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简爱(英文版)-第75章

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ill not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms。 The passions may rage furiously; like true heathens; as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument; and the casting vote in every decision。 Strong wind; earthquake…shock; and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience。’
“Well said; forehead; your declaration shall be respected。 I have formed my plans—right plans I deem them—and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience; the counsels of reason。 I know how soon youth would fade and bloom perish; if; in the cup of bliss offered; but one dreg of shame; or one flavour of remorse were detected; and I do not want sacrifice; sorrow; dissolution—such is not my taste。 I wish to foster; not to blight—to earn gratitude; not to wring tears of blood—no; nor of brine: my harvest must be in smiles; in endearments; in sweet— That will do。 I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium。 I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not。 So far I have governed myself thoroughly。 I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength。 Rise; Miss Eyre: leave me; the play is played out’。”
Where was I? Did I wake or sleep? Had I been dreaming? Did I dream still? The old woman’s voice had changed: her accent; her gesture; and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass—as the speech of my own tongue。 I got up; but did not go。 I looked; I stirred the fire; and I looked again: but she drew her bon and her bandage closer about her face; and again beckoned me to depart。 The flame illuminated her hand stretched out: roused now; and on the alert for discoveries; I at once noticed that hand。 It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member; with smooth fingers; symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger; and stooping forward; I looked at it; and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before。 Again I looked at the face; which was no longer turned from me—on the contrary; the bon was doffed; the bandage displaced; the head advanced。
“Well; Jane; do you know me?” asked the familiar voice。
“Only take off the red cloak; sir; and then—”
“But the string is in a knot—help me。”
“Break it; sir。”
“There; then—‘Off; ye lendings!’” And Mr。 Rochester stepped out of his disguise。
“Now; sir; what a strange idea!”
“But well carried out; eh? Don’t you think so?”
“With the ladies you must have managed well。”
“But not with you?”
“You did not act the character of a gipsy with me。”
“What character did I act? My own?”
“No; some unaccountable one。 In short; I believe you have been trying to draw me out—or in; you have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense。 It is scarcely fair; sir。”
“Do you forgive me; Jane?”
“I cannot tell till I have thought it all over。 If; on reflection; I find I have fallen into no great absurdity; I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right。”
“Oh; you have been very correct—very careful; very sensible。”
I reflected; and thought; on the whole; I had。 It was a fort; but; indeed; I had been on my guard almost from the beginning of the interview。 Something of masquerade I suspected。 I knew gipsies and fortune…tellers did not express themselves as this seeming old woman had expressed herself; besides I had noted her feigned voice; her anxiety to conceal her features。 But my mind had been running on Grace Poole—that living enigma; that mystery of mysteries; as I considered her。 I had never thought of Mr。 Rochester。
“Well;” said he; “what are you musing about? What does that grave smile signify?”
“Wonder and self…congratulation; sir。 I have your permission to retire now; I suppose?”
“No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing…room yonder are doing。”
“Discussing the gipsy; I daresay。”
“Sit down!—Let me hear what they said about me。”
“I had better not stay long; sir; it must be near eleven o’clock。 Oh; are you aware; Mr。 Rochester; that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?”
“A stranger!—no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?”
“No; he said he had known you long; and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned。”
“The devil he did! Did he give his name?”
“His name is Mason; sir; and he es from the West Indies; from Spanish Town; in Jamaica; I think。”
Mr。 Rochester was standing near me; he had taken my hand; as if to lead me to a chair。 As I spoke he gave my wrist a convulsive grip; the smile on his lips froze: apparently a spasm caught his breath。
“Mason!—the West Indies!” he said; in the tone one might fancy a speaking automaton to enounce its single words; “Mason!—the West Indies!” he reiterated; and he went over the syllables three times; growing; in the intervals of speaking; whiter than ashes: he hardly seemed to know what he was doing。
“Do you feel ill; sir?” I inquired。
“Jane; I’ve got a blow; I’ve got a blow; Jane!” He staggered。
“Oh; lean on me; sir。”
“Jane; you offered me your shoulder once before; let me have it now。”
“Yes; sir; yes; and my arm。”
He sat down; and made me sit beside him。 Holding my hand in both his own; he chafed it; gazing on me; at the same time; with the most troubled and dreary look。
“My little friend!” said he; “I wish I were in a quiet island with only you; and trouble; and danger; and hideous recollections removed from me。”
“Can I help you; sir?—I’d give my life to serve you。”
“Jane; if aid is wanted; I’ll seek it at your hands; I promise you that。”
“Thank you; sir。 Tell me what to do;—I’ll try; at least; to do it。”
“Fetch me now; Jane; a glass of wine from the dining…room: they will be at supper there; and tell me if Mason is with them; and what he is doing。”
I went。 I found all the party in the dining…room at supper; as Mr。 Rochester had said; they were not seated at table;—the supper was arranged on the sideboard; each had taken what he chose; and they stood about here and there in groups; the
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