迪文小说

第91部分（第1页）

man　judges；　but　far　more　wisely。　I　did　wrong：　I　would　have　sullied　my　innocent　flower—breathed　guilt　on　its　purity：　the　Omnipotent　snatched　it　from　me。　I；　in　my　stiff…necked　rebellion；　almost　cursed　the　dispensation：　instead　of　bending　to　the　decree；　I　defied　it。　Divine　justice　pursued　its　course；　disasters　came　thick　on　me：　I　was　forced　to　pass　through　the　valley　of　the　shadow　of　death。　His　chastisements　are　mighty；　and　one　smote　me　which　has　humbled　me　for　ever。　You　know　I　was　proud　of　my　strength：　but　what　is　it　now；　when　I　must　give　it　over　to　foreign　guidance；　as　a　child　does　its　weakness？　Of　late；　Jane—only—only　of　late—I　began　to　see　and　acknowledge　the　hand　of　God　in　my　doom。　I　began　to　experience　remorse；　repentance；　the　wish　for　reconcilement　to　my　Maker。　I　began　sometimes　to　pray：　very　brief　prayers　they　were；　but　very　sincere。

“Some　days　since：　nay；　I　can　number　them—four；　it　was　last　Monday　night；　a　singular　mood　came　over　me：　one　in　which　grief　replaced　frenzy—sorrow；　sullenness。　I　had　long　had　the　impression　that　since　I　could　nowhere　find　you；　you　must　be　dead。　Late　that　night—　perhaps　it　might　be　between　eleven　and　twelve　o’clock—ere　I　retired　to　my　dreary　rest；　I　supplicated　God；　that；　if　it　seemed　good　to　Him；　I　might　soon　be　taken　from　this　life；　and　admitted　to　that　world　to　e；　where　there　was　still　hope　of　rejoining　Jane。

“I　was　in　my　own　room；　and　sitting　by　the　window；　which　was　open：　it　soothed　me　to　feel　the　balmy　night…air；　though　I　could　see　no　stars　and　only　by　a　vague；　luminous　haze；　knew　the　presence　of　a　moon。　I　longed　for　thee；　Ja！　Oh；　I　longed　for　thee　both　with　soul　and　flesh！　I　asked　of　God；　at　once　in　anguish　and　humility；　if　I　had　not　been　long　enough　desolate；　afflicted；　tormented；　and　might　not　soon　taste　bliss　and　peace　once　more。　That　I　merited　all　I　endured；　I　acknowledged—that　I　could　scarcely　endure　more；　I　pleaded；　and　the　alpha　and　omega　of　my　heart’s　wishes　broke　involuntarily　from　my　lips　in　the　words—‘Jane！　Jane！　Jane！’”

“Did　you　speak　these　words　aloud？”

“I　did；　Jane。　If　any　listener　had　heard　me；　he　would　have　thought　me　mad：　I　pronounced　them　with　such　frantic　energy。”

“And　it　was　last　Monday　night；　somewhere　near　midnight？”

“Yes；　but　the　time　is　of　no　consequence：　what　followed　is　the　strange　point。　You　will　think　me　superstitious；—some　superstition　I　have　in　my　blood；　and　always　had：　nevertheless；　this　is　true—　true　at　least　it　is　that　I　heard　what　I　now　relate。

“As　I　exclaimed　‘Jane！　Jane！　Jane！’　a　voice—I　cannot　tell　whence　the　voice　came；　but　I　know　whose　voice　it　was—replied；　‘I　am　ing：　wait　for　me；’　and　a　moment　after；　went　whispering　on　the　wind　the　words—‘Where　are　you？’

“I’ll　tell　you；　if　I　can；　the　idea；　the　picture　these　words　opened　to　my　mind：　yet　it　is　difficult　to　express　what　I　want　to　express。　Ferndean　is　buried；　as　you　see；　in　a　heavy　wood；　where　sound　falls　dull；　and　dies　unreverberating。　‘Where　are　you？’　seemed　spoken　amongst　mountains；　for　I　heard　a　hill…sent　echo　repeat　the　words。　Cooler　and　fresher　at　the　moment　the　gale　seemed　to　visit　my　brow：　I　could　have　deemed　that　in　some　wild；　lone　scene；　I　and　Jane　were　meeting。　In　spirit；　I　believe　we　must　have　met。　You　no　doubt　were；　at　that　hour；　in　unconscious　sleep；　Jane：　perhaps　your　soul　wandered　from　its　cell　to　fort　mine；　for　those　were　your　accents—as　certain　as　I　live—they　were　yours！”

Reader；　it　was　on　Monday　night—near　midnight—that　I　too　had　received　the　mysterious　summons：　those　were　the　very　words　by　which　I　replied　to　it。　I　listened　to　Mr。　Rochester’s　narrative；　but　made　no　disclosure　in　return。　The　coincidence　struck　me　as　too　awful　and　inexplicable　to　be　municated　or　discussed。　If　I　told　anything；　my　tale　would　be　such　as　must　necessarily　make　a　profound　impression　on　the　mind　of　my　hearer：　and　that　mind；　yet　from　its　sufferings　too　prone　to　gloom；　needed　not　the　deeper　shade　of　the　supernatural。　I　kept　these　things　then；　and　pondered　them　in　my　heart。

“You　cannot　now　wonder；”　continued　my　master；　“that　when　you　rose　upon　me　so　unexpectedly　last　night；　I　had　difficulty　in　believing　you　any　other　than　a　mere　voice　and　vision；　something　that　would　melt　to　silence　and　annihilation；　as　the　midnight　whisper　and　mountain　echo　had　melted　before。　Now；　I　thank　God！　I　know　it　to　be　otherwise。　Yes；　I　thank　God！”

He　put　me　off　his　knee；　rose；　and　reverently　lifting　his　hat　from　his　brow；　and　bending　his　sightless　eyes　to　the　earth；　he　stood　in　mute　devotion。　Only　the　last　words　of　the　worship　were　audible。

“I　thank　my　Maker；　that；　in　the　midst　of　judgment；　he　has　remembered　mercy。　I　humbly　entreat　my　Redeemer　to　give　me　strength　to　lead　henceforth　a　purer　life　than　I　have　done　hitherto！”

Then　he　stretched　his　hand　out　to　be　led。　I　took　that　dear　hand；　held　it　a　moment　to　my　lips；　then　let　it　pass　round　my　shoulder：　being　so　much　lower　of　stature　than　he；　I　served　both　for　his　prop　and　guide。　We　entered　the　wood；　and　wended　homeward。

Chapter　38—CONCLUSION

Reader；　I　married　him。　A　quiet　wedding　we　had：　he　and　I；　the　parson　and　clerk；　were　alone　present。　When　we　got　back　from　church；　I　went　into　the　kitchen　of　the　manor…house；　where　Mary　was　cooking　the　dinner　and　John　cleaning　the　knives；　and　I　said—

“Mary；　I　have　been　married　to　Mr。　Rochester　this　morning。”　The　housekeeper　and　her　husband　were　both　of　that　decent　phlegmatic　order　of　people；　to　whom　one　may　at　any　time　safely　municate　a　remarkable　piece　of　news　without　incurring　the　danger　of　having　one’s　ears　pierced　by　some　shrill　ejaculation；　and　subsequently　stunned　by　a　torrent　of　wordy　wonderment。　Mary　did　look　up；　and　she　did　stare　at　me：　the　ladle　with　which　she　was　basting　a　pair　of　chickens　roasting　at　the　fire；　did　for　some　three　minutes　hang　suspended　in　air；　and　for　the　same　space　of　time　John’s　knives　also　had　rest　from　the　polishing　process：　but　Mary；　bending　again　over　the　roast；　said　only—

“Have　you；　Miss？　Well；　for　sure！”

A　short　time　after　she　pursued—“I　seed　you　go　out　with　the　master；　but　I　didn’t　know　you　were　gone　to　church　to　be　wed；”　and　she　basted　away。　John；　when　I　turned　to　him；　was　grinning　from　ear　to　ear。

“I　telled　Mary　how　it　would　be；”　he　said：　“I　knew　what　Mr。　Edward”　（John　was　an　old　servant；　and　had　known　his　master　when　he　was　the　cadet　of　the　house；　therefore；　he　often　gave　him　his　Christian　name）—“I　knew　what　Mr。　Edward　would　do；　and　I　was　certain　he　would　not　wait　long　neither：　and　he’s　done　right；　for　aught　I　know。　I　wish　you　joy；　Miss！”　and　he　politely　pulled　his　forelock。

“Thank　you；　John。　Mr。　Rochester　told　me　to　give　you　and　Mary　this。”　I　put　into　his　hand　a　five…pound　note。　Without　waiting　to　hear　more；　I　left　the　kitchen。　In　passing　the　door　of　that　sanctum　some　time　after；　I　caught　the　words—

“She’ll　happen　do　better　for　him　nor　ony　o’t’　grand　ladies。”　And　again；　“If　she　ben’t　one　o’　th’　handsomest；　she’s　noan　faal　and　varry　good…natured；　and　i’　his　een　she’s　fair　beautiful；　onybody　may　see　that。”

I　wrote　to　Moor　House　and　to　Cambridge　immediately；　to　say　what　I　had　done：　fully　explaining　also　why　I　had　thus　acted。　Diana　and　Mary　approved　the　step　unreservedly。　Diana　announced　that　she　would　just　give　me　time　to　get　over　the　honeymoon；　and　then　she　would　e　and　see　me。

“She　had　better　not　wait　till　then；　Jane；”　said　Mr。　Rochester；　when　I　read　her　letter　to　him；　“if　she　does；　she　will　be　too　late；　for　our　honeymoon　will　shine　our　life　long：　its　beams　will　only　fade　over　your　grave　or　mine。”

How　St。　John　received　the　news；　I　don’t　know：　he　never　answered　the　letter　in　which　I　municated　it：　yet　six　months　after　he　wrote　to　me；　without；　however；　mentioning　Mr。　Rochester’s　name　or　alluding　to　my　marriage。　His　letter　was　then　calm；　and；　though　very　serious；　kind。　He　has　maintained　a　regular；　though　not　frequent；　correspondence　ever　since：　he　hopes　I　am　happy；　and　trusts　I　am　not　of　those　who　live　without　God　in　the　world；　and　only　mind　earthly　things。

You　have　not　quite　forgotten　little　Adèle；　have　you；　reader？　I　had　not；　I　soon　asked　and　obtained　leave　of　Mr。　Rochester；　to　go　and　see　her　at　the　school　where　he　had　placed　her。　Her　frantic　joy　at　beholding　me　again　moved　me　much。　She　looked　pale　and　thin：　she　said　she　was　not　happy。　I　found　the　rules　of　the　establishment　were　too　strict；　its　course　of　study　too　severe　for　a　child　of　her　age：　I　took　her　home　with　me。　I　meant　to　bee　her　governess　once　more；　but　I　soon　found　this　impracticable；　my　time　and　cares　y　husband　needed　them　all。　So　I　sought　out　a　school　conducted　on　a　more　indulgent　system；　and　near　enough　to　permit　of　my　visiting　her　often；　and　bringing　her　home　sometimes。　I　took　care　she　should　never　want　for　anything　that　could　contribute　to　her　fort：　she　soon　settled　in　her　new　abode；　became　very　happy　there；　and　made　fair　progress　in　her　studies。　As　she　grew　up；　a　sound　English　education　corrected　in　a　great　measure　her　French　defects；　and　when　she　left　school；　I　found　in　her　a　pleasing　and　obliging　panion：　docile；　good…tempered；　and　well…principled。　By　her　grateful　attention　to　me　and　mine；　she　has　long　since　well　repaid　any　little　kindness　I　ever　had　it　in　my　power　to　offer　her。

My　tale　draws　to　its　close：　one　word　respecting　my　experience　of　married　life；　and　one　brief　glance　at　the　fortunes　of　those　whose　names　have　most　frequently　recurred　in　this　narrative；　and　I　have　done。

I　have　now　been　married　ten　years。　I　know　what　it　is　to　live　entirely　for　and　with　what　I　love　best　on　earth。　I　hold　myself　supremely　blest—blest　beyond　what　language　can　express；　because　I　am　my　husband’s　life　as　fully　is　he　is　mine。　No　woman　was　ever　nearer　to　her　mate　than　I　am：　ever　more　absolutely　bone　of　his　bone　and　flesh　of　his　flesh。　I　know　no　weariness　of　my　Edward’s　society：　he　knows　none　of　mine；　any　more　than　we　each　do　of　the　pulsation　of　the　heart　that　beats　in　our　separate　bosoms；　consequently；　we　are　ever　together。　To　be　together　is　for　us　to　be　at　once　as　free　as　in　solitude；　as　gay　as　in　pany。　We　talk；　I　believe；　all　day　long：　to　talk　to　each　other　is　but　a　more　animated　and　an　audible　thinking。　All　my　confidence　is　bestowed　on　him；　all　his　confidence　is　devoted　to　me；　we　are　precisely　suited　in　character—perfect　concord　is　the　result。

Mr。　Rochester　continued　blind　the　first　two　years　of　our　union；　perhaps　it　was　that　circumstance　that　drew　us　so　very　near—that　knit　us　so　very　close：　for　I　was　then　his　vision；　as　I　am　still　his　right　hand。　Literally；　I　was　（what　he　often　called　me）　the　apple　of　his　eye。　He　saw　nature—he　saw　books　through　me；　and　never　did　I　weary　of　gazing　for　his　behalf；　and　of　putting　into　words　the　effect　of　field；　tree；　town；　river；　cloud；　sunbeam—of　the　landscape　before　us；　of　the　weather　round　us—and　impressing　by　sound　on　his　ear　what　light　could　no　longer　stamp　on　his　eye。　Never　did　I　weary　of　reading　to　him；　never　did　I　weary　of　conducting　him　where　he　wished　to　go：　of　doing　for　him　what　he　wished　to　be　done。　And　there　was　a　pleasure　in　my　services；　most　full；　most　exquisite；　even　though　sad—because　he　claimed　these　services　without　painful　shame　or　damping　humiliation。　He　loved　me　so　truly；　that　he　knew　no　reluctance　in　profiting　by　my　attendance：　he　felt　I　loved　him　so　fondly；　that　to　yield　that　attendance　was　to　indulge