简爱(英文版)-第54部分

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“If　I　could　do　that；　simpleton；　where　would　the　danger　be？　Annihilated　in　a　moment。　Ever　since　I　have　known　Mason；　I　have　only　had　to　say　to　him　‘Do　that；’　and　the　thing　has　been　done。　But　I　cannot　give　him　orders　in　this　case：　I　cannot　say　‘Beware　of　harming　me；　Richard；’　for　it　is　imperative　that　I　should　keep　him　ignorant　that　harm　to　me　is　possible。　Now　you　look　puzzled；　and　I　will　puzzle　you　further。　You　are　my　little　friend；　are　you　not？”
“I　like　to　serve　you；　sir；　and　to　obey　you　in　all　that　is　right。”
“Precisely：　I　see　you　do。　I　see　genuine　contentment　in　your　gait　and　mien；　your　eye　and　face；　when　you　are　helping　me　and　pleasing　me—working　for　me；　and　with　me；　in；　as　you　characteristically　say；　‘all　that　is　right：’　for　if　I　bid　you　do　what　you　thought　wrong；　there　would　be　no　light…footed　running；　no　neat…handed　alacrity；　no　lively　glance　and　animated　plexion。　My　friend　would　then　turn　to　me；　quiet　and　pale；　and　would　say；　‘No；　sir；　that　is　impossible：　I　cannot　do　it；　because　it　is　wrong；’　and　would　bee　immutable　as　a　fixed　star。　Well；　you　too　have　power　over　me；　and　may　injure　me：　yet　I　dare　not　show　you　where　I　am　vulnerable；　lest；　faithful　and　friendly　as　you　are；　you　should　transfix　me　at　once。”
“If　you　have　no　more　to　fear　from　Mr。　Mason　than　you　have　from　me；　sir；　you　are　very　safe。”
“God　grant　it　may　be　so！　Here；　Jane；　is　an　arbour；　sit　down。”
The　arbour　was　an　arch　in　the　wall；　lined　with　ivy；　it　contained　a　rustic　seat。　Mr。　Rochester　took　it；　leaving　room；　however；　for　me：　but　I　stood　before　him。
“Sit；”　he　said；　“the　bench　is　long　enough　for　two。　You　don’t　hesitate　to　take　a　place　at　my　side；　do　you？　Is　that　wrong；　Jane？”
I　answered　him　by　assuming　it：　to　refuse　would；　I　felt；　have　been　unwise。
“Now；　my　little　friend；　while　the　sun　drinks　the　dew—while　all　the　flowers　in　this　old　garden　awake　and　expand；　and　the　birds　fetch　their　young　ones’　breakfast　out　of　the　Thornfield；　and　the　early　bees　do　their　first　spell　of　work—I’ll　put　a　case　to　you；　which　you　must　endeavour　to　suppose　your　own：　but　first；　look　at　me；　and　tell　me　you　are　at　ease；　and　not　fearing　that　I　err　in　detaining　you；　or　that　you　err　in　staying。”
“No；　sir；　I　am　content。”
“Well　then；　Jane；　call　to　aid　your　fancy：…　suppose　you　were　no　longer　a　girl　well　reared　and　disciplined；　but　a　wild　boy　indulged　from　childhood　upwards；　imagine　yourself　in　a　remote　foreign　land；　conceive　that　you　there　mit　a　capital　error；　no　matter　of　what　nature　or　from　what　motives；　but　one　ust　follow　you　through　life　and　taint　all　your　existence。　Mind；　I　don’t　say　a　crime；　I　am　not　speaking　of　shedding　of　blood　or　any　other　guilty　act；　which　might　make　the　perpetrator　amenable　to　the　law：　my　word　is　error。　The　results　of　what　you　have　done　bee　in　time　to　you　utterly　insupportable；　you　take　measures　to　obtain　relief：　unusual　measures；　but　neither　unlawful　nor　culpable。　Still　you　are　miserable；　for　hope　has　quitted　you　on　the　very　confines　of　life：　your　sun　at　noon　darkens　in　an　eclipse；　which　you　feel　will　not　leave　it　till　the　time　of　setting。　Bitter　and　base　associations　have　bee　the　sole　food　of　your　memory：　you　wander　here　and　there；　seeking　rest　in　exile：　happiness　in　pleasure—I　mean　in　heartless；　sensual　pleasure—such　as　dulls　intellect　and　blights　feeling。　Heart…weary　and　soul…withered；　you　e　home　after　years　of　voluntary　banishment：　you　make　a　new　acquaintance—how　or　where　no　matter：　you　find　in　this　stranger　much　of　the　good　and　bright　qualities　which　you　have　sought　for　twenty　years；　and　never　before　encountered；　and　they　are　all　fresh；　healthy；　without　soil　and　without　taint。　Such　society　revives；　regenerates：　you　feel　better　days　e　back—higher　wishes；　purer　feelings；　you　desire　to　remence　your　life；　and　to　spend　what　remains　to　you　of　days　in　a　way　more　worthy　of　an　immortal　being。　To　attain　this　end；　are　you　justified　in　overleaping　an　obstacle　of　custom—a　mere　conventional　impediment　which　neither　your　conscience　sanctifies　nor　your　judgment　approves？”
He　paused　for　an　answer：　and　what　was　I　to　say？　Oh；　for　some　good　spirit　to　suggest　a　judicious　and　satisfactory　response！　Vain　aspiration！　The　west　wind　whispered　in　the　ivy　round　me；　but　no　gentle　Ariel　borrowed　its　breath　as　a　medium　of　speech：　the　birds　sang　in　the　tree…tops；　but　their　song；　however　sweet；　was　inarticulate。
Again　Mr。　Rochester　propounded　his　query：
“Is　the　wandering　and　sinful；　but　now　rest…seeking　and　repentant；　man　justified　in　daring　the　world’s　opinion；　in　order　to　attach　to　him　for　ever　this　gentle；　gracious；　genial　stranger；　thereby　securing　his　own　peace　of　mind　and　regeneration　of　life？”
“Sir；”　I　answered；　“a　wanderer’s　repose　or　a　sinner’s　reformation　should　never　depend　on　a　fellow…creature。　Men　and　women　die；　philosophers　falter　in　wisdom；　and　Christians　in　goodness：　if　any　one　you　know　has　suffered　and　erred；　let　him　look　higher　than　his　equals　for　strength　to　amend　and　solace　to　heal。”
“But　the　instrument—the　instrument！　God；　who　does　the　work；　ordains　the　instrument。　I　have　myself—I　tell　it　you　without　parable—been　a　worldly；　dissipated；　restless　man；　and　I　believe　I　have　found　the　instrument　for　my　cure　in—”
He　paused：　the　birds　went　on　carolling；　the　leaves　lightly　rustling。　I　almost　wondered　they　did　not　check　their　songs　and　whispers　to　catch　the　suspended　revelation；　but　they　would　have　had　to　wait　many　minutes—so　long　was　the　silence　protracted。　At　last　I　looked　up　at　the　tardy　speaker：　he　was　looking　eagerly　at　me。
“Little　friend；”　said　he；　in　quite　a　changed　tone—while　his　face　changed　too；　losing　all　its　softness　and　gravity；　and　being　harsh　and　sarcastic—“you　have　noticed　my　tender　penchant　for　Miss　Ingram：　don’t　you　think　if　I　married　her　she　would　regenerate　me　with　a　vengeance？”
He　got　up　instantly；　went　quite　to　the　other　end　of　the　walk；　and　when　he　came　back　he　was　humming　a　tune。
“Jane；　Jane；”　said　he；　stopping　before　me；　“you　are　quite　pale　with　your　vigils：　don’t　you　curse　me　for　disturbing　your　rest？”
“Curse　you？　No；　sir。”
“Shake　hands　in　confirmation　of　the　word。　What　cold　fingers！　They　were　warmer　last　night　when　I　touched　them　at　the　door　of　the　mysterious　chamber。　Jane；　when　will　you　watch　with　me　again？”
“Whenever　I　can　be　useful；　sir。”
“For　instance；　the　night　before　I　am　married！　I　am　sure　I　shall　not　be　able　to　sleep。　Will　you　promise　to　sit　up　with　me　to　bear　me　pany？　To　you　I　can　talk　of　my　lovely　one：　for　now　you　have　seen　her　and　know　her。”
“Yes；　sir。”
“She’s　a　rare　one；　is　she　not；　Jane？”
“Yes；　sir。”
“A　strapper—a　real　strapper；　Jane：　big；　brown；　and　buxom；　with　hair　just　such　as　the　ladies　of　Carthage　must　have　had。　Bless　me！　there’s　Dent　and　Lynn　in　the　stables！　Go　in　by　the　shrubbery；　through　that　wicket。”
As　I　went　one　way；　he　went　another；　and　I　heard　him　in　the　yard；　saying　cheerfully—
“Mason　got　the　start　of　you　all　this　morning；　he　was　gone　before　sunrise：　I　rose　at　four　to　see　him　off。”
Chapter　21
Presentiments　are　strange　things！　and　so　are　sympathies；　and　so　are　signs；　and　the　three　bined　make　one　mystery　to　which　humanity　has　not　yet　found　the　key。　I　never　laughed　at　presentiments　in　my　life；　because　I　have　had　strange　ones　of　my　own。　Sympathies；　I　believe；　exist　（for　instance；　between　far…distant；　long…absent；　wholly　estranged　relatives　asserting；　notwithstanding　their　alienation；　the　unity　of　the　source　to　which　each　traces　his　origin）　whose　workings　baffle　mortal　prehension。　And　signs；　for　aught　we　know；　may　be　but　the　sympathies　of　Nature　with　man。
When　I　was　a　little　girl；　only　six　years　old；　I　one　night　heard　Bessie　Leaven　say　to　Martha　Abbot　that　she　had　been　dreaming　about　a　little　child；　and　that　to　dream　of　children　was　a　sure　sign　of　trouble；　either　to　one’s　self　or　one’s　kin。　The　saying　might　have　worn　out　of　my　memory；　had　not　a　circumstance　immediately　followed　which　served　indelibly　to　fix　it　there。　The　next　day　Bessie　was　sent　for　home　to　the　deathbed　of　her　little　sister。
Of　late　I　had　often　recalled　this　saying　and　this　incident；　for　during　the　past　week　scarcely　a　night　had　gone　over　my　couch　that　had　not　brought　with　it　a　dream　of　an　infant；　which　I　sometimes　hushed　in　my　arms；　sometimes　dandled　on　my　knee；　sometimes　watched　playing　with　daisies　on　a　lawn；　or　again；　dabbling　its　hands　in　running　water。　It　was　a　wailing　child　this　night；　and　a　laughing　one　the　next：　now　it　nestled　close　to　me；　and　now　it　ran　from　me；　but　whatever　mood　the　apparition　evinced；　whatever　aspect　it　wore；　it　failed　not　for　seven　successive　nights　to　meet　me　the　moment　I　entered　the　land　of　slumber。
I　did　not　like　this　iteration　of　one　idea—this　strange　recurrence　of　one　image；　and　I　grew　nervous　as　bedtime　approached　and　the　hour　of　the　vision　drew　near。　It　was　from　panionship　with　this　baby…　phantom　I　had　been　roused　on　that　moonlight　night　when　I　heard　the　cry；　and　it　was　on　the　afternoon　of　the　day　following　I　was　summoned　downstairs　by　a　message　that　some　one　wanted　me　in　Mrs。　Fairfax’s　room。　On　repairing　thither；　I　found　a　man　waiting　for　me；　having　the　appearance　of　a　gentleman’s　servant：　he　was　dressed　in　deep　mourning；　and　the　hat　he　held　in　his　hand　was　surrounded　with　a　crape　band。
“I　daresay　you　hardly　reme