牛津书虫第6级6-01.Jane Eyre Chapter 32

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Chapter32

Icontinuedthelaboursofthevillage-schoolasactivelyandfaithfullyasIcould.Itwastrulyhardworkatfirst.Sometimeelapsedbefore,withallmyefforts,Icouldcomprehendmyscholarsandtheirnature.Whollyuntaught,withfacultiesquitetorpid,theyseemedtomehopelesslydull;and,atfirstsight,alldullalike:butIsoonfoundIwasmistaken.Therewasadifferenceamongstthemasamongsttheeducated;andwhenIgottoknowthem,andtheyme,thisdifferencerapidlydevelopeditself.Theiramazementatme,mylanguage,myrules,andways,oncesubsided,Ifoundsomeoftheseheavy-looking,gapingrusticswakeupintosharp-wittedgirlsenough.Manyshowedthemselvesobliging,andamiabletoo;andIdiscoveredamongstthemnotafewexamplesofnaturalpoliteness,andinnateself-respect,aswellasofexcellentcapacity,thatwonbothmygoodwillandmyadmiration.Thesesoontookapleasureindoingtheirworkwell,inkeepingtheirpersonsneat,inlearningtheirtasksregularly,inacquiringquietandorderlymanners.Therapidityoftheirprogress,insomeinstances,wasevensurprising;andanhonestandhappyprideItookinit:besides,Ibeganpersonallytolikesomeofthebestgirls;andtheylikedme.Ihadamongstmyscholarsseveralfarmers’daughters:youngwomengrown,almost.Thesecouldalreadyread,write,andsew;andtothemItaughttheelementsofgrammar,geography,history,andthefinerkindsofneedlework.Ifoundestimablecharactersamongstthem—charactersdesirousofinformation

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anddisposedforimprovement—withwhomIpassedmanyapleasanteveninghourintheirownhomes.Theirparentsthen(thefarmerandhiswife)loadedmewithattentions.Therewasanenjoymentinacceptingtheirsimplekindness,andinrepayingitbyaconsideration—ascrupulousregardtotheirfeelings—towhichtheywerenot,perhaps,atalltimesaccustomed,andwhichbothcharmedandbenefitedthem;because,whileitelevatedthemintheirowneyes,itmadethememuloustomeritthedeferentialtreatmenttheyreceived.

IfeltIbecameafavouriteintheneighbourhood.WheneverIwentout,Iheardonallsidescordialsalutations,andwaswelcomedwithfriendlysmiles.Toliveamidstgeneralregard,thoughitbebuttheregardofworkingpeople,islike“sittinginsunshine,calmandsweet;”sereneinwardfeelingsbudandbloomundertheray.Atthisperiodofmylife,myheartfaroftenerswelledwiththankfulnessthansankwithdejection:andyet,reader,totellyouall,inthemidstofthiscalm,thisusefulexistence—afteradaypassedinhonourableexertionamongstmyscholars,aneveningspentindrawingorreadingcontentedlyalone—Iusedtorushintostrangedreamsatnight:dreamsmany-coloured,agitated,fulloftheideal,thestirring,thestormy—dreamswhere,amidstunusualscenes,chargedwithadventure,withagitatingriskandromanticchance,IstillagainandagainmetMr.Rochester,alwaysatsomeexcitingcrisis;andthenthesenseofbeinginhisarms,hearinghisvoice,meetinghiseye,touchinghishand

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andcheek,lovinghim,beinglovedbyhim—thehopeofpassingalifetimeathisside,wouldberenewed,withallitsfirstforceandfire.ThenIawoke.ThenIrecalledwhereIwas,andhowsituated.ThenIroseuponmycurtainlessbed,tremblingandquivering;andthenthestill,darknightwitnessedtheconvulsionofdespair,andheardtheburstofpassion.Bynineo’clockthenextmorningIwaspunctuallyopeningtheschool;tranquil,settled,preparedforthesteadydutiesoftheday.

RosamondOliverkeptherwordincomingtovisitme.Hercallattheschoolwasgenerallymadeinthecourseofhermorningride.Shewouldcanteruptothedooronherpony,followedbyamountedliveryservant.Anythingmoreexquisitethanherappearance,inherpurplehabit,withherAmazon’scapofblackvelvetplacedgracefullyabovethelongcurlsthatkissedhercheekandfloatedtohershoulders,canscarcelybeimagined:anditwasthusshewouldentertherusticbuilding,andglidethroughthedazzledranksofthevillagechildren.ShegenerallycameatthehourwhenMr.Riverswasengagedingivinghisdailycatechisinglesson.Keenly,Ifear,didtheeyeofthevisitresspiercetheyoungpastor’sheart.Asortofinstinctseemedtowarnhimofherentrance,evenwhenhedidnotseeit;andwhenhewaslookingquiteawayfromthedoor,ifsheappearedatit,hischeekwouldglow,andhismarble-seemingfeatures,thoughtheyrefusedtorelax,changedindescribably,andintheirveryquiescencebecameexpressiveofarepressedfervour,strongerthanworkingmuscleordartingglancecouldindicate.

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Ofcourse,sheknewherpower:indeed,hedidnot,becausehecouldnot,concealitfromher.InspiteofhisChristianstoicism,whenshewentupandaddressedhim,andsmiledgaily,encouragingly,evenfondlyinhisface,hishandwouldtrembleandhiseyeburn.Heseemedtosay,withhissadandresolutelook,ifhedidnotsayitwithhislips,“Iloveyou,andIknowyoupreferme.Itisnotdespairofsuccessthatkeepsmedumb.IfIofferedmyheart,Ibelieveyouwouldacceptit.Butthatheartisalreadylaidonasacredaltar:thefireisarrangedroundit.Itwillsoonbenomorethanasacrificeconsumed.”

Andthenshewouldpoutlikeadisappointedchild;apensivecloudwouldsoftenherradiantvivacity;shewouldwithdrawherhandhastilyfromhis,andturnintransientpetulancefromhisaspect,atoncesoheroicandsomartyr-like.St.John,nodoubt,wouldhavegiventheworldtofollow,recall,retainher,whenshethuslefthim;buthewouldnotgiveonechanceofheaven,norrelinquish,fortheelysiumofherlove,onehopeofthetrue,eternalParadise.Besides,hecouldnotbindallthathehadinhisnature—therover,theaspirant,thepoet,thepriest—inthelimitsofasinglepassion.Hecouldnot—hewouldnot—renouncehiswildfieldofmissionwarfarefortheparloursandthepeaceofValeHall.IlearntsomuchfromhimselfinaninroadIonce,despitehisreserve,hadthedaringtomakeonhisconfidence.

MissOliveralreadyhonouredmewithfrequentvisitstomycottage.Ihadlearntherwholecharacter,whichwas

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withoutmysteryordisguise:shewascoquettishbutnotheartless;exacting,butnotworthlesslyselfish.Shehadbeenindulgedfromherbirth,butwasnotabsolutelyspoilt.Shewashasty,butgood-humoured;vain(shecouldnothelpit,wheneveryglanceintheglassshowedhersuchaflushofloveliness),butnotaffected;liberal-handed;innocentoftheprideofwealth;ingenuous;sufficientlyintelligent;gay,lively,and

unthinking:shewasverycharming,inshort,eventoacoolobserverofherownsexlikeme;butshewasnotprofoundlyinterestingorthoroughlyimpressive.Averydifferentsortofmindwashersfromthat,forinstance,ofthesistersofSt.John.Still,IlikedheralmostasIlikedmypupilAdele;exceptthat,forachildwhomwehavewatchedoverandtaught,acloseraffectionisengenderedthanwecangiveanequallyattractiveadultacquaintance.Shehadtakenanamiablecapricetome.ShesaidIwaslikeMr.Rivers,only,certainly,sheallowed,“notone-tenthsohandsome,thoughIwasaniceneatlittlesoulenough,buthewasanangel.”Iwas,however,good,clever,composed,andfirm,likehim.Iwasalususnaturae,sheaffirmed,asavillageschoolmistress:shewassuremyprevioushistory,ifknown,wouldmakeadelightfulromance.Oneevening,while,withherusualchild-likeactivity,andthoughtlessyetnotoffensiveinquisitiveness,shewasrummagingthecupboardandthetable-drawerofmylittlekitchen,shediscoveredfirsttwoFrenchbooks,avolumeofSchiller,aGermangrammarand

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dictionary,andthenmydrawing-materialsandsomesketches,includingapencil-headofaprettylittlecherub-likegirl,oneofmyscholars,andsundryviewsfromnature,takenintheValeofMortonandonthesurroundingmoors.Shewasfirsttransfixedwithsurprise,andthenelectrifiedwithdelight.

“HadIdonethesepictures?DidIknowFrenchandGerman?Whatalove—whatamiracleIwas!IdrewbetterthanhermasterinthefirstschoolinS-.WouldIsketchaportraitofher,toshowtopapa?”

“Withpleasure,”Ireplied;andIfeltathrillofartist-delightattheideaofcopyingfromsoperfectandradiantamodel.Shehadthenonadark-bluesilkdress;herarmsandherneckwerebare;heronlyornamentwasherchestnuttresses,whichwavedoverhershoulderswithallthewildgraceofnaturalcurls.Itookasheetoffinecard-board,anddrewacarefuloutline.Ipromisedmyselfthepleasureofcolouringit;and,asitwasgettinglatethen,Itoldhershemustcomeandsitanotherday.

Shemadesuchareportofmetoherfather,thatMr.Oliverhimselfaccompaniedhernextevening—atall,massive-featured,middle-aged,andgrey-headedman,atwhosesidehislovelydaughterlookedlikeabrightflowernearahoaryturret.Heappearedataciturn,andperhapsaproudpersonage;buthewasverykindtome.ThesketchofRosamond’sportraitpleasedhimhighly:hesaidImustmakeafinishedpictureofit.Heinsisted,

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too,onmycomingthenextdaytospendtheeveningatValeHall.

Iwent.Ifounditalarge,handsomeresidence,showingabundantevidencesofwealthintheproprietor.RosamondwasfullofgleeandpleasureallthetimeIstayed.Herfatherwasaffable;andwhenheenteredintoconversationwithmeaftertea,heexpressedinstrongtermshisapprobationofwhatIhaddoneinMortonschool,andsaidheonlyfeared,fromwhathesawandheard,Iwastoogoodfortheplace,andwouldsoonquititforonemoresuitable.

“Indeed,”criedRosamond,“sheiscleverenoughtobeagovernessinahighfamily,papa.”

IthoughtIwouldfarratherbewhereIamthaninanyhighfamilyintheland.Mr.OliverspokeofMr.Rivers—oftheRiversfamily—withgreatrespect.Hesaiditwasaveryoldnameinthatneighbourhood;thattheancestorsofthehousewerewealthy;thatallMortonhadoncebelongedtothem;thatevennowheconsideredtherepresentativeofthathousemight,ifheliked,makeanalliancewiththebest.Heaccounteditapitythatsofineandtalentedayoungmanshouldhaveformedthedesignofgoingoutasamissionary;itwasquitethrowingavaluablelifeaway.Itappeared,then,thatherfatherwouldthrownoobstacleinthewayofRosamond’sunionwithSt.John.Mr.Oliverevidentlyregardedtheyoungclergyman’sgoodbirth,oldname,andsacredprofessionassufficientcompensationforthewantoffortune.

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Itwasthe5thofNovember,andaholiday.Mylittleservant,afterhelpingmetocleanmyhouse,wasgone,wellsatisfiedwiththefeeofapennyforheraid.Allaboutmewasspotlessandbright—scouredfloor,polishedgrate,andwell-rubbedchairs.Ihadalsomademyselfneat,andhadnowtheafternoonbeforemetospendasIwould.

ThetranslationofafewpagesofGermanoccupiedanhour;thenIgotmypaletteandpencils,andfelltothemoresoothing,becauseeasieroccupation,ofcompletingRosamondOliver’sminiature.Theheadwasfinishedalready:therewasbutthebackgroundtotintandthedraperytoshadeoff;atouchofcarmine,too,toaddtotheripelips—asoftcurlhereandtheretothetresses—adeepertingetotheshadowofthelashundertheazuredeyelid.Iwasabsorbedintheexecutionofthesenicedetails,when,afteronerapidtap,mydoorunclosed,admittingSt.JohnRivers.

“Iamcometoseehowyouarespendingyourholiday,”hesaid.“Not,Ihope,inthought?No,thatiswell:whileyoudrawyouwillnotfeellonely.Yousee,Imistrustyoustill,thoughyouhaveborneupwonderfullysofar.Ihavebroughtyouabookforeveningsolace,”andhelaidonthetableanewpublication—apoem:oneofthosegenuineproductionssooftenvouchsafedtothefortunatepublicofthosedays—thegoldenageofmodernliterature.Alas!thereadersofoureraarelessfavoured.Butcourage!Iwillnotpauseeithertoaccuseorrepine.Iknowpoetryisnotdead,norgeniuslost;norhas

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Mammongainedpowerovereither,tobindorslay:theywillbothasserttheirexistence,theirpresence,theirlibertyandstrengthagainoneday.Powerfulangels,safeinheaven!theysmilewhensordidsoulstriumph,andfeebleonesweepovertheirdestruction.Poetrydestroyed?Geniusbanished?No!Mediocrity,no:donotletenvypromptyoutothethought.No;theynotonlylive,butreignandredeem:andwithouttheirdivineinfluencespreadeverywhere,youwouldbeinhell—thehellofyourownmeanness.

WhileIwaseagerlyglancingatthebrightpagesof“Marmion”(for“Marmion”itwas),St.Johnstoopedtoexaminemydrawing.Histallfiguresprangerectagainwithastart:hesaidnothing.Ilookedupathim:heshunnedmyeye.Iknewhisthoughtswell,andcouldreadhisheartplainly;atthemomentIfeltcalmerandcoolerthanhe:Ihadthentemporarilytheadvantageofhim,andIconceivedaninclinationtodohimsomegood,ifIcould.

“Withallhisfirmnessandself-control,”thoughtI,“hetaskshimselftoofar:lockseveryfeelingandpangwithin—expresses,confesses,impartsnothing.IamsureitwouldbenefithimtotalkalittleaboutthissweetRosamond,whomhethinksheoughtnottomarry:Iwillmakehimtalk.”

Isaidfirst,“Takeachair,Mr.Rivers.”Butheanswered,ashealwaysdid,thathecouldnotstay.“Verywell,”Iresponded,mentally,“standifyoulike;butyoushallnotgojustyet,Iamdetermined:solitudeisatleastas

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badforyouasitisforme.I’lltryifIcannotdiscoverthesecretspringofyourconfidence,andfindanapertureinthatmarblebreastthroughwhichIcanshed

onedropofthebalmofsympathy.”

“Isthisportraitlike?”Iaskedbluntly.

“Like!Likewhom?Ididnotobserveitclosely.”“Youdid,Mr.Rivers.”

Healmoststartedatmysuddenandstrangeabruptness:helookedatmeastonished.“Oh,thatisnothingyet,”Imutteredwithin.“Idon’tmeantobebaffledbyalittlestiffnessonyourpart;I’mpreparedtogotoconsiderablelengths.”Icontinued,“Youobserveditcloselyanddistinctly;butIhavenoobjectiontoyourlookingatitagain,”andIroseandplaceditinhishand.

“Awell-executedpicture,”hesaid;“verysoft,clearcolouring;verygracefulandcorrectdrawing.”

“Yes,yes;Iknowallthat.Butwhatoftheresemblance?Whoisitlike?”

Masteringsomehesitation,heanswered,“MissOliver,Ipresume.”

“Ofcourse.Andnow,sir,torewardyoufortheaccurateguess,Iwillpromisetopaintyouacarefulandfaithfulduplicateofthisverypicture,providedyouadmitthatthegiftwouldbeacceptabletoyou.Idon’twishto

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throwawaymytimeandtroubleonanofferingyouwoulddeemworthless.”

Hecontinuedtogazeatthepicture:thelongerhelooked,thefirmerheheldit,themoreheseemedtocovetit.“Itislike!”hemurmured;“theeyeiswellmanaged:thecolour,light,expression,areperfect.Itsmiles!”

“Woulditcomfort,orwoulditwoundyoutohaveasimilarpainting?Tellmethat.WhenyouareatMadagascar,orattheCape,orinIndia,woulditbeaconsolationtohavethatmementoinyourpossession?orwouldthesightofitbringrecollectionscalculatedtoenervateanddistress?”

Henowfurtivelyraisedhiseyes:heglancedatme,irresolute,disturbed:heagainsurveyedthepicture.

“ThatIshouldliketohaveitiscertain:whetheritwouldbejudiciousorwiseisanotherquestion.”

SinceIhadascertainedthatRosamondreallypreferredhim,andthatherfatherwasnotlikelytoopposethematch,I—lessexaltedinmyviewsthanSt.John—hadbeenstronglydisposedinmyownhearttoadvocatetheirunion.Itseemedtomethat,shouldhebecomethepossessorofMr.Oliver’slargefortune,hemightdoasmuchgoodwithitasifhewentandlaidhisgeniusouttowither,andhisstrengthtowaste,underatropicalsun.WiththispersuasionInowanswered-

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“AsfarasIcansee,itwouldbewiserandmorejudiciousifyouweretotaketoyourselftheoriginalatonce.”

Bythistimehehadsatdown:hehadlaidthepictureonthetablebeforehim,andwithhisbrowsupportedonbothhands,hungfondlyoverit.Idiscernedhewasnowneitherangrynorshockedatmyaudacity.Isaweventhattobethusfranklyaddressedonasubjecthehaddeemedunapproachable—tohearitthusfreelyhandled—wasbeginningtobefeltbyhimasanewpleasure—anunhoped-forrelief.Reservedpeopleoftenreallyneedthefrankdiscussionoftheirsentimentsandgriefsmorethantheexpansive.Thesternest-seemingstoicishumanafterall;andto“burst”withboldnessandgood-willinto“thesilentsea”oftheirsoulsisoftentoconferonthemthefirstofobligations.

“Shelikesyou,Iamsure,”saidI,asIstoodbehindhischair,“andherfatherrespectsyou.Moreover,sheisasweetgirl—ratherthoughtless;butyouwouldhavesufficientthoughtforbothyourselfandher.Yououghttomarryher.”

“DOESshelikeme?”heasked.

“Certainly;betterthanshelikesanyoneelse.Shetalksofyoucontinually:thereisnosubjectsheenjoyssomuchortouchesuponsooften.”

“Itisverypleasanttohearthis,”hesaid—“very:goonforanotherquarterofanhour.”Andheactuallytook

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outhiswatchandlaidituponthetabletomeasurethetime.

“Butwhereistheuseofgoingon,”Iasked,“whenyouareprobablypreparingsomeironblowofcontradiction,orforgingafreshchaintofetteryourheart?”

“Don’timaginesuchhardthings.Fancymeyieldingandmelting,asIamdoing:humanloverisinglikeafreshlyopenedfountaininmymindandoverflowingwithsweetinundationallthefieldIhavesocarefullyandwithsuchlabourprepared—soassiduouslysownwiththeseedsofgoodintentions,ofself-denyingplans.Andnowitisdelugedwithanectarousflood—theyounggermsswamped—deliciouspoisoncankeringthem:nowIseemyselfstretchedonanottomaninthedrawing-roomatValeHallatmybrideRosamondOliver’sfeet:sheistalkingtomewithhersweetvoice—gazingdownonmewiththoseeyesyourskilfulhandhascopiedsowell—smilingatmewiththesecorallips.Sheismine—Iamhers—thispresentlifeandpassingworldsufficetome.Hush!saynothing—myheartisfullofdelight—mysensesareentranced—letthetimeImarkedpassinpeace.”

Ihumouredhim:thewatchtickedon:hebreathedfastandlow:Istoodsilent.Amidstthishushthequartetsped;hereplacedthewatch,laidthepicturedown,rose,andstoodonthehearth.

“Now,”saidhe,“thatlittlespacewasgiventodeliriumanddelusion.Irestedmytemplesonthebreastof

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temptation,andputmyneckvoluntarilyunderheryokeofflowers.Itastedhercup.Thepillowwasburning:thereisanaspinthegarland:thewinehasabittertaste:herpromisesarehollow—heroffersfalse:I

seeandknowallthis.”

Igazedathiminwonder.

“Itisstrange,”pursuedhe,“thatwhileIloveRosamondOliversowildly—withalltheintensity,indeed,ofafirstpassion,theobjectofwhichisexquisitelybeautiful,graceful,fascinating—Iexperienceatthesametimeacalm,unwarpedconsciousnessthatshewouldnotmakemeagoodwife;thatsheisnotthepartnersuitedtome;thatIshoulddiscoverthiswithinayearaftermarriage;andthattotwelvemonths’

rapturewouldsucceedalifetimeofregret.ThisIknow.”“Strangeindeed!”Icouldnothelpejaculating.

“Whilesomethinginme,”hewenton,“isacutelysensibletohercharms,somethingelseisasdeeplyimpressedwithherdefects:theyaresuchthatshecouldsympathiseinnothingIaspiredto—co-operateinnothingIundertook.Rosamondasufferer,alabourer,afemaleapostle?Rosamondamissionary’swife?No!”

“Butyouneednotbeamissionary.Youmightrelinquishthatscheme.”

“Relinquish!What!myvocation?Mygreatwork?Myfoundationlaidonearthforamansioninheaven?Myhopesofbeingnumberedinthebandwhohave

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mergedallambitionsinthegloriousoneofbetteringtheirrace—ofcarryingknowledgeintotherealmsofignorance—ofsubstitutingpeaceforwar—freedomforbondage—religionforsuperstition—thehopeofheavenforthefearofhell?MustIrelinquishthat?Itisdearerthanthebloodinmyveins.ItiswhatIhavetolookforwardto,andtolivefor.”

Afteraconsiderablepause,Isaid—“AndMissOliver?Areherdisappointmentandsorrowofnointeresttoyou?”

“MissOliveriseversurroundedbysuitorsandflatterers:inlessthanamonth,myimagewillbeeffacedfromherheart.Shewillforgetme;andwillmarry,probably,someonewhowillmakeherfarhappierthanIshoulddo.”

“Youspeakcoollyenough;butyousufferintheconflict.Youarewastingaway.”

“No.IfIgetalittlethin,itiswithanxietyaboutmyprospects,yetunsettled—mydeparture,continuallyprocrastinated.Onlythismorning,Ireceivedintelligencethatthesuccessor,whosearrivalIhavebeensolongexpecting,cannotbereadytoreplacemeforthreemonthstocomeyet;andperhapsthethreemonthsmayextendtosix.”

“YoutrembleandbecomeflushedwheneverMissOliverenterstheschoolroom.”

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Againthesurprisedexpressioncrossedhisface.Hehadnotimaginedthatawomanwoulddaretospeaksotoaman.Forme,Ifeltathomeinthissortofdiscourse.Icouldneverrestincommunicationwithstrong,discreet,andrefinedminds,whethermaleorfemale,tillIhadpassedtheoutworksofconventionalreserve,andcrossedthethresholdofconfidence,andwonaplacebytheirheart’sveryhearthstone.

“Youareoriginal,”saidhe,“andnottimid.Thereissomethingbraveinyourspirit,aswellaspenetratinginyoureye;butallowmetoassureyouthatyoupartiallymisinterpretmyemotions.Youthinkthemmoreprofoundandpotentthantheyare.YougivemealargerallowanceofsympathythanIhaveajustclaimto.WhenIcolour,andwhenIshadebeforeMissOliver,Idonotpitymyself.Iscorntheweakness.Iknowitisignoble:amerefeveroftheflesh:not,Ideclare,theconvulsionofthesoul.THATisjustasfixedasarock,firmsetinthedepthsofarestlesssea.Knowmetobe

whatIam—acoldhardman.”

Ismiledincredulously.

“Youhavetakenmyconfidencebystorm,”hecontinued,“andnowitismuchatyourservice.Iamsimply,inmyoriginalstate—strippedofthatblood-bleachedrobewithwhichChristianitycovershumandeformity—acold,hard,ambitiousman.Naturalaffectiononly,ofallthesentiments,haspermanentpoweroverme.Reason,andnotfeeling,ismyguide;myambitionisunlimited:mydesiretorisehigher,to

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domorethanothers,insatiable.Ihonourendurance,perseverance,industry,talent;becausethesearethemeansbywhichmenachievegreatendsandmounttoloftyeminence.Iwatchyourcareerwithinterest,becauseIconsideryouaspecimenofadiligent,orderly,energeticwoman:notbecauseI