波波小说

第45部分（第1页）

my　life；　because　I　have　had　strange　ones　of　my　own。　Sympathies；　I　believe；　exist　（for　instance；　between　far…distant；　long…absent；　wholly　estranged　relatives　asserting；　notwithstanding　their　alienation；　the　unity　of　the　source　to　which　each　traces　his　origin）　whose　workings　baffle　mortal　prehension。　And　signs；　for　aught　we　know；　may　be　but　the　sympathies　of　Nature　with　man。

When　I　was　a　little　girl；　only　six　years　old；　I　one　night　heard　Bessie　Leaven　say　to　Martha　Abbot　that　she　had　been　dreaming　about　a　little　child；　and　that　to　dream　of　children　was　a　sure　sign　of　trouble；　either　to　one’s　self　or　one’s　kin。　The　saying　might　have　worn　out　of　my　memory；　had　not　a　circumstance　immediately　followed　which　served　indelibly　to　fix　it　there。　The　next　day　Bessie　was　sent　for　home　to　the　deathbed　of　her　little　sister。

Of　late　I　had　often　recalled　this　saying　and　this　incident；　for　during　the　past　week　scarcely　a　night　had　gone　over　my　couch　that　had　not　brought　with　it　a　dream　of　an　infant；　which　I　sometimes　hushed　in　my　arms；　sometimes　dandled　on　my　knee；　sometimes　watched　playing　with　daisies　on　a　lawn；　or　again；　dabbling　its　hands　in　running　water。　It　was　a　wailing　child　this　night；　and　a　laughing　one　the　next：　now　it　nestled　close　to　me；　and　now　it　ran　from　me；　but　whatever　mood　the　apparition　evinced；　whatever　aspect　it　wore；　it　failed　not　for　seven　successive　nights　to　meet　me　the　moment　I　entered　the　land　of　slumber。

I　did　not　like　this　iteration　of　one　idea—this　strange　recurrence　of　one　image；　and　I　grew　nervous　as　bedtime　approached　and　the　hour　of　the　vision　drew　near。　It　was　from　panionship　with　this　baby…　phantom　I　had　been　roused　on　that　moonlight　night　when　I　heard　the　cry；　and　it　was　on　the　afternoon　of　the　day　following　I　was　summoned　downstairs　by　a　message　that　some　one　wanted　me　in　Mrs。　Fairfax’s　room。　On　repairing　thither；　I　found　a　man　waiting　for　me；　having　the　appearance　of　a　gentleman’s　servant：　he　was　dressed　in　deep　mourning；　and　the　hat　he　held　in　his　hand　was　surrounded　with　a　crape　band。

“I　daresay　you　hardly　remember　me；　Miss；”　he　said；　rising　as　I　entered；　“but　my　name　is　Leaven：　I　lived　coachman　with　Mrs。　Reed　when　you　were　at　Gateshead；　eight　or　nine　years　since；　and　I　live　there　still。”

“Oh；　Robert！　how　do　you　do？　I　remember　you　very　well：　you　used　to　give　me　a　ride　sometimes　on　Miss　Georgiana’s　bay　pony。　And　how　is　Bessie？　You　are　married　to　Bessie？”

“Yes；　Miss：　my　wife　is　very　hearty；　thank　you；　she　brought　me　another　little　one　about　two　months　since—we　have　three　now—and　both　mother　and　child　are　thriving。”

“And　are　the　family　well　at　the　house；　Robert？”

“I　am　sorry　I　can’t　give　you　better　news　of　them；　Miss：　they　are　very　badly　at　present—in　great　trouble。”

“I　hope　no　one　is　dead；”　I　said；　glancing　at　his　black　dress。　He　too　looked　down　at　the　crape　round　his　hat　and　replied—

“Mr。　John　died　yesterday　was　a　week；　at　his　chambers　in　London。”

“Mr。　John？”

“Yes。”

“And　how　does　his　mother　bear　it？”

“Why；　you　see；　Miss　Eyre；　it　is　not　a　mon　mishap：　his　life　has　been　very　wild：　these　last　three　years　he　gave　himself　up　to　strange　ways；　and　his　death　was　shocking。”

“I　heard　from　Bessie　he　was　not　doing　well。”

“Doing　well！　He　could　not　do　worse：　he　ruined　his　health　and　his　estate　amongst　the　worst　men　and　the　worst　women。　He　got　into　debt　and　into　jail：　his　mother　helped　him　out　twice；　but　as　soon　as　he　was　free　he　returned　to　his　old　panions　and　habits。　His　head　was　not　strong：　the　knaves　he　lived　amongst　fooled　him　beyond　anything　I　ever　heard。　He　came　down　to　Gateshead　about　three　weeks　ago　and　wanted　missis　to　give　up　all　to　him。　Missis　refused：　her　means　have　long　been　much　reduced　by　his　extravagance；　so　he　went　back　again；　and　the　next　news　was　that　he　was　dead。　How　he　died；　God　knows！—they　say　he　killed　himself。”

I　was　silent：　the　things　were　frightful。　Robert　Leaven　resumed—

“Missis　had　been　out　of　health　herself　for　some　time：　she　had　got　very　stout；　but　was　not　strong　with　it；　and　the　loss　of　money　and　fear　of　poverty　were　quite　breaking　her　down。　The　information　about　Mr。　John’s　death　and　the　manner　of　it　came　too　suddenly：　it　brought　on　a　stroke。　She　was　three　days　without　speaking；　but　last　Tuesday　she　seemed　rather　better：　she　appeared　as　if　she　wanted　to　say　something；　and　kept　making　signs　to　my　wife　and　mumbling。　It　was　only　yesterday　morning；　however；　that　Bessie　understood　she　was　pronouncing　your　name；　and　at　last　she　made　out　the　words；　‘Bring　Jane—fetch　Jane　Eyre：　I　want　to　speak　to　her。’　Bessie　is　not　sure　whether　she　is　in　her　right　mind；　or　means　anything　by　the　words；　but　she　told　Miss　Reed　and　Miss　Georgiana；　and　advised　them　to　send　for　you。　The　young　ladies　put　it　off　at　first；　but　their　mother　grew　so　restless；　and　said；　‘Jane；　Jane；’　so　many　times；　that　at　last　they　consented。　I　left　Gateshead　yesterday：　and　if　you　can　get　ready；　Miss；　I　should　like　to　take　you　back　with　me　early　to…　morrow　morning。”

“Yes；　Robert；　I　shall　be　ready：　it　seems　to　me　that　I　ought　to　go。”

“I　think　so　too；　Miss。　Bessie　said　she　was　sure　you　would　not　refuse：　but　I　suppose　you　will　have　to　ask　leave　before　you　can　get　off？”

“Yes；　and　I　will　do　it　now；”　and　having　directed　him　to　the　servants’　hall；　and　remended　him　to　the　care　of　John’s　wife；　and　the　attentions　of　John　himself；　I　went　in　search　of　Mr。　Rochester。

He　was　not　in　any　of　the　lower　rooms；　he　was　not　in　the　yard；　the　stables；　or　the　grounds。　I　asked　Mrs。　Fairfax　if　she　had　seen　him；—yes：　she　believed　he　was　playing　billiards　with　Miss　Ingram。　To　the　billiard…room　I　hastened：　the　click　of　balls　and　the　hum　of　voices　resounded　thence；　Mr。　Rochester；　Miss　Ingram；　the　two　Misses　Eshton；　and　their　admirers；　were　all　busied　in　the　game。　It　required　some　courage　to　disturb　so　interesting　a　party；　my　errand；　however；　was　one　I　could　not　defer；　so　I　approached　the　master　where　he　stood　at　Miss　Ingram’s　side。　She　turned　as　I　drew　near；　and　looked　at　me　haughtily：　her　eyes　seemed　to　demand；　“What　can　the　creeping　creature　want　now？”　and　when　I　said；　in　a　low　voice；　“Mr。　Rochester；”　she　made　a　movement　as　if　tempted　to　order　me　away。　I　remember　her　appearance　at　the　moment—it　was　very　graceful　and　very　striking：　she　wore　a　morning　robe　of　sky…blue　crape；　a　gauzy　azure　scarf　was　twisted　in　her　hair。　She　had　been　all　animation　with　the　game；　and　irritated　pride　did　not　lower　the　expression　of　her　haughty　lineaments。

“Does　that　person　r。　Rochester；　and　Mr。　Rochester　turned　to　see　who　the　“person”　was。　He　made　a　curious　grimace—one　of　his　strange　and　equivocal　demonstrations—threw　down　his　cue　and　followed　me　from　the　room。

“Well；　Jane？”　he　said；　as　he　rested　his　back　against　the　schoolroom　door；　which　he　had　shut。

“If　you　please；　sir；　I　want　leave　of　absence　for　a　week　or　two。”

“What　to　do？—where　to　go？”

“To　see　a　sick　lady　who　has　sent　for　me。”

“What　sick　lady？—where　does　she　live？”

“At　Gateshead；　in—shire。”

“…shire？　That　is　a　hundred　miles　off！　Who　may　she　be　that　sends　for　people　to　see　her　that　distance？”

“Her　name　is　Reed；　sir—Mrs。　Reed。”

“Reed　of　Gateshead？　There　was　a　Reed　of　Gateshead；　a　magistrate。”

“It　is　his　widow；　sir。”

“And　what　have　you　to　do　with　her？　How　do　you　know　her？”

“Mr。　Reed　was　my　uncle—my　mother’s　brother。”

“The　deuce　he　was！　You　never　told　me　that　before：　you　always　said　you　had　no　relations。”

“None　that　would　own　me；　sir。　Mr。　Reed　is　dead；　and　his　wife　cast　me　off。”

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