第165页
《简·爱(英文版)》章节:第165页,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
stairs and hem.'
It was by this time half-past five, and the sun was on the point of
rising; but I found the kitchen still dark and silent. The
side-passage door was fastened; I opened it with as little noise as
possible: all the yard was quiet; but the gates stood wide open, and
there was a post-chaise, with horses ready harnessed, and driver
seated on the box, stationed outside. I approached him, and said the
gentlemen were coming; he nodded: then I looked carefully round and
listened. The stillness of early morning slumbered everywhere; the
curtains were yet drawn over the servants' chamber windows; little
birds were just twittering in the blossom-blanched orchard trees,
whose boughs drooped like white garlands over the wall enclosing one
side of the yard; the carriage horses stamped from time to time in
their closed stables: all else was still.
The gentlemen now appeared. Mason, supported by Mr. Rochester and
the surgeon, seemed to walk with tolerable ease: they assisted him
into the chaise; Carter followed.
'Take care of him,' said Mr. Rochester to the latter, 'and keep him
at your house till he is quite well: I shall ride over in a day or two
to see how he gets on. Richard, how is it with you?'
'The fresh air revives me, Fairfax.'
'Leave the window open on his side, Carter; there is no wind-
good-bye, Dick.'
'Fairfax-'
'Well, what is it?'
'Let her be taken care of; let her be treated as tenderly as may
be: let her- ' he stopped and burst into tears.
'I do my best; and have done it, and will do it,' was the answer:
he shut up the chaise door, and the vehicle drove away.
'Yet would to God there was an end of all this!' added Mr.
Rochester, as he closed and barred the heavy yard-gates.
This done, he moved with slow step and abstracted air towards a
door in the wall bordering the orchard. I, supposing he had done
with me, prepared to return to the house; again, however, I heard
him call 'Jane!' He had opened the portal and stood at it, waiting for
me.
'Come where there is some freshness, for a few moments,' he said;
'that house is a mere dungeon: don't you feel it so?'
'It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir.'
'The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes,' he answered;
'and you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that
the gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that the marble
is sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly
bark. Now here' (he pointed to the leafy enclosure we had entered)
'all is real, sweet, and pure.'
He strayed down a walk edged with box, with apple trees, pear
trees, and cherry trees on one side, and a border on the other full of
all sorts of old-fashioned flowers, stocks, sweet-williams, primroses,
pansies, mingled with southernwood, sweet-briar, and various
fragrant herbs. They were fresh now as a succession of April showers
and gleams, followed by a lovely spring morning, could make them: