jane eyre(简·爱)-第31章
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discontented。 I could not help it： the restlessness was in my
nature； it agitated me to pain sometimes。 Then my sole relief was to
walk along the corridor of the third storey； backwards and forwards；
safe in the silence and solitude of the spot； and allow my mind's
eye to dwell on whatever bright visions rose before it… and；
certainly； they were many and glowing； to let my heart be heaved by
the exultant movement； which； while it swelled it in trouble； expanded
it with life； and； best of all； to open my inward ear to a tale that
was never ended… a tale my imagination created； and narrated
continuously； quickened with all of incident； life； fire； feeling；
that I desired and had not in my actual existence。
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with
tranquillity： they must have action； and they will make it if they
cannot find it。 Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine；
and millions are in silent revolt against their lot。 Nobody knows
how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses
of life which people earth。 Women are supposed to be very calm
generally： but women feel just as men feel； they need exercise for
their faculties； and a field for their efforts； as much as their
brothers do； they suffer from too rigid a restraint； too absolute a
stagnation； precisely as men would suffer； and it is narrow…minded
in their more privileged fellow…creatures to say that they ought to
confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings； to
playing on the piano and embroidering bags。 It is thoughtless to
condemn them； or laugh at them； if they seek to do more or learn
more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex。
When thus alone； I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole's laugh：
the same peal； the same low； slow ha！ ha！ which； when first heard； had
thrilled me： I heard； too； her eccentric murmurs； stranger than her
laugh。 There were days when she was quite silent； but there were
others when I could not account for the sounds she made。 Sometimes I
saw her： she would come out of her room with a basin； or a plate； or a
tray in her hand； go down to the kitchen and shortly return； generally
（oh； romantic reader； forgive me for telling the plain truth！） bearing
a pot of porter。 Her appearance always acted as a damper to the
curiosity raised by her oral oddities： hard…featured and staid； she
had no point to which interest could attach。 I made some attempts to
draw her into conversation； but she seemed a person of few words： a
monosyllabic reply usually cut short every effort of that sort。
The other members of the household； viz。； John and his wife； Leah
the housemaid； and Sophie the French nurse； were decent people； but in
no respect remarkable； with Sophie I used to talk French； and
sometimes I asked her questions about her native country； but she
was not of a descriptive or narrative turn； and generally gave such
vapid and confused answers as were calculated rather to check than
encourage inquiry。
October； November； December passed away。 One afternoon in
January； Mrs。 Fairfax had begged a holiday for Adele； because she
had a cold； and； as Adele seconded the request with an ardour that
reminded me how precious occasional holidays had been to me in my
own childhood； I accorded it； deeming that I did well in showing
pliability on the point。 It was a fine； calm day； though very cold；
I was tired of sitting still in the library through a whole long
morning： Mrs。 Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting to
be posted； so I put on my bonnet and cloak and volunteered to carry it
to Hay； the distance； two miles； would be a pleasant winter
afternoon walk。 Having seen Adele comfortably seated in her little
chair by Mrs。 Fairfax's parlour fireside； and given her her best wax
doll （which I usually kept enveloped in silver paper in a drawer） to
play with； and a story…book for a change of amusement； and having
replied to her 'Revenez bientot； ma bonne amie； ma chere Mdlle。
Jeannette；' with a kiss I set out。
The ground was hard； the air was still； my road was lonely； I
walked fast till I got warm； and then I walked slowly to enjoy and
analyse the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and
situation。 It was three o'clock； the church bell tolled as I passed
under the belfry： the charm of the hour lay in its approaching
dimness； in the low…gliding and pale…beaming sun。 I was a mile from
Thornfield； in a lane noted for wild roses in summer； for nuts and
blackberries in autumn； and even now possessing a few coral
treasures in hips and haws； but whose best winter delight lay in its
utter solitude and leafless repose。 If a breath of air stirred； it
made no sound here； for there was not a holly； not an evergreen to
rustle； and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as
the white； worn stones which causewayed the middle of the path。 Far
and wide； on each side； there were only fields； where no cattle now
browsed； and the little brown birds； which stirred occasionally in the
hedge； looked like single russet leaves that had forgotten to drop。
This lane inclined up…hill all the way to Hay； having reached the
middle； I sat down on a stile which led thence into a field。 Gathering
my mantle about me； and sheltering my hands in my muff； I did not feel
the cold； though it froze keenly； as was attested by a sheet of ice
covering the causeway； where a little brooklet； now congealed； had
overflowed after a rapid thaw some days since。 From my seat I could
look down on Thornfield： the grey and battlemented hall was the
principal object in the vale below me； its woods and dark rookery rose
against the； west。 I lingered till the sun went down amongst the
trees； and sank crimson and clear behind them。 I then turned eastward。
On the hill…top above me sat the rising moon； pale yet as a
cloud； but brightening momentarily； she looked over Hay； which； half
lost in trees； sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys： it was
yet a mile distant； but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly
its thin murmurs of life。 My ear； too； felt the flow of currents； in
what dales and depths I could not tell： but there were many hills
beyond Hay； and doubtless many becks threading their passes。 That
evening calm betrayed alike the tinkle of the nearest streams； the
sough of the most remote。
A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings； at once
so far away and so clear： a positive tramp； tramp； a metallic clatter；
which effaced the soft wave…wanderings； as； in a picture； the solid
mass of a crag； or the rough boles of a great oak； drawn in dark and
strong on the foreground； efface the aerial distance of azure hill；
sunny horizon； and blended clouds where tint melts into tint。
The din was on the causeway： a horse was coming； the windings of
the lane yet hid it； but it approached。 I was just leaving the
stile； yet； as the path was narrow； I sat still to let it go by。 In
those days I was young； and all sorts of fancies bright and dark
tenanted my mind： the memories of nursery stories were there amongst
other rubbish； and when they recurred； maturing youth added to them
a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give。 As this horse
approached； and as I watched for it to appear through the dusk； I
remembered certain of Bessie's tales； wherein figured a
North…of…England spirit called a 'Gytrash；' which； in the form of
horse； mule； or large dog； haunted solitary ways； and sometimes came
upon belated travellers； as this horse was now coming upon me。
It was very near； but not yet in sight； when； in addition to the
tramp； tramp； I heard a rush under the hedge； and close down by the
hazel stems glided a great dog； whose black and white colour made
him a distinct object against the trees。 It was exactly one form of
Bessie's Gytrash… a lion…like creature with long hair and a huge head：
it passed me； however； quietly enough； not staying to look up； with
strange pretercanine eyes； in my face； as I half expected it would。
The horse followed；… a t
