《Jane Eyre》第129章

on　his　pale　brow　and　cheek　as　pale；　where　it　grieved　me　to　discover　the　hollow　trace　of　care　or　sorrow　now　so　plainly　graved。　i　waited；　expecting　he　would　say　something　i　could　at　least　prehend；　but　his　hand　was　now　at　his　chin；　his　finger　on　his　lip：　he　was　thinking。　it　struck　me　that　his　hand　looked　wasted　like　his　face。　a　perhaps　uncalled…for　gush　of　pity　came　over　my　heart：　i　was　moved　to　say—
“i　wish　diana　or　mary　would　e　and　live　with　you：　it　is　too　bad　that　you　should　be　quite　alone；　and　you　are　recklessly　rash　about　your　own　health。”
“not　at　all；”　said　he：　“i　care　for　myself　when　necessary。　i　am　well　now。　what　do　you　see　amiss　in　me？”
this　was　said　with　a　careless；　abstracted　indifference；　which　showed　that　my　solicitude　was；　at　least　in　his　opinion；　wholly　superfluous。　i　was　silenced。
he　still　slowly　moved　his　finger　over　his　upper　lip；　and　still　his　eye　dwelt　dreamily　on　the　glowing　grate；　thinking　it　urgent　to　say　something；　i　asked　him　presently　if　he　felt　any　cold　draught　from　the　door；　which　was　behind　him。
“no；　no！”　he　responded　shortly　and　somewhat　testily。
“well；”　i　reflected；　“if　you　won’t　talk；　you　may　be　still；　i’ll　let　you　alone　now；　and　return　to　my　book。”
so　i　snuffed　the　candle　and　resumed　the　perusal　of　“marmion。”　he　soon　stirred；　my　eye　was　instantly　drawn　to　his　movements；　he　only　took　out　a　morocco　pocket…book；　thence　produced　a　letter；　which　he　read　in　silence；　folded　it；　put　it　back；　relapsed　into　meditation。　it　was　vain　to　try　to　read　with　such　an　inscrutable　fixture　before　me；　nor　could　i；　in　impatience；　consent　to　be　dumb；　he　might　rebuff　me　if　my　he　liked；　but　talk　i　would。
“have　you　heard　from　diana　and　mary　lately？”
“not　since　the　letter　i　showed　you　a　week　ago。”
“there　has　not　been　any　change　made　about　your　own　arrangements？　you　will　not　be　summoned　to　leave　england　sooner　than　you　expected？”
“i　fear　not；　indeed：　such　chance　is　too　good　to　befall　me。”　baffled　so　far；　i　changed　my　ground。　i　bethought　myself　to　talk　about　the　school　and　my　scholars。
“mary　garrett’s　mother　is　better；　and　mary　came　back　to　the　school　this　morning；　and　i　shall　have　four　new　girls　next　week　from　the　foundry　close—they　would　have　e　to…day　but　for　the　snow。”
“indeed！”
“mr。　oliver　pays　for　two。”
“does　he？”
“he　means　to　give　the　whole　school　a　treat　at　christmas。”
“i　know。”
“was　it　your　suggestion？”
“no。”
“whose；　then？”
“his　daughter’s；　i　think。”
“it　is　like　her：　she　is　so　good…natured。”
“yes。”
again　came　the　blank　of　a　pause：　the　clock　struck　eight　strokes。　it　aroused　him；　he　uncrossed　his　legs；　sat　erect；　turned　to　me。
“leave　your　book　a　moment；　and　e　a　little　nearer　the　fire；”　he　said。
wondering；　and　of　my　wonder　finding　no　end；　i　plied。
“half…an…hour　ago；”　he　pursued；　“i　spoke　of　my　impatience　to　hear　the　sequel　of　a　tale：　on　reflection；　i　find　the　matter　will　be　better　managed　by　my　assuming　the　narrator’s　part；　and　converting　you　into　a　listener。　before　mencing；　it　is　but　fair　to　warn　you　that　the　story　will　sound　somewhat　hackneyed　in　your　ears；　but　stale　details　often　regain　a　degree　of　freshness　when　they　pass　through　new　lips。　for　the　rest；　whether　trite　or　novel；　it　is　short。
“twenty　years　ago；　a　poor　curate—never　mind　his　name　at　this　moment—fell　in　love　with　a　rich　man’s　daughter；　she　fell　in　love　with　him；　and　married　him；　against　the　advice　of　all　her　friends；　who　consequently　disowned　her　immediately　after　the　wedding。　before　two　years　passed；　the　rash　pair　were　both　dead；　and　laid　quietly　side　by　side　under　one　slab。　（i　have　seen　their　grave；　it　formed　part　of　the　pavement　of　a　huge　churchyard　surrounding　the　grim；　soot…black　old　cathedral　of　an　overgrown　manufacturing　town　in　—　shire。）　they　left　a　daughter；　which；　at　its　very　birth；　charity　received　in　her　lap—cold　as　that　of　the　snow…drift　i　almost　stuck　fast　in　to…night。　charity　carried　the　friendless　thing　to　the　house　of　its　rich　maternal　relations；　it　was　reared　by　an　aunt…in…law；　called　（i　e　to　names　now）　mrs。　reed　of　gateshead。　you　start—did　you　hear　a　noise？　i　daresay　it　is　only　a　rat　scrambling　along　the　rafters　of　the　adjoining　schoolroom：　it　was　a　barn　before　i　had　it　repaired　and　altered；　and　barns　are　generally　haunted　by　rats。—to　proceed。　mrs。　reed　kept　the　orphan　ten　years：　whether　it　was　happy　or　not　with　her；　i　cannot　say；　never　having　been　told；　but　at　the　end　of　that　time　she　transferred　it　to　a　place　you　know—being　no　other　than　lowood　school；　where　you　so　long　resided　yourself。　it　seems　her　career　there　was　very　honourable：　from　a　pupil；　she　became　a　teacher；　like　yourself—really　it　strikes　me　there　are　parallel　points　in　her　history　and　yours—she　left　it　to　be　a　governess：　there；　again；　your　fates　were　analogous；　she　undertook　the　education　of　the　ward　of　a　certain　mr。　rochester。”
“mr。　rivers！”　i　interrupted。
“i　can　guess　your　feelings；”　he　said；　“but　restrain　them　for　a　while：　i　have　nearly　finished；　hear　me　to　the　end。　of　mr。　rochester’s　character　i　know　nothing；　but　the　one　fact　that　he　professed　to　offer　honourable　marriage　to　this　young　girl；　and　that　at　the　very　altar　she　discovered　he　had　a　wife　yet　alive；　though　a　lunatic。　what　his　subsequent　conduct　and　proposals　were　is　a　matter　of　pure　conjecture；　but　when　an　event　transpired　which　rendered　inquiry　after　the　governess　necessary；　it　was　discovered　she　was　gone—no　one　could　tell　when；　where；　or　how。　she　had　left　thornfield　hall　in　the　night；　every　research　after　her　course　had　been　vain：　the　country　had　been　scoured　far　and　wide；　no　vestige　of　information　could　be　gathered　respecting　her。　yet　that　she　should　be　found　is　bee　a　matter　of　serious　urgency：　advertisements　have　been　put　in　all　the　papers；　i　myself　have　received　a　letter　from　one　mr。　briggs；　a　solicitor；　municating　the　details　i　have　just　imparted。　is　it　not　an　odd　tale？”
“just　tell　me　this；”　said　i；　“and　since　you　know　so　much；　you　surely　can　tell　it　me—what　of　mr。　rochester？　how　and　where　is　he？　what　is　he　doing？　is　he　well？”
“i　am　ignorant　of　all　concerning　mr。　rochester：　the　letter　never　mentions　him　but　to　narrate　the　fraudul