牛津书虫第6级6-01.Jane Eyre Chapter 12

180

Chapter12

Thepromiseofasmoothcareer,whichmyfirstcalmintroductiontoThornfieldHallseemedtopledge,wasnotbeliedonalongeracquaintancewiththeplaceanditsinmates.Mrs.Fairfaxturnedouttobewhatsheappeared,aplacid-tempered,kind-naturedwoman,ofcompetenteducationandaverageintelligence.Mypupilwasalivelychild,whohadbeenspoiltandindulged,andthereforewassometimeswayward;butasshewascommittedentirelytomycare,andnoinjudiciousinterferencefromanyquartereverthwartedmyplansforherimprovement,shesoonforgotherlittlefreaks,andbecameobedientandteachable.Shehadnogreattalents,nomarkedtraitsofcharacter,nopeculiardevelopmentoffeelingortastewhichraisedheroneinchabovetheordinarylevelofchildhood;butneitherhadsheanydeficiencyorvicewhichsunkherbelowit.Shemadereasonableprogress,entertainedformeavivacious,thoughperhapsnotveryprofound,affection;andbyhersimplicity,gayprattle,andeffortstoplease,inspiredme,inreturn,withadegreeofattachmentsufficienttomakeusbothcontentineachother’ssociety.

This,parparenthese,willbethoughtcoollanguagebypersonswhoentertainsolemndoctrinesabouttheangelicnatureofchildren,andthedutyofthosechargedwiththeireducationtoconceiveforthemanidolatrousdevotion:butIamnotwritingtoflatterparentalegotism,toechocant,orpropuphumbug;Iammerelytellingthetruth.Ifeltaconscientious

181

solicitudeforAdele’swelfareandprogress,andaquietlikingforherlittleself:justasIcherishedtowardsMrs.Fairfaxathankfulnessforherkindness,andapleasureinhersocietyproportionatetothetranquilregardshehadforme,andthemoderationofhermindandcharacter.

Anybodymayblamemewholikes,whenIaddfurther,that,nowandthen,whenItookawalkbymyselfinthegrounds;whenIwentdowntothegatesandlookedthroughthemalongtheroad;orwhen,whileAdeleplayedwithhernurse,andMrs.Fairfaxmadejelliesinthestoreroom,Iclimbedthethreestaircases,raisedthetrap-dooroftheattic,andhavingreachedtheleads,lookedoutafaroversequesteredfieldandhill,andalongdimsky-line—thatthenIlongedforapowerofvisionwhichmightoverpassthatlimit;whichmightreachthebusyworld,towns,regionsfulloflifeIhadheardofbutneverseen—thatthenIdesiredmoreofpracticalexperiencethanIpossessed;moreofintercoursewithmykind,ofacquaintancewithvarietyofcharacter,thanwasherewithinmyreach.IvaluedwhatwasgoodinMrs.Fairfax,andwhatwasgoodinAdele;butIbelievedintheexistenceofotherandmorevividkindsofgoodness,andwhatIbelievedinIwishedtobehold.

Whoblamesme?Many,nodoubt;andIshallbecalleddiscontented.Icouldnothelpit:therestlessnesswasinmynature;itagitatedmetopainsometimes.Thenmysolereliefwastowalkalongthecorridorofthethirdstorey,backwardsandforwards,safeinthesilenceand

182

solitudeofthespot,andallowmymind’seyetodwellonwhateverbrightvisionsrosebeforeit—and,certainly,theyweremanyandglowing;toletmyheartbeheavedbytheexultantmovement,which,whileitswelleditintrouble,expandeditwithlife;and,bestofall,toopenmyinwardeartoatalethatwasneverended—atalemyimaginationcreated,andnarratedcontinuously;quickenedwithallofincident,life,fire,feeling,thatIdesiredandhadnotinmyactualexistence.

Itisinvaintosayhumanbeingsoughttobesatisfiedwithtranquillity:theymusthaveaction;andtheywillmakeitiftheycannotfindit.Millionsarecondemnedtoastillerdoomthanmine,andmillionsareinsilentrevoltagainsttheirlot.Nobodyknowshowmanyrebellionsbesidespoliticalrebellionsfermentinthemassesoflifewhichpeopleearth.Womenaresupposedtobeverycalmgenerally:butwomenfeeljustasmenfeel;theyneedexercisefortheirfaculties,andafieldfortheirefforts,asmuchastheirbrothersdo;theysufferfromtoorigidarestraint,tooabsoluteastagnation,preciselyasmenwouldsuffer;anditisnarrow-mindedintheirmoreprivilegedfellow-creaturestosaythattheyoughttoconfinethemselvestomakingpuddingsandknittingstockings,toplayingonthepianoandembroideringbags.Itisthoughtlesstocondemnthem,orlaughatthem,iftheyseektodomoreorlearnmorethancustomhaspronouncednecessaryfortheirsex.

Whenthusalone,InotunfrequentlyheardGracePoole’slaugh:thesamepeal,thesamelow,slowha!ha!

183

which,whenfirstheard,hadthrilledme:Iheard,too,hereccentricmurmurs;strangerthanherlaugh.Thereweredayswhenshewasquitesilent;buttherewereotherswhenIcouldnotaccountforthesoundsshemade.SometimesIsawher:shewouldcomeoutofherroomwithabasin,oraplate,oratrayinherhand,godowntothekitchenandshortlyreturn,generally(oh,romanticreader,forgivemefortellingtheplaintruth!)bearingapotofporter.Herappearancealwaysactedasadampertothecuriosityraisedbyheroraloddities:hard-featuredandstaid,shehadnopointtowhichinterestcouldattach.Imadesomeattemptstodrawherintoconversation,butsheseemedapersonoffewwords:amonosyllabicreplyusuallycutshorteveryeffortofthatsort.

Theothermembersofthehousehold,viz.,Johnandhiswife,Leahthehousemaid,andSophietheFrenchnurse,weredecentpeople;butinnorespectremarkable;withSophieIusedtotalkFrench,andsometimesIaskedherquestionsabouthernativecountry;butshewasnotofadescriptiveornarrativeturn,andgenerallygavesuchvapidandconfusedanswersaswerecalculatedrathertocheckthanencourageinquiry.

October,November,Decemberpassedaway.OneafternooninJanuary,Mrs.FairfaxhadbeggedaholidayforAdele,becauseshehadacold;and,asAdelesecondedtherequestwithanardourthatremindedmehowpreciousoccasionalholidayshadbeentomeinmyownchildhood,Iaccordedit,deemingthatIdid

184

wellinshowingpliabilityonthepoint.Itwasafine,calmday,thoughverycold;Iwastiredofsittingstillinthelibrarythroughawholelongmorning:Mrs.Fairfaxhadjustwrittenaletterwhichwaswaitingtobeposted,soIputonmybonnetandcloakandvolunteeredtocarryittoHay;thedistance,twomiles,wouldbeapleasantwinterafternoonwalk.HavingseenAdelecomfortablyseatedinherlittlechairbyMrs.Fairfax’sparlourfireside,andgivenherherbestwaxdoll(whichIusuallykeptenvelopedinsilverpaperinadrawer)toplaywith,andastory-bookforchangeofamusement;andhavingrepliedtoher“Revenezbientot,mabonneamie,machereMdlle.Jeannette,”withakissIsetout.

Thegroundwashard,theairwasstill,myroadwaslonely;IwalkedfasttillIgotwarm,andthenIwalkedslowlytoenjoyandanalysethespeciesofpleasurebroodingformeinthehourandsituation.Itwasthreeo’clock;thechurchbelltolledasIpassedunderthebelfry:thecharmofthehourlayinitsapproachingdimness,inthelow-glidingandpale-beamingsun.IwasamilefromThornfield,inalanenotedforwildrosesinsummer,fornutsandblackberriesinautumn,andevennowpossessingafewcoraltreasuresinhipsandhaws,butwhosebestwinterdelightlayinitsuttersolitudeandleaflessrepose.Ifabreathofairstirred,itmadenosoundhere;fortherewasnotaholly,notanevergreentorustle,andthestrippedhawthornandhazelbusheswereasstillasthewhite,wornstoneswhichcausewayedthemiddleofthepath.Farandwide,oneachside,therewereonlyfields,whereno

185

cattlenowbrowsed;andthelittlebrownbirds,whichstirredoccasionallyinthehedge,lookedlikesinglerussetleavesthathadforgottentodrop.

Thislaneinclinedup-hillallthewaytoHay;havingreachedthemiddle,Isatdownonastilewhichledthenceintoafield.Gatheringmymantleaboutme,andshelteringmyhandsinmymuff,Ididnotfeelthecold,thoughitfrozekeenly;aswasattestedbyasheetoficecoveringthecauseway,wherealittlebrooklet,nowcongealed,hadoverflowedafterarapidthawsomedayssince.FrommyseatIcouldlookdownonThornfield:thegreyandbattlementedhallwastheprincipalobjectinthevalebelowme;itswoodsanddarkrookeryroseagainstthewest.Ilingeredtillthesunwentdownamongstthetrees,andsankcrimsonandclearbehindthem.Ithenturnedeastward.

Onthehill-topabovemesattherisingmoon;paleyetasacloud,butbrighteningmomentarily,shelookedoverHay,which,halflostintrees,sentupabluesmokefromitsfewchimneys:itwasyetamiledistant,butintheabsolutehushIcouldhearplainlyitsthinmurmursoflife.Myear,too,felttheflowofcurrents;inwhatdalesanddepthsIcouldnottell:butthereweremanyhillsbeyondHay,anddoubtlessmanybecksthreadingtheirpasses.Thateveningcalmbetrayedalikethetinkleoftheneareststreams,thesoughofthemostremote.

Arudenoisebrokeonthesefineripplingsandwhisperings,atoncesofarawayandsoclear:apositivetramp,tramp,ametallicclatter,whicheffacedthesoft

186

wave-wanderings;as,inapicture,thesolidmassofacrag,ortheroughbolesofagreatoak,drawnindarkandstrongontheforeground,effacetheaerialdistanceofazurehill,sunnyhorizon,andblendedcloudswheretintmeltsintotint.

Thedinwasonthecauseway:ahorsewascoming;thewindingsofthelaneyethidit,butitapproached.Iwasjustleavingthestile;yet,asthepathwasnarrow,Isatstilltoletitgoby.InthosedaysIwasyoung,andallsortsoffanciesbrightanddarktenantedmymind:thememoriesofnurserystorieswerethereamongstotherrubbish;andwhentheyrecurred,maturingyouthaddedtothemavigourandvividnessbeyondwhatchildhoodcouldgive.Asthishorseapproached,andasIwatchedforittoappearthroughthedusk,IrememberedcertainofBessie’stales,whereinfiguredaNorth-of-Englandspiritcalleda“Gytrash,”which,intheformofhorse,mule,orlargedog,hauntedsolitaryways,andsometimescameuponbelatedtravellers,asthishorsewasnowcominguponme.

Itwasverynear,butnotyetinsight;when,inadditiontothetramp,tramp,Iheardarushunderthehedge,andclosedownbythehazelstemsglidedagreatdog,whoseblackandwhitecolourmadehimadistinctobjectagainstthetrees.ItwasexactlyoneformofBessie’sGytrash—alion-likecreaturewithlonghairandahugehead:itpassedme,however,quietlyenough;notstayingtolookup,withstrangepretercanineeyes,inmyface,asIhalfexpecteditwould.Thehorsefollowed,—atallsteed,andonits

187

backarider.Theman,thehumanbeing,brokethespellatonce.NothingeverrodetheGytrash:itwasalwaysalone;andgoblins,tomynotions,thoughtheymighttenantthedumbcarcassesofbeasts,couldscarcecovetshelterinthecommonplacehumanform.NoGytrashwasthis,—onlyatravellertakingtheshortcuttoMillcote.Hepassed,andIwenton;afewsteps,andIturned:aslidingsoundandanexclamationof“Whatthedeuceistodonow?”andaclatteringtumble,arrestedmyattention.Manandhorseweredown;theyhadslippedonthesheetoficewhichglazedthecauseway.Thedogcameboundingback,andseeinghismasterinapredicament,andhearingthehorsegroan,barkedtilltheeveninghillsechoedthesound,whichwasdeepinproportiontohismagnitude.Hesnuffedroundtheprostrategroup,andthenheranuptome;itwasallhecoulddo,—therewasnootherhelpathandtosummon.Iobeyedhim,andwalkeddowntothetraveller,bythistimestrugglinghimselffreeofhissteed.Hiseffortsweresovigorous,Ithoughthecould

notbemuchhurt;butIaskedhimthequestion-“Areyouinjured,sir?”

Ithinkhewasswearing,butamnotcertain;however,hewaspronouncingsomeformulawhichprevented

himfromreplyingtomedirectly.

“CanIdoanything?”Iaskedagain.

“Youmustjuststandononeside,”heansweredasherose,firsttohisknees,andthentohisfeet.Idid;whereuponbeganaheaving,stamping,clattering

188

process,accompaniedbyabarkingandbayingwhichremovedmeeffectuallysomeyards’distance;butIwouldnotbedrivenquiteawaytillIsawtheevent.Thiswasfinallyfortunate;thehorsewasre-established,andthedogwassilencedwitha“Down,Pilot!”Thetravellernow,stooping,felthisfootandleg,asiftryingwhethertheyweresound;apparentlysomethingailedthem,forhehaltedtothestilewhenceIhadjustrisen,andsatdown.

Iwasinthemoodforbeinguseful,oratleastofficious,Ithink,forInowdrewnearhimagain.

“Ifyouarehurt,andwanthelp,sir,IcanfetchsomeoneeitherfromThornfieldHallorfromHay.”

“Thankyou:Ishalldo:Ihavenobrokenbones,—onlyasprain;”andagainhestoodupandtriedhisfoot,buttheresultextortedaninvoluntary“Ugh!”

Somethingofdaylightstilllingered,andthemoonwaswaxingbright:Icouldseehimplainly.Hisfigurewasenvelopedinaridingcloak,furcollaredandsteelclasped;itsdetailswerenotapparent,butItracedthegeneralpointsofmiddleheightandconsiderablebreadthofchest.Hehadadarkface,withsternfeaturesandaheavybrow;hiseyesandgatheredeyebrowslookedirefulandthwartedjustnow;hewaspastyouth,buthadnotreachedmiddle-age;perhapshemightbethirty-five.Ifeltnofearofhim,andbutlittleshyness.Hadhebeenahandsome,heroic-lookingyounggentleman,Ishouldnothavedaredtostandthusquestioninghimagainsthiswill,andofferingmy

189

servicesunasked.Ihadhardlyeverseenahandsomeyouth;neverinmylifespokentoone.Ihadatheoreticalreverenceandhomageforbeauty,elegance,gallantry,fascination;buthadImetthosequalitiesincarnateinmasculineshape,Ishouldhaveknowninstinctivelythattheyneitherhadnorcouldhavesympathywithanythinginme,andshouldhaveshunnedthemasonewouldfire,lightning,oranythingelsethatisbrightbutantipathetic.

Ifeventhisstrangerhadsmiledandbeengood-humouredtomewhenIaddressedhim;ifhehadputoffmyofferofassistancegailyandwiththanks,Ishouldhavegoneonmywayandnotfeltanyvocationtorenewinquiries:butthefrown,theroughnessofthetraveller,setmeatmyease:Iretainedmystationwhenhewavedtometogo,andannounced-

“Icannotthinkofleavingyou,sir,atsolateanhour,inthissolitarylane,tillIseeyouarefittomountyourhorse.”

HelookedatmewhenIsaidthis;hehadhardlyturnedhiseyesinmydirectionbefore.

“Ishouldthinkyououghttobeathomeyourself,”saidhe,“ifyouhaveahomeinthisneighbourhood:wheredoyoucomefrom?”

“Fromjustbelow;andIamnotatallafraidofbeingoutlatewhenitismoonlight:IwillrunovertoHayforyouwithpleasure,ifyouwishit:indeed,Iamgoingtheretopostaletter.”

190

“Youlivejustbelow—doyoumeanatthathousewiththebattlements?”pointingtoThornfieldHall,onwhichthemooncastahoarygleam,bringingitoutdistinctandpalefromthewoodsthat,bycontrastwith

thewesternsky,nowseemedonemassofshadow.“Yes,sir.”

“Whosehouseisit?”

“Mr.Rochester’s.”

“DoyouknowMr.Rochester?”

“No,Ihaveneverseenhim.”

“Heisnotresident,then?”

“No.”

“Canyoutellmewhereheis?”

“Icannot.”

“Youarenotaservantatthehall,ofcourse.Youare—“Hestopped,ranhiseyeovermydress,which,asusual,wasquitesimple:ablackmerinocloak,ablackbeaverbonnet;neitherofthemhalffineenoughforalady’s-maid.HeseemedpuzzledtodecidewhatIwas;Ihelpedhim.

“Iamthegoverness.”

“Ah,thegoverness!”herepeated;“deucetakeme,ifIhadnotforgotten!Thegoverness!”andagainmyraimentunderwentscrutiny.Intwominutesherose

191

fromthestile:hisfaceexpressedpainwhenhetriedtomove.“Icannotcommissionyoutofetchhelp,”hesaid;“butyoumayhelpmealittleyourself,ifyouwillbesokind.”“Yes,sir.”“YouhavenotanumbrellathatIcanuseasastick?”“No.”

“Trytogetholdofmyhorse’sbridleandleadhimto

me:youarenotafraid?”Ishouldhavebeenafraidtotouchahorsewhenalone,butwhentoldtodoit,Iwasdisposedtoobey.Iputdownmymuffonthestile,andwentuptothetallsteed;Iendeavouredtocatchthebridle,butitwasaspiritedthing,andwouldnotletmecomenearitshead;Imadeeffortoneffort,thoughinvain:meantime,Iwasmortallyafraidofitstramplingfore-feet.Thetravellerwaitedandwatchedforsometime,andatlasthelaughed.“Isee,”hesaid,“themountainwillneverbebroughttoMahomet,soallyoucandoistoaidMahomettogotothemountain;Imustbegofyoutocomehere.”Icame.“Excuseme,”hecontinued:“necessitycompelsmetomakeyouuseful.”Helaidaheavyhandonmyshoulder,andleaningonmewithsomestress,limpedtohishorse.Havingoncecaughtthebridle,he

192

mastereditdirectlyandsprangtohissaddle;grimacinggrimlyashemadetheeffort,foritwrenchedhissprain.

“Now,”saidhe,releasinghisunderlipfromahardbite,

“justhandmemywhip;itliesthereunderthehedge.”Isoughtitandfoundit.

“Thankyou;nowmakehastewiththelettertoHay,andreturnasfastasyoucan.”

Atouchofaspurredheelmadehishorsefirststartandrear,andthenboundaway;thedogrushedinhistraces;allthreevanished,

“Likeheaththat,inthewilderness,Thewildwindwhirlsaway.”

Itookupmymuffandwalkedon.Theincidenthadoccurredandwasgoneforme:itWASanincidentofnomoment,noromance,nointerestinasense;yetitmarkedwithchangeonesinglehourofamonotonouslife.Myhelphadbeenneededandclaimed;Ihadgivenit:Iwaspleasedtohavedonesomething;trivial,transitorythoughthedeedwas,itwasyetanactivething,andIwaswearyofanexistenceallpassive.Thenewface,too,waslikeanewpictureintroducedtothegalleryofmemory;anditwasdissimilartoalltheothershangingthere:firstly,becauseitwasmasculine;and,secondly,becauseitwasdark,strong,andstern.IhaditstillbeforemewhenIenteredHay,andslippedtheletterintothepost-office;IsawitasIwalkedfastdown-hillallthewayhome.WhenIcametothestile,I

193

stoppedaminute,lookedroundandlistened,withanideathatahorse’shoofsmightringonthecausewayagain,andthatariderinacloak,andaGytrash-likeNewfoundlanddog,mightbeagainapparent:Isawonlythehedgeandapollardwillowbeforeme,risingupstillandstraighttomeetthemoonbeams;IheardonlythefaintestwaftofwindroamingfitfulamongthetreesroundThornfield,amiledistant;andwhenIglanceddowninthedirectionofthemurmur,myeye,traversingthehall-front,caughtalightkindlinginawindow:itremindedmethatIwaslate,andIhurriedon.

Ididnotlikere-enteringThornfield.Topassitsthresholdwastoreturntostagnation;tocrossthesilenthall,toascendthedarksomestaircase,toseekmyownlonelylittleroom,andthentomeettranquilMrs.Fairfax,andspendthelongwintereveningwithher,andheronly,wastoquellwhollythefaintexcitementwakenedbymywalk,—toslipagainovermyfacultiestheviewlessfettersofanuniformandtoostillexistence;ofanexistencewhoseveryprivilegesofsecurityandeaseIwasbecomingincapableofappreciating.Whatgooditwouldhavedonemeatthattimetohavebeentossedinthestormsofanuncertainstrugglinglife,andtohavebeentaughtbyroughandbitterexperiencetolongforthecalmamidstwhichInowrepined!Yes,justasmuchgoodasitwoulddoamantiredofsittingstillina“tooeasychair”totakealongwalk:andjustasnaturalwasthewishtostir,undermycircumstances,asitwouldbeunderhis.

194

Ilingeredatthegates;Ilingeredonthelawn;Ipacedbackwardsandforwardsonthepavement;theshuttersoftheglassdoorwereclosed;Icouldnotseeintotheinterior;andbothmyeyesandspiritseemeddrawnfromthegloomyhouse—fromthegrey-hollowfilledwithraylesscells,asitappearedtome—tothatskyexpandedbeforeme,—ablueseaabsolvedfromtaintofcloud;themoonascendingitinsolemnmarch;herorbseemingtolookupa