简爱(英文版)-第79部分

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oregone　determinations；　are　all　I　have　at　this　hour　to　stand　by：　there　I　plant　my　foot。”
I　did。　Mr。　Rochester；　reading　my　countenance；　saw　I　had　done　so。　His　fury　was　wrought　to　the　highest：　he　must　yield　to　it　for　a　moment；　whatever　followed；　he　crossed　the　floor　and　seized　my　arm　and　grasped　my　waist。　He　seemed　to　devour　me　with　his　flaming　glance：　physically；　I　felt；　at　the　moment；　powerless　as　stubble　exposed　to　the　draught　and　glow　of　a　furnace：　mentally；　I　still　possessed　my　soul；　and　with　it　the　certainty　of　ultimate　safety。　The　soul；　fortunately；　has　an　interpreter—often　an　unconscious；　but　still　a　truthful　interpreter—in　the　eye。　My　eye　rose　to　his；　and　while　I　looked　in　his　fierce　face　I　gave　an　involuntary　sigh；　his　gripe　was　painful；　and　my　over…taxed　strength　almost　exhausted。
“Never；”　said　he；　as　he　ground　his　teeth；　“never　was　anything　at　once　so　frail　and　so　indomitable。　A　mere　reed　she　feels　in　my　hand！”　（And　he　shook　me　with　the　force　of　his　hold。）　“I　could　bend　her　with　my　finger　and　thumb：　and　what　good　would　it　do　if　I　bent；　if　I　uptore；　if　I　crushed　her？　Consider　that　eye：　consider　the　resolute；　wild；　free　thing　looking　out　of　it；　defying　me；　with　more　than　courage—with　a　stern　triumph。　Whatever　I　do　with　its　cage；　I　cannot　get　at　it—the　savage；　beautiful　creature！　If　I　tear；　if　I　rend　the　slight　prison；　my　outrage　will　only　let　the　captive　loose。　Conqueror　I　might　be　of　the　house；　but　the　inmate　would　escape　to　heaven　before　I　could　call　myself　possessor　of　its　clay　dwelling…　place。　And　it　is　you；　spirit—with　will　and　energy；　and　virtue　and　purity—that　I　want：　not　alone　your　brittle　frame。　Of　yourself　you　could　e　with　soft　flight　and　nestle　against　my　heart；　if　you　would：　seized　against　your　will；　you　will　elude　the　grasp　like　an　essence—you　will　vanish　ere　I　inhale　your　fragrance。　Oh！　e；　Jane；　e！”
As　he　said　this；　he　released　me　from　his　clutch；　and　only　looked　at　me。　The　look　was　far　worse　to　resist　than　the　frantic　strain：　only　an　idiot；　however；　would　have　succumbed　now。　I　had　dared　and　baffled　his　fury；　I　must　elude　his　sorrow：　I　retired　to　the　door。
“You　are　going；　Jane？”
“I　am　going；　sir。”
“You　are　leaving　me？”
“Yes。”
“You　will　not　e？　You　will　not　be　my　forter；　my　rescuer？　My　deep　love；　my　wild　woe；　my　frantic　prayer；　are　all　nothing　to　you？”
What　unutterable　pathos　was　in　his　voice！　How　hard　it　was　to　reiterate　firmly；　“I　am　going。”
“Jane！”
“Mr。　Rochester！”
“Withdraw；　then；—I　consent；　but　remember；　you　leave　me　here　in　anguish。　Go　up　to　your　own　room；　think　over　all　I　have　said；　and；　Jane；　cast　a　glance　on　my　sufferings—think　of　me。”
He　turned　away；　he　threw　himself　on　his　face　on　the　sofa。　“Oh；　Jane！　my　hope—my　love—my　life！”　broke　in　anguish　from　his　lips。　Then　came　a　deep；　strong　sob。
I　had　already　gained　the　door；　but；　reader；　I　walked　back—walked　back　as　determinedly　as　I　had　retreated。　I　knelt　down　by　him；　I　turned　his　face　from　the　cushion　to　me；　I　kissed　his　cheek；　I　smoothed　his　hair　with　my　hand。
“God　bless　you；　my　dear　master！”　I　said。　“God　keep　you　from　harm　and　wrong—direct　you；　solace　you—reward　you　well　for　your　past　kindness　to　me。”
“Little　Jane’s　love　would　have　been　my　best　reward；”　he　answered；　“without　it；　my　heart　is　broken。　But　Jane　will　give　me　her　love：　yes—nobly；　generously。”
Up　the　blood　rushed　to　his　face；　forth　flashed　the　fire　from　his　eyes；　erect　he　sprang；　he　held　his　arms　out；　but　I　evaded　the　embrace；　and　at　once　quitted　the　room。
“Farewell！”　was　the　cry　of　my　heart　as　I　left　him。　Despair　added；　“Farewell　for　ever！”
That　night　I　never　thought　to　sleep；　but　a　slumber　fell　on　me　as　soon　as　I　lay　down　in　bed。　I　was　transported　in　thought　to　the　scenes　of　childhood：　I　dreamt　I　lay　in　the　red…room　at　Gateshead；　that　the　night　was　dark；　and　my　mind　impressed　with　strange　fears。　The　light　that　long　ago　had　struck　me　into　syncope；　recalled　in　this　vision；　seemed　glidingly　to　mount　the　wall；　and　tremblingly　to　pause　in　the　centre　of　the　obscured　ceiling。　I　lifted　up　my　head　to　look：　the　roof　resolved　to　clouds；　high　and　dim；　the　gleam　was　such　as　the　moon　imparts　to　vapours　she　is　about　to　sever。　I　watched　her　e—　watched　with　the　strangest　anticipation；　as　though　some　word　of　doom　were　to　be　written　on　her　disk。　She　broke　forth　as　never　moon　yet　burst　from　cloud：　a　hand　first　perated　the　sable　folds　and　waved　them　away；　then；　not　a　moon；　but　a　white　human　form　shone　in　the　azure；　inclining　a　glorious　brow　earthward。　It　gazed　and　gazed　on　me。　It　spoke　to　my　spirit：　immeasurably　distant　was　the　tone；　yet　so　near；　it　whispered　in　my　heart—
“My　daughter；　flee　temptation。”
“Mother；　I　will。”
So　I　answered　after　I　had　waked　from　the　trance…like　dream。　It　was　yet　night；　but　July　nights　are　short：　soon　after　midnight；　dawn　es。　“It　cannot　be　too　early　to　mence　the　task　I　have　to　fulfil；”　thought　I。　I　rose：　I　was　dressed；　for　I　had　taken　off　nothing　but　my　shoes。　I　knew　where　to　find　in　my　drawers　some　linen；　a　locket；　a　ring。　In　seeking　these　articles；　I　encountered　the　beads　of　a　pearl　necklace　Mr。　Rochester　had　forced　me　to　accept　a　few　days　ago。　I　left　that；　it　was　not　mine：　it　was　the　visionary　bride’s　who　had　melted　in　air。　The　other　articles　I　made　up　in　a　parcel；　my　purse；　containing　twenty　shillings　（it　was　all　I　had）；　I　put　in　my　pocket：　I　tied　on　my　straw　bon；　pinned　my　shawl；　took　the　parcel　and　my　slippers；　which　I　would　not　put　on　yet；　and　stole　from　my　room。
“Farewell；　kind　Mrs。　Fairfax！”　I　whispered；　as　I　glided　past　her　door。　“Farewell；　my　darling　Adèle！”　I　said；　as　I　glanced　towards　the　nursery。　No　thought　could　be　admitted　of　entering　to　embrace　her。　I　had　to　deceive　a　fine　ear：　for　aught　I　knew　it　might　now　be　listening。
I　would　have　got　past　Mr。　Rochester’s　chamber　without　a　pause；　but　my　heart　momentarily　stopping　its　beat　at　that　threshold；　my　foot　was　forced　to　stop　also。　No　sleep　was　there：　the　inmate　was　walking　restlessly　from　wall　to　wall；　and　again　and　again　he　sighed　while　I　listened。　There　was　a　heaven—a　temporary　heaven—in　this　room　for　me；　if　I　chose：　I　had　but　to　go　in　and　to　say—
“Mr。　Rochester；　I　will　love　you　and　live　with　you　through　life　till　death；”　and　a　fount　of　rapture　would　spring　to　my　lips。　I　thought　of　this。
That　kind　master；　who　could　not　sleep　now；　was　waiting　with　impatience　for　day。　He　would　send　for　me　in　the　morning；　I　should　be　gone。　He　would　have　me　sought　for：　vainly。　He　would　feel　himself　forsaken；　his　love　rejected：　he　would　suffer；　perhaps　grow　desperate。　I　thought　of　this　too。　My　hand　moved　towards　the　lock：　I　caught　it　back；　and　glided　on。
Drearily　I　wound　my　way　downstairs：　I　knew　what　I　had　to　do；　and　I　did　it　mechanically。　I　sought　the　key　of　the　side…door　in　the　kitchen；　I　sought；　too；　a　phial　of　oil　and　a　feather；　I　oiled　the　key　and　the　lock。　I　got　some　water；　I　got　some　bread：　for　perhaps　I　should　have　to　walk　far；　and　my　strength；　sorely　shaken　of　late；　must　not　break　down。　All　this　I　did　without　one　sound。　I　opened　the　door；　passed　out；　shut　it　softly。　Dim　dawn　glimmered　in　the　yard。　The　great　gates　were　closed　and　locked；　but　a　wicket　in　one　of　them　was　only　latched。　Through　that　I　departed：　it；　too；　I　shut；　and　now　I　was　out　of　Thornfield。
A　mile　off；　beyond　the　fields；　lay　a　road　which　stretched　in　the　contrary　direction　to　Millcote；　a　road　I　had　never　travelled；　but　often　noticed；　and　wondered　where　it　led：　thither　I　bent　my　steps。　No　reflection　was　to　be　allowed　now：　not　one　glance　was　to　be　cast　back；　not　even　one　forward。　Not　one　thought　was　to　be　given　either　to　the　past　or　the　future。　The　first　was　a　page　so　heavenly　sweet—　so　deadly　sad—that　to　read　one　line　of　it　would　dissolve　my　courage　and　break　down　my　energy。　The　last　was　an　awful　blank：　something　like　the　world　when　the　deluge　was　gone　by。
I　skirted　fields；　and　hedges；　and　lanes　till　after　sunrise。　I　believe　it　was　a　lovely　summer　morning：　I　know　my　shoes；　which　I　had　put　on　when　I　left　the　house；　were　soon　wet　with　dew。　But　I　looked　neither　to　rising　sun；　nor　smiling　sky；　nor　wakening　nature。　He　who　is　taken　out　to　pass　through　a　fair　scene　to　the　scaffold；　thinks　not　of　the　flowers　that　smile　on　his　road；　but　of　the　block　and　axe…edge；　of　the　disseverment　of　bone　and　vein；　of　the　grave　gaping　at　the　end：　and　I　thought　of　drear　flight　and　homeless　wandering—and　oh！　with　agony　I　thought　of　what　I　left。　I　could　not　help　it。　I　thought　of　him　now—in　his　room—watching　the　sunrise；　hoping　I　should　soon　e　to　say　I　would　stay　with　him　and　be　his。　I　longed　to　be　his；　I　panted　to　return：　it　was　not　too　late；　I　could　yet　spare　him　the　bitter　pang　of　bereavement。　As　yet　my　flight；　I　was　sure；　was　undiscovered。　I　could　go　back　and　be　his　forter—his　pride；　his　redeemer　from　misery；　perhaps　from　ruin。　Oh；　that　fear　of　his　self…abandonment—far　worse　than　my　abandonment—how　it　goaded　me！　It　was　a　barbed　arrow…head　in　my　breast；　it　tore　me　when　I　tried　to　extract　it；　it　sickened　me　when　remembrance　thrust　it　farther　in。　Birds　began　singing　in　brake　and　copse：　birds　were　faithful　to　their　mates；　birds　were　emblems　of　love。　What　was　I？　In　the　midst　of　my　pain　of　heart　and　frantic　effort　of　principle；　I　abhorred　myself。　I　had　no　solace　from　self…　approbation：　none　even