简爱(英文版)-第81部分

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—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　woman　who　would　not　take　my　handkerchief　in　exchange　for　her　bread；　why；　she　was　right；　if　the　offer　appeared　to　her　sinister　or　the　exchange　unprofitable。　Let　me　condense　now。　I　am　sick　of　the　subject。
A　little　before　dark　I　passed　a　farm…house；　at　the　open　door　of　which　the　farmer　was　sitting；　eating　his　supper　of　bread　and　cheese。　I　stopped　and　said—
“Will　you　give　me　a　piece　of　bread？　for　I　am　very　hungry。”　He　cast　on　me　a　glance　of　surprise；　but　without　answering；　he　cut　a　thick　slice　from　his　loaf；　and　gave　it　to　me。　I　imagine　he　did　not　think　I　was　a　beggar；　but　only　an　eccentric　sort　of　lady；　who　had　taken　a　fancy　to　his　brown　loaf。　As　soon　as　I　was　out　of　sight　of　his　house；　I　sat　down　and　ate　it。
I　could　not　hope　to　get　a　lodging　under　a　roof；　and　sought　it　in　the　wood　I　have　before　alluded　to。　But　my　night　was　wretched；　my　rest　broken：　the　ground　was　damp；　the　air　cold：　besides；　intruders　passed　near　me　more　than　once；　and　I　had　again　and　again　to　change　my　quarters；　no　sense　of　safety　or　tranq