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第4部分(第1页)

Chapter 3

The next thing I remember is; waking up with a feeling as if I had had a frightful nightmare; and seeing before me a terrible red glare; crossed with thick black bars。 I heard voices; too; speaking with a hollow sound; and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation; uncertainty; and an all…predominating sense of terror confused my faculties。 Ere long; I became aware that some one was handling me; lifting me up and supporting me in a sitting posture; and that more tenderly than I had ever been raised or upheld before。 I rested my head against a pillow or an arm; and felt easy。

In five minutes more the cloud of bewilderment dissolved: I knew quite well that I was in my own bed; and that the red glare was the nursery fire。 It was night: a candle burnt on the table; Bessie stood at the bed…foot with a basin in her hand; and a gentleman sat in a chair near my pillow; leaning over me。

I felt an inexpressible relief; a soothing conviction of protection and security; when I knew that there was a stranger in the room; an individual not belonging to Gateshead。; and not related to Mrs。 Reed。 Turning from Bessie (though her presence was far less obnoxious to me than that of Abbot; for instance; would have been); I scrutinised the face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr。 Lloyd; an apothecary; sometimes called in by Mrs。 Reed when the servants were ailing: for herself and the children she employed a physician。

“Well; who am I?” he asked。

I pronounced his name; offering him at the same time my hand: he took it; smiling and saying; “We shall do very well by…and…by。” Then he laid me down; and addressing Bessie; charged her to be very careful that I was not disturbed during the night。 Having given some further directions; and intimates that he should call again the next day; he departed; to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him; all the room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness weighed it down。

“Do you feel as if you should sleep; Miss?” asked Bessie; rather softly。

Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might be rough。 “I will try。”

“Would you like to drink; or could you eat anything?”

“No; thank you; Bessie。”

“Then I think I shall go to bed; for it is past twelve o’clock; but you may call me if you want anything in the night。”

Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question。

“Bessie; what is the matter with me? Am I ill?”

“You fell sick; I suppose; in the red…room with crying; you’ll be better soon; no doubt。”

Bessie went into the housemaid’s apartment; which was near。 I heard her say—

“Sarah; e and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren’t for my life be alone with that poor child to…night: she might die; it’s such a strange thing she should have that fit: I wonder if she saw anything。 Missis was rather too hard。”

Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half…an…hour before they fell asleep。 I caught scraps of their conversation; from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed。

“Something passed her; all dressed in white; and vanished”—“A great black dog behind him”—“Three loud raps on the chamber door”—“A light in the churchyard just over his grave;” &c。 &c。

At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out。 For me; the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel。

No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red…room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the reverberation to this day。 Yes; Mrs。 Reed; to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental suffering; but I ought to forgive you; for you knew not what you did: while rending my heart…strings; you thought you were only uprooting my bad propensities。

Next day; by noon; I was up and dressed; and sat wrapped in a shawl by the nursery hearth。 I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed。 Yet; I thought; I ought to have been happy; for none of the Reeds were there; they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama。 Abbot; too; was sewing in another room; and Bessie; as she moved hither and thither; putting away toys and arranging drawers; addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness。 This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace; accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but; in fact; my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe; and no pleasure excite them agreeably。

Bessie had been down into the kitchen; and she brought up with her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate; whose bird of paradise; nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds; had been wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand in order to examine it more closely; but had always hitherto been deemed unworthy of such a privilege。 This precious vessel was now placed on my knee; and I was cordially invited to eat the circlet of delicate pastry upon it。 Vain favour! ing; like most other favours long deferred and often wished for; too late! I could not eat the tart; and the plumage of the bird; the tints of the flowers; seemed strangely faded: I put both plate and tart away。 Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word BOOK acted as a transient stimulus; and I begged her to fetch Gulliver’s Travels from the library。 This book I had again and again perused with delight。 I considered it a narrative of facts; and discovered in it a vein of interest deeper than what I found in fairy tales: for as to the elves; having sought them in vain among foxglove leaves and bells; under mushrooms and beneath the ground…ivy mantling old wall…nooks; I had at length made up my mind to the sad truth; that they were all gone out of England to some savage country where the woods were wilder and thicker; and the population more scant; whereas; Lilliput and Brobdignag being; in my creed; solid parts of the earth’s surface; I doubted not that I might one day; by taking a long voyage; see with my own eyes the little fields; houses; and trees; the diminutive people; the tiny cows; sheep; and birds of the one realm; and the corn…fields forest…high; the mighty mastiffs; the monster cats; the tower…like men and women; of the other。 Yet; when this cherished volume was now placed in my hand—when I turned over its leaves; and sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I had; till now; never failed to find—all was eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt goblins; the pigmies malevolent and fearful imps; Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread and dangerous regions。 I closed the book; which I dared no longer peruse; and put it on the table; beside the untasted tart。

Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room; and having washed her hands; she opened a certain little drawer; full of splendid shreds of silk and satin; and began making a new bon for Georgiana’s doll。 Meantime she sang: her song was—

“In the days when we went gipsying;

A long time ago。”

I had often heard the song before; and always with lively delight; for Bessie had a sweet voice;—at least; I thought so。 But now; though her voice was still sweet; I found in its melody an indescribable sadness。 Sometimes; preoccupied with her work; she sang the refrain very low; very lingeringly; “A long time ago” came out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn。 She passed into another ballad; this time a really doleful one。

“My feet they are sore; and my limbs they are weary;

Long is the way; and the mountains are wild;

Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary

Over the path of the poor orphan child。

Why did they send me so far and so lonely;

Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled?

Men are hard…hearted; and kind angels only

Watch o’er the steps of a poor orphan child。

Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing;

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