简爱(英文版)-第84部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


I　shook　my　head。
“What　account　can　you　give　of　yourself？”
Somehow；　now　that　I　had　once　crossed　the　threshold　of　this　house；　and　once　was　brought　face　to　face　with　its　owners；　I　felt　no　longer　outcast；　vagrant；　and　disowned　by　the　wide　world。　I　dared　to　put　off　the　mendicant—to　resume　my　natural　manner　and　character。　I　began　once　more　to　know　myself；　and　when　Mr。　St。　John　demanded　an　account—which　at　present　I　was　far　too　weak　to　render—I　said　after　a　brief　pause—
“Sir；　I　can　give　you　no　details　to…night。”
“But　what；　then；”　said　he；　“do　you　expect　me　to　do　for　you？”
“Nothing；”　I　replied。　My　strength　sufficed　for　but　short　answers。　Diana　took　the　word—
“Do　you　mean；”　she　asked；　“that　we　have　now　given　you　ay　dismiss　you　to　the　moor　and　the　rainy　night？”
I　looked　at　her。　She　had；　I　thought；　a　remarkable　countenance；　instinct　both　with　power　and　goodness。　I　took　sudden　courage。　Answering　her　passionate　gate　with　a　smile；　I　said—“I　will　trust　you。　If　I　were　a　masterless　and　stray　dog；　I　know　that　you　would　not　turn　me　from　your　hearth　to…night：　as　it　is；　I　really　have　no　fear。　Do　with　me　and　for　me　as　you　like；　but　excuse　me　from　much　discourse—my　breath　is　short—I　feel　a　spasm　when　I　speak。”　All　three　surveyed　me；　and　all　three　were　silent。
“Hannah；”　said　Mr。　St。　John；　at　last；　“let　her　sit　there　at　present；　and　ask　her　no　questions；　in　ten　minutes　more；　give　her　the　remainder　of　that　milk　and　bread。　Mary　and　Diana；　let　us　go　into　the　parlour　and　talk　the　matter　over。”
They　withdrew。　Very　soon　one　of　the　ladies　returned—I　could　not　tell　which。　A　kind　of　pleasant　stupor　was　stealing　over　me　as　I　sat　by　the　genial　fire。　In　an　undertone　she　gave　some　directions　to　Hannah。　Ere　long；　with　the　servant’s　aid；　I　contrived　to　mount　a　staircase；　my　dripping　clothes　were　removed；　soon　a　warm；　dry　bed　received　me。　I　thanked　God—experienced　amidst　unutterable　exhaustion　a　glow　of　grateful　joy—and　slept。
Chapter　29
The　recollection　of　about　three　days　and　nights　succeeding　this　is　very　dim　in　my　mind。　I　can　recall　some　sensations　felt　in　that　interval；　but　few　thoughts　framed；　and　no　actions　performed。　I　knew　I　was　in　a　small　room　and　in　a　narrow　bed。　To　that　bed　I　seemed　to　have　grown；　I　lay　on　it　motionless　as　a　stone；　and　to　have　torn　me　from　it　would　have　been　almost　to　kill　me。　I　took　no　note　of　the　lapse　of　time—of　the　change　from　morning　to　noon；　from　noon　to　evening。　I　observed　when　any　one　entered　or　left　the　apartment：　I　could　even　tell　who　they　were；　I　could　understand　what　was　said　when　the　speaker　stood　near　to　me；　but　I　could　not　answer；　to　open　my　lips　or　move　my　limbs　possible。　Hannah；　the　servant；　ing　disturbed　me。　I　had　a　feeling　that　she　wished　me　away：　that　she　did　not　understand　me　or　my　circumstances；　that　she　was　prejudiced　against　me。　Diana　and　Mary　appeared　in　the　chamber　once　or　twice　a　day。　They　would　whisper　sentences　of　this　sort　at　my　bedside—
“It　is　very　well　we　took　her　in。”
“Yes；　she　would　certainly　have　been　found　dead　at　the　door　in　the　morning　had　she　been　left　out　all　night。　I　wonder　what　she　has　gone　through？”
“Strange　hardships；　I　imagine—poor；　emaciated；　pallid　wanderer？”
“She　is　not　an　uneducated　person；　I　should　think；　by　her　manner　of　speaking；　her　accent　was　quite　pure；　and　the　clothes　she　took　off；　though　splashed　and　wet；　were　little　worn　and　fine。”
“She　has　a　peculiar　face；　fleshless　and　haggard　as　it　is；　I　rather　like　it；　and　when　in　good　health　and　animated；　I　can　fancy　her　physiognomy　would　be　agreeable。”
Never　once　in　their　dialogues　did　I　hear　a　syllable　of　regret　at　the　hospitality　they　had　extended　to　me；　or　of　suspicion　of；　or　aversion　to；　myself。　I　was　forted。
Mr。　St。　John　came　but　once：　he　looked　at　me；　and　said　my　state　of　lethargy　was　the　result　of　reaction　from　excessive　and　protracted　fatigue。　He　pronounced　it　needless　to　send　for　a　doctor：　nature；　he　was　sure；　would　manage　best；　left　to　herself。　He　said　every　nerve　had　been　overstrained　in　some　way；　and　the　whole　system　must　sleep　torpid　a　while。　There　was　no　disease。　He　imagined　my　recovery　would　be　rapid　enough　when　once　menced。　These　opinions　he　delivered　in　a　few　words；　in　a　quiet；　low　voice；　and　added；　after　a　pause；　in　the　tone　of　a　man　little　accustomed　to　expansive　ment；　“Rather　an　unusual　physiognomy；　certainly；　not　indicative　of　vulgarity　or　degradation。”
“Far　otherwise；”　responded　Diana。　“To　speak　truth；　St。　John；　my　heart　rather　warms　to　the　poor　little　soul。　I　wish　we　may　be　able　to　benefit　her　permanently。”
“That　is　hardly　likely；”　was　the　reply。　“You　will　find　she　is　some　young　lady　who　has　had　a　misunderstanding　with　her　friends；　and　has　probably　injudiciously　left　them。　We　may；　perhaps；　succeed　in　restoring　her　to　them；　if　she　is　not　obstinate：　but　I　trace　lines　of　force　in　her　face　which　make　me　sceptical　of　her　tractability。”　He　stood　considering　me　some　minutes；　then　added；　“She　looks　sensible；　but　not　at　all　handsome。”
“She　is　so　ill；　St。　John。”
“Ill　or　well；　she　would　always　be　plain。　The　grace　and　harmony　of　beauty　are　quite　wanting　in　those　features。”
On　the　third　day　I　was　better；　on　the　fourth；　I　could　speak；　move；　rise　in　bed；　and　turn。　Hannah　had　brought　me　some　gruel　and　dry　toast；　about；　as　I　supposed；　the　dinner…hour。　I　had　eaten　with　relish：　the　food　was　good—void　of　the　feverish　flavour　which　had　hitherto　poisoned　what　I　had　swallowed。　When　she　left　me；　I　felt　paratively　strong　and　revived：　ere　long　satiety　of　repose　and　desire　for　action　stirred　me。　I　wished　to　rise；　but　what　could　I　put　on？　Only　my　damp　and　bemired　apparel；　in　which　I　had　slept　on　the　ground　and　fallen　in　the　marsh。　I　felt　ashamed　to　appear　before　my　benefactors　so　clad。　I　was　spared　the　humiliation。
On　a　chair　by　the　bedside　were　all　my　own　things；　clean　and　dry。　My　black　silk　frock　hung　against　the　wall。　The　traces　of　the　bog　were　removed　from　it；　the　creases　left　by　the　wet　smoothed　out：　it　y　very　shoes　and　stockings　were　purified　and　rendered　presentable。　There　were　the　means　of　washing　in　the　room；　and　a　b　and　brush　to　smooth　my　hair。　After　a　weary　process；　and　resting　every　five　minutes；　I　succeeded　in　dressing　myself。　My　clothes　hung　loose　on　me；　for　I　was　much　wasted；　but　I　covered　deficiencies　with　a　shawl；　and　once　more；　clean　and　respectable　looking—no　speck　of　the　dirt；　no　trace　of　the　disorder　I　so　hated；　and　which　seemed　so　to　degrade　me；　left—I　crept　down　a　stone　staircase　with　the　aid　of　the　banisters；　to　a　narrow　low　passage；　and　found　my　way　presently　to　the　kitchen。
It　was　full　of　the　fragrance　of　new　bread　and　the　warmth　of　a　generous　fire。　Hannah　was　baking。　Prejudices；　it　is　well　known；　are　most　difficult　to　eradicate　from　the　heart　whose　soil　has　never　been　loosened　or　fertilised　by　education：　they　grow　there；　firm　as　weeds　among　stones。　Hannah　had　been　cold　and　stiff；　indeed；　at　the　first：　latterly　she　had　begun　to　relent　a　little；　and　when　she　saw　me　e　in　tidy　and　well…dressed；　she　even　smiled。
“What；　you　have　got　up！”　she　said。　“You　are　better；　then。　You　may　sit　you　down　in　my　chair　on　the　hearthstone；　if　you　will。”
She　pointed　to　the　rocking…chair：　I　took　it。　She　bustled　about；　examining　me　every　now　and　then　with　the　corner　of　her　eye。　Turning　to　me；　as　she　took　some　loaves　from　the　oven；　she　asked　bluntly—
“Did　you　ever　go　a…begging　afore　you　came　here？”
I　was　indignant　for　a　moment；　but　remembering　that　anger　was　out　of　the　question；　and　that　I　had　indeed　appeared　as　a　beggar　to　her；　I　answered　quietly；　but　still　not　without　a　certain　marked　firmness—
“You　are　mistaken　in　supposing　me　a　beggar。　I　am　no　beggar；　any　more　than　yourself　or　your　young　ladies。”
After　a　pause　she　said；　“I　dunnut　understand　that：　you’ve　like　no　house；　nor　no　brass；　I　guess？”
“The　want　of　house　or　brass　（by　which　I　suppose　you　mean　money）　does　not　make　a　beggar　in　your　sense　of　the　word。”
“Are　you　book…learned？”　she　inquired　presently。
“Yes；　very。”
“But　you’ve　never　been　to　a　boarding…school？”
“I　was　at　a　boarding…school　eight　years。”
She　opened　her　eyes　wide。　“Whatever　cannot　ye　keep　yourself　for；　then？”
“I　have　kept　myself；　and；　I　trust；　shall　keep　myself　again。　What　are　you　going　to　do　with　these　gooseberries？”　I　inquired；　as　she　brought　out　a　basket　of　the　fruit。
“Mak’　‘em　into　pies。”
“Give　them　to　me　and　I’ll　pick　them。”
“Nay；　I　dunnut　want　ye　to　do　nought。”
“But　I　must　do　something。　Let　me　have　them。”
She　consented；　and　she　even　brought　me　a　clean　towel　to　spread　over　my　dress；　“lest；”　as　she　said；　“I　should　mucky　it。”
“Ye’ve　not　been　used　to　sarvant’s　wark；　I　see　by　your　hands；”　she　remarked。　“Happen　ye’ve　been　a　dressmaker？”
“No；　you　are　wrong。　And　now；　never　mind　what　I　have　been：　don’t　trouble　your　head　further　about　me；　but　tell　me　the　name　of　the　house　where　we　are。”
“Some　calls　it　Marsh　End；　and　some　calls　it　Moor　House。”
“And　the　gentleman　who　lives　here　is　called　Mr。　St。　John？”
“Nay；　he　doesn’t　live　here：　he　is　only　staying　a　while。　When　he　is　at　home；　he　is　in　his　own　parish　at　Morton。”
“That　village　a　few　miles　off？
“Aye。”
“And　what　is　he？”
“He　is　a　parson。”
I　remembered　the　answer　of　the　old　housekeeper　at　the　parsonage；　when　I　had　asked　to　s