简爱(英文版)-第56章

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f　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　beat　of　the　summer　day。　I　looked　at　the　sky；　it　was　pure：　a　kindly　star　twinkled　just　above　the　chasm　ridge。　The　dew　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　mencement　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　e；　and　her　plas　were　risen：　a　safe；　still　night：　too　serene　for　the　panionship　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　e　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　bee　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　noingle　in　peace　with　the　soil　of　this　wilderness。　Life；　however；　was　yet　in　my　possession；　ents；　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　zig…zag　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；　tany　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　wo