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简爱(英文版)-第88部分

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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 heir 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 blest 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 ing 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; e 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 few words; that I had heard all which had happened since I left Thornfield; and that I was e to see Mr。 Rochester。 I asked John to go down to the turn…pike…house; where I had dismissed the chaise; and bring my trunk; which I had left there: and then; while I removed my bon and shaary as to whether I could be acmodated 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 motion 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 e 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 e 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 e 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; Ja! Are you an independent woman? A rich woman?”
“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 e and sit in my parlour when you want pany 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 panion—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 over…leaped 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 being 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 fort 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 de
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