灭恸哭时，他们微笑着。诗歌被毁灭了吗？天才遭到了驱逐吗？没有！中不溜儿的人们，不，别让嫉妒激起你这种想法。不，他们不仅还活着，而且统治着，拯救着。没有它们无处不在的神圣影响，你会进地狱——你自己的卑微所造成的地狱。
我急不可耐地浏览着《玛米昂》辉煌的篇章（因为《玛米昂》确实如此）时，圣.约翰俯身细看起我的画来。他蓦地惊跳起来，拉直了高高的身子。他什么也没有说，我抬头看他，他避开了我的目光，我很明白他的想法，能直截了当地看出他的心思来。这时候我觉得比他镇定和冷静。随后我暂时占了优势，产生了在可能情况下帮他做些好事的想法。
“他那么坚定不移和一味自我控制，”我想，“实在太苛刻自己了。他把每种情感和痛苦都锁在内心——什么也不表白，不流露，不告诉。我深信，谈一点他认为不应当娶的可爱的罗莎蒙德，会对他有好处。我要使他开口。”
我先是说：“坐一下，里弗斯先生，”可是他照例又回答说，不能逗留。“很好，”我心里回答，“要是你高兴，你就站着吧，但你还不能走，我的决心已下。寂寞对你和对我至少是一样不好，我倒要试试，看我能不能发现你内心的秘密，在你大理石般的胸膛找到一个孔，从那里我可以灌进一滴同情的香油。”
“这幅画像不像？”我直截了当地问。
“像！像谁呀？我没细看。”
“你看了，里弗斯先生。”
他被我直率得有些突然和奇怪的发问弄得几乎跳了起来，惊异地看着我。“呵，那还算不了什么，”我心里嘟哝着。“我不想因为你一点点生硬态度而罢休。我准备付出巨大的努力。”我继续想道，“你看得很仔细很清楚，但我不反对你再看一遍。”我站起来把画放在他手里。
“一张画得很好的画，”他说，“色彩柔和清晰，是一张很优美、很恰当的画。”
“是呀，是呀，这我都知道。不过像不像呢？这像谁？”
他打消了某种犹豫，回答说：“我想是奥利弗小姐。”
“当然。而现在，先生，为了奖励你猜得准，我答应给我创作一幅精细准确的复制品，要是你答应这个礼物是可以接受的。我不想把时间和精力化在一件你认为毫无价值的东西上。”
他继续凝视着这张画。他看得越久就把画捧得越紧，同时也似乎越想看它。“是很像！”他喃喃地说。“眼睛画得很好。颜色、光线、表情都很完美。它微笑着！”
“保存一张复制品会使你感到安慰呢，还是会伤你的心？请你告诉我。当你在马达加斯加，或者好望角，或者印度，在你的行囊中有这样的纪念品，对你是一种安慰呢，还是一看见就激起你令人丧气和难受的回忆？”
这时他偷偷地抬起眼来。他犹犹豫豫忐忑不安地看了我一眼，再次细看起这幅画来。
“我是肯定要的，不过这样做是不是审慎或明智，那就是另外一回事了。”
既然我已弄明白罗莎蒙德真的喜欢他，她的父亲也不大可能反对这门亲事，我——我对自己的观点并不像圣.约翰那样得意扬扬——我心里完全倾向于主张他们的结合。我觉得要是他能获得奥利弗先生的大宗财产，他可以用这笔钱做很多事情，强似在热带的太阳下让才能枯竭，让力气白费。想着可以这么劝说他，我此刻回答说：
“依我看来，立刻把画中的本人要走，倒是更明智和更有识见的。”
这时候他已坐了下来，把画放在面前的桌子上，双手支撑着额头，多情地反复看着这张画。我发觉他对我的大胆放肆既不发火也不感到震惊。我甚至还看到，那么坦率地谈论一个他认为不可接触的话题——听这个话题任意处理——开始被他感到是一种新的乐趣——一种出乎意外的宽慰。沉默寡言的人常常要比性格爽朗的人更需要直率地讨论他们的感情和不幸，看似最严酷的禁欲主义者毕竟也是人。大胆和好心“闯入”他们灵魂的“沉寂大海”，常常等于是赋予他们最好的恩惠。
“她喜欢你，我敢肯定，”我站在他椅子背后说，“她的父亲尊重你，此外，她是个可爱的姑娘——不大有想法。但你会有够你们两个管用的想法。你应当娶她。”
“难道她喜欢我？”他问。
“当然，胜过爱任何其他人。她不断谈起你，没有比这个更使她喜欢或者触及得更多的话题了。”
“很高兴听你这样说，”他说——“很高兴，再淡一刻钟吧。”他真的取出手表，放在桌上掌握时间。
“可是继续谈有什么用？”我问，“既然你也许正在浇铸反抗的铁拳，或者锻造新的链条把自己的心束缚起来。”
“别想这些严酷无情的东西了。要想象我让步了，被感化了，就像我正在做的那样。人类的爱像是我心田里新开辟的喷泉，不断上涨，甜蜜的洪水四溢，流淌到了我仔细而辛劳地开垦出来的田野——这里辛勤地播种着善意和自我克制的种子。现在这里泛滥着甜美的洪水——稚嫩的萌芽已被淹没——可口的毒药腐蚀着它们。此刻我看到自己躺在溪谷庄休息室的睡榻上，在我的新娘罗莎蒙德．奥利弗的脚跟前。她用那甜甜的嗓音同我在说话——用被你灵巧的手画得那么逼真的眼睛俯视着我——她那珊瑚色的嘴唇朝我微笑着——她是我的——我是她的——眼前的生活和过眼烟云般的世界对我已经足够了。嘘！别张嘴！一—我欣喜万分——我神魂颠倒—让我平静地度过我所规定的时间。”
我满足了他。手表嘀嗒嘀嗒响着，他的呼吸时紧时慢，我默默地站着。在一片静谧中一刻钟过去了。他拿起手表，放下画，立起来，站在壁炉边。
“行啦，”他说，“在那一小段时间中我己沉溺于痴心妄想了。我把脑袋靠在诱惑的胸口，心甘情愿地把脖子伸向她花一般的枷锁。我尝了她的酒杯，枕头还燃着火，花环里有一条毒蛇，酒有苦味，她的允诺是空的——建议是假的。这一切我都明白。”
我惊诧不己地瞪着他。
“事情也怪，”他说下去，“我那么狂热地爱着罗莎蒙德．奥利弗——说真的怀着初恋的全部热情，而恋上的对象绝对漂亮、优雅、迷人——与此同时我又有一种宁静而不偏不倚的感悟，觉得她不会当个好妻子，不是适合我的伴侣，婚后一年之内我便会发现。十二个月销魂似的日子之后，接踵而来的是终身遗憾。这我知道。”
“奇怪，真奇怪！”我禁不住叫了起来。
“我内心的某一方面，”他说下去，对她的魅力深为敏感，但另一方面对她的缺陷，印象也很深。那就是她无法对我所追求的产生共鸣——不能为我所做的事业携手合作。难道罗莎蒙德是一个吃得起苦的人，一个劳作者，一个女使徒吗？难道罗莎蒙德是一个传教士的妻子？不！”
“不过你不必当传教士？你可以放弃那个打算。”
“放弃！什么——我的职业？我的伟大的工作？我为天堂里的大厦在世间所打的基础？我要成为那一小群人的希望？这群人把自己的一切雄心壮志同那桩光荣的事业合而为一，那就是提高他们的种族——把知识传播到无知的领域——用和平代替战争——用自由代替束缚——宗教代替迷信——上天堂的愿望代替入地狱的恐俱。难道连这也得放弃？它比我血管里流的血还可贵。这正是我所向往的，是我活着的目的。”
他沉默了好长一会儿后，我说——“那么奥利弗小姐呢，难道你就不关心她的失望和哀伤了？”
“奥利弗小姐向来有一大群求婚者和献殷勤的人围着她转，不到一个月，我的形象会从她心坎里抹去，她会忘掉我，很可能会跟一个比我更能使她幸福的人结婚。”
“你说得倒够冷静的，不过你内心很矛盾，很痛苦。你日见消瘦。”
“不，要是我有点儿瘦，那是我为悬而未决的前景担忧的缘故——我的离别日期一拖再拖。就是今大早上我还接到了消息，我一直盼着的后继者，三个月之内无法接替我，也许这三个月又会延长到六个月。”
“无论什么时候，奥利弗小姐一走进教室你就颤抖起来、脸涨得通红。”
他脸上再次浮起惊讶的表情。他想象不到一个女人居然敢于这么同一个男人说话。至于我，这—类交谈我非常习惯。我与很有头脑、言语谨慎、富有教养的人交际的时候，不管是男人还是女人，我非要绕过缄默的传统防卫工事，踏进奥秘的门槛，在心坎的火炉边上找到一个位置才肯罢休。
“你确实见解独到，”他说，“胆子也不小。你的精神中有一种勇气，你的眼睛有一种穿透力，可是请允许我向你保证，你部份误解了我的情感。你把这些情感想象得比实际的要深沉，要强烈。你给了我甚于我正当要求的同情。我在奥利弗小姐面前脸红，颤抖时，我不是怜悯自己，而是蔑视我的弱点。我知道这并不光彩，它不过是肉体的狂热，我宣布，不是灵魂的抽搐。那灵魂坚加磐石，牢牢扎在骚动不安的大海深处。你知道我是怎么个人——一个冷酷无情的人。”
我怀疑地笑了笑。
“你用突然袭击的办法掏出了我的心里话，”他继续说，“现在就听任你摆布了，剥去用基督教义来掩盖人性缺陷、漂净了血污的袍子，我本是个冷酷无情雄心勃勃的人。只有各种天生的情感会对我产生永久的力量。我的向导是理智而并非情感，我的雄心没有止境，我要比别人爬得高干得多的欲望永不能满足。我尊崇忍耐、坚持、勤勉和才能，因为这是人要干大事业，出大名的必要条件。我兴趣十足地观察了你的经历，因为我认为你是勤勤恳恳、有条有理、精力充沛的女人的典范，倒并不是因为我对你所经历的或正在受的苦深表同情。”
“你会把自己描述成不过是位异教徒哲学家的。”我说。
“不，我与自然神论的哲学家之间是有区别的：我有信仰，我信奉福音。你用错了修饰语。我不是异教徒哲学家，正是基督教哲学家——一个耶稣教派的信徒，作为他的信徒，我信仰他纯洁、宽厚、仁慈的教义。我主张这样的教义、发誓要为之传播，我年轻时就信仰宗教，于是宗教培养了我最初的品格——它已从小小的幼芽，自然的情感，长成浓荫蔽日的大树，变成了慈善主义，从人类真诚品质的粗糙野生的根子上，相应长出了神圣的公正感。把我为可怜的自我谋求权力和名声的雄心，变成扩大主的天地、为十字架旗帜获得胜利的大志。宗教已为我做了很多，把原始的天性变成最好的品质、修剪和培育了天性。但是无法根除天性，天性也不可能根除，直到“这必死的变成不死的’时候。”
说完，他拿起放在桌上我画板旁的帽子，再一次看了看画像。
“她的确可爱，”他喃喃地说。“她不愧为世界上最好的玫瑰，真的。”
“我可不可以画一张像这样的给你呢？”
“干嘛？不必了。”
他拉过一张薄薄的纸盖在画上，这张纸是我平常作画时怕弄脏纸板常作为垫手用的。他突然在这张空白纸上究竟看到了什么，我无法判断。但某种东西引起了他的注意。他猛地拣起来，看了看纸边，随后瞟了我一眼，那目光奇怪得难以形容，而旦不可理解，似乎摄取并记下了我的体态、面容和服饰的每个细节。它一扫而过，犹如闪电般迅速和锐利。他张开嘴唇，似乎想说话，但把到了嘴边的什么话咽了下去。
“怎么回事？”我问。
“什么事也没有”对方回答，一面又把纸放下。我见他利索地从边上撕下一小条，放进了手套，匆勿忙忙点了点头。“下午好，”就消失得无影无踪了。
“嗨！”我用那个地区的一个短语嚷道：“这可绝了！”
我呢，仔细看了看那张纸，但除了我试画笔色泽所留下的几滴暗淡的污渍，我什么也没有看到。我把这个谜琢磨了一两分钟，但无法解开。我相信这也无关紧要，便不再去想它，不久也就忘了。
Chapter 33
WHEN Mr. St. John went, it was beginning to snow; the whirling storm continued all night. The next day a keen wind brought fresh and blinding falls; by twilight the valley was drifted up and almost impassable. I had closed my shutter, laid a mat to the door to prevent the snow from blowing in under it, trimmed my fire, and after sitting nearly an hour on the hearth listening to the muffled fury of the tempest, I lit a candle, took down Marmion, and beginning- 'Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
And Tweed's fair river broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone;
The massive towers, the donjon keep,
The flanking walls that round them sweep,
In yellow lustre shone'-
I soon forgot storm in music.
I heard a noise: the wind, I thought, shook the door. No; it was St. John Rivers, who, lifting the latch, came in out of the frozen hurricane- the howling darkness- and stood before me: the cloak that covered his tall figure all white as a glacier. I was almost in consternation, so little had I expected any guest from the blocked-up vale that night.
'Any ill news?' I demanded. 'Has anything happened?'
'No. How very easily alarmed you are!' he answered, removing his cloak and hanging it up against the door, towards which he again coolly pushed the mat which his entrance had deranged. He stamped the snow from his boots.
'I shall sully the purity of your floor,' said he, 'but you must excuse me for once.' Then he approached the fire. 'I have had hard work to get here, I assure you,' he observed, as he warmed his hands over the flame. 'One drift took me up to the waist; happily the snow is quite soft yet.'
'But why are you come?' I could not forbear saying.
'Rather an inhospitable question to put to a visitor; but since you ask it, I answer simply to have a little talk with you; I got tired of my mute books and empty rooms. Besides, since yesterday I have experienced the excitement of a person to whom a tale has been half-told, and who is impatient to hear the sequel.'
He sat down. I recalled his singular conduct of yesterday, and really I began to fear his wits were touched. If he were insane, however, his was a very cool and collected insanity: I had never seen that handsome-featured face of his look more like chiselled marble than it did just now, as he put aside his snow-wet hair from his forehead and let the firelight shine free on his pale brow and cheek as pale, where it grieved me to discover the hollow trace of care or sorrow now so plainly graved. I waited, expecting he would say something I could at least comprehend; but his hand was now at his chin, his finger on his lip: he was thinking. It struck me that his hand looked wasted like his face. A perhaps uncalled-for gush of pity came over my heart: I was moved to say-
'I wish Diana or Mary would come and live with you: it is too bad that you should be quite alone; and you are recklessly rash about your own health.'
'Not at all,' said he: 'I care for myself when necessary. I am well now. What do you see amiss in me?'
This was said with a careless, abstracted indifference, which showed that my solicitude was, at least in his opinion, wholly superfluous. I was silenced.
He still slowly moved his finger over his upper lip, and still his eye dwelt dreamily on the glowing grate; thinking it urgent to say something, I asked him presently if he felt any cold draught from the door, which was behind him.
'No, no!' he responded shortly and somewhat testily. 
'Well,' I reflected, 'if you won't talk, you may be still; I'll let you alone now, and return to my book.'
So I snuffed the candle and resumed the perusal of Marmion. He soon stirred; my eye was instantly drawn to his movements; he only took out a morocco pocket-book, thence produced a letter, which he read in silence, folded it, put it back, relapsed into meditation. It was vain to try to read with such an inscrutable fixture before me; nor could I, in my impatience, consent to be dumb; he might rebuff me if he liked, but talk I would.
'Have you heard from Diana and Mary lately?'
'Not since the letter I showed you a week ago.'
'There has not been any change made about your own arrangements?
You will not be summoned to leave England sooner than you expected?'
'I fear not, indeed: such chance is too good to befall me.' Baffled so far, I changed my ground. I bethought myself to talk about the school and my scholars.
'Mary Garrett's mother is better, and Mary came back to the school this morning, and I shall have four new girls next week from the Foundry Close- they would have come to-day but for the snow.'
'Indeed!'
'Mr. Oliver pays for two.'
'Does he?'
'He means to give the whole school a treat at Christmas.'
'I know.'
'Was it your suggestion?'
'No.'
'Whose, then?'
'His daughter's, I think.'
'It is like her: she is so good-natured.'
'Yes.'
Again came the blank of a pause: the clock struck eight strokes. It aroused him; he uncrossed his legs, sat erect, turned to me.
'Leave your book a moment, and come a little nearer the fire,' he said.
Wondering, and of my wonder finding no end, I complied.
'Half an hour ago,' he pursued, 'I spoke of my impatience to hear the sequel of a tale: on reflection, I find the matter will be better managed by my assuming the narrator's part, and converting you into a listener. Before commencing, it is but fair to warn you that the story will sound somewhat hackneyed in your ears; but stale details often regain a degree of freshness when they pass through new lips. For the rest, whether trite or novel, it is short.
'Twenty years ago, a poor curate- never mind his name at this moment- fell in love with a rich man's daughter; she fell in love with him, and married him, against the advice of all her friends, who consequently disowned her immediately after the wedding. Before two years passed, the rash pair were both dead, and laid quietly side by side under one slab. (I have seen their grave; it formed part of the pavement of a huge churchyard surrounding the grim, soot-black old daughter, which, at its very birth, Charity received in her lap- cold as that of the snow-drift I almost stuck fast in to-night.
Charity carried the friendless thing to the house of its rich maternal relations; it was reared by an aunt-in-law, called (I come to names now) Mrs. Reed of Gateshead. You start- did you hear a noise? I daresay it is only a rat scrambling along the rafters of the adjoining schoolroom: it was a barn before I had it repaired and altered, and barns are generally haunted by rats.- To proceed. Mrs. Reed kept the orphan ten years: whether it was happy or not with her, I cannot say, never having been told; but at the end of that time she transferred it to a place you know- being no other than Lowood School, where you so long resided yourself. It seems her career there was very honourable: from a pupil, she became a teacher, like yourself- really it strikes me there are parallel points in her history and yours- she left it to be a governess: there, again, your fates were analogous; she undertook the education of the ward of a certain Mr. Rochester.'
'Mr. Rivers!' I interrupted.
'I can guess your feelings,' he said, 'but restrain them for a while: I have nearly finished; hear me to the end. Of Mr. Rochester's character I know nothing, but the one fact that he professed to offer honourable marriage to this young girl, and that at the very altar she discovered he had a wife yet alive, though a lunatic. What his subsequent conduct and proposals were is a matter of pure conjecture; but when an event transpired which rendered inquiry after the governess necessary, it was discovered she was gone- no one could tell when, where, or how. She had left Thornfield Hall in the night; every research after her course had been vain: the country had been scoured far and wide; no vestige of information could be gathered respecting her. Yet that she should be found is become a matter of serious urgency: advertisements have been put in all the papers; I myself have received a letter from one Mr. Briggs, a solicitor, communicating the details I have just imparted. Is it not an odd tale?'
'Just tell me this,' said I, 'and since you know so much, you surely can tell it me- what of Mr. Rochester? How and where is he? What is he doing? Is he well?'
'I am ignorant of all concerning Mr. Rochester: the letter never mentions him but to narrate the fraudulent and illegal attempt I have adverted to. You should rather ask the name of the governess- the nature of the event which requires her appearance.'
'Did no one go to Thornfield Hall, then? Did no one see Mr. Rochester?'
'I suppose not.'
'But they wrote to him?'
'Of course.'
'And what did he say? Who has his letters?'
'Mr. Briggs intimates that the answer to his application was not from Mr. Rochester, but from a lady: it is signed "Alice Fairfax."'
I felt cold and dismayed: my worst fears then were probably true: he had in all probability left England and rushed in reckless desperation to some former haunt on the Continent. And what opiate for his severe sufferings- what object for his strong passions- had he sought there? I dared not answer the question. Oh, my poor master- once almost my husband- whom I had often called 'my dear Edward!' 
'He must have been a bad man,' observed Mr. Rivers.
'You don't know him- don't pronounce an opinion upon him,' I said, with warmth.
'Very well,' he answered quietly: 'and indeed my head is otherwise occupied than with him: I have my tale to finish. Since you won't ask the governess's name, I must tell it of my own accord.
Stay! I have it here- it is always more satisfactory to see important points written down, fairly committed to black and white.'
And the pocket-book was again deliberately produced, opened, sought through; from one of its compartments was extracted a shabby slip of paper, hastily torn off: I recognised in its texture and its stains of ultra-marine, and lake, and vermilion, the ravished margin of the portrait-cover. He got up, held it close to my eyes: and I read, traced in Indian ink, in my own handwriting, the words 'JANE EYRE'- the work doubtless of some moment of abstraction.
'Briggs wrote to me of a Jane Eyre:' he said, 'the advertisements demanded a Jane Eyre: I knew a Jane Elliott.- I confess I had my suspicions, but it was only yesterday afternoon they were at once resolved into certainty. You own the name and renounce the alias?'
'Yes- yes; but where is Mr. Briggs? He perhaps knows more of Mr. Rochester than you do.'
'Briggs is in London. I should doubt his knowing anything at all about Mr. Rochester; it is not in Mr. Rochester he is interested.
Meantime, you forget essential points in pursuing trifles: you do not inquire why Mr. Briggs sought after you- what he wanted with you.'
'Well, what did he want?'
'Merely to tell you that your uncle, Mr. Eyre of Madeira, is dead; that he has left you all his property, and that you are now rich- merely that- nothing more.'
'I!- rich?'
'Yes, you, rich- quite an heiress.'
Silence succeeded.
'You must prove your identity of course,' resumed St. John presently: 'a step which will offer no difficulties; you can then enter on immediate possession. Your fortune is vested in the English funds; Briggs has the will and the necessary documents.'
Here was a new card turned up! It is a fine thing, reader, to be lifted in a moment from indigence to wealth- a very fine thing; but not a matter one can comprehend or consequently enjoy, all at once.
And then there are other chances in life far more thrilling and rapture-giving: this is solid, an affair of the actual world, nothing ideal about it: all its associations are solid and sober, and its manifestations are the same. One does not jump, and spring, and shout hurrah! at hearing one has got a fortune; one begins to consider responsibilities, and to ponder business; on a base of steady satisfaction rise certain grave cares, and we contain ourselves, and brood over our bliss with a solemn brow.
Besides, the words Legacy, Bequest, go side by side with the words, Death, Funeral. My uncle I had heard was dead- my only relative; ever since being made aware of his existence, I had cherished the hope of one day seeing him: now, I never should. And then this money came only to me: not to me and a rejoicing family, but to my isolated self.
It was a grand boon doubtless; and independence would be glorious- yes, I felt that- that thought swelled my heart.
'You unbend your forehead at last,' said Mr. Rivers. 'I thought Medusa had looked at you, and that you were turning to stone.
Perhaps now you will ask how much you are worth?'
'How much am I worth?'
'Oh, a trifle! Nothing of course to speak of- twenty thousand pounds, I think they say- but what is that?'
'Twenty thousand pounds?'
Here was a new stunner- I had been calculating on four or five thousand. This news actually took my breath for a moment: Mr. St. John, whom I had never heard laugh before, laughed now.
'Well,' said he, 'if you had committed a murder, and I had told you your crime was discovered, you could scarcely look more aghast.'
'It is a large sum- don't you think there is a mistake?'
'No mistake at all.'
'Perhaps you have read the figures wrong- it may be two thousand!'
'It is written in letters, not figures,- twenty thousand.'
I again felt rather like an individual of but average gastronomical powers sitting down to feast alone at a table spread with provisions for a hundred. Mr. Rivers rose now and put his cloak on.
'If it were not such a very wild night,' he said, 'I would send Hannah down to keep you company: you look too desperately miserable to be left alone. But Hannah, poor woman! could not stride the drifts so well as I: her legs are not quite so long: so I must e'en leave you to your sorrows. Good-night.'
He was lifting the latch: a sudden thought occurred to me. 
'Stop one minute!' I cried.
'Well?'
'It puzzles me to know why Mr. Briggs wrote to you about me; or how he knew you, or could fancy that you, living in such an out-of-the-way place, had the power to aid in my discovery.'
'Oh! I am a clergyman,' he said; 'and the clergy are often appealed to about odd matters.' Again the latch rattled.
'No; that does not satisfy me!' I exclaimed: and indeed there was something in the hasty and unexplanatory reply which, instead of allaying, piqued my curiosity more than ever.
'It is a very strange piece of business,' I added; 'I must know more about it.'
'Another time.'
'No; to-night!- to-night!' and as he turned from the door, I placed myself between it and him. He looked rather embarrassed.
'You certainly shall not go till you have told me all,' I said.
'I would rather not just now.'
'You shall!- you must!'
'I would rather Diana or Mary informed you.'
Of course these objections wrought my eagerness to a climax: gratified it must be, and that without delay; and I told him so. 
'But I apprised you that I was a hard man,' said he, 'difficult to persuade.'
'And I am a hard woman,- impossible to put off.'
'And then,' he pursued, 'I am cold: no fervour infects me.'
'Whereas I am hot, and fire dissolves ice. The blaze there has thawed all the snow from your cloak; by the same token, it has streamed on to my floor, and made it like a trampled street. As you hope ever to be forgiven, Mr. Rivers, the high crime and misdemeanour of spoiling a sanded kitchen, tell me what I wish to know.'
'Well, then,' he said, 'I yield; if not to your earnestness, to your perseverance: as stone is worn by continual dropping. Besides, you must know some day,- as well now as later. Your name is Jane Eyre?'
'Of course: that was all settled before.'
'You are not, perhaps, aware that I am your namesake?- that I was christened St. John Eyre Rivers?'
'No, indeed! I remember now seeing the letter E. comprised in your initials written in books you have at different times lent me; but I never asked for what name it stood. But what then? Surely-'
I stopped: I could not trust myself to entertain, much less to express, the thought that rushed upon me- that embodied itself,- that, in a second, stood out a strong, solid probability. Circumstances knit themselves, fitted themselves, shot into order: the chain that had been lying hitherto a formless lump of links was drawn out straight,- every ring was perfect, the connection complete. I knew, by instinct, how the matter stood, before St. John had said another word; but I cannot expect the reader to have the same intuitive perception, so I must repeat his explanation.
'My mother's name was Eyre; she had two brothers; one a clergyman, who married Miss Jane Reed, of Gateshead; the other, John Eyre, Esq., merchant, late of Funchal, Madeira. Mr. Briggs, being Mr. Eyre's solicitor, wrote to us last August to inform us of our uncle's death, and to say that he had left his property to his brother the clergyman's orphan daughter, overlooking us, in consequence of a quarrel, never forgiven, between him and my father. He wrote again a few weeks since, to intimate that the heiress was lost, and asking if we knew anything of her. A name casually written on a slip of paper has enabled me to find her out. You know the rest.' Again he was going, but I set my back against the door.
'Do let me speak,' I said; 'let me have one moment to draw breath and reflect.' I paused- he stood before me, hat in hand, looking composed enough. I resumed-
'Your mother was my father's sister?'
'Yes.'
'My aunt, consequently?'
He bowed.
'My uncle John was your uncle John? You, Diana, and Mary are his sister's children, as I am his brother's child?'
'Undeniably.'
'You three, then, are my cousins; half our blood on each side flows from the same source?'
'We are cousins; yes.'
I surveyed him. It seemed I had found a brother: one I could be proud of,- one I could love; and two sisters, whose qualities were such, that, when I knew them but as mere strangers, they had inspired me with genuine affection and admiration. The two girls, on whom, kneeling down on the wet ground, and looking through the low, latticed window of Moor House kitchen, I had gazed with so bitter a mixture of interest and despair, were my near kinswomen; and the young and stately gentleman who had found me almost dying at his threshold was my blood relation. Glorious discovery to a lonely wretch! This was wealth indeed!- wealth to the heart!- a mine of pure, genial affections. This was a blessing, bright, vivid, and exhilarating;- not like the ponderous gift of gold: rich and welcome enough in its way, but sobering from its weight. I now clapped my hands in sudden joy- my pulse bounded, my veins thrilled.
'Oh, I am glad!- I am glad!' I exclaimed.
St. John smiled. 'Did I not say you neglected essential points to pursue trifles?' he asked. 'You were serious when I told you you had got a fortune; and now, for a matter of no moment, you are excited.'
'What can you mean? It may be of no moment to you; you have sisters and don't care for a cousin; but I had nobody; and now three relations,- or two, if you don't choose to be counted,- are born into my world full-grown. I say again, I am glad!'
I walked fast through the room: I stopped, half suffocated with the thoughts that rose faster than I could receive, comprehend, settle them:- thoughts of what might, could, would, and should be, and that ere long. I looked at the blank wall: it seemed a sky thick with ascending stars,- every one lit me to a purpose or delight. Those who had saved my life, whom, till this hour, I had loved barrenly, I could now benefit. They were under a yoke,- I could free them: they were scattered,- I could reunite them: the independence, the affluence which was mine, might be theirs too. Were we not four? Twenty thousand pounds shared equally, would be five thousand each,- enough and to spare: justice would be done,- mutual happiness secured. Now the wealth did not weigh on me: now it was not a mere bequest of coin,- it was a legacy of life, hope, enjoyment.
How I looked while these ideas were taking my spirit by storm, I cannot tell; but I perceived soon that Mr. Rivers had placed a chair behind me, and was gently attempting to make me sit down on it. He also advised me to be composed; I scorned the insinuation of helplessness and distraction, shook off his hand, and began to walk about again.
'Write to Diana and Mary to-morrow,' I said, 'and tell them to come home directly. Diana said they would both consider themselves rich with a thousand pounds, so with five thousand they will do very well.'
'Tell me where I can get you a glass of water,' said St. John; 'you must really make an effort to tranquillise your feelings.'
'Nonsense! and what sort of an effect will the bequest have on you? Will it keep you in England, induce you to marry Miss Oliver, and settle down like an ordinary mortal?'
'You wander: your head becomes confused. I have been too abrupt in communicating the news; it has excited you beyond your strength.'
'Mr. Rivers! you quite put me out of patience: I am rational enough; it is you who misunderstand, or rather who affect to misunderstand.'
'Perhaps, if you explained yourself a little more fully, I should comprehend better.'
'Explain! What is there to explain? You cannot fail to see that twenty thousand pounds, the sum in question, divided equally between the nephew and three nieces of our uncle, will give five thousand to each? What I want is, that you should write to your sisters and tell them of the fortune that has accrued to them.'
'To you, you mean.'
'I have intimated my view of the case: I am incapable of taking any other. I am not brutally selfish, blindly unjust, or fiendishly ungrateful. Besides, I am resolved I will have a home and connections.
I like Moor House, and I will live at Moor House; I like Diana and Mary, and I will attach myself for life to Diana and Mary. It would please and benefit me to have five thousand pounds; it would torment and oppress me to have twenty thousand; which, moreover, could never be mine in justice, though it might in law. I abandon to you, then, what is absolutely superfluous to me. Let there be no opposition, and no discussion about it; let us agree amongst each other, and decide the point at once.'
'This is acting on first impulses; you must take days to consider such a matter, ere your word can be regarded as valid.'
'Oh! if all you doubt is my sincerity, I am easy: you see the justice of the case?'
'I do see a certain justice; but it is contrary to all custom.
Besides, the entire fortune is your right: my uncle gained it by his own efforts; he was free to leave it to whom he would: he left it to you. After all, justice permits you to keep it: you may, with a clear conscience, consider it absolutely your own.'
'With me,' said I, 'it is fully as much a matter of feeling as of conscience: I must indulge my feelings; I so seldom have had an opportunity of doing so. Were you to argue, object, and annoy me for a year, I could not forego the delicious pleasure of which I have caught a glimpse- that of repaying, in part, a mighty obligation, and winning to myself life-long friends.'
'You think so now,' rejoined St. John, 'because you do not know what it is to possess, nor consequently to enjoy wealth: you cannot form a notion of the importance twenty thousand pounds would give you; of the place it would enable you to take in society; of the prospects it would open to you: you cannot-'
'And you,' I interrupted, 'cannot at all imagine the craving I have for fraternal and sisterly love. I never had a home, I never had brothers or sisters; I must and will have them now: you are not reluctant to admit me and own me, are you?'
'Jane, I will be your brother- my sisters will be your sisters- without stipulating for this sacrifice of your just rights.'
'Brother? Yes; at the distance of a thousand leagues! Sisters? Yes;  slaving amongst strangers! I, wealthy- gorged with gold I never earned and do not merit! You, penniless! Famous equality and fraternisation! Close union! Intimate attachment!'
'But, Jane, your aspirations after family ties and domestic happiness may be realised otherwise than by the means you contemplate: you may marry.'
'Nonsense, again! Marry! I don't want to marry, and never shall marry.'
'That is saying too much: such hazardous affirmations are a proof of the excitement under which you labour.'
'It is not saying too much: I know what I feel, and how averse are my inclinations to the bare thought of marriage. No one would take me for love; and I will not be regarded in the light of a mere money speculation. And I do not want a stranger- unsympathising, alien, different from me; I want my kindred: those with whom I have full fellow-feeling. Say again you will be my brother: when you uttered the words I was satisfied, happy; repeat them, if you can, repeat them sincerely.'
'I think I can. I know I have always loved my own sisters; and I know on what my affection for them is grounded,- respect for their worth and admiration of their talents. You too have principle and mind: your tastes and habits resemble Diana's and Mary's; your presence is always agreeable to me; in your conversation I have already for some time found a salutary solace. I feel I can easily and naturally make room in my heart for you, as my third and youngest sister.'
'Thank you: that contents me for to-night. Now you had better go; for if you stay longer, you will perhaps irritate me afresh by some mistrustful scruple.'
'And the school, Miss Eyre? It must now be shut up, I suppose?' 
'No. I will retain my post of mistress till you get a substitute.' 
He smiled approbation: we shook hands, and he took leave.  I need not narrate in detail the further struggles I had, and arguments I used, to get matters regarding the legacy settled as I wished. My task was a very hard one; but, as I was absolutely resolved- as my cousins saw at length that my mind was really and immutably fixed on making a just division of the property- as they must in their own hearts have felt the equity of the intention; and must, besides, have been innately conscious that in my place they would have done precisely what I wished to do- they yielded at length so far as to consent to put the affair to arbitration. The judges chosen were Mr. Oliver and an able lawyer: both coincided in my opinion: I carried my point. The instruments of transfer were drawn out: St. John, Diana, Mary, and I, each became possessed of a competency.
圣.约翰先生走掉后，天开始下雪了。暴风雷刮了整整一夜。第二天刺骨的风又带来茫茫大雪，到了黄昏，雪积山谷，道路几乎不通。我关了窗，把一个垫子挂在门上，免得雪从门底下吹进来，整了整火，在炉边坐了近一个小时，倾听着暴风雪低沉的怒吼，我点了根蜡烛，取来了《玛米昂》，开始读了起来——
残阳照着诺汉那城堡峭立的陡壁，
美丽的特威德河又宽又深，
契维奥特山孑然独立；
气势雄伟的塔楼和城堡的主垒，
两侧那绵延不绝的围墙，
都在落日余辉中闪动着金光。
我立刻沉浸在音乐之中，忘掉了暴风雪。
我听见了一声响动，心想一定是风摇动着门的声音。不，是圣.约翰.里弗斯先生，从天寒地冻的暴风雪中，从怒吼着的黑暗中走出来，拉开门栓，站有我面前。遮盖着他高高身躯的斗篷，像冰川一样一片雪白，我几乎有些惊慌了，在这样的夜晚我不曾料到会有穿过积雪封冻的山谷，前来造访的客人。
“有什么坏消息吧？”我问。“出了什么事吗？”
“没有，你那么容易受惊！”他回答，一边脱下斗篷，挂在门上。他冷冷地推了推进来时被他弄歪了的垫子，跺了跺脚，把靴子上的雪抖掉。
“我会把你干净的地板弄脏的，”他说，“不过你得原谅我一回。”随后他走近火炉。“说真的，我好不容易到了这儿，”他一面在火焰上烘着手，一面说，“有一堆积雪让我陷到了腰部、幸亏雪很软。”
“可是你干嘛要来呢，”我忍不住说。
“这么问客人是不大客气的。不过既然你问了，我就回答，纯粹是想要同你聊一会儿。不会出声的书，空空荡荡的房间，我都厌倦了。此外，从昨天起我便有些激动不安，像是一个人听了半截故事，急不可耐地要听下去一样。”
他坐了下来。我回想起他昨天奇怪的举动，真的开始担心他的理智受到了影响。然而要是他神经错乱了，那他的错乱还是比较冷静和镇定的。当他把被雪弄湿的头发从额头撸到旁边，让火光任意照在苍白的额角和脸颊上时，我从来没有看到过他那漂亮的脸容，像现在这样酷似大理石雕像了。我悲哀地发现这张脸上清晰地刻下了辛劳和忧伤的凹陷痕迹。我等待着，盼着他会说一些我至少能够理解的事，但这会儿他的手托着下巴，手指放在嘴唇上，他在沉思默想。我的印象是，他的手跟他的脸一样消瘦。我心里涌起了—阵也许是不必要的怜悯之情，感动得说话了：
“但愿黛安娜或玛丽会来跟你住在一起，你那么孤零零一个人，实在太糟糕了，而你对自己的健康又那么草率。”
“—点也没有，”他说，“必要时我会照顾自己的，我现在很好，你看见我什么地方不好啦？”
他说这话的时候心不在焉，神情漠然。表明我的关切，至少在他看来是多余的。我闭上了嘴。
他依然慢悠悠地把手指移到上嘴唇，依然那么睡眼朦胧地看着闪烁的炉格，像是有什么要紧的事儿要说。我立刻问他是不是感到有一阵冷风从他背后的门吹来。
没有，没有，”他有些恼火，回答得很简捷，
“好吧，”我沉思起来，“要是你不愿谈、你可以保持沉默，我就不打扰你了，我看我的书去。”
于是我剪了烛芯，继续细读起《玛米昂》来。不久他开始动弹了，我的眼睛立刻被他的动作所吸引。他只不过取出了一个山羊鞣皮面皮夹子，从里面拿出一封信来，默默地看着，又把它折起来，放回原处，再次陷入了沉思。面前站着这么一个不可思议的固定物，想要看书也看不进去。而在这种不耐烦的时刻，我也不愿当哑巴。他要是不高兴，尽可拒绝我，但我要同他交谈。
“最近接到过黛安娜和玛丽的信吗？”
“自从一周前我给你看的那封信后，没有收到过。”
“你自己的安排没有什么更动吧？该不会叫你比你估计更早离开英国吧？”
“说实在恐怕不会。这样的机会太好了，不会落到我头上。”我至此毫无进展，于是便掉转枪头——决定谈学校和学生了。
“玛丽．加勒特的母亲好些了，玛丽今天早上到校里来了，下星期我有四个从铸造场来的新同学——要不是这场雪今天该到了。”
“真的？”
“奥利弗先生支付其中两个的学费。”
“是吗？”
“他打算在圣诞节请全校的客人。”
“我知道了。”
“是你的建议吗，”
“不是。”
“那么是谁的？”
“他女儿的，我想。”
“是像她建议的，她心地善良。”
“是呀。”
谈话停顿了下来，再次出现了空隙。时钟敲了八下。钟声把他惊醒了，他分开交叉的腿，站直了身子，转向我。
“把你的书放—会儿吧，过来靠近点火炉”他说。
我有些纳闷，而且是无止境地纳闷，于是也就答应了。
“半小时之前，”他接着说，“我曾说起急于听一个故事的续篇。后来想了一下，还是让我扮演叙述者的角色，让你转化为听众比较好办。开场之前，我有言在先，这个故事在你的耳朵听来恐怕有些陈腐，但是过时的细节从另一张嘴里吐出来，常常又会获得某种程度的新鲜感。至于别的就不管了，陈腐也好，新鲜也好，反正很短。”
“二十年前，一个穷苦的牧师——这会儿且不去管他叫什么名字——与一个有钱人的女儿相爱。她爱上了他，而且不听她所有朋友的劝告，嫁给了他。结果婚礼一结束他们就同她断绝了关系。两年未到，这一对草率的夫妇双双故去。静静地躺在同一块石板底下（我见过他们的坟墓，它在××郡的一个人口稠密的工业城市，那里有一个煤烟一般黑、面目狰狞的老教堂，四周被一大片墓地包围着，那两人的坟墓已成了墓地人行道的一部份）。他们留下了一个女儿，她一生下来就落入了慈善事业的膝头——那膝头像我今晚陷进去几乎不能自拔的积雪一样冰冷。慈善把这个没有朋友的小东西，送到母亲的一位有钱亲戚那里。被孩子的舅妈，一个叫做（这会儿我要提名字了）盖茨黑德的里德太太收养着。——你吓了一跳——听见什么响动了？我猜想不过是一个老鼠，爬过毗邻着的教室的大梁。这里原先是个谷仓，后来我整修改建了一下，谷仓向来是老鼠出没的地方。说下去吧。里德太太把这个孤儿养了十年，她跟这孩子处得愉快还是不愉快，我说不上，因为从来没听人谈起过。不过十年之后，她把孩子转送到了一个你知道的地方——恰恰就是罗沃德学校，那儿你自己也住了很久。她在那儿的经历似乎很光荣，象你一样，从学生变成了教师——说实在我总觉得你的身世和她的很有相似之处——她离开那里去当家庭教师，在那里，你们的命运又再次靠拢，她担当起教育某个罗切斯特先生的被监护人的职责。”
“里弗斯先生！”
“我能猜得出你的情感，”他说，“但是克制一会儿吧，我差不多要结束了。听我把话讲完吧。关于罗切斯特先生的为人，除了一件事情，我一无所知。那就是他宣布要同这位年轻姑娘体面地结成夫妇。就在圣坛上她发觉他有一个妻子，虽然疯了，但还活着。他以后的举动和建议纯粹只能凭想象了。后来有一件事必得问问这位家庭女教师时，才发现她已经走了——谁也不知道什么时候走的，去了什么地方，怎么去的。她是夜间从桑菲尔德出走的。她可能会走的每一条路都去查看过了，但一无所获。这个郡到处都搜索过，但没有得到一丁点她的消急。可是要把她找到已成了刻不容缓的大事，各报都登了广告，连我自己也从一个名叫布里格斯先生的律师那儿收到了一封信，通报了我刚才说的这些细节，难道这不是一个希奇古怪的故事吗？”
“你就是告诉我这点吧，”我说，“既然你知道得那么多，你当然能够告诉我——一罗切斯特先生的情况怎么样？他怎样了？他在哪儿？在干什么？他好吗？”
“我对罗切斯特先生茫无所知，这封信除了说起我所提及的诈骗和非法的意图，从没有谈到他。你还是该问一问那个家庭女教师的名字。——问问非她不可的那件事本身属于什么性质。”
“那么没有人去过桑菲尔德府吗？难道没有人见过罗切斯特先生？”
“我想没有。”
“可是他们给他写信过吗？”
“那当然。”
“他说什么啦？谁有他的信？”
“布里格斯先生说，他的请求不是由罗切斯特先生，而是由一位女士回复的，上面签着‘艾丽斯.费尔法克斯。’”
我觉得一时心灰意冷，最怕发生的事很可能已成事实。他完全可能已经离开英国，走投无路之中，轻率地冲到欧洲大陆上以前常去的地方。他在那些地方能为他巨大的痛苔找到什么麻醉剂呢？为他如火的热情找到发泄对象吗？我不敢回答这个问题。呵，我可怜的主人——曾经差一点成为我的丈夫——我经常称他“我亲爱的爱德华！”
“他准是个坏人，”里弗斯先生说。
“你不了解他——别对他说三道四。”我激动地说。
“行呵，”他平心静气地答道，“其实我心里想的倒不是他。我要结束我的故事。既然你没有问起家庭女教师的名字，那我得自己说了——慢着——我这儿有——看到要紧的事儿，完完全全白纸黑字写下来，往往会更使人满意。”
他再次不慌不忙地拿出那个皮夹子，把它打开，仔细翻寻起来，从一个夹层抽出一张原先匆忙撕下的破破烂烂的纸条。我从纸条的质地和蓝一块、青一块、红一块的污渍认出来，这是被他抢去、原先盖在画上那张纸的边沿。他过它代表什么。不过那又怎么样？当然——”
我打住了。我不能相信自己会产生这样的想法，更说不上加以表达。但是这想法闯入了我脑海——它开始具体化——顷刻之间，变成了确确实实可能的事情。种种情况凑合起来了，各就各位，变成了一个有条有理的整体，一根链条。以前一直是一堆没有形状的链环，现在被一节节拉直了——每一个链都完好无缺，链与链之间的联结也很完整。圣.约翰还没有再开口，我凭直觉就已经知道是怎么回事了。不过我不能期望读者也有同样的直觉，因此我得重复一下他的说明。
“我母亲的名字叫爱，她有两个兄弟，一个是位牧师，他娶了盖茨黑德的简.里德小姐；另一个叫约翰.爱先生，生前在马德拉群岛的沙韦尔经商。布里格斯先生是爱先生的律师，去年八月写信通知我们舅父已经去世，说是已把他的财产留给那个当牧师的兄弟的孤女。由于我父亲同他之间一次永远无法宽恕的争吵，他忽视了我们。几周前，布里格斯又写信来，说是那位女继承人失踪了，问我是否知道她的情况。一个随意写在纸条上的名字使我把她找到了。其余的你都知道了。”他又要走，我将背顶住门。
?9 啵?罢庖徊讲换嵊惺裁蠢?选Ｋ婧竽憧梢粤⒓椿竦盟?腥ǎ?愕牟撇?蹲试谟⒐???希?祭锔袼拐乒茏乓胖龊捅匾?奈募?！?br> 这里偏偏又翻出一张新牌来了！读者呀，刹那之间从贫困升迁到富裕，总归是件好事——好是很好，但不是一下子就能理解，或者因此就能欣赏的。此外，生活中还有比这更惊心动魄，更让人销魂的东西。现在这件事很实在，很具体，丝毫没有理想的成份。它所联系着的一切实实在在，朴朴素素，它所体现的也完全一样。你一听到自己得到一笔财产，不会一跃而起，高呼万岁！而是开始考虑自己的责任，谋划正经事儿。称心满意之余倒生出某种重重的心事来了——我们克制自己，皱起眉头为幸福陷入了沉思。
此外，遗产、遗赠这类字眼伴随着死亡、葬礼一类词。我听到我的叔父，我唯一一位亲戚故去了。打从知道他存在的一天起，我便怀着有朝一日要见他的希望，而现在，是永远别想见他了。而且这笔钱只留给我。不是给我和一个高高兴兴的家庭，而是我孤孤单单的本人。当然这笔钱很有用，而且独立自主是件大好事——，是的，我已经感觉到了——那种想法涌上了我心头。
“你终于抬起头来了，”里弗斯先生说，“我以为美杜莎已经瞧过你，而你正变成石头——也许这会儿你会问你的身价有多少？”
“我的身价多少？”
“呵，小得可怜！当然不值一提—一我想他们说二万英镑——但那又怎么样？”
“二万英镑！”
又是一件惊人的事情——我原来估计四、五干。这个消息让我目瞪口呆了好一会儿。我从没有听到过圣.约翰先生的笑声，这时他却大笑起来。
“嗯，”他说，“就是你杀了人，而我告诉你你的罪行已经被发现了，也不会比你刚才更惊呆了。”
“这是一笔很大的款子——你不会弄错了吧？”
“一点也没有弄错。”
“也许你把数字看错了——可能是二千？”
“它不是用数字，而是用字母写的——二万。”
我再次感觉到颇象一个中等胃口的人，独自坐在可供一百个人吃的盛宴面前。这会儿里弗斯先生站起来，穿上了斗篷。
“要不是这么个风雪弥漫的夜晚，”他说，“我会叫汉娜来同你作伴。你看上去太可怜了，不能让你一个儿呆着。不过汉娜这位可怜的女人，不像我这样善于走积雪的路，腿又不够长。因此我只好让你独自哀伤了。晚安。”
他提起门栓时，一个念头蓦地闪过我脑际。
“再呆一分钟！”我叫道。
“怎么？”
“我不明白为什么布里格斯先生会为我的事写信给你，或者他怎么知道你，或者设想你住在这么个偏僻的地方，会有能力帮助他找到我呢。”
“呵，我是个牧师，”他说，“而奇奇怪怪的事往往求牧师解决。”门栓又一次格格响了起来。
“不，那不能使我满意！”我嚷道，其实他那么匆忙而不作解释的回答，不但没有消除我的好奇心，反而更刺激了它。
“这件事非常奇怪，”我补充说，“我得再了解一些。”
“改天再谈吧。”，
“不行，今天晚上！——今天晚上！”他从门边转过身来时，我站到了他与门之间，弄得他有些尴尬。
“你不统统告诉我就别想走？”我说。
“现在我还是不讲为好。”
“你要讲！——一定得讲：”
“我情愿让黛安娜和玛丽告诉你。”
当然，他的反复拒绝把我的焦急之情推向了高潮：我必须得到满足，而且不容拖延。我把这告诉了他。
“不过我告诉过你，我是个铁石心肠的男人，”他说，“很难说服。”
“而我是个铁石心肠的女人—一无法拖延。”
“那么，”他继续说，“我很冷漠，对任何热情都无动于衷。”
“而我很热，火要把冰融化。那边的火已经化掉了你斗篷上的所有的雪，由于同样原因，雪水淌到了我地板上，弄得像踩踏过的衔道。里弗斯先生，正因为你希望我宽恕你毁我砂石厨房的弥天大罪和不端行为，那你就把我想知道的告诉我吧。”
“那么好吧，”他说，“我让步了，要不是向你的真诚屈服，就是向你滴水穿石的恒心投降。另外，有一天你还得知道，早知晚知都一样。你的名字是叫简.爱吗？”
“当然，这以前已全解决了。”
“你也许没有意识到我跟你同姓？我施洗礼时被命名为圣.约翰.爱.里弗斯？”
“确实没有！现在可记起来了，我曾在你不同时间借给我的书里，看到你名字开头的几个字母中有一个Ｅ，但我从来没有问过它代表什么。不过那又怎么样？当然——”
我打住了。我不能相信自己会产生这样的想法，更说不上加以表达。但是这想法闯入了我脑海——它开始具体化——顷刻之间，变成了确确实实可能的事情。种种情况凑合起来了，各就各位，变成了一个有条有理的整体，一根链条。以前一直是一堆没有形状的链环，现在被一节节拉直了——每一个链都完好无缺，链与链之间的联结也很完整。圣.约翰还没有再开口，我凭直觉就已经知道是怎么回事了。不过我不能期望读者也有同样的直觉，因此我得重复一下他的说明。
“我母亲的名字叫爱，她有两个兄弟，一个是位牧师，他娶了盖茨黑德的简.里德小姐；另一个叫约翰.爱先生，生前在马德拉群岛的沙韦尔经商。布里格斯先生是爱先生的律师，去年八月写信通知我们舅父已经去世，说是已把他的财产留给那个当牧师的兄弟的孤女。由于我父亲同他之间一次永远无法宽恕的争吵，他忽视了我们。几周前，布里格斯又写信来，说是那位女继承人失踪了，问我是否知道她的情况。一个随意写在纸条上的名字使我把她找到了。其余的你都知道了。”他又要走，我将背顶住门。
“请务必让我也说一说，”我说，“让我喘口气，好好想一想。”我停住了——他站在我面前，手里拿着帽子，看上去够镇静的。我接着说：
“你的母亲是我父亲的姐妹？”
“是的。”
“那么是我的姑妈了？”
他点了点头。
“我的约翰叔父是你的约翰舅舅了？你，黛安娜和玛丽是他姐妹的孩子，而我是他兄弟的孩子了？”
“没有错。”
“你们三位是我的表兄表姐了。我们身上一半的血都流自同一个源泉？”
“我们是表兄妹，不错。”
我细细打量着他。我似乎发现了一个哥哥，一个值得我骄傲的人，一个我可以爱的人。还有两个姐姐，她们的品质在即使同我是陌路人的时候，也激起了我的真情和羡慕。那天我跪在湿淋淋的地上，透过沼泽居低矮的格子窗，带着既感兴趣而又绝望的痛苦复杂的心情，凝视着这两位姑娘，原来她们竟是我的近亲。而这位发现我险些死在他门槛边的年轻庄重的绅士，就是我的血肉之亲。对孤苦伶丁的可怜人儿来说，这是个何等重大的发现！其实这就是财富！——心灵的财富！——一个纯洁温暖的感情矿藏。这是一种幸福，光辉灿烂，生气勃勃，令人振奋！——不像沉重的金礼物：其本身值钱而受人欢迎，但它的份量又让人感到压抑。这会儿我突然兴奋得拍起手来一—我的脉搏跳动着，我的血管震颤了。
“呵，我真高兴——我真高兴！”我叫道。
圣.约翰笑了笑。“我不是说过你拣了芝麻丢了西瓜吗？”他问。“我告诉你有一笔财产时，你非常严肃，而现在，为了一件不重要的事，你却那么兴奋。”
“你这话究竟什么意思呢？对你可能无足轻重，你己经有妹妹，不在乎一个表妹。但我没有亲人，而这会儿三个亲戚——如果你不愿算在内，那就是两个——降生到我的世界来，已完全长大成人。我再说一遍，我很高兴！”
我快步穿过房间，又停了下来，被接二连三涌进脑子，快得我无法接受、理解和梳理的想法，弄得差点喘不过气来——那就是我可以做什么，能够做什么，会做什么和应当做什么，以及要赶快做。我瞧着空空的墙，它仿佛是天空，密布着冉冉升起的星星——每一颗都照耀着我奔向一个目标或者一种欢乐。那些救了我性命的人，直到如今我还毫无表示地爱着，现在我可以报答了。身披枷锁的，我可以使他们获得自由；东分西散的，我可以让他们欢聚一堂。我的独立和富裕也可以变成是他们的，我们不是一共四个吗？二万英镑平分，每人可得五千——不但足够，而且还有余。公平对待，彼此的幸福也就有了保障。此刻财富已不再是我的一种负担，不再只是钱币的遗赠——而是生命、希望和欢乐的遗产了。
这些想法突然向我的灵魂袭来时，我的神态加何，我无从知道。但我很快觉察到里弗斯先生已在我背后放了一把椅子，和和气气地要我坐在上面。他还建议我要镇静。我对暗示我束手无策、神经错乱的做法嗤之以鼻，把他的手推开，又开始走动起来，
“明天就写信给黛安娜和玛丽，”我说，“叫她们马上回家来，黛安娜说要是有一千英镑，她们俩就会认为自己有钱了，那么有了五千英镑，就很有钱了。”
“告诉我哪儿可以给你弄杯水来，”圣.约翰说，“你真的得努力一下，使你的感情平静下来。”
“胡说！这笔遗赠对你会有什么影响呢？会使你留在英国，诱使你娶奥利弗小姐，像一个普通人那样安顿下来吗？”
“你神经错乱，头脑胡涂了。我把这个消息告诉得太突然，让你兴奋得失去了自制。”
“里弗斯先生！你弄得我很有些不耐烦了。我十分清醒。而正是你误解了我的意思，或者不如说假装误解我的意思。”
“也许要是你解释得再详细一点，我就更明白了。”
“解释！有什么需要解释？你不会不知道，二万英镑，也就是提到的这笔钱，在一个外甥，三个外甥女和侄女之间平分，各得五千？我所要求的是，你应当写信给你的妹妹们，告诉她们所得的财产。”
“你的意思是你所得的财产。”
“我已经谈了我对这件事的想法，我不可能有别的想法。我不是一个极端自私、盲目不公和完全忘恩负义的人。此外，我决心有一个家，有亲戚。我喜欢沼泽居，想住在沼泽居，我喜欢黛安娜和玛丽，要与她们相依为命。五千英镑对我有用，也使我高兴；二万英镑会折磨我，压抑我。何况尽管在法律上属于我，在道义上不该属于我。那么我就把完全多余的东西留给你们。不要再反对，再讨论了，让我们彼此同意，立刻把它决定下来吧。”
“这种做法是出于一时的冲动，你得花几天考虑这样的事情，你的话才可算数。”
“呵，要是你怀疑我的诚意，那很容易，你看这样的处理公平不公平？”
“我确实看到了某种公平，但这违背习惯。此外，整笔财产的权利属于你，我舅舅通过自己的努力挣得这份财产，他爱留给谁就可以留给谁。最后他留给了你。公道毕竟允许你留着，你可以心安理得地认为它完全属于你自己。”
“对我来说，”我说，“这既是一个十足的良心问题，也是个情感问题。我得迁就我的情感。我难得有机会这么做。即使你争辩、反对、惹恼我一年，我也不能放弃已经见了一眼的无上欢乐——那就是部份报答大恩大德，为我自己赢得终身的朋友。”
“你现在是这样想的，”圣.约翰回答，“因为你不知道拥有财富或者因此而享受财富是什么滋味；你还不能想象二万英镑会使你怎样变得举足轻重，会使你在社会中获得怎样高的地位，以及会为你开辟怎样广阔的前景。你不能——”
“而你，”我打断了他，“绝对无法想象我多么渴望兄弟姐妹之情。我从来没有家，从来没有兄弟或姐妹。我现在必须，也不一定要有，你不会不愿接受我承认我，是吗？”
“简，我会成为你的哥哥——我的妹妹会成为你的姐姐——而不必把牺牲自己的正当权利作为条件。”
“哥哥？不错，相距一千里路之遥！姐姐们？不错，为陌生人当牛做马！我，家财万贯——装满了我从未挣过，也不配有的金子。而你，身无分文！这就是赫赫有名的平等和友爱！多么紧密的团聚：何等亲切的依恋！”
“可是，简，你渴望的亲属关系和家庭幸福，可以不通过你所设想的方法来实现。你可以嫁人。”
“又胡说八道啦！嫁人！我不想嫁人，永远不嫁。”
“那说得有些过分了，这种鲁莽的断言证实了你鼓动起来的过度兴奋。”
“我说得并不过分，我知道自己的心情。结婚这种事儿我连想都不愿去想。没有人会出于爱而娶我，我又不愿意当作金钱买卖来考虑。我不要陌路人——与我没有共同语言，格格不入，截然不同。我需要亲情，那些我对他们怀有充分的同胞之情的人。请再说一遍你愿做我的哥哥。你一说这话，我就很满意很高兴，请你重复一下，要是你能够真诚地重复的话。”
“我想我能够。我明白我总是爱着我的妹妹们，我也明白我的爱是建立在什么基础上的——对她们价值的尊重，对她们才能的钦佩。你也有原则和思想。你的趣味和习惯同黛安娜与玛丽的相近。有你在场我总感到很愉快。在与你交谈中，我早已发现了一种有益的安慰。我觉得可以自然而轻易地在我心里留出位置给你，把你看作我的第三个和最小一个妹妹。”
“谢谢你，这使我今晚很满意。现在你还是走吧，因为要是你再呆下去，你也许会用某种不信任的顾虑再惹我生气。”
“那么学校呢，爱小姐？现在我想得关掉了吧。”
“不，我会一直保留女教师的职位，直到你找接替的人。”
他满意地笑了笑。我们握了手，他告辞了。
我不必再细述为了按我的意愿解决遗产问题所作的斗争和进行的争辨。我的任务很艰巨，但是因为我下定了决心——我的表兄妹们最后看到，我要公平地平分财产的想法已经真的不可改变地定了下来——还因为他们在内心一定感到这种想法是公平的，此外，也一定本来就意识到他们如处在我的地位，也一样会做我希望做的事——最后他们让步了，同意把事情交付公断。被选中的仲裁人是奥利弗先生和一位能干的律师。两位都与我的意见不谋而合。我实现了自己的主张，转让的文书也已草成：圣.约翰、黛安娜、玛丽和我，各自都拥有一份富裕的收入。
Chapter 34
IT was near Christmas by the time all was settled: the season of general holiday approached. I now closed Morton school, taking care that the parting should not be barren on my side. Good fortune opens the hand as well as the heart wonderfully; and to give somewhat when we have largely received, is but to afford a vent to the unusual ebullition of the sensations. I had long felt with pleasure that many of my rustic scholars liked me, and when we parted, that consciousness was confirmed: they manifested their affection plainly and strongly. Deep was my gratification to find I had really a place in their unsophisticated hearts: I promised them that never a week should pass in future that I did not visit them, and give them an hour's teaching in their school.Mr. Rivers came up as, having seen the classes, now numbering sixty girls, file out before me, and locked the door, I stood with the key in my hand, exchanging a few words of special farewell with some half-dozen of my best scholars: as decent, respectable, modest, and well-informed young women as could be found in the ranks of the British peasantry. And that is saying a great deal; for after all, the British peasantry are the best taught, best mannered, most self-respecting of any in Europe: since those days I have seen paysannes and Bauerinnen; and the best of them seemed to me ignorant, coarse, and besotted, compared with my Morton girls.
'Do you consider you have got your reward for a season of exertion?' asked Mr. Rivers, when they were gone. 'Does not the consciousness of having done some real good in your day and generation give pleasure?'
'Doubtless.'
'And you have only toiled a few months! Would not a life devoted to the task of regenerating your race be well spent?'
'Yes,' I said; 'but I could not go on for ever so: I want to enjoy my own faculties as well as to cultivate those of other people. I must enjoy them now; don't recall either my mind or body to the school; I am out of it and disposed for full holiday.'
He looked grave. 'What now? What sudden eagerness is this you evince? What are you going to do?'
'To be active: as active as I can. And first I must beg you to set Hannah at liberty, and get somebody else to wait on you.'
'Do you want her?'
'Yes, to go with me to Moor House. Diana and Mary will be at home in a week, and I want to have everything in order against their arrival.'
'I understand. I thought you were for flying off on some excursion. 
It is better so: Hannah shall go with you.'
'Tell her to be ready by to-morrow then; and here is the schoolroom key: I will give you the key of my cottage in the morning.'
He took it. 'You give it up very gleefully,' said he; 'I don't quite understand your light-heartedness, because I cannot tell what employment you propose to yourself as a substitute for the one you are relinquishing. What aim, what purpose, what ambition in life have you now?'
'My first aim will be to clean down (do you comprehend the full force of the expression?)- to clean down Moor House from chamber to cellar; my next to rub it up with bees-wax, oil, and an indefinite number of cloths, till it glitters again; my third, to arrange every chair, table, bed, carpet, with mathematical precision; afterwards I shall go near to ruin you in coals and peat to keep up good fires in every room; and lastly, the two days preceding that on which your sisters are expected will be devoted by Hannah and me to such a beating of eggs, sorting of currants, grating of spices, compounding of Christmas cakes, chopping up of materials for mince-pies, and solemnising of other culinary rites, as words can convey but an inadequate notion of to the uninitiated like you. My purpose, in short, is to have all things in an absolutely perfect state of readiness for Diana and Mary before next Thursday; and my ambition is to give them a beau-ideal of a welcome when they come.' St. John smiled slightly: still he was dissatisfied.
'It is all very well for the present,' said he; 'but seriously, I trust that when the first flush of vivacity is over, you will look a little higher than domestic endearments and household joys.'
'I mean, on the contrary, to be busy.'
'Jane, I excuse you for the present: two months' grace I allow you for the full enjoyment of your new position, and for pleasing yourself with this late-found charm of relationship; but then, I hope you will begin to look beyond Moor House and Morton, and sisterly society, and the selfish calm and sensual comfort of civilised affluence. I hope your energies will then once more trouble you with their strength.'
I looked at him with surprise. 'St. John,' I said, 'I think you are almost wicked to talk so. I am disposed to be as content as a queen, and you try to stir me up to restlessness! To what end?'
'To the end of turning to profit the talents which God has committed to your keeping; and of which He will surely one day demand a strict account. Jane, I shall watch you closely and anxiously- I warn you of that. And try to restrain the disproportionate fervour with which you throw yourself into commonplace home pleasures. Don't cling so tenaciously to ties of the flesh; save your constancy and ardour for an adequate cause; forbear to waste them on trite transient objects. Do you hear, Jane?'
'Yes; just as if you were speaking Greek. I feel I have adequate cause to be happy, and I will be happy. Good-bye!'
Happy at Moor House I was, and hard I worked; and so did Hannah: she was charmed to see how jovial I could be amidst the bustle of a house turned topsy-turvy- how I could brush, and dust, and clean, and cook. And really, after a day or two of confusion worse confounded, it was delightful by degrees to invoke order from the to purchase some new furniture: my cousins having given me carte blanche to effect what alterations I pleased, and a sum having been set aside for that purpose. The ordinary sitting-room and bedrooms I left much as they were: for I knew Diana and Mary would derive more pleasure from seeing again the old homely tables, and chairs, and beds, than from the spectacle of the smartest innovations. Still some novelty was necessary, to give to their return the piquancy with which I wished it to be invested. Dark handsome new carpets and curtains, an arrangement of some carefully selected antique ornaments in porcelain and bronze, new coverings, and mirrors, and dressing-cases, for the toilet-tables, answered the end: they looked fresh without being glaring. A spare parlour and bedroom I refurnished entirely, with old mahogany and crimson upholstery: I laid canvas on the passage, and carpets on the stairs. When all was finished, I thought Moor House as complete a model of bright modest snugness within, as it was, at this season, a specimen of wintry waste and desert dreariness without.
The eventful Thursday at length came. They were expected about dark, and ere dusk fires were lit upstairs and below; the kitchen was in perfect trim; Hannah and I were dressed, and all was in readiness.
St. John arrived first. I had entreated him to keep quite clear of the house till everything was arranged: and, indeed, the bare idea of the commotion, at once sordid and trivial, going on within its walls sufficed to scare him to estrangement. He found me in the kitchen, watching the progress of certain cakes for tea, then baking. Approaching the hearth, he asked, 'If I was at last satisfied with housemaid's work?' I answered by inviting him to accompany me on a general inspection of the result of my labours. With some difficulty, I got him to make the tour of the house. He just looked in at the doors I opened; and when he had wandered upstairs and downstairs, he said I must have gone through a great deal of fatigue and trouble to have effected such considerable changes in so short a time: but not a syllable did he utter indicating pleasure in the improved aspect of his abode.
This silence damped me. I thought perhaps the alterations had disturbed some old associations he valued. I inquired whether this was the case: no doubt in a somewhat crestfallen tone.
'Not at all; he had, on the contrary, remarked that I had scrupulously respected every association: he feared, indeed, I must have bestowed more thought on the matter than it was worth. How many minutes, for instance, had I devoted to studying the arrangement of this very room?- By the bye, could I tell him where such a book was?'
I showed him the volume on the shelf: he took it down, and withdrawing to his accustomed window recess, he began to read it. 
Now, I did not like this, reader. St. John was a good man; but I began to feel he had spoken truth of himself when he said he was hard and cold. The humanities and amenities of life had no attraction for him- its peaceful enjoyments no charm. Literally, he lived only to aspire- after what was good and great, certainly; but still he would never rest, nor approve of others resting round him. As I looked at his lofty forehead, still and pale as a white stone- at his fine lineaments fixed in study- I comprehended all at once that he would hardly make a good husband: that it would be a trying thing to be his wife. I understood, as by inspiration, the nature of his love for Miss Oliver; I agreed with him that it was but a love of the senses. I comprehended how he should despise himself for the feverish influence it exercised over him; how he should wish to stifle and destroy it; how he should mistrust its ever conducing permanently to his happiness or hers. I saw he was of the material from which nature hews her heroes- Christian and Pagan- her lawgivers, her statesmen, her conquerors: a steadfast bulwark for great interests to rest upon; but, at the fireside, too often a cold cumbrous column, gloomy and out of place.
'This parlour is not his sphere,' I reflected: 'the Himalayan ridge or Caffre bush, even the plague-cursed Guinea Coast swamp would suit him better. Well may he eschew the calm of domestic life; it is not his element: there his faculties stagnate- they cannot develop or appear to advantage. It is in scenes of strife and danger- where courage is proved, and energy exercised, and fortitude tasked- that he will speak and move, the leader and superior. A merry child would have the advantage of him on this hearth. He is right to choose a missionary's career- I see it now.'
'They are coming! they are coming!' cried Hannah, throwing open the parlour door. At the same moment old Carlo barked joyfully. Out I ran.
It was now dark; but a rumbling of wheels was audible. Hannah soon had a lantern lit. The vehicle had stopped at the wicket; the driver opened the door: first one well-known form, then another, stepped out.
In a minute I had my face under their bonnets, in contact first with Mary's soft cheek, then with Diana's flowing curls. They laughed- kissed me- then Hannah: patted Carlo, who was half wild with delight; asked eagerly if all was well; and being assured in the affirmative, hastened into the house.
They were stiff with their long and jolting drive from Whitcross, and chilled with the frosty night air; but their pleasant countenances expanded to the cheerful firelight. While the driver and Hannah brought in the boxes, they demanded St. John. At this moment he advanced from the parlour. They both threw their arms round his neck at once. He gave each one quiet kiss, said in a low tone a few words of welcome, stood a while to be talked to, and then, intimating that he supposed they would soon rejoin him in the parlour, withdrew there as to a place of refuge.
I had lit their candles to go upstairs, but Diana had first to give hospitable orders respecting the driver; this done, both followed me. They were delighted with the renovation and decorations of their rooms; with the new drapery, and fresh carpets, and rich tinted china vases: they expressed their gratification ungrudgingly. I had the pleasure of feeling that my arrangements met their wishes exactly, and that what I had done added a vivid charm to their joyous return home.
Sweet was that evening. My cousins, full of exhilaration, were so eloquent in narrative and comment, that their fluency covered St. John's taciturnity: he was sincerely glad to see his sisters; but in their glow of fervour and flow of joy he could not sympathise. The event of the day- that is, the return of Diana and Mary- pleased him; but the accompaniments of that event, the glad tumult, the garrulous glee of reception irked him: I saw he wished the calmer morrow was come. In the very meridian of the night's enjoyment, about an hour after tea, a rap was heard at the door. Hannah entered with the intimation that 'a poor lad was come, at that unlikely time, to fetch Mr. Rivers to see his mother, who was drawing away.'
'Where does she live, Hannah?'
'Clear up at Whitcross Brow, almost four miles off, and moor and moss all the way.'
'Tell him I will go.'
'I'm sure, sir, you had better not. It's the worst road to travel after dark that can be: there's no track at all over the bog. And then it is such a bitter night- the keenest wind you ever felt. You had better send word, sir, that you will be there in the morning.'
But he was already in the passage, putting on his cloak; and without one objection, one murmur, he departed. It was then nine o'clock: he did not return till midnight. Starved and tired enough he was: but he looked happier than when he set out. He had performed an act of duty; made an exertion; felt his own strength to do and deny, and was on better terms with himself.
I am afraid the whole of the ensuing week tried his patience. It was Christmas week: we took to no settled employment, but spent it in a sort of merry domestic dissipation. The air of the moors, the freedom of home, the dawn of prosperity, acted on Diana and Mary's spirits like some life-giving elixir: they were gay from morning till noon, and from noon till night. They could always talk; and their discourse, witty, pithy, original, had such charms for me, that I preferred listening to, and sharing in it, to doing anything else. St. John did not rebuke our vivacity; but he escaped from it: he was seldom in the house; his parish was large, the population scattered, and he found daily business in visiting the sick and poor in its different districts.
One morning at breakfast, Diana, after looking a little pensive for some minutes, asked him, 'If his plans were yet unchanged.'
'Unchanged and unchangeable,' was the reply. And he proceeded to inform us that his departure from England was now definitely fixed for the ensuing year.
'And Rosamond Oliver?' suggested Mary, the words seeming to escape her lips involuntarily: for no sooner had she uttered them, than she made a gesture as if wishing to recall them. St. John had a book in his hand- it was his unsocial custom to read at meals- he closed it, and looked up.
'Rosamond Oliver,' said he, 'is about to be married to Mr. Granby, one of the best connected and most estimable residents in from her father yesterday.'
His sisters looked at each other and at me; we all three looked at him: he was serene as glass.
'The match must have been got up hastily,' said Diana: 'they cannot have known each other long.'
But where there are no obstacles to a union, as in the present case, where the connection is in every point desirable, delays are Frederic gives up to them, can be refitted for their reception.'
The first time I found St. John alone after this communication, I felt tempted to inquire if the event distressed him: but he seemed so little to need sympathy, that, so far from venturing to offer him more, I experienced some shame at the recollection of what I had already hazarded. Besides, I was out of practice in talking to him: his reserve was again frozen over, and my frankness was congealed beneath it. He had not kept his promise of treating me like his sisters; he continually made little, chilling differences between us, which did not at all tend to the development of cordiality: in short, now that I was acknowledged his kinswoman, and lived under the same roof with him, I felt the distance between us to be far greater than when he had known me only as the village schoolmistress. When I remembered how far I had once been admitted to his confidence, I could hardly comprehend his present frigidity. 
Such being the case, I felt not a little surprised when he raised his head suddenly from the desk over which he was stooping, and said- 'You see, Jane, the battle is fought and the victory won.'
Startled at being thus addressed, I did not immediately reply: after a moment's hesitation I answered-
'But are you sure you are not in the position of those conquerors whose triumphs have cost them too dear? Would not such another ruin you?'
'I think not; and if I were, it does not much signify; I shall never be called upon to contend for such another. The event of the conflict is decisive: my way is now clear; I thank God for it!' So saying, he returned to his papers and his silence.
As our mutual happiness (i.e., Diana's, Mary's, and mine) settled into a quieter character, and we resumed our usual habits and regular studies, St. John stayed more at home: he sat with us in the same room, sometimes for hours together. While Mary drew, Diana pursued a course of encyclopaedic reading she had (to my awe and amazement) undertaken, and I fagged away at German, he pondered a mystic lore of his own: that of some Eastern tongue, the acquisition of which he thought necessary to his plans.
Thus engaged, he appeared, sitting in his own recess, quiet and absorbed enough; but that blue eye of his had a habit of leaving the outlandish-looking grammar, and wandering over, and sometimes fixing upon us, his fellow-students, with a curious intensity of observation: if caught, it would be instantly withdrawn; yet ever and anon, it returned searchingly to our table. I wondered what it meant: I wondered, too, at the punctual satisfaction he never failed to exhibit on an occasion that seemed to me of small moment, namely, my weekly visit to Morton school; and still more was I puzzled when, if the day was unfavourable, if there was snow, or rain, or high wind, and his sisters urged me not to go, he would invariably make light of their solicitude, and encourage me to accomplish the task without regard to the elements.
'Jane is not such a weakling as you would make her,' he would say: 'she can bear a mountain blast, or a shower, or a few flakes of snow, as well as any of us. Her constitution is both sound and elastic;- better calculated to endure variations of climate than many more robust.'
And when I returned, sometimes a good deal tired, and not a little weather-beaten, I never dared complain, because I saw that to murmur would be to vex him: on all occasions fortitude pleased him; the reverse was a special annoyance.
One afternoon, however, I got leave to stay at home, because I really had a cold. His sisters were gone to Morton in my stead: I sat reading Schiller; he, deciphering his crabbed Oriental scrolls. As I exchanged a translation for an exercise, I happened to look his way: there I found myself under the influence of the ever-watchful blue eye. How long it had been searching me through and through, and over and over, I cannot tell: so keen was it, and yet so cold, I felt for the moment superstitious- as if I were sitting in the room with something uncanny.
'Jane, what are you doing?'
'Learning German.'
'I want you to give up German and learn Hindostanee.'
'You are not in earnest?'
'In such earnest that I must have it so: and I will tell you why.'
He then went on to explain that Hindostanee was the language he was himself at present studying; that, as he advanced, he was apt to forget the commencement; that it would assist him greatly to have a pupil with whom he might again and again go over the elements, and so fix them thoroughly in his mind; that his choice had hovered for some time between me and his sisters; but that he had fixed on me because he saw I could sit at a task the longest of the three. Would I do him this favour? I should not, perhaps, have to make the sacrifice long, as it wanted now barely three months to his departure.
St. John was not a man to be lightly refused: you felt that every impression made on him, either for pain or pleasure, was deep-graved and permanent. I consented. When Diana and Mary returned, the former found her scholar transferred from her to her brother: she laughed, and both she and Mary agreed that St. John should never have persuaded them to such a step. He answered quietly-
'I know it.'
I found him a very patient, very forbearing, and yet an exacting master: he expected me to do a great deal; and when I fulfilled his expectations, he, in his own way, fully testified his approbation.
By degrees, he acquired a certain influence over me that took away my liberty of mind: his praise and notice were more restraining than his indifference. I could no longer talk or laugh freely when he was by, because a tiresomely importunate instinct reminded me that vivacity (at least in me) was distasteful to him. I was so fully aware that only serious moods and occupations were acceptable, that in his presence every effort to sustain or follow any other became vain: I fell under a freezing spell. When he said 'go,' I went; 'come,' I came; 'do this,' I did it. But I did not love my servitude: I wished, many a time, he had continued to neglect me.
One evening when, at bedtime, his sisters and I stood round him, bidding him good-night, he kissed each of them, as was his custom; and, as was equally his custom, he gave me his hand. Diana, who chanced to be in a frolicsome humour (she was not painfully controlled by his will; for hers, in another way, was as strong), exclaimed- 'St. John! you used to call Jane your third sister, but you don't treat her as such: you should kiss her too.' 
She pushed me towards him. I thought Diana very provoking, and felt uncomfortably confused; and while I was thus thinking and feeling, St. John bent his head; his Greek face was brought to a level with mine, his eyes questioned my eyes piercingly- he kissed me. There are no such things as marble kisses or ice kisses, or I should say my ecclesiastical cousin's salute belonged to one of these classes; but there may be experiment kisses, and his was an experiment kiss. When given, he viewed me to learn the result; it was not striking: I am sure I did not blush; perhaps I might have turned a little pale, for I felt as if this kiss were a seal affixed to my fetters. He never omitted the ceremony afterwards, and the gravity and quiescence with which I underwent it, seemed to invest it for him with a certain charm.
As for me, I daily wished more to please him; but to do so, I felt daily more and more that I must disown half my nature, stifle half my faculties, wrest my tastes from their original bent, force myself to the adoption of pursuits for which I had no natural vocation. He wanted to train me to an elevation I could never reach; it racked me hourly to aspire to the standard he uplifted. The thing was as impossible as to mould my irregular features to his correct and classic pattern, to give to my changeable green eyes the sea-blue tint and solemn lustre of his own.
Not his ascendancy alone, however, held me in thrall at present. Of late it had been easy enough for me to look sad: a cankering evil sat in my heart and drained my happiness at its source- the evil of suspense.
Perhaps you think I had forgotten Mr. Rochester, reader, amidst these changes of place and fortune. Not for a moment. His idea was still with me, because it was not a vapour sunshine could disperse, nor a sand-traced effigy storms could wash away; it was a name graven on a tablet, fated to last as long as the marble it inscribed. The craving to know what had become of him followed me everywhere; when I was at Morton, I re-entered my cottage every evening to think of that; and now at Moor House, I sought my bedroom each night to brood over it.
In the course of my necessary correspondence with Mr. Briggs about the will, I had inquired if he knew anything of Mr. Rochester's present residence and state of health; but, as St. John had conjectured, he was quite ignorant of all concerning him. I then wrote to Mrs. Fairfax, entreating information on the subject. I had calculated with certainty on this step answering my end: I felt sure it would elicit an early answer. I was astonished when a fortnight passed without reply; but when two months wore away, and day after day the post arrived and brought nothing for me, I fell a prey to the keenest anxiety.
I wrote again: there was a chance of my first letter having missed.
Renewed hope followed renewed effort: it shone like the former for some weeks, then, like it, it faded, flickered: not a line, not a word reached me. When half a year wasted in vain expectancy, my hope died out, and then I felt dark indeed.
A fine spring shone round me, which I could not enjoy. Summer approached; Diana tried to cheer me: she said I looked ill, and wished to accompany me to the sea-side. This St. John opposed; he said I did not want dissipation, I wanted employment; my present life was too purposeless, I required an aim; and, I suppose, by way of supplying deficiencies, he prolonged still further my lessons in Hindostanee, and grew more urgent in requiring their accomplishment: and I, like a fool, never thought of resisting him- I could not resist him.
One day I had come to my studies in lower spirits than usual; the ebb was occasioned by a poignantly felt disappointment. Hannah had told me in the morning there was a letter for me, and when I went down to take it, almost certain that the long-looked-for tidings were vouchsafed me at last, I found only an unimportant note from Mr. Briggs on business. The bitter check had wrung from me some tears; and now, as I sat poring over the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an Indian scribe, my eyes filled again.
St. John called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this my voice failed me: words were lost in sobs. He and I were the only occupants of the parlour: Diana was practising her music in the drawing-room, Mary was gardening- it was a very fine May day, clear, sunny, and breezy. My companion expressed no surprise at this emotion, nor did he question me as to its cause; he only said-
'We will wait a few minutes, Jane, till you are more composed.' And while I smothered the paroxysm with all haste, he sat calm and patient, leaning on his desk, and looking like a physician watching with the eye of science an expected and fully understood crisis in a patient's malady. Having stifled my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered something about not being very well that morning, I resumed my task, and succeeded in completing it. St. John put away my books and his, locked his desk, and said-
'Now, Jane, you shall take a walk; and with me.'
'I will call Diana and Mary.'
'No; I want only one companion this morning, and that must be you. Put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towards the head of Marsh Glen: I will join you in a moment.'
I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other; and as neither present circumstances warranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observed careful obedience to St. John's directions; and in ten minutes I was treading the wild track of the glen, side by side with him.
The breeze was from the west: it came over the hills, sweet with scents of heath and rush; the sky was of stainless blue; the stream descending the ravine, swelled with past spring rains, poured along plentiful and clear, catching golden gleams from the sun, and sapphire tints from the firmament. As we advanced and left the track, we trod a soft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled with a tiny white flower, and spangled with a star-like yellow blossom: the hills, meantime, shut us quite in; for the glen, towards its head, wound to their very core.
'Let us rest here,' said St. John, as we reached the first stragglers of a battalion of rocks, guarding a sort of pass, beyond which the beck rushed down a waterfall; and where, still a little farther, the mountain shook off turf and flower, had only heath for raiment and crag for gem- where it exaggerated the wild to the savage, and exchanged the fresh for the frowning- where it guarded the forlorn hope of solitude, and a last refuge for silence.
I took a seat: St. John stood near me. He looked up the pass and down the hollow; his glance wandered away with the stream, and returned to traverse the unclouded heaven which coloured it: he removed his hat, let the breeze stir his hair and kiss his brow. He seemed in communion with the genius of the haunt: with his eye he bade farewell to something.
'And I shall see it again,' he said aloud, 'in dreams when I sleep by the Ganges: and again in a more remote hour- when another slumber overcomes me- on the shore of a darker stream!'
Strange words of a strange love! An austere patriot's passion for his fatherland! He sat down; for half an hour we never spoke; neither he to me nor I to him: that interval past, he recommenced-
'Jane, I go in six weeks; I have taken my berth in an East Indiaman which sails on the 20th of June.'
'God will protect you; for you have undertaken His work,' I answered.
'Yes,' said he, 'there is my glory and joy. I am the servant of an infallible Master. I am not going out under human guidance, subject to the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: my king, my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect. It seems strange to me that all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner,- to join in the same enterprise.'
'All have not Your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong.'
'I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it.'
'Those are few in number, and difficult to discover.'
'You say truly; but when found, it is right to stir them up- to urge and exhort them to the effort- to show them what their gifts are, and why they were given- to speak Heaven's message in their ear,- to offer them, direct from God, a place in the ranks of His chosen.'
'If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?'
I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: I trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and rivet the spell.
'And what does your heart say?' demanded St. John.
'My heart is mute- my heart is mute,' I answered, struck and thrilled.
'Then I must speak for it,' continued the deep, relentless voice.
'Jane, come with me to India: come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer.'
The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved! It was as if I had heard a summons from Heaven- as if a visionary messenger, like him of Macedonia, had enounced, 'Come over and help us!' But I was no apostle,- I could not behold the herald,- I could not receive his call.
'Oh, St. John!' I cried, 'have some mercy!'
I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty, knew neither mercy nor remorse. He continued-
'God and nature intended you for a missionary's wife. It is not personal, but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed for labour, not for love. A missionary's wife you must- shall be.
You shall be mine: I claim you- not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service.'
'I am not fit for it: I have no vocation,' I said.
He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated by them. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close- resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him.
'Humility, Jane,' said he, 'is the groundwork of Christian virtues: you say right that you are not fit for the work. Who is fit for it? Or who, that ever was truly called, believed himself worthy of the summons? I, for instance, am but dust and ashes. With St. Paul, I acknowledge myself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. I know my Leader: that He is just as well as mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence, supply the inadequacy of the means to the end. Think like me, Jane- trust like me. It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness.'
'I do not understand a missionary life: I have never studied missionary labours.'
'There I, humble as I am, can give you the aid you want: I can set you your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you from moment to moment. This I could do in the beginning: soon (for I know your powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself, and would not require my help.'
'But my powers- where are they for this undertaking? I do not feel them. Nothing speaks or stirs in me while you talk. I am sensible of no light kindling- no life quickening- no voice counselling or cheering. Oh, I wish I could make you see how much my mind is at this moment like a rayless dungeon, with one shrinking fear fettered in its depths- the fear of being persuaded by you to attempt what I cannot accomplish!'
'I have an answer for you- hear it. I have watched you ever since we first met: I have made you my study for ten months. I have proved you in that time by sundry tests: and what have I seen and elicited?
In the village school I found you could perform well, punctually, uprightly, labour uncongenial to your habits and inclinations; I saw you could perform it with capacity and tact: you could win while you controlled. In the calm with which you learnt you had become suddenly rich, I read a mind clear of the vice of Demas:- lucre had no undue power over you. In the resolute readiness with which you cut your wealth into four shares, keeping but one to yourself, and relinquishing the three others to the claim of abstract justice, I recognised a soul that revelled in the flame and excitement of sacrifice. In the tractability with which, at my wish, you forsook a study in which you were interested, and adopted another because it interested me; in the untiring assiduity with which you have since persevered in it- in the unflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met its difficulties- I acknowledge the complement of the qualities I seek. Jane, you are docile, diligent, disinterested, faithful, constant, and courageous; very gentle, and very heroic: cease to mistrust yourself- I can trust you unreservedly. As a conductress of Indian schools, and a helper amongst Indian women, your assistance will be to me invaluable.'
My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow, sure step. Shut my eyes as I would, these last words of his succeeded in making the way, which had seemed blocked up, comparatively clear. My work, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly diffuse, condensed itself as he proceeded, and assumed a definite form under his shaping hand. He waited for an answer. I demanded a quarter of an hour to think, before I again hazarded a reply.
'Very willingly,' he rejoined; and rising, he strode a little distance up the pass, threw himself down on a swell of heath, and there lay still.
'I can do what he wants me to do: I am forced to see and acknowledge that,' I meditated,- 'that is, if life be spared me. But I feel mine is not the existence to be long protracted under an Indian sun. What then? He does not care for that: when my time came to die, he would resign me, in all serenity and sanctity, to the God who gave me. The case is very plain before me. In leaving England, I should leave a loved but empty land- Mr. Rochester is not there; and if he were, what is, what can that ever be to me? My business is to live without him now: nothing so absurd, so weak as to drag on from day to day, as if I were waiting some impossible change in circumstances, which might reunite me to him. Of course (as St. John once said) I must seek another interest in life to replace the one lost: is not the occupation he now offers me truly the most glorious man can adopt or God assign? Is it not, by its noble cares and sublime results, the one best calculated to fill the void left by uptorn affections and demolished hopes? I believe I must say, Yes- and yet I shudder. Alas! If I join St. John, I abandon half myself: if I go to India, I go to premature death. And how will the interval between leaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? Oh, I know well! That, too, is very clear to my vision. By straining to satisfy St. John till my sinews ache, I shall satisfy him- to the finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. If I do go with him- if I do make the sacrifice he urges, I will make it absolutely: I will throw all on the altar- heart, vitals, the entire victim. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him energies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. Yes, I can work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging.
'Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item- one dreadful item. It is- that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which the stream is foaming in yonder gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would a good weapon, and that is all. Unmarried to him, this would never grieve me; but can I let him complete his calculations- coolly put into practice his plans- go through the wedding ceremony?
Can I receive from him the bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous. I will never undergo it. As his sister, I might accompany him- not as his wife: I will tell him so.'
I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostrate column; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. He started to his feet and approached me.
'I am ready to go to India, if I may go free.'
'Your answer requires a commentary,' he said; 'it is not clear.'
'You have hitherto been my adopted brother- I, your adopted sister: let us continue as such: you and I had better not marry.'
He shook his head. 'Adopted fraternity will not do in this case. If you were my real sister it would be different: I should take you, and seek no wife. But as it is, either our union must be consecrated and sealed by marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles oppose themselves to any other plan. Do you not see it, Jane? Consider a moment- your strong sense will guide you.'
I did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me only to the fact that we did not love each other as man and wife should: and therefore it inferred we ought not to marry. I said so.
'St. John,' I returned, 'I regard you as a brother- you, me as a sister: so let us continue.'
'We cannot- we cannot,' he answered, with short, sharp determination: 'it would not do. You have said you will go with me to India: remember- you have said that.'
'Conditionally.'
'Well- well. To the main point- the departure with me from England, the co-operation with me in my future labours- you do not object.
You have already as good as put your hand to the plough: you are too consistent to withdraw it. You have but one end to keep in view- how the work you have undertaken can best be done. Simplify your complicated interests, feelings, thoughts, wishes, aims; merge all considerations in one purpose: that of fulfilling with effect- with power- the mission of your great Master. To do so, you must have a coadjutor: not a brother- that is a loose tie- but a husband. I, too, do not want a sister: a sister might any day be taken from me.
I want a wife: the sole helpmeet I can influence efficiently in life, and retain absolutely till death.'
I shuddered as he spoke: I felt his influence in my marrow- his hold on my limbs.
'Seek one elsewhere than in me, St. John: seek one fitted to you.'
'One fitted to my purpose, you mean- fitted to my vocation. Again I tell you it is not the insignificant private individual- the mere man, with the man's selfish senses- I wish to mate: it is the missionary.'
'And I will give the missionary my energies- it is all he wants- but not myself: that would be only adding the husk and shell to the kernel. For them he has no use: I retain them.'
'You cannot- you ought not. Do you think God will be satisfied with half an oblation? Will He accept a mutilated sacrifice? It is the cause of God I advocate: it is under His standard I enlist you. I cannot accept on His behalf a divided allegiance: it must be entire.'
'Oh! I will give my heart to God,' I said. 'You do not want it.'
I will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressed sarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence, and in the feeling that accompanied it. I had silently feared St. John till now, because I had not understood him. He had held me in awe, because he had held me in doubt. How much of him was saint, how much mortal, I could not heretofore tell: but revelations were being made in this conference: the analysis of his nature was proceeding before my eyes. I saw his fallibilities: I comprehended them. I understood that, sitting there where I did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form before me, I sat at the feet of a man, erring as I. The veil fell from his hardness and despotism. Having felt in him the presence of these qualities, I felt his imperfection and  took courage. I was with an equal- one with whom I might argue- one whom, if I saw good, I might resist.
He was silent after I had uttered the last sentence, and I presently risked an upward glance at his countenance. His eye, bent on me, expressed at once stern surprise and keen inquiry. 'Is she sarcastic, and sarcastic to me!' it seemed to say. 'What does this signify?'
'Do not let us forget that this is a solemn matter,' he said ere long; 'one of which we may neither think nor talk lightly without sin.
I trust, Jane, you are in earnest when you say you will give your heart to God: it is all I want. Once wrench your heart from man, and fix it on your Maker, the advancement of that Maker's spiritual kingdom on earth will be your chief delight and endeavour; you will be ready to do at once whatever furthers that end. You will see what impetus would be given to your efforts and mine by our physical and mental union in marriage: the only union that gives a character of permanent conformity to the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over all minor caprices- all trivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling- all scruple about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personal inclination- you will hasten to enter into that union at once.'
'Shall I?' I said briefly; and I looked at his features,  beautiful in their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; at his brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure; and fancied myself in idea his wife. Oh! it would never do! As his curate, his comrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him in that capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him in that office; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and vigour; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at his ineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man: profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. I should suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body would be under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be free. I should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. There would be recesses in my mind which would be only mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which his austerity could never blight, nor his measured warrior-march trample down: but as his wife- at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked- forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital- this would be unendurable.
'St. John!' I exclaimed, when I had got so far in my meditation. 
'Well?' he answered icily.
'I repeat I freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary, but not as your wife; I cannot marry you and become part of you.'
'A part of me you must become,' he answered steadily: 'otherwise the whole bargain is void. How can I, a man not yet thirty, take out with me to India a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me?
How can we be for ever together- sometimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes- and unwed?'
'Very well,' I said shortly; 'under the circumstances, quite as well as if I were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman like yourself.'
'It is known that you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you as such: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both. And for the rest, though you have a man's vigorous brain, you have a woman's heart and- it would not do.'
'It would do,' I affirmed with some disdain, 'perfectly well. I have a woman's heart, but not where you are concerned; for you I have only a comrade's constancy; a fellow-soldier's frankness, fidelity, fraternity, if you like; a neophyte's respect and submission to his hierophant: nothing more- don't fear.'
'It is what I want,' he said, speaking to himself; 'it is just what I want. And there are obstacles in the way: they must be hewn down.
Jane, you would not repent marrying me- be certain of that; we must be married. I repeat it: there is no other way; and undoubtedly enough of love would follow upon marriage to render the union right even in your eyes.'
'I scorn your idea of love,' I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. 'I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.'
He looked at me fixedly, compressing his well-cut lips while he did so. Whether he was incensed or surprised, or what, it was not easy to tell: he could command his countenance thoroughly.
'I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you,' he said: 'I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn.'
I was touched by his gentle tone, and overawed by his high, calm mien.
'Forgive me the words, St. John; but it is your own fault that I have been roused to speak so unguardedly. You have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance- a topic we should never discuss: the very name of love is an apple of discord between us. If the reality were required, what should we do? How should we feel? My dear cousin, abandon your scheme of marriage- forget it.'
'No,' said he; 'it is a long-cherished scheme, and the only one which can secure my great end: but I shall urge you no further at present. To-morrow, I leave home for Cambridge: I have many friends there to whom I should wish to say farewell. I shall be absent a fortnight- take that space of time to consider my offer: and do not forget that if you reject it, it is not me you deny, but God. 
Through my means, He opens to you a noble career; as my wife only can you enter upon it. Refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. Tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith, and are worse than infidels!'
He had done. Turning from me, he once more 'Looked to river, looked to hill.'
But this time his feelings were all pent in his heart: I was not worthy to hear them uttered. As I walked by his side homeward, I read well in his iron silence all he felt towards me: the disappointment of an austere and despotic nature, which has met resistance where it expected submission- the disapprobation of a cool, inflexible judgment, which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has no power to sympathise: in short, as a man, he would have wished to coerce me into obedience: it was only as a sincere Christian he bore so patiently with my perversity, and allowed so long a space for reflection and repentance.
That night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. I- who, though I had no love, had much friendship for him- was hurt by the marked omission: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes.
'I see you and St. John have been quarrelling, Jane,' said Diana, 'during your walk on the moor. But go after him; he is now lingering in the passage expecting you- he will make it up.'
I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always rather be happy than dignified; and I ran after him- he stood at the foot of the stairs.
'Good-night, St. John,' said I.
'Good-night, Jane,' he replied calmly.
'Then shake hands,' I added.
What a cold, loose touch he impressed on my fingers! He was deeply displeased by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm, nor tears move him. No happy reconciliation was to be had with him- no cheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient and placid; and when I asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive, not having been offended.
And with that answer he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.一切都办妥的时候已临近圣诞节了，普天下人的假日季节就要到来。于是我关闭了莫尔顿学校，并注意自己不空着手告别。交上好运不但使人心境愉快，而且出手也格外大方了。我们把大宗所得分些给别人，是为自己不平常的激动之情提供一个渲泄的机会。我早就愉快地感到，我的很多农村学生都喜欢我。离别时，这种感觉得到了证实。她们的感情很强烈，也很外露。我发现自己确实已在她们纯扑的心灵中占据了一个位置，我深为满意。我答应以后每周都去看她们，在学校中给她们上一小时课。
里弗斯先生来了——看到现在这些班级的六十个学生，在我前面鱼贯而出，看我锁上了门——这时我手拿钥匙站着，跟五六个最好的学生，特意交换几句告别的话。这些年轻姑娘之正派、可敬、谦逊和有知识，堪与英国农民阶层中的任何人媲美。这话很有份量，因为英国农民同欧洲的任何农民相比较，毕竟是最有教养、最有礼貌、最为自尊的。打从那时以来，我见过一些paysannes和Bauerinnen，比之莫尔顿的姑娘，就是最出色的也显得无知、粗俗和糊涂。
“你认为自己这一时期的努力已经得到报偿了吗？”她们走掉后里弗斯先生问。“你觉得在自己风华正茂的岁月，做些真正的好事是一种愉快吗？”
“毫无疑问。”
“而你还只辛苦了几个月，如果你的一生致力于提高自己的民族岂不是很值得吗？”“是呀，”我说，“但我不能永远这么干下去。我不但要培养别人的能力，而且也要发挥自己的能力。现在就得发挥。别让我再把身心都投进学校，我已经摆脱，一心只想度假了。”
他神情很严肃。“怎么啦？你突然显得那么急切，这是什么意思？你打算干什么呢？”
“要活跃起来，要尽我所能活跃起来，首先我得求你让汉娜走，另找别人服侍你。”
“你要她吗？”
“是的。让她同我一起去沼泽居。黛安娜和玛丽一周之后就回家，我要把一切都拾掇得整整齐齐，迎接她们到来。”
“我理解。我还以为你要去远游呢。不过这样也好，汉娜跟你走。”
“那么通知她明天以前作好准备。这是教室钥匙。明天早上我会把小屋的钥匙交给你。”
他拿了钥匙。“你高高兴兴地歇手了，”他说，“我并不十分理解你轻松的心情，因为我不知道你放弃这项工作后，要找什么工作来代替。现在你生活中的目标、目的和雄心是什么？”
“我的第一个目标是清理（你理解这个词的全部力量吗？），把沼泽居从房间到地窖清理一遍；第二个目标是用蜂蜡、油和数不清的布头把房子擦得锃亮；第三个目标是按数学的精密度来安排每一件椅子、桌子、床和地毯，再后我要差不多耗尽你的煤和泥炭，把每个房间都生起熊熊的炉火来。最后，你妹妹们预计到达之前的两天，汉娜和我要大打其鸡蛋，细拣葡萄干，研磨调料，做圣诞饼，剁肉馅饼料子，隆重操持其他烹饪习俗。对你这样的门外汉，连语言也难以充分表达这番忙碌。总之，我的目的是下星期四黛安娜和玛丽到家之前，使一切都安排得妥妥贴贴。我的雄心就是她们到时给予最理想的欢迎。”
圣.约翰微微一笑，仍不满意。
“眼下说来这都不错，”他说，“不过认真地说，我相信第一阵快活的冲动过后，你的眼界不会局限于家人的亲热和家庭的欢乐。”
“人世间最好的东西，”我打断了他说。
“不，简，这个世界不是享乐的天地，别去想把它变成这样，或者变成休憩的乐园，不要懈怠懒惰。”
“恰恰相反，我的意思是要大忙一番。”
“简，我暂时谅解你，给你两个月的宽限，充分享受你新职位的乐趣，也为最近找到亲戚而陶醉一番。但以后，我希望你开始把眼光放远些，不要光盯着沼泽居和莫尔顿，盯着姐妹圈子，盯着自己的宁静，盯着文明富裕所带来的肉体享受。我希望到那时你的充沛精力会再次让你不安。”
我惊讶地看着他。“圣.约翰，”我说，“我认为你这样说是近乎恶毒了。我本希望象女皇那样称心如意，而你却要弄得我不得安宁！你安的什么心？”
“我的用心是要使上帝赋予你的才能发挥作用，有一天他肯定会对此严加盘问的。简，我会密切而焦急地注意你——我提醒你——要竭力抑制你对庸俗的家庭乐趣所过分流露的热情。不要那么苦苦依恋肉体的关系，把你的坚毅和热诚留给一项适当的事业，不要将它浪费在平凡而短暂的事情上。听见了吗，简？”
“听见了，就仿佛你在说希腊文。我觉得我有充分理由感到愉快，我一定会愉快的。再见！”
我在沼泽居很愉快，也干得很起劲，汉娜也一样，她看着我在一片混乱的房子里会忙得乐不可支，看着我会那么扫呀，摔呀，清理呀，烧呀，忙个不停，简直看得入了迷。真的，过了那么一两天最乱的日子后，我们很高兴地从自己所制造的混乱中，逐步恢复了秩序。在此之前我上了Ｓ城，购买了一些新家具，我的表兄表姐们全权委托我，随我高兴对房间的布置作什么改动，并且拿出一笔钱来派这个用处。普通的起居室和寝室我大体保持原样，因为我知道，黛安娜和玛丽又一次看到朴实的桌子、椅子和床，会比看到最时髦的整修更愉快。不过赋予某些新意还是必要的，使她们回家的时候有一种我所希望的生气。添上黑色漂亮的新地毯、新窗帘、几件经过精心挑选的、古色古香的瓷器和铜器摆设，还有新床罩、镜子和化妆台上的化妆盒等等，便达到了这一目的。它们看上去鲜艳而不耀眼。一间空余的客厅和寝室，用旧红木家具和大红套子重新布置了一下。我在过道上铺了帆布，楼梯上铺了地毯。一切都完成以后，我想在这个季节里沼泽居既是室内光亮舒适的典范，又是室外寒冬枯叶、荒芜凄凉的标本。
不平凡的星期四终于到来了。估计她们约摸天黑时到。黄昏前楼上楼下都生了火，厨房里清清爽爽。汉娜和我都穿戴好了，一切都已收拾停当。
圣.约翰先到。我求他等全都布置好了再进房子。说真的，光想想四壁之内又肮脏又琐碎乱哄哄的样子，足以吓得他躲得远远的。他看见我在厨房里，照管着正在烘烤的茶点用饼，便走近炉子问道，“你是不是终于对女仆的活儿感到满意了？”作为回答，我邀请他陪我全面察看一下我劳动的成果。我好不容易说动他到房子里去走一走，他也不过是往我替他打开的门里瞧了一瞧。他楼上楼下转了一圈后说，准是费了很大一番劳累和麻烦，才能在那么短时间内带来如此可观的变化。但他只字未提住处面貌改变后给他带来了什么愉快。
他的沉默很使我扫兴。我想也许这些更动扰乱了他所珍惜的某些往事的联想。我问他是不是这么回事，当然语气有点儿灰心丧气。
“一点也没有。相反，我认为你悉心考虑了每种联想。说真的，我担心你在这上面花的心思太多了，不值得。譬如说吧，你花了多少时间来考虑布置这间房间？——随便问一下，你知道某本书在哪儿吗？”
我把书架上的那本书指给他看。他取了下来，像往常一样躲到窗子凹陷处，读了起来。
此刻，我不大喜欢这种举动，读者。圣.约翰是个好人，但我开始觉得他说自己冷酷无情时，他说的是真话。人的美德和人生的欢乐对他没有吸引力——平静的享受也不具魅力。他活着纯粹是为了向往——当然是向往优秀伟大的东西。但他永远不会休息，也不赞成周围的人休息。当我瞧着他白石一般苍白平静的高耸额头——瞧着他陷入沉思的漂亮面容时，我立刻明白他很难成为一个好丈夫，做他的妻子是件够折磨人的事。我恍然领悟到他对奥利弗小姐之爱的实质是什么。我同意他的看法，这不过是一种感官的爱。我理解他怎么会因为这种爱给他带来的狂热影响而鄙视自己，怎么会希望抑杀和毁灭它，而不相信爱会永远有助于他或她的幸福。我明白他是一块大自然可以从中雕刻出英雄来的材料——基督教徒和异教徒英雄——法典制定者、政治家、征服者。他是可以寄托巨大利益的坚强堡垒，但是在火炉旁边，却总是一根冰冷笨重的柱子，阴郁沉闷，格格不入。
“这间客厅不是他的天地，”我沉思道：“喜马拉雅山谷或者南非丛林，甚至瘟疫流行的几内亚海岸的沼泽，才是他用武之地。他满可以放弃宁静的家庭生活。家庭不是他活动的环境，在这里他的官能会变得迟钝，难以施展或显露。在充满斗争和危险的环境中——显示勇气，发挥能力，考验韧性的地方，——他才会像一个首领和长官那样说活和行动。而在火炉边，一个快乐的孩子也会比他强。他选择传教士的经历是正确的——现在我明白了”。
“她们来啦！她们来啦！”汉娜砰地打开客厅门嚷道。与此同时，老卡罗高兴地吠叫起来。我跑了出去，此刻天已经黑了，但听得见嘎嘎的车轮声。汉娜立刻点上了提灯。车子在小门边停了下来，车夫开了门，一位熟悉的身躯走了出来，接着又出来了另一位。刹那之间我的面孔便埋进了她的帽子底下，先是触碰了玛丽柔软的脸，随后是黛安娜飘洒的卷发。她们大笑着——吻了吻我——随后吻了汉娜，拍了拍卡罗，卡罗乐得差点发了疯。她们急着问是否一切都好，得到肯定的回答后，便匆匆进了屋。
他们被惠特克劳斯到这里的长途颠簸弄得四肢僵硬，被夜间的寒气冻坏了。但是见了令人振奋的火光便绽开了愉快的笑靥。车夫和汉娜忙着把箱子拿进屋的时候，她们问起了圣.约翰。这时圣.约翰从客厅里走了出来。她们俩立刻搂住了他的脖子，他静静地给了各人一个吻，低声地说了几句欢迎的话，站了一会儿让她们同他交谈，随后便说估计她们很快会同他在客厅会面，像躲进避难所一样钻进了客厅。
我点了蜡烛好让她们上楼去，但黛安娜得先周到地叮嘱车夫，随后两人在我后面跟着。她们对房间的整修和装饰，对新的帷幔、新的地毯和色泽鲜艳的瓷花瓶都很满意，慷慨地表示了感激。我感到很高兴，我的安排完全符合她们的愿望，我所做的为她们愉快的家园之行增添了生动的魅力。
那是个可爱的夜晚。兴高彩烈的表姐们，又是叙述又是议论，滔滔不绝，她们的畅谈掩盖了圣.约翰的沉默。看到妹妹们，他由衷地感到高兴，但是她们闪烁的热情，流动的喜悦都无法引起他的共鸣。那天的大事——就是黛安娜和玛丽的归来——谈他感到很愉快，但伴随而来快乐的喧哗，喋喋不休、欣喜万分的接待，使他感到厌倦。我明白他希望宁静的第二天快点到来。用完茶点后一个小时，那晚的欢乐到达了极致，这时却响起来了一阵敲门声，汉娜进来报告说，“一个可怜的少年来得真不是时候，要请里弗斯先生去看看她的母亲，她快要死了。”
“她住在哪儿，汉娜？”
“一直要到惠特克劳斯坡呢，差不多有四英里路，一路都是沼泽和青苔。”
“告诉他我就去。”
“先生，我想你还是别去好。天黑以后走这样的路是最糟糕的，整个沼泽地都没有路，而且又碰上了天气这么恶劣的晚上——风从来没有刮得那么大，你还是传个话，先生，明天上那儿去。”
但他已经在过道上了，披上了斗篷，没有反对，没有怨言，便出发了，那时候已经九点。他到了半夜才回来，尽管四肢冻僵，身子疲乏，却显得比出发时还愉快。他完成了一项职责，作了一次努力，感到自己有克己献身的魄力，自我感觉好了不少。
我担心接下来的一整周使他很不耐烦。那是圣诞周，我们不干正经事儿，却沉浸在家庭的欢闹之中。荒原的空气，家里的自由自在的气氛，生活富裕的曙光，对黛安娜和玛丽的心灵，犹如起死回生的长生不老药。从上午到下午，从下午到晚上，她们都寻欢作乐。她们总能谈个不休，她们的交谈机智、精辟、富有独创，对我的吸引力很大。我喜欢倾听，喜欢参与，甚过干一切别的事情。圣.约翰对我们的说笑并无非议，但避之不迭。他很少在家，他的教区大，人口分散，访问不同地区的贫苦人家，便成了每天的例行公事。
一天早晨吃早饭的时候，黛安娜闷闷不乐了一阵子后问道，“你的计划没有改变吗？”“没有改变，也不可
Chapter 35
HE did not leave for Cambridge the next day, as he had said he would. He deferred his departure a whole week, and during that time he made me feel what severe punishment a good yet stern, a conscientious yet implacable man can inflict on one who has offended him. Without one overt act of hostility, one upbraiding word he contrived to impress me momently with the conviction that I was put beyond the pale of his favour.Not that St. John harboured a spirit of unchristian vindictiveness- not that he would have injured a hair of my head, if it had been fully in his power to do so. Both by nature and principle, he was superior to the mean gratification of vengeance: he had forgiven me for saying I scorned him and his love, but he had not forgotten the words; and as long as he and I lived he never would forget them. I saw by his look, when he turned to me, that they were always written on the air between me and him; whenever I spoke, they sounded in my voice to his ear, and their echo toned every answer he gave me.
He did not abstain from conversing with me: he even called me as usual each morning to join him at his desk; and I fear the corrupt man within him had a pleasure unimparted to, and unshared by, the pure Christian, in evincing with what skill he could, while acting and speaking apparently just as usual, extract from every deed and every phrase the spirit of interest and approval which had formerly communicated a certain austere charm to his language and manner. To me, he was in reality become no longer flesh, but marble; his eye was a cold, bright, blue gem; his tongue a speaking instrument- nothing more.
All this was torture to me- refined, lingering torture. It kept up a slow fire of indignation and a trembling trouble of grief, which harassed and crushed me altogether. I felt how- if I were his wife, this good man, pure as the deep sunless source, could soon kill me, without drawing from my veins a single drop of blood, or receiving on his own crystal conscience the faintest stain of crime. 
Especially I felt this when I made any attempt to propitiate him. No ruth met my ruth. He experienced no suffering from estrangement- no yearning after reconciliation; and though, more than once, my fast falling tears blistered the page over which we both bent, they produced no more effect on him than if his heart had been really a matter of stone or metal. To his sisters, meantime, he was somewhat kinder than usual: as if afraid that mere coldness would not sufficiently convince me how completely I was banished and banned, he added the force of contrast; and this I am sure he did not by malice, but on principle.
The night before he left home, happening to see him walking in the garden about sunset, and remembering, as I looked at him, that this man, alienated as he now was, had once saved my life, and that we were near relations, I was moved to make a last attempt to  regain his friendship. I went out and approached him as he stood leaning over the little gate; I spoke to the point at once.
'St. John, I am unhappy because you are still angry with me. Let us be friends.'
'I hope we are friends,' was the unmoved reply; while he still watched the rising of the moon, which he had been contemplating as I approached.
'No, St. John, we are not friends as we were. You know that.' 
'Are we not? That is wrong. For my part, I wish you no ill and all good.'
'I believe you, St. John; for I am sure you are incapable of wishing any one ill; but, as I am your kinswoman, I should desire somewhat more of affection than that sort of general philanthropy you extend to mere strangers.'
'Of course,' he said. 'Your wish is reasonable, and I am far from regarding you as a stranger.'
This, spoken in a cool, tranquil tone, was mortifying and baffling enough. Had I attended to the suggestions of pride and ire, I should immediately have left him; but something worked within me more strongly than those feelings could. I deeply venerated my cousin's talent and principle. His friendship was of value to me: to lose it tried me severely. I would not so soon relinquish the attempt to reconquer it.
'Must we part in this way, St. John? And when you go to India, will you leave me so, without a kinder word than you have yet spoken?'
He now turned quite from the moon and faced me. 
'When I go to India, Jane, will I leave you! What! do you not go to India?'
'You said I could not unless I married you.'
'And you will not marry me! You adhere to that resolution?'
Reader, do you know, as I do, what terror those cold people can put into the ice of their questions? How much of the fall of the avalanche is in their anger? of the breaking up of the frozen sea in their displeasure?
'No, St. John, I will not marry you. I adhere to my resolution.' 
The avalanche had shaken and slid a little forward, but it did not yet crash down.
'Once more, why this refusal?' he asked.
'Formerly,' I answered, 'because you did not love me; now, I reply, because you almost hate me. If I were to marry you, you would kill me. 
You are killing me now.'
His lips and cheeks turned white- quite white.
'I should kill you- I am killing you? Your words are such as ought not to be used: violent, unfeminine, and untrue. They betray an unfortunate state of mind: they merit severe reproof: they would seem inexcusable, but that it is the duty of man to forgive his fellow even until seventy-and-seven times.'
I had finished the business now. While earnestly wishing to erase from his mind the trace of my former offence, I had stamped on that tenacious surface another and far deeper impression: I had burnt it in.
'Now you will indeed hate me,' I said. 'It is useless to attempt to conciliate you: I see I have made an eternal enemy of you.'
A fresh wrong did these words inflict: the worse, because they touched on the truth. That bloodless lip quivered to a temporary spasm. I knew the steely ire I had whetted. I was heart-wrung.
'You utterly misinterpret my words,' I said, at once seizing his hand: 'I have no intention to grieve or pain you- indeed, I have not.'
Most bitterly he smiled- most decidedly he withdrew his hand from mine. 'And now you recall your promise, and will not go to India at all, I presume?' said he, after a considerable pause.
'Yes, I will, as your assistant,' I answered.
A very long silence succeeded. What struggle there was in him between Nature and Grace in this interval, I cannot tell: only singular gleams scintillated in his eyes, and strange shadows passed over his face. He spoke at last.
'I before proved to you the absurdity of a single woman of your age proposing to accompany abroad a single man of mine. I proved it to you in such terms as, I should have thought, would have prevented your ever again alluding to the plan. That you have done so, I regret- for your sake.'
I interrupted him. Anything like a tangible reproach gave me courage at once. 'Keep to common sense, St. John: you are verging on nonsense. You pretend to be shocked by what I have said. You are not really shocked: for, with your superior mind, you cannot be either so dull or so conceited as to misunderstand my meaning. I say again, I will be your curate, if you like, but never your wife.'
Again he turned lividly pale; but, as before, controlled his passion perfectly. He answered emphatically but calmly- 
'A female curate, who is not my wife, would never suit me. With me, then, it seems, you cannot go: but if you are sincere in your offer, I will, while in town, speak to a married missionary, whose wife needs a coadjutor. Your own fortune will make you independent of the Society's aid; and thus you may still be spared the dishonour of breaking your promise and deserting the band you engaged to join.'
Now I never had, as the reader knows, either given any formal promise or entered into any engagement; and this language was all much too hard and much too despotic for the occasion. I replied-
'There is no dishonour, no breach of promise, no desertion in the case. I am not under the slightest obligation to go to India, especially with strangers. With you I would have ventured much, because I admire, confide in, and, as a sister, I love you; but I am convinced that, go when and with whom I would, I should not live long in that climate.'
'Ah! you are afraid of yourself,' he said, curling his lip.
'I am. God did not give me my life to throw away; and to do as you wish me would, I begin to think, be almost equivalent to committing suicide. Moreover, before I definitely resolve on quitting England, I will know for certain whether I cannot be of greater use by remaining in it than by leaving it.' 
'What do you mean?'
'It would be fruitless to attempt to explain; but there is a point on which I have long endured painful doubt, and I can go nowhere till by some means that doubt is removed.'
'I know where your heart turns and to what it clings. The interest you cherish is lawless and unconsecrated. Long since you ought to have crushed it: now you should blush to allude to it. You think of Mr. Rochester?'
It was true. I confessed it by silence.
'Are you going to seek Mr. Rochester?'
'I must find out what is become of him.'
'It remains for me, then,' he said, 'to remember you in my prayers, and to entreat God for you, in all earnestness, that you may not indeed become a castaway. I had thought I recognised in you one of the chosen. But God sees not as man sees: His will be done.'
He opened the gate, passed through it, and strayed away down the glen. He was soon out of sight.
On re-entering the parlour, I found Diana standing at the window, looking very thoughtful. Diana was a great deal taller than I:. she put her hand on my shoulder, and, stooping, examined my face.
'Jane,' she said, 'you are always agitated and pale now. I am sure there is something the matter. Tell me what business St. John and you have on hands. I have watched you this half hour from the window; you must forgive my being such a spy, but for a long time I have fancied I hardly know what. St. John is a strange being-'
She paused- I did not speak: soon she resumed- 
'That brother of mine cherishes peculiar views of some sort respecting you, I am sure: he has long distinguished you by a notice and interest he never showed to any one else- to what end? I wish he loved you- does he, Jane?'
I put her cool hand to my hot forehead; 'No, Die, not one whit.' 
'Then why does he follow you so with his eyes, and get you so frequently alone with him, and keep you so continually at his side?
Mary and I had both concluded he wished you to marry him.' 
'He does- he has asked me to be his wife.'
Diana clapped her hands. 'That is just what we hoped and thought!
And you will marry him, Jane, won't you? And then he will stay in England.'
'Far from that, Diana; his sole idea in proposing to me is to procure a fitting fellow-labourer in his Indian toils.'
'What! He wishes you to go to India?'
'Yes.'
'Madness!' she exclaimed. 'You would not live three months there, I am certain. You never shall go: you have not consented, have you, Jane?'
'I have refused to marry him-'
'And have consequently displeased him?' she suggested. 
'Deeply: he will never forgive me, I fear: yet I offered to accompany him as his sister.'
'It was frantic folly to do so, Jane. Think of the task you undertook- one of incessant fatigue, where fatigue kills even the strong, and you are weak. St. John- you know him- would urge you to impossibilities: with him there would be no permission to rest during the hot hours; and unfortunately, I have noticed, whatever he exacts, you force yourself to perform. I am astonished you found courage to refuse his hand. You do not love him then, Jane?'
'Not as a husband.'
'Yet he is a handsome fellow.'
'And I am so plain, you see, Die. We should never suit.'
'Plain! You? Not at all. You are much too pretty, as well as too good, to be grilled alive in Calcutta.' And again she earnestly conjured me to give up all thoughts of going out with her brother.
'I must indeed,' I said; 'for when just now I repeated the offer of serving him for a deacon, he expressed himself shocked at my want of decency. He seemed to think I had committed an impropriety in proposing to accompany him unmarried: as if I had not from the first hoped to find in him a brother, and habitually regarded him as such.'
'What makes you say he does not love you, Jane?' 
'You should hear himself on the subject. He has again and again explained that it is not himself, but his office he wishes to mate. He has told me I am formed for labour- not for love: which is true, no doubt. But, in my opinion, if I am not formed for love, it follows that I am not formed for marriage. Would it not be strange, Die, to be chained for life to a man who regarded one but as a useful tool?'
'Insupportable- unnatural- out of the question!'
'And then,' I continued, 'though I have only sisterly affection for him now, yet, if forced to be his wife, I can imagine the possibility of conceiving an inevitable, strange, torturing kind of love for him, because he is so talented; and there is often a certain heroic grandeur in his look, manner, and conversation. In that case, my lot would become unspeakably wretched. He would not want me to love him; and if I showed the feeling, he would make me sensible that it was a superfluity, unrequired by him, unbecoming in me. I know he would.'
'And yet St. John is a good man,' said Diana.
'He is a good and a great man; but he forgets, pitilessly, the feelings and claims of little people, in pursuing his own large views. 
It is better, therefore, for the insignificant to keep out of his way, lest, in his progress, he should trample them down. Here he comes! I will leave you, Diana.' And I hastened upstairs as I saw him entering the garden.
But I was forced to meet him again at supper. During that meal he appeared just as composed as usual. I had thought he would hardly speak to me, and I was certain he had given up the pursuit of his matrimonial scheme: the sequel showed I was mistaken on both points.
He addressed me precisely in his ordinary manner, or what had, of late, been his ordinary manner- one scrupulously polite. No doubt he had invoked the help of the Holy Spirit to subdue the anger I had roused in him, and now believed he had forgiven me once more.
For the evening reading before prayers, he selected the twenty-first chapter of Revelation. It was at all times pleasant to listen while from his lips fell the words of the Bible: never did his fine voice sound at once so sweet and full- never did his manner  become so impressive in its noble simplicity, as when he delivered the oracles of God: and to-night that voice took a more solemn tone-   that manner a more thrilling meaning- as he sat in the midst of his household circle (the May moon shining in through the uncurtained window, and rendering almost unnecessary the light of the candle on  the table): as he sat there, bending over the great old Bible, and described from its page the vision of the new heaven and the new earth- told how God would come to dwell with men, how He would wipe away all tears from their eyes, and promised that there should be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, nor any more pain, because the former things were passed away.
The succeeding words thrilled me strangely as he spoke them: especially as I felt, by the slight, indescribable alteration in sound, that in uttering them, his eye had turned on me.
'He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son. But,' was slowly, distinctly read, 'the fearful, the unbelieving, etc., shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.'
Henceforward, I knew what fate St. John feared for me. A calm, subdued triumph, blent with a longing earnestness, marked his enunciation of the last glorious verses of that chapter. The reader believed his name was already written in the Lamb's book of life, and he yearned after the hour which should admit him to the city to which the kings of the earth bring their glory and honour; which has no need of sun or moon to shine in it, because the glory of God lightens it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
In the prayer following the chapter, all his energy gathered- all his stern zeal woke: he was in deep earnest, wrestling with God, and resolved on a conquest. He supplicated strength for the weak-hearted; guidance for wanderers from the fold: a return, even at the eleventh hour, for those whom the temptations of the world and the flesh were luring from the narrow path. He asked, he urged, he claimed the boon of a brand snatched from the burning. Earnestness is ever deeply solemn: first, as I listened to that prayer, I wondered
at his; then, when it continued and rose, I was touched by it, and at last awed. He felt the greatness and goodness of his purpose so sincerely: others who heard him plead for it, could not but feel it too.
The prayer over, we took leave of him: he was to go at a very early hour in the morning. Diana and Mary having kissed him, left the room- in compliance, I think, with a whispered hint from him: I tendered my hand, and wished him a pleasant journey.
'Thank you, Jane. As I said, I shall return from Cambridge in a fortnight: that space, then, is yet left you for reflection. If I listened to human pride, I should say no more to you of marriage with me; but I listen to my duty, and keep steadily in view my first aim- to do all things to the glory of God. My Master was long-suffering: so will I be. I cannot give you up to perdition as a vessel of wrath: repent- resolve, while there is yet time. Remember, we are bid to work while it is day- warned that "the night cometh when no man shall work." Remember the fate of Dives, who had his good things in this life. God give you strength to choose that better part which shall not be taken from you!'
He laid his hand on my head as he uttered the last words. He had spoken earnestly, mildly: his look was not, indeed, that of a lover beholding his mistress, but it was that of a pastor recalling his wandering sheep- or better, of a guardian angel watching the soul for which he is responsible. All men of talent, whether they be men of feeling or not; whether they be zealots, or aspirants, or despots- provided only they be sincere- have their sublime moments, when they subdue and rule. I felt veneration for St. John- veneration so strong that its impetus thrust me at once to the point I had so long shunned. I was tempted to cease struggling with him- to rush down the torrent of his will into the gulf of his existence, and there lose my own. I was almost as hard beset by him now as I had been once before, in a different way, by another. I was a fool both times. To have yielded then would have been an error of principle; to have yielded now would have been an error of judgment. So I think at this hour, when I look back to the crisis through the quiet medium of time:  I was unconscious of folly at the instant.
I stood motionless under my hierophant's touch. My refusals were forgotten- my fears overcome- my wrestlings paralysed. The Impossible- i.e., my marriage with St. John- was fast becoming the Possible. All was changing utterly with a sudden sweep. Religion called- Angels beckoned- God commanded- life rolled together like a scroll- death's gates opening, showed eternity beyond: it seemed, that for safety and bliss there, all here might be sacrificed in a second. The dim room was full of visions.
'Could you decide now?' asked the missionary. The inquiry was put in gentle tones: he drew me to him as gently. Oh, that gentleness! how far more potent is it than force! I could resist St. John's wrath: I grew pliant as a reed under his kindness. Yet I knew all the time, if I yielded now, I should not the less be made to repent, some day, of my former rebellion. His nature was not changed by one hour of solemn prayer: it was only elevated.
'I could decide if I were but certain,' I answered: 'were I but convinced that it is God's will I should marry you, I could vow to marry you here and now- come afterwards what would!'
'My prayers are heard!' ejaculated St. John. He pressed his hand firmer on my head, as if he claimed me: he surrounded me with his arm, almost as if he loved me (I say almost- I knew the difference- for I had felt what it was to be loved; but, like him, I had now put love  out of the question, and thought only of duty). I contended with my inward dimness of vision, before which clouds yet rolled. I sincerely, deeply, fervently longed to do what was right; and only that. 'Show me, show me the path!' I entreated of Heaven. I was excited more than I had ever been; and whether what followed was the effect of excitement the reader shall judge.
All the house was still; for I believe all, except St. John and myself, were now retired to rest. The one candle was dying out: the room was full of moonlight. My heart beat fast and thick: I heard its throb. Suddenly it stood still to an inexpressible feeling that thrilled it through, and passed at once to my head and extremities.
The feeling was not like an electric shock, but it was quite as sharp, as strange, as startling: it acted on my senses as if their utmost activity hitherto had been but torpor, from which they were now summoned and forced to wake. They rose expectant: eye and ear waited while the flesh quivered on my bones.
'What have you heard? What do you see?' asked St. John. I saw nothing, but I heard a voice somewhere cry- 
'Jane! Jane! Jane!'- nothing more.
'O God! what is it?' I gasped.
I might have said, 'Where is it?' for it did not seem in the room- nor in the house- nor in the garden; it did not come out of the air- nor from under the earth- nor from overhead. I had heard it- where, or whence, for ever impossible to know! And it was the voice of a human being- a known, loved, well-remembered voice- that of Edward Fairfax Rochester; and it spoke in pain and woe, wildly, eerily, urgently.
'I am coming!' I cried. 'Wait for me! Oh, I will come!' I flew to the door and looked into the passage: it was dark. I ran out into the garden: it was void.
'Where are you?' I exclaimed.
The hills beyond Marsh Glen sent the answer faintly back- 'Where are you?' I listened. The wind sighed low in the firs: all was moorland loneliness and midnight hush.
'Down superstition!' I commented, as that spectre rose up black by the black yew at the gate. 'This is not thy deception, nor thy witchcraft: it is the work of nature. She was roused, and did- no miracle- but her best.'
I broke from St. John, who had followed, and would have detained me. It was my time to assume ascendency. My powers were in play and in force. I told him to forbear question or remark; I desired him to leave me: I must and would be alone. He obeyed at once. Where there is energy to command well enough, obedience never fails. I mounted to my chamber; locked myself in; fell on my knees; and prayed in my way- a different way to St. John's, but effective in its own fashion. I seemed to penetrate very near a Mighty Spirit; and my soul rushed out in gratitude at His feet. I rose from the thanksgiving- took a resolve- and lay down, unscared, enlightened- eager but for the daylight.
第二天他并没有像他说的那样去剑桥。他把动身的日子推迟了整整一周。在这段时间内，他让我感觉到了一个善良却苛刻、真诚却不宽容的人，能给予得罪了他的人多么严厉的惩罚。他没有公开的敌视行为，没有一句责备的话，却使我能立刻相信，我已得不到他的欢心。
不是说圣.约翰怀着跟基督教不相容的报复心——也不是说要是他有这份能耐，就会伤着我一根头发怎么的。以本性和原则而言，他超越了满足于卑鄙的报复。他原谅我说了蔑视他和他的爱情的话，但他并没有忘记这些话本身。只要他和我还活着，他就永远不会忘掉。我从他转向我时的神态中看到，这些话总是写在我与他之间的空气中，无论什么时候我一开口，在他听来，我的嗓音里总有着这些话的味道，他给我的每个回答也回响着这些话的余音。
他并没有避免同我交谈，他甚至还像往常那样每天早晨把我叫到他书桌旁。我担心他心中的堕落者有一种秘而不宜，也不为纯洁的基督徒所欣赏的乐趣，表明他能多么巧妙地在一如既往的言论举动中，从每个行动和每句话里，抽掉某种曾使他的言语和风度产生严肃魅力的关心和赞许心情。对我来说，他实际上已不再是有血有肉的活体，而是一块大理石。他的眼睛是一块又冷又亮的蓝宝石，他的舌头是说话的工具——如此而已。
这一切对我是一种折磨——细细的慢悠悠的折磨。它不断激起微弱的怒火和令人颤抖的烦恼，弄得我心烦意乱，神衰力竭。假如我是他的妻子，我觉得这位纯洁如没有阳光的深渊的好人，不必从我的血管里抽取一滴血，也不会在清白的良心上留下一丝罪恶的痕迹，就能很快杀死我。我想抚慰他时尤其感到这点，我的同情得不到呼应。他并不因为疏远而感到痛苦——他没有和解的愿望。尽管我一串串落下的眼泪在我们一起埋头阅读的书页上泛起了水泡，他丝毫不为所动，就仿佛他的心确实是一块石头或金属。与此同时，他对妹妹们似乎比平常更好些了，唯恐单单冷淡还不足以使我相信，我已那么彻底被逐出教门，他又加上了反差的力量。我确信他这么做不是因为恶意，而是出于对原则的维护。
他离家前夕，我偶然见他日落时在园子里散步。瞧着他的身影，我想起这个眼下虽然与我有些隔膜的人，曾经救过我的性命，又是我的近亲，心里便感动得打算作最后一次努力，来恢复友谊。我出了门，向他走去，他倚着小门站着，我立刻开门见山地说：
“圣.约翰，我不大高兴，因为你还在生我的气，让我们成为朋友吧。”
“但愿我们是朋友，”他一面无动于衷地回答，一面仍然仰望着冉冉上升的月亮，我走近他时他就早已那么凝视着了。
“不，圣.约翰。我们并不像过去那样是朋友了。这你知道。”
“难道我们不是吗？这话可错了。就我来说，我并没希望你倒霉，而是愿你一切都好。”
“我相信你，圣.约翰，因为我深信你不会希望别人倒霉，不过既然我是你的亲戚，我就希望多得到一分爱，超过你施予一般陌路人的博爱。”
“当然，”他说，“你的愿望是合理的，我决没有把你当作陌路人。”
这话说得沉着镇静，但也是够折磨人令人丧气的。要是我迁就自尊和恼怒的苗头，我会立刻走掉。但是我内心有某种比那些感情更强烈的东西在活动。我十分敬佩我表兄的才能和为人，他的友谊对我来说很宝贵，失掉它会使我心里非常难受。我不会那么很快就放弃重新征服的念头。
“难道我们就得这样分别了吗？圣.约翰？你就这么离开我去印度，不说一句更好听的话吗？”
他这会儿已完全不看月亮，把面孔转向了我。
“我去印度就是离开你吗，简？什么！你不去印度？”
“你说我不能去，除非嫁给你。”
“你将不同我结婚！你坚持这个决定？”
读者呀，你可像我一样知道，这些冷酷的人能赋予他们冰一般的问题什么样的恐怖吗？知道他们一动怒多么像雪崩吗？一不高兴多么像冰海暴裂吗？
“不，圣，约翰，我不嫁你，并坚持自己的决定。”
崩裂的冰雪抖动着往前滑了一下，但还没有塌下来。
“再说一遍，为什么拒绝？”他问。
“以前我回答过了，因为你不爱我。现在我回答。因为你差不多恨我。要是我跟你结婚，你会要我的命，现在就要我的命了。”
他的嘴唇和脸硕顿时刷白——很白很白。
“我会要你的命——我现在就在要你的命？你这些话很凶也不真实，不象女人说的。你根本就不应该这么说。这些话暴露了心灵的一种不幸状态，应当严受责备，而且是不可宽恕的。但是人的职责是宽恕他的同胞，即使是宽恕他七十七次。”
这下可完蛋了。我原是希望从他的脑海里抹去以前的伤痕，却不料在它坚韧的表面上打上了更深的印记，我已经把它烙到里面去了。
“现在你真的恨我了，”我说，“再要同你和解也没有用了。我知道我已把你变成了永久的敌人。”
这些话好似雪上加霜，因为触及事实而更加伤人。没有血色的嘴唇抖动着一下子抽搐起来。我知道我己煽起了钢刀一般的愤怒。我心里痛苦不堪。
“你完全误解了我的话，”我立刻抓住他的手说，“我无意让你难受或痛苦——真的，我没有这个意思。”
他苦笑着——非常坚决地把手抽了回去。“我想，现在你收回你的允诺，根本不去印度了，是吗？”一阵相当长的静默之后他说。
“不，我要去的，当你的助手，”我回答。
接着是一阵很长的沉默。在这间隙，天性与情理之间究竟如何搏斗着，我说不上来，他的眼睛闪着奇异的光芒，奇怪的阴影掠过他的面孔。他终于开口了。
“我以前曾向你证明，像你这般年纪的单身女人，陪伴像我这样的男人是荒唐的。我已把话说到这样的地步，我想你不会再提起这个打算了。很遗憾你居然还是提了——为你感到遗憾。”
我打断了他。类似这种具体的责备反而立刻给了我勇气。“你要通情理，圣.约翰！你近乎胡言乱语了。你假装对我所说的感到震惊，其实你并没有，因为像你这样出色的脑袋，不可能那么迟钝，或者自负，以致于误解我的意思。我再说一次，要是你高兴，我可以当你的副牧师，而不是你妻子。”
我打断了他。类似这种具体的责备反而立刻给了我勇气。“你要通情理，圣.约翰！你近乎胡言乱语了。你假装对我所说的感到震惊，其实你并没有，因为像你这样出色的脑袋，不可能那么迟钝，或者自负，以致于误解我的意思。我再说一次，要是你高兴，我可以当你的副牧师，而不是你妻子。”
他再次脸色刷白，但像以前一样还是完全控制住了自己的感情。他的回答很有力却也很镇静：
“一个不做我妻子的女副牧师，对我绝不合适。那么看来，你是不能同我去了。但要是你的建议很诚心，那我去镇上的时候可以同一个已婚的教士说说，他的妻子需要一个助手。你有自己的财产，不必依赖教会的赞助，这样，你就不会因为失信和毁约而感到耻辱。”
读者们明白，我从来没有作过一本正经的许诺，也没有跟谁订下过约定。在这种场合，他的话说得太狠，太专横了。我回答：
“在这件事情上，并无耻辱可言，也不存在着失信和毁约。我丝毫没有去印度的义务，尤其是同陌生人。同你，我愿意冒很大的险，因为我佩服你，信任你。作为一个妹妹，我爱你。但我相信，不管什么时候去，跟谁去，在那种气候条件下我活不长久。”
“呵，你怕你自己，”他噘起嘴唇说。
“我是害怕。上帝给了我生命不是让我虚掷的，而按你的意愿去做，我想无异于自杀。况且，我在决心离开英国之前，还要确实弄明白，留在这儿是不是比离开更有价值。”
“你这是什么意思？”
“解释也是徒劳的，在这一点上我长期忍受着痛苦的疑虑，不通过某种办法来解除疑团，我什么地方也不能去。”
“我知道你的心向着哪里，依恋着什么。你所怀的兴趣是非法的，不神圣的。你早该将它抛弃了。这会儿你应当为提起它来而感到害臊。你是不是想着罗切斯特先生？”
确实如此，我默认了。
“你要去找罗切斯特先生吗？”
“我得弄清楚他怎么样了。”
“那么，”他说，“就让我在祷告中记住你，真诚地祈求上帝不让你真的成为弃儿。我想我已认为你是主的选民了。不过上帝的眼光跟人的不一样，他的才真正起作用。”
他打开了栅门，走了出去，溜达着行下峡谷，很快就不见了。
我再次进入客厅的时候，发觉黛安娜伫立窗边，看上去若有所思，她个子比我高得多。她把手搭在我肩上，俯身端详起我的脸来。
“简，”她说，“现在你总是脸色苍白，焦躁不安。肯定是出了什么事了。告诉我，圣.约翰同你在闹什么别扭。我从这扇窗看了半个小时了。你得原谅我那么暗中监视你，但过了好久我还不知道自己是怎么回事。圣.约翰是个怪人——”
她顿了一下一一我没有吱声、她立刻接着说——：
“我这位哥哥对你的看法非同一般，我敢肯定。他早就对你特别注意和关心了，对别人可从来没有这样——什么目的呢？但愿他爱上了你——他爱你吗，简？”
我把她冷冰冰的手放在我发烫的额头上：“不，黛，没有那回事儿。”
“那他干嘛眼睛老盯着你——老是要你同他单独在一起，而且一直把你留在他身边？玛丽和我都断定他希望你嫁给他。”
“他确实是这样——他求我做他的妻自鸬娜恕３媚慊估吹眉暗氖焙蜮慊诎伞??戮鲂陌伞＜亲。?颐鞘艿椒愿溃??冒滋旃ぷ鳌??颐腔故艿骄?妫??谝菇?剑?兔挥腥四茏鞴ち恕！?亲∧切┙袷老砀５牟浦鞯拿?恕Ｉ系凼鼓阌辛α垦≡窈玫母７荩?飧７菔遣荒艽幽隳嵌?嶙叩摹！?br> 他说最后几个字时把手放在我头上，话说得很诚恳，也很委婉。说真的，他用的不是一个情人看女友的眼神，而是牧师召回迷途羔羊的目光——或许更好些，是一个守护神注视着他所监护的灵魂的目光，一切有才能的人，无论有无感情，无论是狂热者、还是追求者，抑或暴君——只要是诚恳的——在征服和统治期间都有令人崇敬的时刻。我崇敬圣.约翰——那么五体投地，结果所产生的冲击力一下子把我推到了我久久回避的那一点上。我很想停止同他搏斗——很想让他意志的洪流急速注入他生活的海峡，与我的水乳交融。现在我被他所困扰，几乎就象当初我受到另一个人的不同方式的困扰一样，两次我都做了傻瓜，在当时让步会是原则上的错误；而现在让步就会犯判断的错误。所以此时此刻我想，当我透过时间的平静中介，回头去看那危机时，当初我并没有意识到自己的愚蠢。
我一秙?啵”
“不过他是个漂亮的家伙。”
“而我又长得那么平庸，你知道，黛。我们决不般配。”
“平庸！你？绝对不是。你太漂亮，也太好了，不值得那么活活地放到加尔各答去烤。”她再次真诚地恳求我放弃同她兄长一起出国的一切念头。
“说真的我得这样，”我说，“因为刚才我再次提出愿意做他的副牧师时，他对我的不恭表示惊奇。他好像认为提议不结婚陪他去是有失体统，仿佛我一开始就不希望把他当成兄长，而且一直这么看他似的。”
“你怎么会说他不爱你呢，简？”
“你应该听听他自己谈谈对这个问题的看法。他口口声声解释说他要结婚，不是为了他自己，而是为了他的圣职。他还告诉我，我生来就是为了劳作，而不是为了爱情。无疑这话也有道理。但在我看来，如果我生来不是为了爱情，那么随之而来，也生来不是为了婚配。这岂不是咄咄怪事，黛，一生跟一个男人拴在一起，而他只把我当作一样有用的工具？”
“不能容忍——不通人情——办不到的！”
“还有，”我继续说，“虽然我现在对他有兄妹之情，但要是我被迫做了他妻子，我能想象，我对他的爱很可能会无可奈何，奇怪反常，备受折磨。因为他那么有才能，神态、举动和谈吐无不诱出一种英雄气概。那样，我的命运就会悲惨得难以形容。他会不要我爱他，要是我依然有所表露，他会让我感到，那是多余的，他既不需要，对我也不合适。我知道他会这样。”
“而圣.约翰是个好人，”黛安娜说。
“他是一个好人，也是个伟人。可惜他在追求大目标时，忘掉了小人物的情感和要求。因此，微不足道的人还是离他远一点好，免得他在前进时把他们踩倒了。他来了，我得走了，黛安娜。”我见他进了园子，便匆匆上楼去了。
但是吃晚饭时我不得不再次与他相遇。用餐时他完全像平常那样显得很平静，我本以为他不会同我说话了，而且确信他已经放弃了自己的婚姻计划，但后来的情况表明，在这两点上我都错了。他完全以平常的态度，或者说最近已习以为常的态度同我说话。无疑他求助于圣灵来克制我在他心里所激起的愤怒，现在他相信已再次宽恕了我。
祷告前的晚读，他选了《启示录》的第二十一章。倾听《圣经》中的话从他嘴里吐出来始终是一种享受。他在发表上帝的圣谕时，他优美的嗓子是最洪亮又最动听的，他的态度之高尚纯朴也最令人难忘。而今天晚上，他的语调更加严肃——他的态度更富有令人震颤的含义——他坐在围成一圈的家人中间（五月的月亮透过没有拉上窗帘的窗子，泻进室内，使桌上的烛光显得几乎是多余的了）。他坐在那里，低头看着伟大而古老的圣经，描绘着书页中的新天堂和新世界的幻境——告诉大家上帝如何会来到世间与人同住，如何会抹去人们的眼泪，并允诺不会再有死亡，也不会有忧愁或者哭泣，不会有痛苦，因为这些往事都已一去不复回了。
接着的一番话，他讲得让我出奇地激动不已，尤其是从他声音的难以描述的细小变化中，我感觉到，他在说这些话的时候，目光已经转向了我。
“得胜的，必承受这些为业，我要作他的上帝，他要作我的儿子。”这段话读得又慢又清楚，“唯有胆怯的，不信的……他们的份，就在烧着硫磺的火湖里，这是第二次的死。”
从此。我知道圣.约翰担心什么命运会落在我头上。
他在朗读那一章最后几句壮丽的诗句时，露出一种平静而克制的得意之情，混杂着竭诚的渴望。这位朗读者相信，他的名字已经写在羔羊生命册上了，他盼望着允许他进城的时刻，地上的君王已将自己的荣耀光照，又有羔羊为城的灯。
在这章之后的祈祷中，他调动了全身的活力——他那一本正经的热情又复苏了，他虔诚地向上帝祈祷，决心要取胜。他祈求给弱者以力量；给脱离羊栏的迷路人以方向；让那些受世俗生活和情欲诱惑而离开正道者，关键时刻迷途而知返。他请求，他敦促，他要求上天开恩，让他们免于火烙。真诚永远是庄严的。开始，我听着祈祷的时候，对他的真诚心存疑惑；接着，祈祷继续进行并声音越来越响时，我被它所打动，最后终于不胜敬畏了。他真诚地感到他目的之伟大和高尚；那些听他为此祈祷的人也不能不产生同感。
祈祷之后，我们向他告别，因为第二天一早他就要出门。黛安娜和玛丽吻了他以后离开了房间，想必是听从他的悄声暗示的缘故。我伸出手去，祝他旅途愉快。
“谢谢你，简。我说过，两周后我会从剑桥返回，那么这段时间留着供你思考。要是我听从人的尊严，我应当不再说起你同我结婚的事儿，但我听从职责，一直注视着我的第一个目标——为上帝的荣誉而竭尽全力。我的主长期受苦受难，我也会这样。我不能让你永坠地狱，变成受上天谴责的人。趁你还来得及的时候忏悔吧——下决心吧。记住，我们受到吩咐，要趁白天工作——我们还受到警告，‘黑夜将到，就没有人能作工了。’记住那些今世享福的财主的命运。上帝使你有力量选择好的福份，这福份是不能从你那儿夺走的。”
他说最后几个字时把手放在我头上，话说得很诚恳，也很委婉。说真的，他用的不是一个情人看女友的眼神，而是牧师召回迷途羔羊的目光——或许更好些，是一个守护神注视着他所监护的灵魂的目光，一切有才能的人，无论有无感情，无论是狂热者、还是追求者，抑或暴君——只要是诚恳的——在征服和统治期间都有令人崇敬的时刻。我崇敬圣.约翰——那么五体投地，结果所产生的冲击力一下子把我推到了我久久回避的那一点上。我很想停止同他搏斗——很想让他意志的洪流急速注入他生活的海峡，与我的水乳交融。现在我被他所困扰，几乎就象当初我受到另一个人的不同方式的困扰一样，两次我都做了傻瓜，在当时让步会是原则上的错误；而现在让步就会犯判断的错误。所以此时此刻我想，当我透过时间的平静中介，回头去看那危机时，当初我并没有意识到自己的愚蠢。
我一动不动地站着，受着我的圣师的触摸。我忘却了拒绝——克服了恐惧——停止了搏斗。不可能的事——也就是我与圣.约翰的婚姻——很快要成为可能了。猛地一阵风过，全都变了样。宗教在呼唤——天使在招手——上帝在指挥——生命被卷起，好像书卷——死亡之门打开了，露出了彼岸的永恒。后来，为了那里的安全和幸福，顷刻之间这里什么都可以牺牲。阴暗的房间里充满了幻象。
“你现在就能决定吗？”传教士问。这问活的语调很温柔，他同样温柔地把我拉向他。呵，那么温柔！它比强迫要有力得多！我能抵御圣.约翰的愤怒，但面对他的和善，我便像芦苇一般柔顺了。但我始终很清楚，要是我现在让步，有一天我照样会对我以前的叛逆感到懊悔。他的本性并不因为一小时的庄严析祷而改变，只不过升华了而已。
“只要有把握，我就能决定，”我回答：“只要能说服我嫁给你确实是上帝的意志，那我此时此刻就可以发誓嫁给你——不管以后会发生什么？”
“我的祈祷应验了！”圣.约翰失声叫道。他的手在我头上压得更紧了，仿佛他己经把我要去了。他用胳膊搂住我，几乎像是爱着我（我说“几乎”——我知道这中间的差别——因为我曾感受过被爱的滋味。但是像他一样，我已把爱置之度外，想的只是职守了）。我在疑云翻滚的内心同不明朗的态度斗争着。我诚恳地、深深地、热切地期望去做对的事情，也只做对的事情。“给我指点一下——给我指点一下道路吧？”我祈求上苍。我从来没有像现在那么激动过。至于后来发生的事情是不是激动的结果，读者自可判断。
整座房子寂静无声。因为我相信，除了圣.约翰和我自己，所有的人都安息了。那一根蜡烛幽幽将灭，室内洒满了月光。我的心砰砰乱跳，我听见了它的搏动声。突然一种难以言表的感觉使我的心为之震颤，并立即涌向我的头脑和四肢，我的心随之停止了跳动。这种感觉不象一阵电击，但它一样地尖锐，一样地古怪，一样地惊人。它作用于我的感官，仿佛它们在这之前的最活跃时刻也只不过处于麻木状态。而现在它们受到了召唤，被弄醒了。它们起来了，充满了期待，眼睛和耳朵等候着，而肌肉在骨头上哆嗦。
整座房子寂静无声。因为我相信，除了圣.约翰和我自己，所有的人都安息了。那一根蜡烛幽幽将灭，室内洒满了月光。我的心砰砰乱跳，我听见了它的搏动声。突然一种难以言表的感觉使我的心为之震颤，并立即涌向我的头脑和四肢，我的心随之停止了跳动。这种感觉不象一阵电击，但它一样地尖锐，一样地古怪，一样地惊人。它作用于我的感官，仿佛它们在这之前的最活跃时刻也只不过处于麻木状态。而现在它们受到了召唤，被弄醒了。它们起来了，充满了期待，眼睛和耳朵等候着，而肌肉在骨头上哆嗦。
“你听到了什么啦？你看见什么了吗？”圣.约翰问。我什么也没有看到，可是我听见一个声音在什么地方叫唤着——
“简！简！简！”随后什么也听不到了。
“呵，上帝呀！那是什么声音？”我喘息着。
我本该说“这声音是从哪里来的？”因为它似乎不在房间里——也不在屋子里——也不在花园里。它不是来自空中——也不是来自地下——也不是来自头顶。我已经听到了这声音——从何而来，或者为何而来，那是永远无法知道的！而这是一个声音——一个熟悉、亲切、记忆犹新的声音——爱德华.费尔法克斯.罗切斯特的声音。这声音痛苦而悲哀——显得狂乱、怪异和急切。
“我来了！”我叫道。“等我一下！呵，我会来的！”我飞也似地走到门边，向走廊里窥视着，那时一灯漆黑，我冲进花园，里边空空如也。
“你在哪儿？”我喊道。
沼泽谷另一边的山峦隐隐约约地把回答传了过来——“你在哪儿？”我倾听着。风在冷杉中低吟着，一切只有荒原的孤独和午夜的沉寂。
“去你的迷信！”那幽灵黑魈魈地在门外紫杉木旁边出现时我说道。“这不是你的骗局，也不是你的巫术，而是大自然的功劳。她苏醒了，虽然没有创造奇迹，却尽了最大的努力。”
我挣脱了跟着我并想留住我的圣.约翰。该轮到我处于支配地位了。我的力量在起作用，在发挥威力了。我告诉他不要再提问题，或是再发议论了。我希望他离开我。我必须而且也宁愿一个人呆着。他立刻听从了。只要有魄力下命令，别人总是听话的。我上楼回卧室，把自己锁在房里，跪了下来，以我的方式祈祷着——不同于圣.约翰的方式，他自有其效果，我似乎已进入了一颗伟大的心灵，我的灵魂感激地冲出去来到他脚边。我从感恩中站起来——下了决心——随后躺了下来，并不觉得害怕，却受到了启发——急切地盼着白昼的来临。
Chapter 36
THE daylight came. I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: I feared he would knock- no, but a slip of paper was passed under the door. I took it up. It bore these words-'You left me too suddenly last night. Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian's cross and the angel's crown. I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fortnight. Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly.- Yours, ST. JOHN.'
'My spirit,' I answered mentally, 'is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven, when once that will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to search- inquire- to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty.'
It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly: rain beat fast on my casement. I heard the front-door open, and St. John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. He took the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross- there he would meet the coach.
'In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin,' thought I: 'I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.'
It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. I filled the interval in walking softly about my room, and pondering the visitation which had given my plans their present bent. I recalled that inward sensation I had experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakable strangeness. I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whence it came, as vainly as before: it seemed in me- not in the external world. I asked was it a mere nervous impression- a delusion? I could not conceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration. The wondrous shock of feeling had come like the earthquake which shook the foundations of Paul and Silas's prison;  it had opened the doors of the soul's cell and loosed its bands- it had wakened it out of its sleep, whence it sprang trembling, listening, aghast; then vibrated thrice a cry on my startled ear, and in my quaking heart and through my spirit, which neither feared nor shook but exulted as if in joy over the success of one effort it had been privileged to make, independent of the cumbrous body.
'Ere many days,' I said, as I terminated my musings, 'I will know something of him whose voice seemed last night to summon me. Letters have proved of no avail- personal inquiry shall replace them.'
At breakfast I announced to Diana and Mary that I was going a journey, and should be absent at least four days.
'Alone, Jane?' they asked. 
'Yes; it was to see or hear news of a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.'
They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they had believed me to be without any friends save them: for, indeed, I had often said so; but, with their true natural delicacy, they abstained from comment, except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enough to travel. I looked very pale, she observed. I replied, that nothing ailed me save anxiety of mind, which I hoped soon to alleviate.
It was easy to make my further arrangements; for I was troubled with no inquiries- no surmises. Having once explained to them that I could not now be explicit about my plans, they kindly and wisely acquiesced in the silence with which I pursued them, according to me the privilege of free action I should under similar circumstances have accorded them.
I left Moor House at three o'clock P.M., and soon after four I stood at the foot of the sign-post of Whitcross, waiting the arrival of the coach which was to take me to distant Thornfield. Amidst the silence of those solitary roads and desert hills, I heard it approach from a great distance. It was the same vehicle whence, a year ago, I had alighted one summer evening on this very spot- how desolate, and hopeless, and objectless! It stopped as I beckoned. I entered- not now obliged to part with my whole fortune as the price of its accommodation. Once more on the road to Thornfield, I felt like the messenger-pigeon flying home.
It was a journey of six-and-thirty hours. I had set out from Whitcross on a Tuesday afternoon, and early on the succeeding Thursday morning the coach stopped to water the horses at a wayside inn, situated in the midst of scenery whose green hedges and large fields and low pastoral hills (how mild of feature and verdant of hue compared with the stern North-Midland moors of Morton!) met my eye like the lineaments of a once familiar face. Yes, I knew the character of this landscape: I was sure we were near my bourne.
'How far is Thornfield Hall from here?' I asked of the ostler.
'Just two miles, ma'am, across the fields.'
'My journey is closed,' I thought to myself. I got out of the coach, gave a box I had into the ostler's charge, to be kept till I called for it; paid my fare; satisfied the coachman, and was going: the brightening day gleamed on the sign of the inn, and I read in gilt letters, 'The Rochester Arms.' My heart leapt up: I was already on my master's very lands. It fell again: the thought struck it:-
'Your master himself may be beyond the British Channel, for aught you know: and then, if he is at Thornfield Hall, towards which you hasten, who besides him is there? His lunatic wife: and you have nothing to do with him: you dare not speak to him or seek his presence. You have lost your labour- you had better go no farther,' urged the monitor. 'Ask information of the people at the inn; they can give you all you seek: they can solve your doubts at once. Go up to that man, and inquire if Mr. Rochester be at home.'
The suggestion was sensible, and yet I could not force self to act on it. I so dreaded a reply that would crush me with despair. To prolong doubt was to prolong hope. I might yet once more see the Hall under the ray of her star. There was the stile before me- the very fields through which I had hurried, blind, deaf, distracted with a revengeful fury tracking and scourging me, on the morning I fled from Thornfield: ere I well knew what course I had resolved to take, I was in the midst of them. How fast I walked! How I ran sometimes? How I looked forward to catch the first view of the well-known woods! With what feelings I welcomed single trees I knew, and familiar glimpses of meadow and hill between them!
At last the woods rose; the rookery clustered dark; a loud cawing broke the morning stillness. Strange delight inspired me: on I hastened. Another field crossed- a lane threaded- and there were the courtyard walls- the back offices: the house itself, the rookery still hid. 'My first view of it shall be in front,' I determined, 'where its bold battlements will strike the eye nobly at once, and where I can single out my master's very window: perhaps he will be standing at it- he rises early: perhaps he is now walking in the orchard, or on the pavement in front. Could I but see him!- but a moment? Surely, in that case, I should not be so mad as to run to him? I cannot tell- I am not certain. And if I did- what then? God bless him! What then? Who would be hurt by my once more tasting the life his glance can give me? 
I rave: perhaps at this moment he is watching the sun rise over the Pyrenees, or on the tideless sea of the south.'
I had coasted along the lower wall of the orchard- turned its angle: there was a gate just there, opening into the meadow, between two stone pillars crowned by stone balls. From behind one pillar I could peep round quietly at the full front of the mansion. I advanced my head with precaution, desirous to ascertain if any bedroom window-blinds were yet drawn up: battlements, windows, long front- all from this sheltered station were at my command.
The crows sailing overhead perhaps watched me while I took this survey. I wonder what they thought. They must have considered I was very careful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold and reckless. A peep, and then a long stare; and then a departure from my niche and a straying out into the meadow; and a sudden stop full in front of the great mansion, and a protracted, hardy gaze towards it.
'What affectation of diffidence was this at first?' they might have demanded; 'what stupid regardlessness now?' 
Hear an illustration, reader.
A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses- fancying she has stirred: he withdraws; not for worlds would he be seen. All is still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features: he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty- warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. How hurried was their first glance! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehemently clasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch with his finger! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazes on it wildly! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longer fears to waken by any sound he can utter- by any movement he can make. He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead.
I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house: I saw a blackened ruin.
No need to cower behind a gate-post, indeed!- to peep up at chamber lattices, fearing life was astir behind them! No need to listen for doors opening- to fancy steps on the pavement or the gravel-walk! 
The lawn, the grounds were trodden and waste: the portal yawned void. The front was, as I had once seen it in a dream, but a shell-like wall, very high and very fragile-looking, perforated with paneless windows: no roof, no battlements, no chimneys- all had crashed in.
And there was the silence of death about it: the solitude of a lonesome wild. No wonder that letters addressed to people here had never received an answer: as well despatch epistles to a vault in a church aisle. The grim blackness of the stones told by what fate the Hall had fallen- by conflagration: but how kindled? What story belonged to this disaster? What loss, besides mortar and marble and woodwork had followed upon it? Had life been wrecked as well as property? If so, whose? Dreadful question: there was no one here to answer it- not even dumb sign, mute token.
In wandering round the shattered walls and through the devastated interior, I gathered evidence that the calamity was not of late occurrence. Winter snows, I thought, had drifted through that void arch, winter rains beaten in at those hollow casements; for, amidst the drenched piles of rubbish, spring had cherished vegetation: grass and weed grew here and there between the stones and fallen rafters. And oh! where meantime was the hapless owner of this wreck?
In what land? Under what auspices? My eye involuntarily wandered to the grey church tower near the gates, and I asked, 'Is he with Damer de Rochester, sharing the shelter of his narrow marble house?'
Some answer must be had to these questions. I could find it nowhere but at the inn, and thither, ere long, I returned. The host himself brought my breakfast into the parlour. I requested him to shut the door and sit down: I had some questions to ask him. But when he complied, I scarcely knew how to begin; such horror had I of the possible answers. And yet the spectacle of desolation I had just left prepared me in a measure for a tale of misery. The host was a respectable-looking, middle-aged man.
'You know Thornfield Hall, of course?' I managed to say at last. 
'Yes, ma'am; I lived there once.'
'Did you?' Not in my time, I thought: you are a stranger to me.
'I was the late Mr. Rochester's butler,' he added.
The late! I seem to have received, with full force, the blow I had been trying to evade.
'The late!' I gasped. 'Is he dead?'
'I mean the present gentleman, Mr. Edward's father,' he explained. I breathed again: my blood resumed its flow. Fully assured by these words that Mr. Edward- my Mr. Rochester (God bless him, wherever he was!)- was at least alive: was, in short, 'the present gentleman.' Gladdening words! It seemed I could hear all that was to come- whatever the disclosures might be- with comparative tranquillity. Since he was not in the grave, I could bear, I thought, to learn that he was at the Antipodes.
'Is Mr. Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?' I asked, knowing, of course, what the answer would be, but yet desirous of deferring the direct question as to where he really was.
'No, ma'am- oh, no! No one is living there. I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, or you would have heard what happened last autumn,- Thornfield Hall is quite a ruin: it was burnt down just about harvest-time. A dreadful calamity! such an immense quantity of valuable property destroyed: hardly any of the furniture could be saved. The fire broke out at dead of night, and before the engines arrived from Millcote, the building was one mass of flame. It was a terrible spectacle: I witnessed it myself.'
'At dead of night!' I muttered. Yes, that was ever the hour of fatality at Thornfield. 'Was it known how it originated?' I demanded.
'They guessed, ma'am: they guessed. Indeed, I should say it was ascertained beyond a doubt. You are not perhaps aware,' he continued, edging his chair a little nearer the table, and speaking low, 'that there was a lady- a- a lunatic, kept in the house?'
'I have heard something of it.'
'She was kept in very close confinement, ma'am; people even for some years was not absolutely certain of her existence. No one saw her: they only knew by rumour that such a person was at the Hall;
and who or what she was it was difficult to conjecture. They said Mr. Edward had brought her from abroad, and some believed she had been his mistress. But a queer thing happened a year since- a very queer thing.'
I feared now to hear my own story. I endeavoured to recall him to the main fact.
'And this lady?'
'This lady, ma'am,' he answered, 'turned out to be Mr. Rochester's wife! The discovery was brought about in the strangest way. There was a young lady, a governess at the Hall, that Mr. Rochester fell in-'
'But the fire,' I suggested.
'I'm coming to that, ma'am- that Mr. Edward fell in love with. The servants say they never saw anybody so much in love as he was: he was after her continually. They used to watch him- servants will, you know, ma'am- and he set store on her past everything: for all, nobody but him thought her so very handsome. She was a little small thing, they say, almost like a child. I never saw her myself; but I've heard Leah, the housemaid, tell of her. Leah liked her well enough.
Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched. Well, he would marry her.'
'You shall tell me this part of the story another time,' I said; 'but now I have a particular reason for wishing to hear all about the fire. Was it suspected that this lunatic, Mrs. Rochester, had any hand in it?'
'You've hit it, ma'am: it's quite certain that it was her, and nobody but her, that set it going. She had a woman to take care of her called Mrs. Poole- an able woman in her line, and very trustworthy, but for one fault- a fault common to a deal of them nurses and matrons- she kept a private bottle of gin by her, and now and then took a drop over-much. It is excusable, for she had a hard life of it: but still it was dangerous; for when Mrs. Poole was fast asleep after the gin and water, the mad lady, who was as cunning as a witch, would take the keys out of her pocket, let herself out of her chamber, and go roaming about the house, doing any wild mischief that came into her head. They say she had nearly burnt her husband in his bed once: but I don't know about that. However, on this night, she set fire first to the hangings of the room next her own, and then she got down to a lower Storey, and made her way to the chamber that had been the governess's- (she was like as if she knew somehow how matters had gone on, and had a spite at her)- and she kindled the bed there; but there was nobody sleeping in it, fortunately. The governess had run away two months before; and for all Mr. Rochester sought her as if she had been the most precious thing he had in the world, he never could hear a word of her; and he grew savage- quite savage on his disappointment: he never was a wild man, but he got dangerous after he lost her. He would be alone, too. He sent Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper, away to her friends at a distance; but he did it handsomely, for he settled an annuity on her for life: and she deserved it- she was a very good woman. Miss Adele, a ward he had, was put to school. He broke off acquaintance with all the gentry, and shut himself up like a hermit at the Hall.'
'What! did he not leave England?'
'Leave England? Bless you, no! He would not cross the door-stones of the house, except at night, when he walked just like a ghost about the grounds and in the orchard as if he had lost his senses- which it is my opinion he had; for a more spirited, bolder, keener gentleman than he was before that midge of a governess crossed him, you never saw, ma'am. He was not a man given to wine, or cards, or racing, as some are, and he was not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own, if ever man had. I knew him from a boy, you see: and for my part, I have often wished that Miss Eyre had been sunk in the sea before she came to Thornfield Hall.'
'Then Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?'
'Yes, indeed was he; and he went up to the attics when all was burning above and below, and got the servants out of their beds and helped them down himself, and went back to get his mad wife out of her cell. And then they called out to him that she was on the roof, where she was standing, waving her arms, above the battlements, and shouting out till they could hear her a mile off: I saw her and heard her with my own eyes. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood. I witnessed, and several more witnessed, Mr. Rochester ascend through the skylight on to the roof; we heard him call "Bertha!" We saw him approach her; and then, ma'am, she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement.'
'Dead?'
'Dead! Ay, dead as the stones on which her brains and blood were scattered.'
'Good God!'
'You may well say so, ma'am: it was frightful!'
He shuddered.
'And afterwards?' I urged.
'Well, ma'am, afterwards the house was burnt to the ground: there are only some bits of walls standing now.'
'Were any other lives lost?'
'No- perhaps it would have been better if there had.'
'What do you mean?'
'Poor Mr. Edward!' he ejaculated, 'I little thought ever to have seen it? Some say it was a just judgment on him for keeping his first marriage secret, and wanting to take another wife while he had one living: but I pity him, for my part.'
'You said he was alive?' I exclaimed.
'Yes, yes: he is alive; but many think he had better be dead.'
'Why? How?' My blood was again running cold. 'Where is he?' I demanded. 'Is he in England?'
'Ay- ay- he's in England; he can't get out of England, I fancy- he's a fixture now.'
What agony was this! And the man seemed resolved to protract it.
'He is stone-blind,' he said at last. 'Yes, he is stone-blind, is Mr. Edward.'
I had dreaded worse. I had dreaded he was mad. I summoned strength to ask what had caused this calamity.
'It was all his own courage, and a body may say, his kindness, in a way, ma'am: he wouldn't leave the house till every one else was out before him. As he came down the great staircase at last, after Mrs.
Rochester had flung herself from the battlements, there was a great crash- all fell. He was taken out from under the ruins, alive, but sadly hurt: a beam had fallen in such a way as to protect him partly; but one eye was knocked out, and one hand so crushed that Mr. Carter, the surgeon, had to amputate it directly. The other eye inflamed: he lost the sight of that also. He is now helpless, indeed- blind and a cripple.'
'Where is he? Where does he now live?'
'At Ferndean, a manor-house on a farm he has, about thirty miles off: quite a desolate spot.'
'Who is with him?'
'Old John and his wife: he would have none else. He is quite broken down, they say.'
'Have you any sort of conveyance?'
'We have a chaise, ma'am, a very handsome chaise.'
'Let it be got ready instantly; and if your post-boy can drive me to Ferndean before dark this day, I'll pay both you and him twice the hire you usually demand.' 白昼来临，拂晓时我便起身了。我忙了一两个小时，根据短期外出的需要，把房间、抽屉和衣橱里的东西作了安排。与此同时，我听到圣.约翰离开了房间，在我房门外停了一下，我担心他会敲门——不，他没有敲，却从门底下塞进来一个纸条，我拿起来一看，只见上面写着：
“咋晚你离开我太突然了。要是你再呆一会儿，你就会把手放在基督的十字架和天使的皇冠上了。二周后的今天我回来时盼你已作出明确的决定。同时，你要留心并祈祷，愿自己不受诱惑。我相信，灵是愿意的；但我也看到，肉是软弱的。我会时时为你祈祷——你的，圣.约翰。”
“我的灵，”我心里回答，“乐意做一切对的事情，我希望我的肉也很坚强，一旦明确上帝的意志、便有力量去实现它。无论如何，我的肉体是够坚强的，让我可以去探求——询问——摸索出路，驱散疑云，找到确然无疑的晴空。”
这是六月一日。早晨，满天阴云，凉气袭人，骤雨敲窗。我听见前门开了，圣.约翰走了出去。透过窗子，我看到他走过花园，踏上雾蒙蒙的荒原，朝惠特克劳斯方向走去，——那儿他将搭上马车。
“几小时之后我会循着你的足迹，表兄，”我想：“我也要去惠特克劳斯搭乘马车。在永远告别英国之前，我也有人要探望和问候。”
离早餐还有两个小时。这段时间我在房间里轻轻地走来走去，思忖着促成我眼前这番计划的奇事。我回忆着我所经历的内在感觉，我能回想起那种难以言说的怪异。我回想着我听到的声音，再次像以前那样徒劳地问，它究竟从何而来。这声音似乎来自我内心——而不是外部世界。我问道，难道这不过是一种神经质的印象——一种幻觉？我既无法想象，也并不相信。它更像是神灵的启示。这惊人的震感来势猛似地震，摇撼了保尔和西拉所在的监狱的地基，它打开了心灵的牢门，松开了锁链，——把心灵从沉睡中唤醒，它呆呆地颤栗着，倾听着。随后一声尖叫震动了三次，冲击着我受惊的耳朵，沉入我震颤的心田，穿透了我心灵。心灵既不害怕，也没有震惊，而是欢喜雀跃，仿佛因为有幸不受沉重的躯体支配，作了一次成功的努力而十分高兴似的。
“不要很多天，”我从沉思中回过神来后说。“我会了解到他的一些情况，昨晚他的声音已经召唤过我。信函问询已证明毫无结果——我要代之以亲自探访。”
早餐时，我向黛安娜和玛丽宣布，我要出门去，至少离开四天。
“一个人去吗，简？”她们问。
“是的，去看看，或者打听一下一个朋友的消息，我已为他担心了好久了。”
正如我明白她们在想的那样，她们本可以说，一直以为除了她们，我没有别的朋友，其实我也总是这么讲的。但出于天生真诚的体贴，她们没有发表任何议论，除了黛安娜问我身体是否确实不错，是否适宜旅行。她说我脸色苍白。我回答说没有什么不适，只不过内心有些不安，但相信不久就会好的。
于是接下来的安排就容易了，因为我不必为刨根究底和东猜西想而烦恼。我一向她们解释，现在还不能明确宣布我的计划，她们便聪明而善解人意地默许我悄然进行，给了我在同样情况下也会给予她们的自由行动的特权。
下午三点我离开了沼泽居，四点后不久，我便已站在惠特克劳斯的路牌下，等待着马车把我带到遥远的桑菲尔德去。在荒山野路的寂静之中，我很远就听到了马车靠近了。一年前的一个夏夜，我就是从这辆马车上走下来，就在这个地方——那么凄凉，那么无望，那么毫无目的！我一招手马车便停了下来。我上了车——现在已不必为一个座位而倾囊所有了。我再次踏上去桑菲尔德的路途，真有信鸽飞回家园之感。
这是一段三十六小时的旅程。星期二下午从惠特克劳斯出发，星期四一早，马车在路边的一家旅店停下，让马饮水。旅店座落在绿色的树篱、宽阔的田野和低矮的放牧小山之中（与中北部莫尔顿严峻的荒原相比，这里的地形多么柔和，颜色何等苍翠！），这番景色映入我眼帘，犹如一位一度熟悉的人的面容。不错，我了解这里景物的特点，我确信已接近目的地了。
“桑菲尔德离这儿有多远？”我问旅店侍马人。
“穿过田野走两英里就到了，小姐。”
“我的旅程结束了，”我暗自思忖。我跳下马车，把身边的一个盒子交给侍马人保管，回头再来提取，付了车钱，给足了马夫，便启程上路了。黎明的曙光照在旅店的招牌上，我看到了镀金的字母“罗切斯特纹章”，心便砰砰乱跳，原来我已来到我主人的地界。但转念一想，又心如止水了。
“也许你的主人在英吉利海峡彼岸。况且，就是他在你匆匆前往的桑菲尔德府，除了他还有谁也在那里呢？还有他发了疯的妻子，而你与他毫不相干。你不敢同他说话，或者前去找他。你劳而无功——你还是别再往前走吧，”冥冥中的监视者敦促道。“从旅店里的人那里探听一下消息吧，他们会提供你寻觅的一切情况，立刻解开你的疑团，走到那个人跟前去，问问罗切斯特先生在不在家。”
这个建议很明智，但我无法迫使自己去实施。我害怕得到一个让我绝望的回答。延长疑虑就是延长希望。我也许能再见一见星光照耀下的府第。我面前还是那道踏阶——还是那片田野，那天早晨我逃离桑菲尔德，急急忙忙穿过这片田野，不顾一切，漫无目的，心烦意乱，被一种复仇的愤怒跟踪着，痛苦地折磨着。呵，我还没决定走哪条路，就己置身于这片田野之中了。我走得好快呀！有时候我那么奔跑着！我多么希望一眼就看到熟悉的林子呵，我是带着怎样的感情来欢迎我所熟悉的一棵棵树木，以及树与树之间的草地和小山呵！
树林终于出现在眼前，白嘴鸦黑压压一片，呱呱的响亮叫声打破了清晨的寂静。一种奇怪的喜悦激励着我，使我急煎煎往前赶路，穿过另一片田野——走过一条小径——看到了院墙——但后屋的下房、府搂本身、以及白嘴鸦的巢穴，依然隐而不见。“我第一眼看到的应是府第的正面，”我心里很有把握，“那里雄伟醒目的城垛会立刻扑入眼帘；那里我能认出我主人的那扇窗子，也许他会伫立窗前——他起得很早。也许他这会儿正漫步在果园里，或音前面铺筑过的路上。要是我能见见他该多好！——就是一会儿也好！当然要是那样，我总不该发狂到向他直冲过去吧？我说不上来——我不敢肯定。要是我冲上去了——那又怎么样？上帝祝福他！那又怎么样？让我回味一下他的目光所给予我的生命，又会伤害了谁呢？——我在呓语。也许此刻他在比利牛斯山或者南部风平浪的的海面上规赏着日出呢。”
我信步朝果园的矮墙走去，在拐角处转了弯，这里有一扇门，开向草地，门两边有两根石柱，顶上有两个石球。从一根石柱后面我可以悄然四顾，看到府宅的全部正面。我小心地探出头去，很希望看个明白，是不是有的窗帘已经卷起。从这个隐蔽的地方望去，城垛、窗子和府楼长长的正面，尽收眼底。
我这么观察着的时候，在头顶滑翔的乌鸦们也许正俯视着我。我不知道它们在想什么，它们一定以为起初我十分小心和胆怯，但渐渐地我变得大胆而鲁莽了。我先是窥视一下，随后久久盯着，再后是离开我躲藏的角落，不经意走进了草地，突然在府宅正面停下脚步，久久地死盯着它。“起初为什么装模做样羞羞答答？”乌鸦们也许会问，“而这会儿又为什么傻里傻气，不顾一切了？”
读者呀，且听我解释。
一位情人发现他的爱人睡在长满青苔的河岸上，他希望看一眼她漂亮的面孔而不惊醒她。他悄悄地踏上草地，注意不发出一点声响，他停下脚步——想象她翻了个身。他往后退去，千方百计要不让她看到。四周万籁俱寂。他再次往前走去，向她低下头去。她的脸上盖着一块轻纱。他揭开面纱，身子弯得更低了。这会儿他的眼睛期待着看到这个美人儿——安睡中显得热情、年青和可爱。他的第一眼多么急不可耐！但他两眼发呆了：他多么吃惊！他又何等突然，何等激烈地紧紧抱住不久之前连碰都不敢碰的这个躯体，用手指去碰它！他大声呼叫着一个名字，放下了抱着的身躯，狂乱地直愣愣瞧着它。他于是紧抱着，呼叫着，凝视着，因为他不再担心他发出的任何声音，所做的任何动作会把她惊醒。他以为他的爱人睡得很甜。但此发现她早己死去了。
我带着怯生生的喜悦朝堂皇的府第看去，我看到了一片焦黑的废墟。
没有必要躲在门柱后面畏缩不前了，真的！——没有必要偷偷地眺望房间的格子窗，而担心窗后已有动静！没有必要倾听打开房门的声音——没有必要想象铺筑过的路和砂石小径上的脚步声了，草地，庭院已踏得稀烂，一片荒芜。入口的门空张着。府第的正门象我一次梦中所见的那样，剩下了贝壳似的一堵墙，高高耸立，却岌岌可危，布满了没有玻璃的窗孔。没有屋顶，没有城垛，没有烟囱——全都倒塌了。
这里笼罩着死一般的沉寂和旷野的凄凉。怪不得给这儿的人写信，仿佛是送信给教堂过道上的墓穴，从来得不到答复。黑森森的石头诉说着府宅遭了什么厄运，一火灾。但又是怎么烧起来的呢？这场灾难的经过加何？除了灰浆、大理石和木制品，还有什么其他损失呢，生命是不是象财产一样遭到了毁灭？如果是，谁丧失了生命？这个可怕的问题，眼前没有谁来回答——甚至连默默的迹象、无言的标记都无法回答。
我徘徊在断垣颓壁之间，穿行于残破的府宅内层之中，获得了迹象，表明这场灾难不是最近发生的。我想，冬雪曾经飘入空空的拱门，冬雨打在没有玻璃的窗户上。在一堆堆湿透了的垃圾中，春意催发了草木，乱石堆中和断梁之间，处处长出了野草。呵！这片废墟的主人又在哪里？他在哪个国度？在谁的保护之下？我的目光不由自主地飘向了大门边灰色的教堂塔楼，我问道，“难道他已随戴默尔.德.罗切斯特而去，共住在狭窄的大理石房子里？”
这些问题都得找到答案。而除了旅店，别处是找不到的。于是不久我便返回那里。老板亲自把早餐端到客厅里来，我请他关了门，坐下来。我有些问题要问他，但待他答应之后，我却不知道从何开始了。我对可能得到的回答怀着一种恐俱感，然而刚才看到的那番荒凉景象，为一个悲惨的故事作好了一定的准备。老板看上去是位体面的中年人。
“你当然知道桑菲尔德府了？”我终于启齿了。
“是的，小姐，我以前在那里住过。”
“是吗？”不是我在的时候，我想。我觉得他很陌生。
“我是已故的罗切斯特先生的管家，”他补充道。
已故的！我觉得我避之不迭的打击重重地落到我头上了。
“已故的！”我透不过气来了。“他死了？”
“我说的是现在的老爷，爱德华先生的父亲，”他解释说。我又喘过气来了，我的血液也继续流动。他的这番话使我确信，爱德华先生——我的罗切斯特先生（无论他在何方，愿上帝祝福他！）至少还活着，总之还是“现在的老爷”，（多让人高兴的话！）我似乎觉得，不管他会透露什么消息，我会比较平静地去倾听。我想，就是知道他在新西兰和澳大利亚，我都能忍受。
“罗切斯特先生如今还住在桑菲尔德府吗？”我问，当然知道他会怎样回答，但并不想马上就直截了当地问起他的确实住处。
“不，小姐——呵，不！那儿已没有人住了，我想你对附近地方很陌生，不然你会听到过去年秋天发生的事情。桑菲尔德府已经全毁了。大约秋收的时候烧掉的——一场可怕的灾难！那么多值钱的财产都毁掉了，几乎没有一件家具幸免。火灾是深夜发生的，从米尔科特来的救火车还没有开到，府宅已经是一片熊熊大火。这景象真可怕，我是亲眼见到的。”
“深夜！”我咕哝着。是呀，在桑菲尔德府那是致命的时刻。“知道是怎么引起的吗？”我问。
“他们猜想，小姐，他们是这么猜想的，其实，我该说那是确然无疑的。你也许不知道吧，”他往下说，把椅子往桌子稍稍挪了挪，声音放得很低，“有一位夫人——一个——一个疯子，关在屋子里？”
“我隐隐约约听到过。”
“她被严加看管着，小姐。好几年了，外人都不能完全确定有她这么个人在。没有人见过她。他们只不过凭谣传知道，府里有这样一个人。她究竟是谁，干什么的，却很难想象。他们说是爱德华先生从国外把她带回来的。有人相信，是他的情妇。但一年前发生了一件奇怪的事情——一件非常奇怪的事情。”
我担心这会儿要听我自己的故事了。我竭力把他拉回到正题上。
“这位太太呢？”
“这位太太，小姐，”他回答，“原来就是罗切斯特先生的妻子！发现的方式也是再奇怪不过的。府上有一位年青小姐，是位家庭教师，罗切斯特先生与她相爱了——”
“可是火灾呢？”我提醒。
“我就要谈到了，小姐——爱德华先生爱上了。佣人们说，他们从来没有见到有谁像他那么倾心过。他死死追求她。他们总是注意着他——你知道佣人们会这样的，小姐——他倾慕她，胜过了一切。所有的人，除了他，没有人认为她很漂亮。他们说，她是个小不点儿，几乎象个孩子。我从来没有见过她，不过听女仆莉娅说起过。莉娅也是够喜欢她的。罗切斯特先生四十岁左右，这个家庭女教师还不到二十岁。你瞧，他这种年纪的男人爱上了姑娘们，往往象是神魂颠倒似的。是呀，他要娶她。”
“这部份故事改日再谈吧，”我说，“而现在我特别想要听听你说说大火的事儿。是不是怀疑这个疯子，罗切斯特太太参与其中？”
“你说对了，小姐。肯定是她，除了她，没有谁会放火的。她有一个女人照应，名叫普尔太太——干那一行是很能干的，也很可靠。但有一个毛病——那些看护和主妇的通病——她私自留着—瓶杜松子酒，而且常常多喝那么一口。那也是可以原谅的，因为她活得太辛苦了，不过那很危险，酒和水一下肚，普尔太太睡得烂熟，那位像巫婆一般狡猾的疯女人，便会从她口袋里掏出钥匙，开了门溜出房间，在府宅游荡，心血来潮便什么荒唐的事都干得出来。他们说，有一回差一点把她的丈夫烧死在床上。不过我不知道那回事。但是，那天晚上，她先是放火点燃了隔壁房间的帷幔，随后下了一层楼，走到原来那位家庭女教师的房间（不知怎么搞的，她似乎知道事情的进展，而且对她怀恨在心）——给她的床放了把火，幸亏没有人睡在里面。两个月前，那个家庭女教师就出走了。尽管罗切斯特先生拼命找她，仿佛她是稀世珍宝，但她还是杳无音讯。他变得越来越粗暴了——因为失望而非常粗暴。他从来就不是一个性性情温和的人，而失去她以后，简直就危险了。他还喜欢孤身独处，把管家费尔法克斯太太送到她远方的朋友那儿去了。不过他做得很慷慨，付给她一笔终身年金，而她也是受之无愧的——她是一个很好的女人。他把他监护的阿黛勒小姐，送进了学校。与所有的绅士们断绝了往来，自己像隐士那样住在府上，闭门不出。”
“什么！他没有离开英国？”
“离开英国？哎哟，没有！他连门槛都不跨出去。除了夜里，他会像一个幽灵那样在庭院和果园里游荡——仿佛神经错乱似的——依我看是这么回事。他败在那位小个子女教师手里之前，小姐，你从来没见过哪位先生像他那么活跃，那么大胆、那么勇敢。他不是像有些人那样热衷于饮酒、玩牌和赛马，他也不怎么漂亮，但他有着男人特有的勇气和意志力。你瞧，他还是一个孩子的时候我就认识他了，至于我，但愿那位爱小姐，还没到桑菲尔德府就给沉到海底去了。”
“那么起火时罗切斯特先生是在家里了？”
“不错，他确实在家。上上下下都烧起来的时候，他上了阁楼，把仆人们从床上叫醒，亲自帮他们下楼来——随后又返回去，要把发疯的妻子弄出房间。那时他们喊他，说她在屋顶。她站在城垛上、挥动着胳膊，大喊大叫，一英里外都听得见。我亲眼见了她，亲耳听到了她的声音。她个儿很大，头发又长又黑，站着时我们看到她的头发映着火光在飘动。我亲眼看到，还有好几个人也看到了罗切斯特先生穿过天窗爬上了屋顶。我们听他叫了声“佩莎！”我们见他朝她走去，随后，小姐，她大叫一声，纵身跳了下去，刹那之间，她已躺在路上，粉身碎骨了。”
“死了？”
“死了！呵，完全断气了，在石头上脑浆迸裂，鲜血四溅。”
“天哪！”
“你完全可以这么说，小姐，真吓人哪！”他打了个寒颤。
“那么后来呢？”我催促着，
“唉呀，小姐，后来整座房子都夷为平地了，眼下只有几截子墙还立着。”
“还死了其他人吗？”
“没有——要是有倒也许还好些？”
“你这话是什么意思？”
“可怜的爱德华，”他失声叫道，“我从来没有想到会见到这样的事情！有人说那不过是对他瞒了第一次婚姻，妻子活着还想再娶的报应。但拿我来讲，我是怜悯他的。”
“你说了他还活着？”我叫道。
“是呀，是呀，他还活着。但很多人认为他还是死了的好。”
“为什么？怎么会呢？”我的血又冰冷了。“他在哪儿？”我问。“在英国吗？”
“呵——呵——他是在英国，他没有办法走出英国，我想——现在他是寸步难行了。”那是什么病痛呀？这人似乎决意吞吞吐吐。
“他全瞎了，”他终于说。“是呀，他全瞎了——爱德华先生。”
我担心更坏的结局，担心他疯了。我鼓足勇气问他造成灾难的原因。
“全是因为他的胆量，你也可以说，因为他的善良，小姐。他要等所有的人在他之前逃出来了才肯离开房子。罗切斯特夫人跳下城垛后，他终于走下了那个大楼梯，就在这时，轰隆一声，全都塌了下来。他从废墟底下被拖了出来，虽然还活着，但伤势严重。一根大梁掉了下来，正好护住了他一些。不过他的一只眼睛被砸了出来，一只手被压烂了，因此医生卡特不得不将它立刻截了下来。另一只眼睛发炎了，也失去了视力。如今他又瞎又残，实在是束手无策了。”
“他在哪儿？他现在住在什么地方？”
“在芬丁，他的一个庄园里，离这里三十英里，是个很荒凉的地方。”
“谁跟他在一起？”
“老约翰和他的妻子。别人他都不要。他们说，他身体全垮了。”
“你有什么车辆吗？”
“我们有一辆轻便马车，小姐，很好看的一辆车。”
“马上把车准备好。要是你那位驿车送信人肯在天黑前把我送到芬丁，我会付给你和他双倍的价钱。”
Chapter 37
THE manor-house of Ferndean was a building of considerable antiquity, moderate size, and no architectural pretensions, deep buried in a wood. I had heard of it before. Mr. Rochester often spoke of it, and sometimes went there. His father had purchased the estate for the sake of the game covers. He would have let the house, but could find no tenant, in consequence of its ineligible and insalubrious site. Ferndean then remained uninhabited and unfurnished, with the exception of some two or three rooms fitted up for the accommodation of the squire when he went there in the season to shoot.To this house I came just ere dark on an evening marked by the characteristics of sad sky, cold gale, and continued small penetrating rain. The last mile I performed on foot, having dismissed the chaise and driver with the double remuneration I had promised. Even when within a very short distance of the manor-house, you could see nothing of it, so thick and dark grew the timber of the gloomy wood about it. Iron gates between granite pillars showed me where to enter, and passing through them, I found myself at once in the twilight of close-ranked trees. There was a grass-grown track descending the forest aisle between hoar and knotty shafts and under branched arches.
I followed it, expecting soon to reach the dwelling; but it stretched on and on, it wound far and farther: no sign of habitation or grounds was visible.
I thought I had taken a wrong direction and lost my way. The darkness of natural as well as of sylvan dusk gathered over me. I looked round in search of another road. There was none: all was interwoven stem, columnar trunk, dense summer foliage- no opening anywhere.
I proceeded: at last my way opened, the trees thinned a little; presently I beheld a railing, then the house- scarce, by this dim light, distinguishable from the trees, so dank and green were its decaying walls. Entering a portal, fastened only by a latch, I stood amidst a space of enclosed ground, from which the wood swept away in a semicircle. There were no flowers, no garden-beds; only a broad gravel-walk girdling a grass-plat, and this set in the heavy frame of the forest. The house presented two pointed gables in its front; the windows were latticed and narrow: the front door was narrow too, one step led up to it. The whole looked, as the host of the Rochester Arms had said, 'quite a desolate spot.' It was as still as a church on a week-day: the pattering rain on the forest leaves was the only sound audible in its vicinage.
'Can there be life here?' I asked.
Yes, life of some kind there was; for I heard a movement- that narrow front-door was unclosing, and some shape was about to issue from the grange.
It opened slowly: a figure came out into the twilight and stood on the step; a man without a hat: he stretched forth his hand as if to feel whether it rained. Dusk as it was, I had recognised him- it was my master, Edward Fairfax Rochester, and no other.
I stayed my step, almost my breath, and stood to watch him- to examine him, myself unseen, and alas! to him invisible. It was a sudden meeting, and one in which rapture was kept well in check by pain. I had no difficulty in restraining my voice from exclamation, my step from hasty advance.
His form was of the same strong and stalwart contour as ever: his port was still erect, his hair was still raven black; nor were his features altered or sunk: not in one year's space, by any sorrow, could his athletic strength be quelled or his vigorous prime blighted.
But in his countenance I saw a change: that looked desperate and brooding- that reminded me of some wronged and fettered wild beast or bird, dangerous to approach in his sullen woe. The caged eagle, whose gold-ringed eyes cruelty has extinguished, might look as looked that sightless Samson.
And, reader, do you think I feared him in his blind ferocity?- if you do, you little know me. A soft hope blent with my sorrow that soon I should dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock, and on those lips so sternly sealed beneath it: but not yet. I would not accost him yet.
He descended the one step, and advanced slowly and gropingly towards the grass-plat. Where was his daring stride now? Then he paused, as if he knew not which way to turn. He lifted his hand and opened his eyelids; gazed blank, and with a straining effort, on the sky, and toward the amphitheatre of trees: one saw that all to him was void darkness. He stretched his right hand (the left arm, the mutilated one, he kept hidden in his bosom); he seemed to wish by touch to gain an idea of what lay around him: he met but vacancy still; for the trees were some yards off where he stood. He relinquished the endeavour, folded his arms, and stood quiet and mute in the rain, now falling fast on his uncovered head. At this moment John approached him from some quarter.
'Will you take my arm, sir?' he said; 'there is a heavy shower coming on: had you not better go in?'
'Let me alone,' was the answer.
John withdrew without having observed me. Mr. Rochester now tried to walk about: vainly,- all was too uncertain. He groped his way back to the house, and, re-entering it, closed the door.
I now drew near and knocked: John's wife opened for me. 'Mary,' I said, 'how are you?'
She started as if she had seen a ghost: I calmed her. To her hurried 'Is it really you, miss, come at this late hour to this lonely place?' I answered by taking her hand; and then I followed her into the kitchen, where John now sat by a good fire. I explained to them, in a few words, that I had heard all which had happened since I left Thornfield, and that I was come to see Mr. Rochester. I asked John to go down to the turnpike-house, where I had dismissed the chaise, and bring my trunk, which I had left there: and then, while I removed my bonnet and shawl, I questioned Mary as to whether I could be accommodated at the Manor House for the night; and finding that arrangements to that effect, though difficult, would not be impossible, I informed her I should stay. just at this moment the parlour-bell rang.
'When you go in,' said I, 'tell your master that a person wishes to speak to him, but do not give my name.'
'I don't think he will see you,' she answered; 'he refuses everybody.'
When she returned, I inquired what he had said.
'You are to send in your name and your business,' she replied.
She then proceeded to fill a glass with water, and place it on a tray, together with candles.
'Is that what he rang for?' I asked.
'Yes: he always has candles brought in at dark, though he is blind.'
'Give the tray to me; I will carry it in.'
I took it from her hand: she pointed me out the parlour door. The tray shook as I held it; the water spilt from the glass; my heart struck my ribs loud and fast. Mary opened the door for me, and shut it behind me.
This parlour looked gloomy: a neglected handful of fire burnt low in the grate; and, leaning over it, with his head supported against the high, old-fashioned mantelpiece, appeared the blind tenant of the room. His old dog, Pilot, lay on one side, removed out of the way, and coiled up as if afraid of being inadvertently trodden upon.
Pilot pricked up his ears when I came in: then he jumped up with a yelp and a whine, and bounded towards me: he almost knocked the tray from my hands. I set it on the table; then patted him, and said softly, 'Lie down!' Mr. Rochester turned mechanically to see what the commotion was: but as he saw nothing, he returned and sighed.
'Give me the water, Mary,' he said.
I approached him with the now only half-filled glass; Pilot followed me, still excited.
'What is the matter?' he inquired.
'Down, Pilot!' I again said. He checked the water on its way to his lips, and seemed to listen: he drank, and put the glass down. 'This is you, Mary, is it not?'
'Mary is in the kitchen,' I answered.
He put out his hand with a quick gesture, but not seeing where I stood, he did not touch me. 'Who is this? Who is this?' he demanded, trying, as it seemed, to see with those sightless eyes- unavailing and distressing attempt! 'Answer me- speak again!' he ordered, imperiously and aloud.
'Will you have a little more water, sir? I spilt half of what was in the glass,' I said.
'Who is it? What is it? Who speaks?'
'Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here. I came only this evening,' I answered.
'Great God!- what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has seized me?'
'No delusion- no madness: your mind, sir, is too strong for delusion, your health too sound for frenzy.'
'And where is the speaker? Is it only a voice? Oh! I cannot see, but I must feel, or my heart will stop and my brain burst. Whatever- whoever you are- be perceptible to the touch or I cannot live!'
He groped; I arrested his wandering hand, and prisoned it in both mine.
'Her very fingers!' he cried; 'her small, slight fingers! If so there must be more of her.'
The muscular hand broke from my custody; my arm was seized, my shoulder- neck- waist- I was entwined and gathered to him.
'Is it Jane? What is it? This is her shape- this is her size-'
'And this her voice,' I added. 'She is all here: her heart, too.
God bless you, sir! I am glad to be so near you again.'
'Jane Eyre!- Jane Eyre,' was all he said.
'My dear master,' I answered, 'I am Jane Eyre: I have found you out- I am come back to you.'
'In truth?- in the flesh? My living Jane?'
'You touch me, sir,- you hold me, and fast enough: I am not cold like a corpse, nor vacant like air, am I?'
'My living darling! These are certainly her limbs, and these her features; but I cannot be so blest, after all my misery. It is a dream; such dreams as I have had at night when I have clasped her once more to my heart, as I do now; and kissed her, as thus- and felt that she loved me, and trusted that she would not leave me.'
'Which I never will, sir, from this day.'
'Never will, says the vision? But I always woke and found it an empty mockery; and I was desolate and abandoned- my life dark, lonely, hopeless- my soul athirst and forbidden to drink- my heart famished and never to be fed. Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go- embrace me, Jane.'
'There, sir- and there!'
I pressed my lips to his once brilliant and now rayless eyes- I swept his hair from his brow, and kissed that too. He suddenly seemed to arouse himself: the conviction of the reality of all this seized him.
'It is you- is it, Jane? You are come back to me then?' 
'I am.'
'And you do not lie dead in some ditch under some stream? And you are not a pining outcast amongst strangers?'
'No, sir! I am an independent woman now.'
'Independent! What do you mean, Jane?'
'My uncle in Madeira is dead, and he left me five thousand pounds.'
'Ah! this is practical- this is real!' he cried: 'I should never dream that. Besides, there is that peculiar voice of hers, so animating and piquant, as well as soft: it cheers my withered heart; it puts life into it.- What, Janet! Are you an independent woman? A rich woman?'
'Quite rich, sir. If you won't let me live with you, I can build a house of my own close up to your door, and you may come and sit in my parlour when you want company of an evening.'
'But as you are rich, Jane, you have now, no doubt, friends who will look after you, and not suffer you to devote yourself to a blind lameter like me?'
'I told you I am independent, sir, as well as rich: I am my own mistress.'
'And you will stay with me?'
'Certainly- unless you object. I will be your neighbour, your nurse, your housekeeper. I find you lonely: I will be your companion- to read to you, to walk with you, to sit with you, to wait on you, to be eyes and hands to you. Cease to look so melancholy, my dear master; you shall not be left desolate, so long as I live.'
He replied not: he seemed serious- abstracted; he sighed; he half-opened his lips as if to speak: he closed them again. I felt a little embarrassed. Perhaps I had too rashly overleaped conventionalities; and he, like St. John, saw impropriety in my inconsiderateness. I had indeed made my proposal from the idea that he  wished and would ask me to be his wife: an expectation, not the less certain because unexpressed, had buoyed me up, that he would claim me at once as his own. But no hint to that effect escaping him and his countenance becoming more overcast, I suddenly remembered that I might have been all wrong, and was perhaps playing the fool unwittingly; and I began gently to withdraw myself from his arms- but he eagerly snatched me closer.
'No- no- Jane; you must not go. No- I have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence- the sweetness of your consolation: I cannot give up these joys. I have little left in myself- I must have you. The world may laugh- may call me absurd, selfish- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.'
'Well, sir, I will stay with you: I have said so.'
'Yes- but you understand one thing by staying with me; and I understand another. You, perhaps, could make up your mind to be about my hand and chair- to wait on me as a kind little nurse (for you have an affectionate heart and a generous spirit, which prompt you to make sacrifices for those you pity), and that ought to suffice for me no doubt. I suppose I should now entertain none but fatherly feelings for you: do you think so? Come- tell me.'
'I will think what you like, sir: I am content to be only your nurse, if you think it better.'
'But you cannot always be my nurse, Janet: you are young- you must marry one day.'
'I don't care about being married.'
'You should care, Janet: if I were what I once was, I would try to make you care- but- a sightless block!'
He relapsed again into gloom. I, on the contrary, became more cheerful, and took fresh courage: these last words gave me an insight as to where the difficulty lay; and as it was no difficulty with me, I felt quite relieved from my previous embarrassment. I resumed a livelier vein of conversation.
'It is time some one undertook to rehumanise you,' said I, parting his thick and long uncut locks; 'for I see you are being metamorphosed into a lion, or something of that sort. You have a "faux air" of Nebuchadnezzar in the fields about you, that is certain: your hair reminds me of eagles' feathers; whether your nails are grown like birds' claws or not, I have not yet noticed.'
'On this arm, I have neither hand nor nails,' he said, drawing the mutilated limb from his breast, and showing it to me. 'It is a mere stump- a ghastly sight! Don't you think so, Jane?'
'It is a pity to see it; and a pity to see your eyes- and the scar of fire on your forehead: and the worst of it is, one is in danger of loving you too well for all this; and making too much of you.'
'I thought you would be revolted, Jane, when you saw my arm, and my cicatrised visage.'
'Did you? Don't tell me so- lest I should say something disparaging to your judgment. Now, let me leave you an instant, to make a better fire, and have the hearth swept up. Can you tell when there is a good fire?'
'Yes; with the right eye I see a glow- a ruddy haze.'
'And you see the candles?'
'Very dimly- each is a luminous cloud.'
'Can you see me?'
'No, my fairy: but I am only too thankful to hear and feel you.'
'When do you take supper?'
'I never take supper.'
'But you shall have some to-night. I am hungry: so are you, I daresay, only you forget.'
Summoning Mary, I soon had the room in more cheerful order: I prepared him, likewise, a comfortable repast. My spirits were excited, and with pleasure and ease I talked to him during supper, and for a long time after. There was no harassing restraint, no repressing of glee and vivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew I suited him; all I said or did seemed either to console or revive him. Delightful consciousness! It brought to life and light my whole nature: in his presence I thoroughly lived; and he lived in mine. Blind as he was, smiles played over his face, joy dawned on his forehead: his lineaments softened and warmed.
After supper, he began to ask me many questions, of where I had been, what I had been doing, how I had found him out; but I gave him only very partial replies: it was too late to enter into particulars that night. Besides, I wished to touch no deep-thrilling chord- to open no fresh well of emotion in his heart: my sole present aim was to cheer him. Cheered, as I have said, he was: and yet but by fits. If a moment's silence broke the conversation, he would turn restless, touch me, then say, 'Jane.'
'You are altogether a human being, Janet? You are certain of that?'
'I conscientiously believe so, Mr. Rochester.'
'Yet how, on this dark and doleful evening, could you so suddenly rise on my lone hearth? I stretched my hand to take a glass of water from a hireling, and it was given me by you: I asked a question, expecting John's wife to answer me, and your voice spoke at my ear.'
'Because I had come in, in Mary's stead, with the tray.' 
'And there is enchantment in the very hour I am now spending with you. Who can tell what a dark, dreary, hopeless life I have dragged on for months past? Doing nothing, expecting nothing; merging night in day; feeling but the sensation of cold when I let the fire go out, of hunger when I forgot to eat: and then a ceaseless sorrow, and, at times, a very delirium of desire to behold my Jane again. Yes: for her restoration I longed, far more than for that of my lost sight. How can it be that Jane is with me, and says she loves me? Will she not depart as suddenly as she came? To-morrow, I fear I shall find her no more.'
A commonplace, practical reply, out of the train of his own disturbed ideas, was, I was sure, the best and most reassuring for him in this frame of mind. I passed my finger over his eyebrows, and remarked that they were scorched, and that I would apply something which would make them grow as broad and black as ever.
'Where is the use of doing me good in any way, beneficent spirit, when, at some fatal moment, you will again desert me- passing like a shadow, whither and how to me unknown, and for me remaining afterwards undiscoverable?'
'Have you a pocket-comb about you, sir?'
'What for, Jane?'
'Just to comb out this shaggy black mane. I find you rather alarming, when I examine you close at hand: you talk of my being a fairy, but I am sure, you are more like a brownie.'
'Am I hideous, Jane?'
'Very, sir: you always were, you know.'
'Humph! The wickedness has not been taken out of you, wherever you have sojourned.'
'Yet I have been with good people; far better than you: a hundred times better people; possessed of ideas and views you never entertained in your life: quite more refined and exalted.'
'Who the deuce have you been with?'
'If you twist in that way you will make me pull the hair out of your head; and then I think you will cease to entertain doubts of my substantiality.'
'Who have you been with, Jane?'
'You shall not get it out of me to-night, sir; you must wait till to-morrow; to leave my tale half told, will, you know, be a sort of security that I shall appear at your breakfast table to finish it.
By the bye, I must mind not to rise on your hearth with only a glass of water then: I must bring an egg at the least, to say nothing of fried ham.'
'You mocking changeling- fairy-born and human-bred! You make me feel as I have not felt these twelve months. If Saul could have had you for his David, the evil spirit would have been exorcised without the aid of the harp.'
'There, sir, you are redd up and made decent. Now I'll leave you: I have been travelling these last three days, and I believe I am tired. Good night.'
'Just one word, Jane: were there only ladies in the house where you have been?'
I laughed and made my escape, still laughing as I ran upstairs.
'A good idea!' I thought with glee. 'I see I have the means of fretting him out of his melancholy for some time to come.'
Very early the next morning I heard him up and astir, wandering from one room to another. As soon as Mary came down I heard the question: 'Is Miss Eyre here?' Then: 'Which room did you put her into?
Was it dry? Is she up? Go and ask if she wants anything; and when she will come down.'
I came down as soon as I thought there was a prospect of breakfast.
Entering the room very softly, I had a view of him before he discovered my presence. It was mournful, indeed, to witness the subjugation of that vigorous spirit to a corporeal infirmity. He sat in his chair- still, but not at rest: expectant evidently; the lines of now habitual sadness marking his strong features. His countenance reminded one of a lamp quenched, waiting to be re-lit- and alas! it was not himself that could now kindle the lustre of animated expression: he was dependent on another for that office! I had meant to be gay and careless, but the powerlessness of the strong man touched my heart to the quick: still I accosted him with what vivacity I could.
'It is a bright, sunny morning, sir,' I said. 'The rain is over and gone, and there is a tender shining after it: you shall have a walk soon.'
I had wakened the glow: his features beamed.
'Oh, you are indeed there, my skylark! Come to me. You are not gone: not vanished? I heard one of your kind an hour ago, singing high over the wood: but its song had no music for me, any more than the rising sun had rays. All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane's tongue to my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.'
The water stood in my eyes to hear this avowal of his dependence; just as if a royal eagle, chained to a perch, should be forced to entreat a sparrow to become its purveyor. But I would not be lachrymose: I dashed off the salt drops, and busied myself with preparing breakfast.
Most of the morning was spent in the open air. I led him out of the wet and wild wood into some cheerful fields: I described to him how brilliantly green they were; how the flowers and hedges looked refreshed; how sparklingly blue was the sky. I sought a seat for him in a hidden and lovely spot, a dry stump of a tree; nor did I refuse to let him, when seated, place me on his knee. Why should I, when both he and I were happier near than apart? Pilot lay beside us: all was quiet. He broke out suddenly while clasping me in his arms-
'Cruel, cruel deserter! Oh, Jane, what did I feel when I discovered you had fled from Thornfield, and when I could nowhere find you; and, after examining your apartment, ascertained that you had taken no money, nor anything which could serve as an equivalent! A pearl necklace I had given you lay untouched in its little casket; your trunks were left corded and locked as they had been prepared for the bridal tour. What could my darling do, I asked, left destitute and penniless? And what did she do? Let me hear now.'
Thus urged, I began the narrative of my experience for the last year. I softened considerably what related to the three days of wandering and starvation, because to have told him all would have been to inflict unnecessary pain: the little I did say lacerated his faithful heart deeper than I wished.
I should not have left him thus, he said, without any means of making my way: I should have told him my intention. I should have confided in him: he would never have forced me to be his mistress.
Violent as he had seemed in his despair, he, in truth, loved me far too well and too tenderly to constitute himself my tyrant: he would have given me half his fortune, without demanding so much as a kiss in return, rather than I should have flung myself friendless on the wide world. I had endured, he was certain, more than I had confessed to him.
'Well, whatever my sufferings had been, they were very short,' I answered: and then I proceeded to tell him how I had been received at Moor House; how I had obtained the office of schoolmistress, etc.
The accession of fortune, the discovery of my relations, followed in due order. Of course, St. John Rivers' name came in frequently in the progress of my tale. When I had done, that name was immediately taken up.
'This St. John, then, is your cousin?'
'Yes.'
'You have spoken of him often: do you like him?'
'He was a very good man, sir; I could not help liking him.'
'A good man. Does that mean a respectable well-conducted man of fifty? Or what does it mean?'
'St. John was only twenty-nine, sir.'
'"Jeune encore," as the French say. Is he a person of low stature, phlegmatic, and plain? A person whose goodness consists rather in his guiltlessness of vice, than in his prowess in virtue?'
'He is untiringly active. Great and exalted deeds are what he lives to perform.'
'But his brain? That is probably rather soft? He means well: but you shrug your shoulders to hear him talk?'
'He talks little, sir: what he does say is ever to the point. His brain is first-rate, I should think not impressible, but vigorous.'
'Is he an able man, then?'
'Truly able.'
'A thoroughly educated man?'
'St. John is an accomplished and profound scholar.'
'His manners, I think, you said are not to your taste?- priggish and parsonic?'
'I never mentioned his manners; but, unless I had a very bad taste, they must suit it; they are polished, calm, and gentlemanlike.'
'His appearance,- I forget what description you gave of his appearance;- a sort of raw curate, half strangled with his white neckcloth, and stilted up on his thick-soled high-lows, eh?'
'St. John dresses well. He is a handsome man: tall, fair, with blue eyes, and a Grecian profile.' 
(Aside.) 'Damn him!'- (To me.) 'Did you like him, Jane?'
'Yes, Mr. Rochester, I liked him: but you asked me that before.'
I perceived, of course, the drift of my interlocutor. Jealousy had got hold of him: she stung him; but the sting was salutary: it gave him respite from the gnawing fang of melancholy. I would not, therefore, immediately charm the snake.
'Perhaps you would rather not sit any longer on my knee, Miss Eyre?' was the next somewhat unexpected observation.
'Why not, Mr. Rochester?'
'The picture you have just drawn is suggestive of a rather too overwhelming contrast. Your words have delineated very prettily a graceful Apollo: he is present to your imagination,- tall, fair, blue-eyed, and with a Grecian profile. Your eyes dwell on a Vulcan,- a real blacksmith, brown, broad-shouldered: and blind and lame into the bargain.'
'I never thought of it, before; but you certainly are rather like Vulcan, sir.'
Well, you can leave me, ma'am: but before you go' (and he retained me by a firmer grasp than ever), 'you will be pleased just to answer me a question or two.' He paused.
'What questions, Mr. Rochester?'
Then followed this cross-examination.
'St. John made you schoolmistress of Morton before he knew you were his cousin?'
'Yes.'
'You would often see him? He would visit the school sometimes?'
'Daily.'
'He would approve of your plans, Jane? I know they would be clever, for you are a talented creature!'
'He approved of them- yes.'
'He would discover many things in you he could not have expected to find? Some of your accomplishments are not ordinary.'
'I don't know about that.'
'You had a little cottage near the school, you say: did he ever come there to see you?'
'Now and then.'
'Of an evening?'
'Once or twice.'
A pause.
'How long did you reside with him and his sisters after the cousinship was discovered?'
'Five months.'
'Did Rivers spend much time with the ladies of his family?'
'Yes; the back parlour was both his study and ours: he sat near the window, and we by the table.'
'Did he study much?'
'A good deal.'
'What?'
'Hindostanee.'
'And what did you do meantime?'
'I learnt German, at first.'
'Did he teach you?'
'He did not understand German.'
'Did he teach you nothing?'
'A little Hindostanee.'
'Rivers taught you Hindostanee?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And his sisters also?'
'No.'
'Only you?'
'Only me.'
'Did you ask to learn?'
'No.'
'He wished to teach you?'
'Yes.'
A second pause.
'Why did he wish it? Of what use could Hindostanee be to you?'
'He intended me to go with him to India.'
'Ah! here I reach the root of the matter. He wanted you to marry him?'
'He asked me to marry him.'
'That is a fiction- an impudent invention to vex me.'
'I beg your pardon, it is the literal truth: he asked me more than once, and was as stiff about urging his point as ever you could be.'
'Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say the same thing? Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when I have given you notice to quit?'
'Because I am comfortable there.'
'No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is not with me: it is with this cousin- this St. John. Oh, till this moment, I thought my little Jane was all mine! I had a belief she loved me even when she left me: that was an atom of sweet in much bitter. Long as we have been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I never thought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another! But it is useless grieving. Jane, leave me: go and marry Rivers.'
'Shake me off, then, sir,- push me away, for I'll not leave you of my own accord.'
'Jane, I ever like your tone of voice: it still renews hope, it sounds so truthful. When I hear it, it carries me back a year. I forget that you have formed a new tie. But I am not a fool-'
'Where must I go, sir?'
'Your own way- with the husband you have chosen.'
'Who is that?'
'You know- this St. John Rivers.'
'He is not my husband, nor ever will be. He does not love me: I do not love him. He loves (as he can love, and that is not as you love) a beautiful young lady called Rosamond. He wanted to marry me only because he thought I should make a suitable missionary's wife, which she would not have done. He is good and great, but severe; and, for me, cold as an iceberg. He is not like you, sir: I am not happy at his side, nor near him, nor with him. He has no indulgence for me- no fondness. He sees nothing attractive in me; not even youth- only a few useful mental points- Then I must leave you, sir, to go to him?'
I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but beloved master. He smiled.
'What, Jane! Is this true? Is such really the state of matters between you and Rivers?'
'Absolutely, sir! Oh, you need not be jealous! I wanted to tease you a little to make you less sad: I thought anger would be better than grief. But if you wish me to love you, could you but see how much I do love you, you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence for ever.'
Again, as he kissed me, painful thoughts darkened his aspect.
'My seared vision! My crippled strength!' he murmured regretfully. 
I caressed, in order to soothe him. I knew of what he was thinking, and wanted to speak for him, but dared not. As he turned aside his face a minute, I saw a tear slide from under the sealed eyelid, and trickle down the manly cheek. My heart swelled.
'I am no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut-tree in Thornfield orchard,' he remarked ere long. 'And what right would that ruin have to bid a budding woodbine cover its decay with freshness?'
'You are no ruin, sir- no lightning-struck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop.'
Again he smiled: I gave him comfort.
'You speak of friends, Jane?' he asked.
'Yes, of friends,' I answered rather hesitatingly: for I knew I meant more than friends, but could not tell what other word to employ.
He helped me.
'Ah! Jane. But I want a wife.'
'Do you, sir?'
'Yes: is it news to you?'
'Of course: you said nothing about it before.'
'Is it unwelcome news?'
'That depends on circumstances, sir- on your choice.'
'Which you shall make for me, Jane. I will abide by your decision.'
'Choose then, sir- her who loves you best.'
'I will at least choose- her I love best. Jane, will you marry me?'
'Yes, sir.'
'A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand?'
'Yes, sir.'
'A crippled man, twenty years older than you, whom you will have to
wait on?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Truly, Jane?'
'Most truly, sir.'
'Oh! my darling! God bless you and reward you!'
'Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life- if ever I thought a good thought- if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer- if ever I wished a righteous wish,- I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me, to be as happy as I can be on earth.'
'Because you delight in sacrifice.'
'Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value- to press my lips to what I love- to repose on what I trust: is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.'
'And to bear with my infirmities, Jane: to overlook my deficiencies.'
'Which are none, sir, to me. I love you better now, when I can really be useful to you, than I did in your state of proud independence, when you disdained every part but that of the giver and protector.'
'Hitherto I have hated to be helped- to be led: henceforth, I feel I shall hate it no more. I did not like to put my hand into a hireling's, but it is pleasant to feel it circled by Jane's little fingers. I preferred utter loneliness to the constant attendance of servants; but Jane's soft ministry will be a perpetual joy. Jane suits me: do I suit her?'
'To the finest fibre of my nature, sir.'
'The case being so, we have nothing in the world to wait for: we must be married instantly.'
He looked and spoke with eagerness: his old impetuosity was rising.
'We must become one flesh without any delay, Jane: there is but the licence to get- then we marry.'
'Mr. Rochester, I have just discovered the sun is far declined from its meridian, and Pilot is actually gone home to his dinner. Let me look at your watch.'
'Fasten it into your girdle, Janet, and keep it henceforward: I have no use for it.'
'It is nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, sir. Don't you feel hungry?'
'The third day from this must be our wedding-day, Jane. Never mind fine clothes and jewels, now: all that is not worth a fillip.'
'The sun has dried up all the rain-drops, sir. The breeze is still: it is quite hot.'
'Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this moment fastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since the day I lost my only treasure, as a memento of her.'
'We will go home through the wood: that will be the shadiest way.' 
He pursued his own thoughts without heeding me. 
'Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower- breathed guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its weakness? Of late, Jane- only- only of late- I began to see and acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse, repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.
'Some days since: nay, I can number them- four; it was last Monday night, a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced frenzy- sorrow, sullenness. I had long had the impression that since I could nowhere find you, you must be dead. Late that night- perhaps it might be between eleven and twelve o'clock- ere I retired to my dreary rest, I supplicated God, that, if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be taken from this life, and admitted to that world to come, where there was still hope of rejoining Jane.
'I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open:  it soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars, and only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon. I longed for thee, Janet! Oh, I longed for thee both with soul and flesh! I asked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if I had not been long enough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and might not soon taste bliss and peace once more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged- that I could scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my heart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips in the words- "Jane! Jane! Jane!"'
'Did you speak these words aloud?'
'I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy.'
'And it was last Monday night, somewhere near midnight?'
'Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange point. You will think me superstitious- some superstition I have in my blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true- true at least it is that I heard what I now relate.
'As I exclaimed "Jane! Jane! Jane!" a voice- I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was- replied, "I am coming: wait for me;" and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words- "Where are you?"
'I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies unreverberating. "Where are you?" seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler and fresher at the moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. In spirit, I believe we must have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane: perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were your accents-as certain as I live- they were yours!'
Reader, it was on Monday night- near midnight- that I too had received the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to it. I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made no disclosure in return. The coincidence struck me as too awful and inexplicable to be communicated or discussed. If I told anything, my tale would be such as must necessarily make a profound impression on the mind of my hearer: and that mind, yet from its sufferings too prone to gloom, needed not the deeper shade of the supernatural. I kept these things then, and pondered them in my heart.
'You cannot now wonder,' continued my master, 'that when you rose upon me so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing you any other than a mere voice and vision, something that would melt to silence and annihilation, as the midnight whisper and mountain echo had melted before. Now, I thank God! I know it to be otherwise.
Yes, I thank God!'
He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from his brow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in mute devotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.
'I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has remembered mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto!'
Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand, held it a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being so much lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. We entered the wood, and wended homeward.芬丁庄园掩藏在林木之中，是一幢相当古老的大楼，面积中等，建筑朴实，我早有所闻。罗切斯特先生常常谈起它，有时还上那儿去。他的父亲为了狩猎购下了这份产业。他本想把它租出去，却因为地点不好，环境欠佳，而找不到租户。结果除了两三间房子装修了一下，供这位乡绅狩猎季节住宿用，整个庄园空关着，也没有布置。
天黑之前，我来到了这座花园。那是个阴霾满天，冷风呼呼，细雨霏霏的黄昏。我守信付了双倍的价钱，打发走了马车和马车夫，步行了最后一英里路。庄园周围的树林枝繁叶茂，郁郁葱葱，即使走得很近，也不见庄园的踪影。两根花岗石柱之间的铁门，才使我明白该从什么地方进去。进门之后，我便立即置身于密林的晦暗之中了。有一条杂草丛生的野径，沿着林荫小道而下，两旁是灰白多节的树干，顶上是枝桠交叉的拱门。我顺着这条路走去，以为很快就会到达住宅。谁知它不断往前延伸，逶迤盘桓，看不见住宅或庭园的痕迹。
我想自己搞错了方向，迷了路。夜色和密林的灰暗同时笼罩着我，我环顾左右，想另找出路。但没有找到，这里只有纵横交织的树枝、园柱形的树干和夏季浓密的树叶——没有哪儿有出口。
我继续往前走去。这条路终于有了出口，树林也稀疏些了。我立刻看到了一排栏杆。随后是房子——在暗洞洞的光线中，依稀能把它与树木分开。颓败的墙壁阴湿碧绿。我进了一扇只不过上了栓惦；你的身体十分强壮，不会发狂。”
“这位说话人在哪儿？难道只是个声音？呵！我看不见，不过我得摸一摸，不然我的心会停止跳动，我的脑袋要炸裂了。不管是什么——不管你是谁——要让我摸得着，不然我活不下去了！”
他摸了起来。我抓住了他那只摸来摸去的手，双手紧紧握住它。
“就是她的手指！”他叫道，“她纤细的手指！要是这样，一定还有其他部份。”
这只强壮的手从我握着的手里挣脱了。我的胳膊被抓住，还有屜肫鹗艿脚按?蜕硐萼蜞舻囊笆藁蚰窭啵?谀张?纯嘀?保?呓??呛芪Ｏ盏摹Ｒ恢涣?械挠ィ?徊锌岬馗钊チ私鹕?乃?郏?瓷先ヒ残砭拖裾馕皇?鞯牟嗡铩?br> 读者呀，你们认为，他那么又瞎又凶，我会怕他吗？——要是你认为我怕，那你太不了解我了。伴随着哀痛，我心头浮起了温存的希望，那就是很快就要胆大包天，吻一吻他岩石般的额头和额头下冷峻地封闭的眼睑。但时机未到，我还不想招呼他呢。
他下了那一级台阶，一路摸索着慢慢地朝那块草地走去。他原先大步流星的样子如今哪儿去了？随后他停了下来，仿佛不知道该走哪条路。他抬起头来，张开了眼睑，吃力地、空空地凝视着天空和树荫。你看得出来，对他来说一切都是黑洞洞的虚空。他伸出了右手（截了肢的左臂藏在胸前），似乎想通过触摸知道周围的东西。但他碰到的依然是虚空，因为树木离他站着的地方有几码远。他歇手了，抱着胳膊，静默地站在雨中，这会儿下大了的雨打在他无遮无盖的头上。正在这时，约翰不知从哪里出来，走近了他。
“拉住我的胳膊好吗，先生？”他说，“一阵大雨就要下来了，进屋好吗？”
“别打搅我，”他回答。
约翰走开了，没有瞧见我。这时罗切斯特先生试着想走动走动，却徒劳无功——对周围的一切太没有把握了。他摸回自己的屋子，进去后关了门。
这会儿我走上前去，敲起门来。约翰的妻子开了门。“玛丽，”我说，“你好！”
她吓了一大跳，仿佛见了一个鬼似的。我让她镇静了下来。她急忙问道：“当真是你吗，小姐，这么晚了还到这么偏僻的地方来？”我握着她的手回答了她。随后跟着她走进了厨房，这会儿约翰正坐在熊熊的炉火边。我三言二语向他们作了解释，告诉他们，我离开桑菲尔德后所发生的一切我都已经听说了。这回是来看望罗切斯特先生的。还请约翰到我打发了马车的大路上去一趟，把留在那儿的箱子去取回来。随后我一面脱去帽子和披肩，一面问玛丽能不能在庄园里过夜。后来我知道虽然不容易安排，但还能办到，便告诉她我打算留宿。正在这时客厅的门铃响了。
“你进去的时候，”我说，“告诉你主人，有人想同他谈谈。不过别提我的名字。”
“我想他不会见你，”她回答，“他谁都拒绝。”
她回来时，我问他说了什么。
“你得通报姓名，说明来意，”她回答。接着去倒了一杯水，拿了几根蜡烛，都放进托盘。
“他就为这个按铃？”我问。
“是的，虽然他眼睛看不见，但天黑后总是让人把蜡烛拿进去。”
“把托盘给我吧，我来拿进去。”
我从她手里接过托盘，她向我指了指客厅门。我手中的盘子抖动了一下，水从杯子里溢了出来，我的心砰砰撞击着肋骨。玛丽替我开了门，并随手关上。
客厅显得很阴暗。一小堆乏人照看的火在炉中微微燃着。房间里的瞎眼主人，头靠高高的老式壁炉架，俯身向着火炉。他的那条老狗派洛特躺在一边，离得远远的，卷曲着身子，仿佛担心被人不经意踩着似的。我一进门，派洛特便竖起了耳朵，随后汪汪汪，呜呜呜叫了一通，跳将起来，窜向了我，差一点掀翻我手中的托盘。我把盘子放在桌上，拍了拍它，柔声地说：“躺下！”罗切斯特先生机械地转过身来，想看看那骚动是怎么回事，但他什么也没看见，于是便回过头去，叹了口气。
“把水给我，玛丽，”他说。
我端着现在只剩了半杯的水，走近他，派洛特跟着我，依然兴奋不已。
“怎么回事？”他问。
“躺下，派洛特！”我又说。他没有把水端到嘴边就停了下来，似乎在细听。他喝了水，放下杯子。
“是你吗，玛丽？是不是？”
“玛丽在厨房里，”我回答。
他伸出手，很快挥动了一下，可是看不见我站在那儿，没有碰到我。“谁呀？谁呀？”他问，似乎要用那双失明的眼睛来看——无效而痛苦的尝试！“回答我——再说一遍？”他专横地大声命令道。
“你再要喝一点吗，先生？杯子里的水让我泼掉了一半，”我说。
“谁？什么？谁在说话？”
“派洛特认得我，约翰和玛丽知道我在这里，我今天晚上才来，”我回答。
“天哪！——我是在痴心梦想吗？什么甜蜜的疯狂迷住了我？”
“不是痴心梦想——不是疯狂。先生，你的头脑非常健康，不会陷入痴心梦想；你的身体十分强壮，不会发狂。”
“这位说话人在哪儿？难道只是个声音？呵！我看不见，不过我得摸一摸，不然我的心会停止跳动，我的脑袋要炸裂了。不管是什么——不管你是谁——要让我摸得着，不然我活不下去了！”
他摸了起来。我抓住了他那只摸来摸去的手，双手紧紧握住它。
“就是她的手指！”他叫道，“她纤细的手指！要是这样，一定还有其他部份。”
这只强壮的手从我握着的手里挣脱了。我的胳膊被抓住，还有我的肩膀——脖子——腰——我被搂住了，紧贴着他。
“是简吗？这是什么？她的体形——她的个子——”
“还有她的声音，”我补充说。“她整个儿在这里了，还有她的心。上帝祝福你，先生！我很高兴离你又那么近了。”
“简.爱！简.爱！”他光这么叫着。
“我亲爱的主人，”我回答，“我是简.爱。我找到了你——我回到你身边来了。”
“真的？是她本人？我鲜龙活跳的简.爱？”
“你碰着我，先生——你搂着我，搂得紧紧的。我并不是像尸体一样冷，像空气一般空，是不是？”
“我鲜龙活跳的宝贝！当然这些是她的四肢，那些是她的五官了。不过那番痛苦之后我可没有这福份了。这是一个梦。我夜里常常梦见我又象现在这样，再一次贴心按着她，吻她——觉得她爱我，相信她不会离开我。”
“从今天起，先生，我永远不会离开你了。”
“永远不会，这个影子是这么说的吗？可我一醒来，总发觉原来是白受嘲弄一场空。我凄凉孤独——我的生活黑暗、寂寞，无望——我的灵魂干渴，却不许喝水；我的心儿挨饿，却不给喂食，温存轻柔的梦呀，这会儿你偎依在我的怀里，但你也会飞走的，像早己逃之夭夭的姐妹们一样。可是，吻一下我再走吧——拥抱我一下吧，简。”
“那儿，先生——还有那儿呢！”
我把嘴唇紧贴着当初目光炯炯如今己黯然无光的眼睛上——我拨开了他额上的头发，也吻了一下。他似乎突然醒悟，顿时相信这一切都是事实了。
“是你——是简吗，那么你回到我这儿来啦？”
“是的。”
“你没有死在沟里，淹死在溪水底下吗？你没有憔悴不堪，流落在异乡人中间吗？”“没有，先生。我现在完全独立了。”
“独立！这话怎么讲，简？”
“我马德拉的叔叔去世了，留给了我五千英镑。”
“呵，这可是实在的——是真的！”他喊道：“我决不会做这样的梦。而且，还是她独特的嗓子，那么活泼、调皮，又那么温柔，复活了那颗枯竭的心，给了它生命。什么，简，你成了独立的女人了？有钱的女人了？”
“很有钱了，先生。要是你不让我同你一起生活，我可以紧靠你的门建造一幢房子，晚上你要人作伴的时候，你可以过来，坐在我的客厅里。”
“可是你有钱了，简，不用说，如今你有朋友会照顾你，不会容许你忠实于一个像我这样的瞎眼瘸子？”
“我同你说过我独立了，先生，而且很有钱、我自己可以作主。”
“那你愿意同我呆在一起？”
“当然——除非你反对。我愿当你的邻居，你的护士，你的管家。我发觉你很孤独，我愿陪伴你——读书给你听，同你一起散步，同你坐在一起，侍候你，成为你的眼睛和双手。别再那么郁郁寡欢了，我的亲爱的主人，只要我还活着，你就不会孤寂了。”
他没有回答，似乎很严肃——散神了。他叹了口气，半张开嘴，仿佛想说话，但又闭上了。我觉得有点儿窘。也许我提议陪伴他，帮助他是自作多情；也许我太轻率了、超越了习俗。而他像圣.约翰一样。从我的粗疏中看到了我说话不得体。其实，我的建议是从这样的思想出发的，就是他希望，也会求我做他的妻子。一种虽然并没有说出口，却十分肯定的期待支持着我，认为他会立刻要求我成为他的人。但是他并没有吐出这一类暗示、他的面部表情越来越阴沉了。我猛地想到，也许自己全搞错了，或许无意中充当了傻瓜。我开始轻轻地从他的怀抱中抽出身来——但是他焦急地把我抓得更紧了。
“不——不——简。你一定不能走。不——我已触摸到你，听你说活，感受到了你在场对我的安慰——你甜蜜的抚慰。我不能放弃这些快乐，因为我身上已所剩无多——我得拥有你。世人会笑话我——会说我荒唐，自私——但这无伤大雅。我的心灵企求你，希望得到满足，不然它会对躯体进行致命的报复。”
“好吧，先生，我愿意与你呆在一起、我已经这么说了。”
“不错——不过，你理解的同我呆在一起是一回事，我理解的是另一回事。也许你可以下决心呆在我身边和椅子旁——像一个好心的小护士那样侍候我（你有一颗热诚的心，慷慨大度的灵魂，让你能为那些你所怜悯的人作出牺牲），对我来说，无疑那应当已经够了。我想我现在只能对你怀着父亲般的感情了，你是这么想的吗？来——告诉我吧。”
“你愿意我怎么想就怎么想吧，先生。我愿意只做你的护士，如果你认为这样更好的话。”
“可你不能老是做我的护士，珍妮特。你还年轻——将来你得结婚。”
“我不在乎结婚不结婚。”
“你应当在乎，珍妮特。如果我还是过去那个样子的话，我会努力使你在乎——可是——一个失去视力的赘物！”
他又沉下脸来一声不吭了。相反，我倒是更高兴了，一下子来了勇气。最后几个字使我窥见了内中的难处，因为困难不在我这边，所以我完全摆脱了刚才的窘态，更加活跃地同他攀谈了起来。
“现在该是有人让你重新变成人的时候了，”我说着，扒开了他又粗又长没有理过的头发；“因为我知道你正蜕变成一头狮子，或是狮子一类的东西。你“fauxair”田野中的尼布甲尼撒。肯定是这样。你的头发使我想起了鹰的羽毛，不过你的手指甲是不是长得象鸟爪了，我可还没有注意到。”
“这只胳膊，既没有手也没有指甲，”他说着，从自己的胸前抽回截了肢的手，伸给我看。“只有那么一截了——看上去真可怕！你说是不是，简？”
“见了这真为你惋惜，见了你的眼睛也一样——还有额上火烫的伤疤。最糟糕的是，就因为这些，便有让人爱抚过份，照料过头把你惯坏的危险。”
“我想你看到我的胳膊和疤痕累累的面孔时会觉得厌恶的。”
“你这样想的吗？别同我说这话——不然我会对你的判断说出不恭的话来。好吧，让我走开一会儿，把火生得旺些，把壁炉清扫一下。火旺的时候，你能辨得出来吗？”
“能，右眼能看到红光——一阵红红的烟雾。”
“你看得见蜡烛光吗？”
“非常模糊——每根蜡烛只是一团发亮的雾。”
“你能看见我吗？”
“不行，我的天使。能够听见你，摸到你已经是够幸运了。”
“你什么时候吃晚饭？”
“我从来不吃晚饭。”
“不过今晚你得吃一点。我饿了，我想你也一样，不过是忘了罢了。”
我把玛丽叫了进来，让她很快把房间收拾得更加令人振奋，同时也为他准备了一顿舒心的晚宴。我的心情也激动起来，晚餐时及晚餐后同他愉快而自在地谈了很久。跟他在一起，不存在那种折磨人的自我克制，不需要把欢快活跃的情绪压下去。同他相处，我无拘无束，因为我知道自己与他很相称。我的一切言行似乎都抚慰着他，给他以新的生命。多么愉快的感觉呀！它唤醒了我全部天性，使它灼灼生辉。在他面前我才尽情地生活着，同样，在我面前，他才尽情地生活着。尽管他瞎了，他脸上还是浮起了笑容，额头映出了欢快，面部表情温柔而激动。
晚饭后他开始问我很多问题，我上哪儿去了呀，在干些什么呀，怎么找到他的呀。不过我回答得很简略，那夜已经太晚，无法细谈了。此外，我不想去拨动那剧烈震颤的心弦——不想在他的心田开掘情感的新泉。我眼下的唯一目的是使他高兴。而如我所说他已很高兴，但反复无常。要是说话间沉默了一会儿，他会坐立不安，碰碰我，随后说，“简。”
“你是十十足足的人吗，简？你肯定是这样的吗？”
“我诚恳地相信是这样。罗切斯特先生。”
“可是，在这样一个悲哀的黑夜，你怎么会突然出现在我冷落的炉边呢？我伸手从一个佣工那儿取一杯水，结果却是你端上来的。我问了个问题，期待着约翰的妻子回答我，我的耳边却响起了你的声音。”
“因为我替玛丽端着盘子进来了。”
“我现在与你一起度过的时刻，让人心驰神迷。谁能料到几个月来我挨过了黑暗、凄凉、无望的生活？什么也不干，什么也不盼，白天和黑夜不分。炉火熄了便感到冷；忘记吃饭便觉得饿。随后是无穷无尽的哀伤，有时就痴心妄想，希望再见见我的简。不错，我渴望再得到她，远胜过渴望恢复失去的视力。简跟我呆着，还说爱我，这怎么可能呢？她会不会突然地来，突然地走呢？我担心明天我再也看不到她了。”
在他这样的心境中，给他一个普普通通、实实在在的回答，同他烦乱的思绪毫无联系，是再好不过了，也最能让他放下心来。我用手指摸了摸他的眉毛，并说眉毛已被烧焦了，我可以敷上点什么，使它长得跟以往的一样粗、一样黑。
“随你怎么做好事对我有什么用处呢，慈善的精灵？反正在关键时刻，你又会抛弃我——像影子一般消失，上哪儿去而又怎么去，我一无所知，而且从此之后，我就再也找不到你了。”
“你身边有小梳子吗，先生？”
“干嘛，简？”
“把乱蓬蓬的黑色鬃毛梳理一下。我凑近你细细打量时，发现你有些可怕。你说我是个精灵，而我相信，你更像一个棕仙。”
“我可怕吗，简？”
“很可怕，先生。你知道，你向来如此。”
“哼！不管你上哪儿呆过一阵子，你还是改不掉那淘气的样子。”
“可是我同很好的人呆过，比你好得多，要好一百倍。这些人的想法和见解，你平生从来没有过。他们比你更文雅，更高尚。”
“你究竟跟谁呆过？”
“要是你那么扭动的话，你会弄得我把你的头发拔下来，那样我想你再也不会怀疑我是实实在在的人了吧。”
“你跟谁呆过一阵子？”
“今天晚上别想从我嘴里把话掏出来了，先生。你得等到明天。你知道，我把故事只讲一半，会保证我出现在你的早餐桌旁把其余的讲完。）顺便说一句，我得留意别只端一杯水来到你火炉边，至少得端进一个蛋，不用讲油煎火腿了。”
“你这个爱嘲弄人的丑仙童—一算你是仙女生，凡人养的！你让我尝到了一年来从未有过的滋味。要是扫罗能让你当他的大卫，那就不需要弹琴就能把恶魔赶走了。”
“瞧，先生，可把你收拾得整整齐齐，象象样样了。这会儿我得离开你了。最近三天我一直在旅途奔波，想来也够累的。晚安！”
“就说一句话，简，你前一阵子呆的地方光有女士吗？”
我大笑着抽身走掉了，跑上楼梯还笑个不停。“好主意！”我快活地想道。“我看以后的日子我有办法让他急得忘掉忧郁了。”
第二天一早，我听见他起来走动了，从一个房间摸到另一个房间。玛丽一下楼，我就听见他问：“爱小姐在这儿吗？”接着又问：“你把她安排在哪一间？里面干燥吗？她起来了吗？去问问是不是需要什么，什么时候下来？”
我一想到还有一顿早餐，便下楼去了。我轻手轻脚进了房间，他还没有发现我，我就已瞧见他了。说实在目睹那么生龙活虎的人沦为一个恹恹的弱者，真让人心酸。他坐在椅子上——虽然一动不动，却并不安分，显然在企盼着。如今，习惯性的愁容，己镌刻在他富有特色的脸庞上。他的面容令人想起一盏熄灭了的灯，等待着再度点亮——唉！现在他自己已无力恢复生气勃勃、光彩照人的表情了，不得不依赖他人来完成。我本想显得高高兴兴、无忧无虑，但是这个强者那么无能为力的样子，使我心碎了。不过我还是尽可能轻松愉快地跟他打了招呼：
“是个明亮晴朗的早晨呢，先生，”我说。“雨过天晴，你很快可以去走走了。”
我已唤醒了那道亮光，他顿时容光焕发了。
“呵，你真的还在，我的云雀！上我这儿来。你没有走，没有飞得无影无踪呀？一小时之前，我听见你的一个同类在高高的树林里歌唱，可是对我来说，它的歌声没有音乐，就像初升的太阳没有光芒。凡我能听到的世间美妙的音乐，都集中在简的舌头上，凡我能感开到的阳光，都全聚在她身上。”
听完他表示对别人的依赖，我不禁热泪盈眶。他仿佛是被链条锁在栖木上的一头巨鹰，竟不得不企求一只麻雀为它觅食。不过，我不喜欢哭哭啼啼，抹掉带咸味的眼泪，便忙着去准备早餐了。
大半个早上是在户外度过的。我领着他走出潮湿荒凉的林子，到了令人心旷怡艳的田野。我向他描绘田野多么苍翠耀眼，花朵和树篱多么生气盎然，天空又多么湛蓝闪亮。我在一个隐蔽可爱的地方，替他找了个座位，那是一个干枯的树桩。坐定以后，我没有拒绝他把我放到他膝头上。既然他和我都觉得紧挨着比分开更愉快，那我又何必要拒绝呢？派洛特躺在我们旁边，四周一片寂静。他正把我紧紧地楼在怀里时突然嚷道：
“狠心呀，狠心的逃跑者！呵，简，我发现你出走桑菲尔德，而又到处找不着你，细看了你的房间，断定你没有带钱，或者当钱派用处的东西，我心里是多么难受呀！我送你的一根珍珠项链，原封不动地留在小盒子里。你的箱子捆好了上了锁，像原先准备结婚旅行时一样。我自问，我的宝贝成了穷光蛋，身边一个子儿也没有，她该怎么办呢？她干了些什么呀？现在讲给我听听吧。”
于是在他的敦促之下，我开始叙述去年的经历了。我大大淡化了三天的流浪和挨饿的情景，因为把什么都告诉他，只会增加他不必要的痛苦。但是我确实告诉他的一丁点儿，也撕碎了他那颗忠实的心，其严重程度超出了我的预料。
他说
Chapter 38
CONCLUSION READER, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said-'Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning.' The housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece of news without incurring the danger of having one's ears pierced by some shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time John's knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast, said only-
'Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!'
A short time after she pursued- 'I seed you go out with the master, but I didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;' and she basted away. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.
'I telled Mary how it would be,' he said: 'I knew what Mr. Edward' (John was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)- 'I knew what Mr. Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and he's done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss!' and he politely pulled his forelock.
'Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this.' I put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I caught the words-
'She'll happen do better for him nor ony o' t' grand ladies.' And again, 'If she ben't one o' th' handsomest, she's noan faal and varry good-natured; and i' his een she's fair beautiful, onybody may see that.'
I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.
'She had better not wait till then, Jane,' said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; 'if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.'
How St. John received the news, I don't know: he never answered the letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me, without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to my marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. 
He has maintained a regular, though not frequent, correspondence ever since: he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who live without God in the world, and only mind earthly things.
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I had not; I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see her at the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at beholding me again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was not happy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, its course of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home with me. I meant to become her governess once more, but I soon found this impracticable; my time and cares were now required by another- my husband needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a more indulgent system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often, and bringing her home sometimes. I took care she should never want for anything that could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode, became very happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she grew up, a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, and well-principled. By her grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well repaid any little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of married life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose names have most frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest- blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character-perfect concord is the result.
Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union: perhaps it was that circumstance that drew us so very near- that knit us so very close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand. Literally, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He saw nature- he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river, cloud, sunbeam- of the landscape before us; of the weather round us- and impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most exquisite, even though sad- because he claimed these services without painful shame or damping humiliation.
He loved me so truly, that he knew no reluctance in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.
One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter to his dictation, he came and bent over me, and said- 'Jane, have you a glittering ornament round your neck?'
I had a gold watch-chain: I answered 'Yes.'
'And have you a pale-blue dress on?'
I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied the obscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he was sure of it.
He and I went up to London. He had the advice of an eminent oculist; and he eventually recovered the sight of that one eye. He cannot now see very distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his way without being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him- the earth no longer a void. When his first-born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were- large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.
My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those we most love are happy likewise. Diana and Mary Rivers are both married: alternately, once every year, they come to see us, and we go to see them. Diana's husband is a captain in the navy, a gallant officer and a good man. Mary's is a clergyman, a college friend of her brother's, and, from his attainments and principles, worthy of the connection. Both Captain Fitzjames and Mr. Wharton love their wives, and are loved by them.
As to St. John Rivers, he left England: he went to India. He entered on the path he had marked for himself; he pursues it still. 
A more resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers. Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy, and zeal, and truth, he labours for his race; he clears their painful way to improvement; he hews down like a giant the prejudices of creed and caste that encumber it. He may be stern; he may be exacting; he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ, when he says- 'Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me.' His is the ambition of the high master-spirit, which aims to fill a place in the first rank of those who are redeemed from the earth- who stand without fault before the throne of God, who share the last mighty victories of the Lamb, who are called, and chosen, and faithful.
St. John is unmarried: he never will marry now. Himself has hitherto sufficed to the toil, and the toil draws near its close: his glorious sun hastens to its setting. The last letter I received from him drew from my eyes human tears, and yet filled my heart with divine joy: he anticipated his sure reward, his incorruptible crown. I know that a stranger's hand will write to me next, to say that the good and faithful servant has been called at length into the joy of his Lord. And why weep for this? No fear of death will darken St.
John's last hour: his mind will be unclouded, his heart will be undaunted, his hope will be sure, his faith steadfast. His own words are a pledge of this-
'My Master,' he says, 'has forewarned me. Daily He announces more distinctly,- "Surely I come quickly!" and hourly I more eagerly respond,- "Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!"'  读者呵，我同他结了婚。婚礼不事声张，到场的只有他和我，牧师和教堂执事。我从教堂里回来，走进庄园的厨房时，玛丽在做饭，约斡在擦拭刀具，我说：
“玛丽，今儿早上我和罗切斯特先生结了婚，”管家和她的丈夫都是不大动感情的规矩人，你什么时候都可以放心地告诉他们惊人的消息，而你的耳朵不会有被一声尖叫刺痛的危险，你也不会随之被一阵好奇的唠叨弄得目瞪口呆。玛丽确实抬起了头来，也确实盯着我看。她用来给两只烤着的鸡涂油的杓子，在空中停了大约三分钟，约翰忘了擦拭，手中的刀具停了同样长的时间。但是玛丽又弯下腰，忙她的烤鸡去了，只不过说：
“是吗，小姐？嗯，那毫无疑问！”
过了一会儿她接着说：“我看见你与主人出去，但我不知道你们是上教堂结婚的。”说完她又忙着给鸡涂油了，而约翰呢，我转向他的时候，他笑得合不拢嘴了。
“我告诉过玛丽，事情会怎么样，”他说，“我知道爱德华先生”（约翰是个老佣人，他的主人还是幼子的时候他就认识他了。因此他常常用教名称呼他）——“我知道爱德华先生会怎么干。我肯定他不会等得很久，也许他做得很对。我祝你快乐，小姐！”他很有礼貌地拉了一下自己的前发。
“谢谢你，约翰。罗切斯特先生要我把这给你和玛丽。”
我把一张五英磅的钞票塞进他手里。我没有再等他说什么便离开了厨房。不久之后我经过这间密室时，听见了这样的话：
“也许她比哪一个阔小姐都更配他呢。”接着又说，“虽然她算不上最漂亮，但也不丑，而且脾气又好。我见她长得还是比较好看的，谁都看得出来。”
我立即写信给沼泽居和剑桥，把我的情况告诉了他们，并详细解释了我为什么要这么干。黛安娜和玛丽毫无保留地对此表示赞同，黛安娜还说，让我过好蜜月，就来看我。
“她还是别等到那个时候吧，简，”罗切斯特先生听我读了她的信后说，“要不然她会太晚了，因为我们的蜜月的清辉会照耀我们一生，它的光芒只有在你我进入坟墓时才会消褪。”
圣.约翰对这个消息的反响如何，我一无所知。我透露消息的那封信，他从来没有回复。但六个月后，他写信给我，却没有提及罗切斯特先生的名字，也没有说起我的婚事。他的信平静而友好，但很严肃。从那以后，他虽不经常来信，却按时写给我，祝我快乐，并相信我不会是那种活在世上，只顾俗事而忘了上帝的人。
你没有完全忘记小阿黛勒吧，是不是呀，读者？我并没有忘记。我向罗切斯特先生提出，并得到了他的许可，上他安顿小阿黛勒的学校去看看她。她一见我便欣喜若狂的情景，着实令我感动。她看上去苍白消瘦，还说不愉快。我发现对她这样年龄的孩子来说，这个学校的规章太严格，课程太紧张了。我把她带回了家。我本想再当她的家庭教师，但不久却发现不切实际。现在我的时间与精力给了另一个人——我的丈夫全都需要它。因此我选了一个校规比较宽容的学校，而且又近家，让我常常可去探望她，有时还可以把她带回家来。我还留意让她过得舒舒服服，什么都不缺。她很快在新的居所安顿下来了，在那儿过得很愉快，学习上也取得了长足的进步。她长大以后，健全的英国教育很大程度上纠正了她的法国式缺陷。她离开学校时，我发觉她已是一个讨人喜欢、懂礼貌的伙伴，和气，听话，很讲原则。她出于感激，对我和我家人的照应，早已报答了我在力所能及的情况下给予她的微小帮助。
我的故事已近尾声，再说一两句关于我婚后的生活情况，粗略地看一看他们的名字在我叙述中反复出现的人的命运，我也就把故事讲完了。
如今我结婚已经十年了。我明白一心跟世上我最喜爱的人生活，为他而生活是怎么回事。我认为自己无比幸福——幸福得难以言传，因为我完全是丈夫的生命，他也完全是我的生命。没有女人比我跟丈夫更为亲近了，比我更绝对地是他的骨中之骨，肉中之肉了。我与爱德华相处，永远不知疲倦，他同我相处也是如此，就像我们对搏动在各自的胸腔里的心跳不会厌倦一样。结果，我们始终呆在一起。对我们来说，在一起既像独处时一样自由，又像相聚时一样欢乐。我想我们整天交谈着，相互交谈不过是一种听得见、更活跃的思索罢了。他同我推心置腹，我同他无话不谈。我们的性格完全投合，结果彼此心心相印。
我们结合后的头两年，罗切断特先生依然失明，也许正是这种状况使我们彼此更加密切——靠得很紧，因为当时我成了他的眼晴，就像现在我依然是他的右手一样。我确实是他的眼珠（他常常这样称呼我）。他通过我看大自然，看书。我毫无厌倦地替他观察，用语言来描述田野、树林、城镇、河流、云彩、阳光和面前的景色的效果，描述我们周围的天气——用声音使他的耳朵得到光线无法再使他的眼睛得到的印象。我从不厌倦地读书给他听，领他去想去的地方，干他想干的事。我乐此不疲，尽管有些伤心，却享受充分而独特的愉快，——因为他要求我帮忙时没有痛苦地感到羞愧，也没有沮丧地觉得屈辱。他真诚地爱着我，从不勉为其难地受我照料。他觉得我爱他如此之深，受我照料就是满足我最愉快的希望。
第二年年末的一个早晨，我正由他口授，写一封信的时候，他走过来朝我低下头说——
“简，你脖子上有一件闪光的饰品吗？”
我挂着一根金表链，于是回答说：“是呀。”
“你还穿了件淡蓝色衣服吗？”
“我确实穿了。随后他告诉我，已经有一段时间，他设想遮蔽着一只眼的云翳已渐渐变薄，现在确信如此了。
他和我去了一趟伦敦，看了一位著名的眼科医生，最终恢复了那一只眼睛的视力。如今他虽不能看得清清楚楚，也不能久读多写，但可以不必让人牵着手就能走路，对他来说天空不再空空荡荡，大地不再是一片虚空。当他的第一个孩子放在他怀里时，他能看得清这男孩继承了他本来的那双眼睛——又大，又亮，又黑，在那一时刻，他又一次甘愿承认，上帝仁慈地减轻了对他的惩罚。
于是我的爱德华和我都很幸福，尤使我们感到幸福的是，我们最爱的人也一样很幸福。黛安娜和玛丽.里弗斯都结了婚。我们双方轮流，一年一度，不是他们来看我们，就是我们去看他们，黛安娜的丈夫是个海军上校，一位英武的军官，一个好人。玛丽的丈夫是位牧师，她哥哥大学里的朋友，无论从造诣还是品行来看，这门亲事都很般配。菲茨詹姆斯上校和沃顿先生同自己的妻子彼此相爱。
至于圣.约翰.里弗斯，他离开英国到了印度，踏上了自己所规划的道路，依然这么走下去，他奋斗于岩石和危险之中，再也没有比他更坚定不移、不知疲倦的先驱者了。他坚决、忠实、虔诚。他精力充沛、热情真诚地为自己的同类含辛茹苦，他为他们开辟艰辛的前进之路，像巨人一般砍掉拦在路上的信条和等级的偏见。他也许很严厉，也许很苛刻，也许还雄心勃勃，但他的严厉是武士大心一类的严厉，大心保卫他所护送的香客，免受亚玻伦人的袭击，他的苛刻是使徒那种苛刻，他代表上帝说：“若有人要跟从我，就当舍己，背起他的十字架来跟从我。”他的雄心是高尚的主的精神之雄心，目的是要名列尘世得救者的前茅——这些人毫无过错地站在上帝的宝座前面，分享耶稣最后的伟大胜利。他们被召唤，被选中，都是些忠贞不二的人。
圣.约翰没有结婚，现在再也不会了。他独自一人足以胜任辛劳，他的劳作已快结束。他那光辉的太阳急匆匆下沉。他给我的最后一封信，催下了我世俗的眼泪，也使我心中充满了神圣的欢乐。他提前得到了必定得到的酬报，那不朽的桂冠。我知道一只陌生的手随之会写信给我，说这位善良而忠实的仆人最后已被召安享受主的欢乐了。为什么要为此而哭泣呢？不会有死的恐惧使圣.约翰的临终时刻暗淡无光。他的头脑十分明晰；他的心灵无所畏惧；他的希望十分可靠；他的信念不可动摇。他自己的话就是一个很好的保证：
“我的主，”他说，“已经预先警告过我。日复一日他都更加明确地宣告，‘是了，我必快来，’我每时每刻更加急切地回答，‘阿门，主耶稣呵，我愿你来！’”