简爱(英文版)-第43章

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d；　contrasted　well　with　the　sunny　hue　of　the　cleared　meadows　between。
On　Midsummer…eve；　Adèle；　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　or　fine　deep　blue；　and　its　own　modest　gem；　a　casino　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　handbreadth；　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　ing　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；　e　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　posed　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　remenced；　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　bee　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　prehend　how　it　is；　I　perceive　you　have　acquired　a　degree　of　regard　for　that　foolish　little　child　Adèle；　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；　Ja；　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　es。”
“It　is　e　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　Adèle　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；　Ja；　I’ll　try　to　forget　it：　I　shall　notice　only　its　wisdom；　which　is　such　that　I　have　made　it　my　law　of　action。　Adèle　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　and。
“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　dependent　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　warm…hearted　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。　e！　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。　e；　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；　Ja；　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　e　broad　between　us；　I　am　afraid　that　cord　of　munion　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　e　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　overe；　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　munion　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　bee　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。　R