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第16部分(第1页)

pples; and these fragrant treasures were all useless for most of the inmates of Lowood; except to furnish now and then a handful of herbs and blossoms to put in a coffin。

But I; and the rest who continued well; enjoyed fully the beauties of the scene and season; they let us ramble in the wood; like gipsies; from morning till night; we did what we liked; went where we liked: we lived better too。 Mr。 Brocklehurst and his family never came near Lowood now: household matters were not scrutinised into; the cross housekeeper was gone; driven away by the fear of infection; her successor; who had been matron at the Lowton Dispensary; unused to the ways of her new abode; provided with parative liberality。 Besides; there were fewer to feed; the sick could eat little; our breakfast…basins were better filled; when there was no time to prepare a regular dinner; which often happened; she would give us a large piece of cold pie; or a thick slice of bread and cheese; and this we carried away with us to the wood; where we each chose the spot we liked best; and dined sumptuously。

My favourite seat was a smooth and broad stone; rising white and dry from the very middle of the beck; and only to be got at by wading through the water; a feat I acplished barefoot。 The stone was just broad enough to acmodate; fortably; another girl and me; at that time my chosen rade—one Mary Ann Wilson; a shrewd; observant personage; whose society I took pleasure in; partly because she was witty and original; and partly because she had a manner which set me at my ease。 Some years older than I; she knew more of the world; and could tell me many things I liked to hear: with her my curiosity found gratification: to my faults also she gave ample indulgence; never imposing curb or rein on anything I said。 She had a turn for narrative; I for analysis; she liked to inform; I to question; so we got on swimmingly together; deriving much entertainment; if not much improvement; from our mutual intercourse。

And where; meantime; was Helen Burns? Why did I not spend these sweet days of liberty with her? Had I forgotten her? or was I so worthless as to have grown tired of her pare society? Surely the Mary Arm Wilson I have mentioned was inferior to my first acquaintance: she could only tell me amusing stories; and reciprocate any racy and pungent gossip I chose to indulge in; while; if I have spoken truth of Helen; she was qualified to give those who enjoyed the privilege of her converse a taste of far higher things。

True; reader; and I knew and felt this: and though I am a defective being; with many faults and few redeeming points; yet I never tired of Helen Burns; nor ever ceased to cherish for her a sentiment of attachment; as strong; tender; and respectful as any that ever animated my heart。 How could it be otherwise; when Helen; at all times and under all circumstances; evinced for me a quiet and faithful friendship; which ill…humour never soured; nor irritation never troubled? But Helen was ill at present: for some weeks she had been removed from my sight to I knew not what room upstairs。 She was not; I was told; in the hospital portion of the house with the fever patients; for her plaint was consumption; not typhus: and by consumption I; in my ignorance; understood something mild; which time and care would be sure to alleviate。

I was confirmed in this idea by the fact of her once or twice ing downstairs on very warm sunny afternoons; and being taken by Miss Temple into the garden; but; on these occasions; I was not allowed to go and speak to her; I only saw her from the schoolroom window; and then not distinctly; for she was much wrapped up; and sat at a distance under the verandah。

One evening; in the beginning of June; I had stayed out very late with Mary Ann in the wood; we had; as usual; separated ourselves from the others; and had wandered far; so far that we lost our way; and had to ask it at a lonely cottage; where a man and woman lived; who looked after a herd of half…wild swine that fed on the mast in the wood。 When we got back; it was after moonrise: a pony; which we knew to be the surgeon’s; was standing at the garden door。 Mary Ann remarked that she supposed some one must be very ill; as Mr。 Bates had been sent for at that time of the evening。 She went into the house; I stayed behind a few minutes to plant in my garden a handful of roots I had dug up in the forest; and which I feared would wither if I left them till the morning。 This done; I lingered yet a little longer: the flowers smelt so sweet as the dew fell; it was such a pleasant evening; so serene; so warm; the still glowing west promised so fairly another fine day on the morrow; the moon rose with such majesty in the grave east。 I was noting these things and enjoying them as a child might; when it entered my mind as it had never done before:—

“How sad to be lying now on a sick bed; and to be in danger of dying! This world is pleasant—it would be dreary to be called from it; and to have to go who knows where?”

And then my mind made its first earnest effort to prehend what had been infused into it concerning heaven and hell; and for the first time it recoiled; baffled; and for the first time glancing behind; on each side; and before it; it saw all round an unfathomed gulf: it felt the one point where it stood—the present; all the rest was formless cloud and vacant depth; and it shuddered at the thought of tottering; and plunging amid that chaos。 While pondering this new idea; I heard the front door open; Mr。 Bates came out; and with him was a nurse。 After she had seen him mount his horse and depart; she was about to close the door; but I ran up to her。

“How is Helen Burns?”

“Very poorly;” was the answer。

“Is it her Mr。 Bates has been to see?”

“Yes。”

“And what does he say about her?”

“He says she’ll not be here long。”

This phrase; uttered in my hearing yesterday; would have only conveyed the notion that she was about to be removed to Northumberland; to her own home。 I should not have suspected that it meant she was dying; but I knew instantly now! It opened clear on my prehension that Helen Burns was numbering her last days in this world; and that she was going to be taken to the region of spirits; if such region there were。 I experienced a shock of horror; then a strong thrill of grief; then a desire—a necessity to see her; and I asked in what room she lay。

“She is in Miss Temple’s room;” said the nurse。

“May I go up and speak to her?”

“Oh no; child! It is not likely; and now it is time for you to e in; you’ll catch the fever if you stop out when the dew is falling。”

The nurse closed the front door; I went in by the side entrance which led to the schoolroom: I was just in time; it was nine o’clock; and Miss Miller was calling the pupils to go to bed。

It might be two hours later; probably near eleven; when I—not having been able to fall asleep; and deeming; from the perfect silence of the dormitory; that my panions were all wrapt in profound repose—rose softly; put on my frock over my night…dress; and; without shoes; crept from the apartment; and set off in quest of Miss Temple’s room。 It was quite at the other end of the house; but I knew my way; and the light of the unclouded summer moon; entering here and there at passage windows; enabled me to find it without difficulty。 An odour of camphor and burnt vinegar warned me when I came near the fever room: and I passed its door quickly; fearful lest the nurse who sat up all night should hear me。 I dreaded being discovered and sent back; for I must see Helen;—I must embrace her before she died;—I must give her one last kiss; exchange with her one last word。

Having descended a staircase; traversed a portion of the house below; and succeeded in opening and shutting; without noise; two doors; I reached another flight of steps; these I mounted; and then just opposite to me was Miss Temple’s room。 A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity。 ing near; I found the door slightly ajar; probably to admit some fresh air into the close abode of sickness。 Indisposed to hesitate; and full of impatient impulses—soul and senses quivering with keen throes—I put it back and looked in。 My eye sought Helen; and feared to find death。

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