CHAPTER III
THE next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if I had had a frightful nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible red glare, crossed with thick black bars. I heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating sense of terror confused my faculties. Ere long, I became aware that some one was handling me; lifting me up and sup worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reeds were there, they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama. Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she moved hither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers, addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite them agreeably.
Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a t?;B?of Abbot, for instance, would have been), I scrutinised the face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary, sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were ailing: for herself and the children she employed a physician.
'Well, who am I?' he asked.
I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my hand: he took it, smiling and saying, 'We shall do very well by and by.' Then he laid me down, and addressing Bessie, charged her to be very careful that I was not disturbed during the night. Having given some further directions, and intimated that he should call again the next day, he departed; to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him, all the room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness weighed it down.
'Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?' asked Bessie, rather softly.
Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might be rough. 'I will try.'
'Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?'
'No, thank you, Bessie.'
'Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock; but you may call me if you want anything in the night.' Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question.
'Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?'
'You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room with crying; you'll be better soon, no doubt.'
Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment, which was near. I heard her say-
'Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren't for my life be alone with that poor child tonight: she might die; it's such a strange thing she should have that fit: I wonder if she saw anything. Missis was rather too hard.'
Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half an hour before they fell asleep. I caught scraps of their conversation, from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed.
'Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished'- 'A great black dog behind him'- 'Three loud raps on the chamber door'- 'A light in the churchyard just over his grave,' etc., etc.
At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel.
No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the reverberation to this day. Yes, Mrs. Reed, to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental suffering, but I ought to forgive you, for you knew not what you did: while rending my heart-strings, you thought you were only uprooting my bad propensities.
Next day, by noon, I was up and dressed, and sat wrapped in a shawl by the nursery hearth. I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept drawing from me silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I ought to have been happy, for none of the Reeds were there, they were all gone out in the carriage with their mama. Abbot, too, was sewing in another room, and Bessie, as she moved hither and thither, putting away toys and arranging drawers, addressed to me every now and then a word of unwonted kindness. This state of things should have been to me a paradise of peace, accustomed as I was to a life of ceaseless reprimand and thankless fagging; but, in fact, my racked nerves were now in such a state that no calm could soothe, and no pleasure excite them agreeably.
Bessie had been down into the kitchen, and she brought up with her a tart on a certain brightly painted china plate, whose bird of paradise, nestling in a wreath of convolvuli and rosebuds, had been wont to stir in me a most enthusiastic sense of admiration; and which plate I had often petitioned to be allowed to take in my hand in order to examine it more closely, but had always hitherto been deemed unworthy of such a privilege. This precious vessel was now placed on my knee, and I was cordially invited to eat the circlet of delicate pastry upon it. Vain favour! coming, like most other favours long deferred and often wished for, too late! I could not eat the tart; and the plumage of the bird, the tints of the flowers, seemed strangely faded: I put both plate and tart away. Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word book acted as a transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch Gulliver's Travels from the library. This book I had again and again perused with delight. I considered it a narrative of facts, and discovered in it a vein of interest deeper than what I found in fairy tales: for as to the elves, having sought them in vain among fox-glove leaves and bells, under mushrooms and beneath the ground-ivy mantling old wall-nooks, I had at length made up my mind to the sad truth, that they were all gone out of England to some savage country where the woods were wilder and thicker, and the population more scant; whereas, Lilliput and Brobdingnag being, in my creed, solid parts of the earth's surface, I doubted not that I might one day, by taking a long voyage, see with my own eyes the little fields, houses, and trees, the diminutive people, the tiny cows, sheep, and birds of the one realm; and the corn-fields, forest-high, the mighty mastiffs, the monster cats, the tower-like men and women, of the other. Yet, when this cherished volume was now placed in my hand- when I turned over its leaves, and sought in its marvellous pictures the charm I had, till now, never failed to find- all was eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt goblins, the pigmies malevolent and fearful imps, Gulliver a most desolate wanderer in most dread and dangerous regions. I closed the book, which I dared no longer peruse, and put it on the table, beside the untasted tart.
Bessie had now finished dusting and tidying the room, and having washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was- 'In the days when we were gipsying, A long time ago.'
I had often heard the song before, and always with lively delight; for Bessie had a sweet voice,- at least, I thought so. But now, though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody an indescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work, she sang the refrain very low, very lingeringly; 'A long time ago' came out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn. She passed into another ballad, this time a really doleful one.
'My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary; Long is the way, and the mountains are wild; Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary Over the path of the poor orphan child. Why did they send me so far and so lonely, Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled? Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child. Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing, Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild, God, in His mercy, protection is showing, Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.
Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing, Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled, Still will my Father, with promise and blessing, Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.
There is a thought that for strength should avail me, Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled; Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail me; God is a friend to the poor orphan child.'
'Come, Miss Jane, don't cry,' said Bessie as she finished. She might as well have said to the fire, 'don't burn!' but how could she divine the morbid suffering to which I was a prey? In the course of the morning Mr. Lloyd came again.
'What, already up!' said he, as he entered the nursery. 'Well, nurse, how is she?'
Bessie answered that I was doing very well.
'Then she ought to look more cheerful. Come here, Mis Jane: your name is Jane, is it not?'
'Yes, sir, Jane Eyre.'
'Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me what about? Have you any pain?'
'No, sir.'
'Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out with Missis in the carriage,' interposed Bessie.
'Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness.'
I thought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by the false charge, I answered promptly, 'I never cried for such a thing in my life: I hate going out in the carriage. I cry because I am miserable.'
'Oh fie, Miss!' said Bessie.
The good apothecary appeared a little puzzled. I was standing before him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey; not very bright, but I daresay I should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured looking face. Having considered me at leisure, he said-
'What made you ill yesterday?'
'She had a fall,' said Bessie, again putting in her word.
'Fall! why, that is like a baby again! Can't she manage to walk at her age? She must be eight or nine years old.'
'I was knocked down,' was the blunt explanation, jerked out of me by another pang of mortified pride; 'but that did not make me ill,'
I added; while Mr. Lloyd helped himself to a pinch of snuff.
As he was returning the box to his waistcoat pocket, a loud bell rang for the servants' dinner; he knew what it was. 'That's for you, nurse,' said he; 'you can go down; I'll give Miss Jane a lecture till you come back.'
Bessie would rather have stayed, but she was obliged to go, because punctuality at meals was rigidly enforced at Gates-head Hall.
'The fall did not make you ill; what did, then?' pursued Mr.Lloyd when Bessie was gone.
'I was shut up in a room where there is a ghost till after dark.'
I saw Mr. Lloyd smile and frown at the same time. 'Ghost! What, you are a baby after all! You are afraid of ghosts?'
'Of Mr. Reed's ghost I am: he died in that room, and was laid out there. Neither Bessie nor any one else will go into it at night, if they can help it; and it was cruel to shut me up alone without a candle,- so cruel that I think I shall never forget it.'
'Nonsense! And is it that makes you so miserable? Are you afraid now in daylight?'
'No: but night will come again before long: and besides,- I am unhappy,- very unhappy, for other things.'
'What other thingury Gothic" size="2">it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life.
'I should indeed like to go to school,' was the audible conclusion of my musings.
'Well, well! who knows what may happen?' said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. 'The child ought to have change of air and scene,' he added, speaking to himself; 'nerves not in a good state.'
Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk.
'Is that your mistress, nurse?' asked Mr. Lloyd. 'I should like to speak to her before I go.'
Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way our??me up in the red-room.'
Mr. Lloyd a second time produced his snuff-box.
'Don't you think Gateshead Hall a very beautiful house?' asked he. 'Are you not very thankful to have such a fine place to live at?'
'It is not my house, sir; and Abbot says I have less right to be
here than a servant.'
'Pooh! you can't be silly enough to wish to leave such a splendid place?'
'If I had anywhere else to go, I should be glad to leave it; but I can never get away from Gateshead till I am a woman.'
'Perhaps you may- who knows? Have you any relations besides Mrs. Reed?'
'I think not, sir.'
'None belonging to your father?'
'I don't know: I asked Aunt Reed once, and she said possibly I might have some poor, low relations called Eyre, but she knew nothing about them.'
'If you had such, would you like to go to them?'
I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown people; still more so to children: they have not much idea of industrious, working, respectable poverty; they think of the word only as connected with ragged clothes, scanty food, fireless grates, rude manners, and debasing vices: poverty for me was synonymous with degradation.
'No; I should not like to belong to poor people,' was my reply.
'Not even if they were kind to you?'
I shook my head: I could not see how poor people had the means of being kind; and then to learn to speak like them, to adopt their manners, to be uneducated, to grow up like one of the poor women I saw sometimes nursing their children or washing their clothes at the cottage doors of the village of Gateshead: no, I was not heroic enough to purchase liberty at the price of caste.
'But are your relatives so very poor? Are they working people?'
'I cannot tell; Aunt Reed says if I have any, they must be a beggarly set: I should not like to go a-begging.'
'Would you like to go to school?'
Again I reflected: I scarcely knew what school was: Bessie sometimes spoke of it as a place where young ladies sat in the stocks, wore backboards, and were expected to be exceedingly genteel and precise: John Reed hated his school, and abused his master; but John Reed's tastes were no rule for mine, and if Bessie's accounts of school-discipline (gathered from the young ladies of a family where she had lived before coming to Gateshead) were somewhat appalling, her details of certain accomplishments attained by these same young ladies were, I thought, equally attractive. She boasted of beautiful paintings of landscapes and flowers by them executed; of songs they could sing and pieces they could play, of purses they could net, of French books they could translate; till my spirit was moved to emulation as I listened. Besides, school would be a complete change:
it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Gateshead, an entrance into a new life.
'I should indeed like to go to school,' was the audible conclusion of my musings.
'Well, well! who knows what may happen?' said Mr. Lloyd, as he got up. 'The child ought to have change of air and scene,' he added, speaking to himself; 'nerves not in a good state.'
Bessie now returned; at the same moment the carriage was heard rolling up the gravel-walk.
'Is that your mistress, nurse?' asked Mr. Lloyd. 'I should like to speak to her before I go.'
Bessie invited him to walk into the breakfast-room, and led the way out. In the interview which followed between him and Mrs. Reed, I presume, from after-occurrences, that the apothecary ventured to recommend my being sent to school; and the recommendation was no doubt readily enough adopted; for as Abbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when both sat sewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as they thought, asleep, 'Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand.' Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.
On that same occasion I learned, for the first time, from Miss Abbot's communications to Bessie, that my father had been a poor clergyman; that my mother had married him against the wishes of her friends, who considered the match beneath her; that my grandfather Reed was so irritated at her disobedience, he cut her off without a shilling; that after my mother and father had been married a year, the latter caught the typhus fever while visiting among the poor of a large manufacturing town where his curacy was situated, and where that disease was then prevalent: that my mother took the infection from him, and both died within a month of each other.
Bessie, when she heard this narrative, sighed and said, 'Poor Miss Jane is to be pitied too, Abbot.'
'Yes,' responded Abbot; 'if she were a nice, pretty child, one might compassionate her forlornness; but one really cannot care for such a little toad as that.'
'Not a great deal, to be sure,' agreed Bessie: 'at any rate, a beauty like Miss Georgiana would be more moving in the same condition.'
'Yes, I doat on Miss Georgiana!' cried the fervent Abbot. 'Little darling!- with her long curls and her blue eyes, and such a sweet colour as she has; just as if she were painted!- Bessie, I could fancy a Welsh rabbit for supper.'
'So could I- with a roast onion. Come, we'll go down.' They went.
第三章
我隨后記得,醒過來時仿佛做了一場可怕的惡夢,看到眼前閃爍著駭人的紅光,被一根根又粗又黑的條子所隔斷。我還聽到了沉悶的說話聲,仿佛被一陣風(fēng)聲或水聲蓋住了似的。激動不安以及壓倒一切的恐怖感,使我神智模糊了。不久,我明白有人在擺弄我,把我扶起來,讓我靠著他坐著。我覺得以前從來沒有被人這么輕乎輕腳地抱起過,我把頭倚在一個枕頭上或是一條胳膊上,感到很舒服。
五分鐘后,心頭的疑云消散了。我完全明白我在自己的床上,那紅光是保育室的爐火。時候是夜間,桌上燃著蠟燭。貝茵端著臉盆站在床腳邊,一位老先生坐在我枕邊的椅子上,俯身向著我。
我知道房間里有一個生人,一個不屬于蓋茨黑德府、也不與里德太太拈親帶故的人。這時,我感到了一種難以言表的寬慰,一種確徐堂啊,永遠(yuǎn)是歸宿和安息之所,上帝是可憐孤兒的朋友。
“來吧,簡小姐,別哭了,”貝茜唱完了說。其實(shí),她無異于對火說“你別燃燒!”不過,她怎么能揣度出我被極度的痛苦所折磨?早上勞埃德先生又來了。
“怎么,己經(jīng)起來了!”他一進(jìn)保育室就說,“嗨,保姆、她怎么樣了?”
貝茜回答說我情況很好。
“那她應(yīng)該高興才是。過來、簡小姐,你的名字叫簡,是不是?”
“是,先生,叫簡.愛。”
“瞧,你一直在哭,簡.愛小姐,你能告訴我為什么嗎?哪兒疼嗎?”
“不疼,先生。”
“啊,我想是因?yàn)椴荒芨〗銈円黄鹱R車出去才哭的,”貝茜插嘴說。
“當(dāng)然不是羅!她那么大了,不會為這點(diǎn)小事鬧別扭的。”
這恰恰也是我的想法。而她這么冤枉我傷了我的自尊,所以我當(dāng)即回答,“我長得這么大從來沒有為這種事哭過,而且我又討厭乘馬車出去。我是因?yàn)樾睦镫y受才哭的。”
“嘿,去去,小姐!”貝茜說。
P葸o嗝幢蟣蠐欣癜。∮謔俏掖笞諾ㄗ游柿爍鑫侍狻?br>
“貝茜,我怎啦?病了嗎?”
“你是病了,猜想是在紅房子里哭出病來的,肯定很快就會好的。”
貝茵走進(jìn)了附近傭人的臥房。我聽見她說:
“薩拉,過來同我一起睡在保育室吧,今兒晚上,就是要我命,我也不敢同那個可憐孩子單獨(dú)過夜了。她說不定會死的。真奇怪她竟會昏過去。不知道她看見了什么沒有。里德太太也太狠心了。”
薩拉跟著她回來了,兩人都上了床,嘁嘁喳喳講了半個小時才睡著。我只聽到了片言只語,但我可以清楚地推斷出她們討論的主題。
“有個東西從她身邊經(jīng)過,一身素裝,轉(zhuǎn)眼就不見了”——“一條大黑狗跟在后面”——“在房門上砰砰砰”敲了三下——“墓地里一道白光正好掠過他墳?zāi)?rdquo;等等等等。
最后,兩人都睡著了,爐火和燭光也都熄滅。我就這么可怕地醒著挨過了漫漫長夜,害怕得耳朵、眼睛和頭腦都緊張起來,這種恐俱是只有兒童才能感受到的,
紅房子事件并沒有給我身體留下嚴(yán)重或慢性的后遺癥,它不過使我的神經(jīng)受了驚嚇,對此我至今記憶猶新。是的,里德太太,你讓我領(lǐng)受了可怕的精神創(chuàng)傷,但我應(yīng)當(dāng)原諒你、因?yàn)槟悴⒉幻靼鬃约焊闪诵┦裁?,明明是在割斷我的心弦,卻自以為無非是要根除我的惡習(xí)。
第二天中午,我起來穿好衣服,裹了塊浴巾,坐在保育室壁爐旁邊。我身體虛弱,幾乎要垮下來。但最大的痛楚卻是內(nèi)心難以言傳的苦惱,弄得我不斷地暗暗落淚。才從臉頰上抹去一滴帶咸味的淚水,另一滴又滾落下來。不過,我想我應(yīng)當(dāng)高興,因?yàn)槔锏乱患胰硕疾辉?,他們都坐了車隨媽媽出去了。艾博特也在另一間屋里做針線活。而貝茵呢,來回忙碌著,一面把玩具收拾起來,將抽屜整理好,一面還不時地同我說兩句少有的體貼話。對我來說,過慣了那種成天挨罵、辛辛苦苦吃力不討好的日子后,這光景該好比是平靜的樂園。然而,我的神經(jīng)己被折磨得痛苦不堪,終于連平靜也撫慰不了我,歡樂也難以使我興奮了。
貝茜下樓去了一趟廚房,端上來一個小烘餅,放在一個圖案鮮艷的瓷盤里,圖案上畫的是一只極樂鳥,偎依在一圈旋花和玫瑰花苞上。這幅畫曾激起我熱切的羨慕之情。我常常懇求讓我端一端這只盤子,好仔細(xì)看個究竟,但總是被認(rèn)為不配享受這樣的特權(quán)。此刻,這只珍貴的器皿就擱在我膝頭上,我還受到熱誠邀請,品嘗器皿里一小圈精美的糕點(diǎn)。徒有虛名的垂愛啊!跟其他久拖不予而又始終期待著的寵愛一樣,來得太晚了!我已無意光顧這烘餅,而且那鳥的羽毛和花卉的色澤也奇怪地黯然無光了。我把盤子和烘餅挪開。貝茜問我是否想要一本書。“書”字產(chǎn)生了瞬間的刺激,我求她去圖書室取來一本《格列佛游記》。我曾興致勃動地反復(fù)細(xì)讀過這本書,認(rèn)為書中敘述的都實(shí)有其事,因而覺得比童話中寫的有趣。至于那些小精靈們,我在毛地黃葉子與花冠之間,在蘑菇底下和爬滿老墻角落的長春藤下遍尋無著之后,終于承認(rèn)這悲哀的事實(shí):他們都己逃離英國到某個原始的鄉(xiāng)間去了,那兒樹林更荒涼茂密,人口更為稀少。而我虔信,小人國和大人國都是地球表面實(shí)實(shí)在在的一部份。我毫不懷疑有朝一日我會去遠(yuǎn)航,親眼看一看一個王國里小小的田野、小小的房子、小小的樹木;看一看那里的小人、小牛、小羊和小鳥們;目睹一下另一個王國里如森林一般高聳的玉米地、碩大的猛犬、巨大無比的貓以及高塔一般的男男女女。然而,此刻當(dāng)我手里捧著這本珍愛的書,一頁頁翻過去,從精妙的插圖中尋覓以前每試必爽的魅力時,我找到的只是怪異和凄涼。巨人成了憔悴的妖怪,矮子淪為惡毒可怖的小鬼,而格列佛則已是陷身于險境的孤獨(dú)的流浪者了。我不敢往下看了,合上書,把它放在桌上一口未嘗的小烘餅旁邊。
我以前常聽這首歌,而且總覺得它歡快悅耳,因?yàn)樨愜绲纳ぷ雍芴穑辽傥艺J(rèn)為如此。而此刻,雖然她甜蜜的嗓子依舊,但歌里透出了一種難以言喻的悲哀。有時,她干活出了神,把迭句唱得很低沉,拖得很長。一句“很久很久以前”唱出來,如同挽歌中最哀傷的調(diào)子。她接著又唱起一首民謠來,這回可是真的哀怨凄惻了。
我的雙腳酸痛啊四肢乏力,前路漫漫啊大山荒蕪。沒有月光啊天色陰凄,暮靄沉沉啊籠罩著可憐孤兒的旅途。
為什么要讓我孤苦伶丁遠(yuǎn)走他鄉(xiāng),流落在荒野連綿峭巖重疊的異地。人心狠毒啊,唯有天使善良,關(guān)注著可憐孤兒的足跡。
從遠(yuǎn)處吹來了柔和的夜風(fēng),晴空中繁星閃爍著溫煦的光芒。仁慈的上帝啊,你賜福于萬眾,可憐的孤兒得到了保護(hù)、安慰和希望。
哪怕我走過斷橋失足墜落,或是在迷茫恍惚中誤入泥淖。天父啊,你帶著祝福與許諾,把可憐的孤兒摟入你懷抱。
哪怕我無家可歸無親無故,一個給人力量的信念在我心頭。天堂啊,永遠(yuǎn)是歸宿和安息之所,上帝是可憐孤兒的朋友。
“來吧,簡小姐,別哭了,”貝茜唱完了說。其實(shí),她無異于對火說“你別燃燒!”不過,她怎么能揣度出我被極度的痛苦所折磨?早上勞埃德先生又來了。
“怎么,己經(jīng)起來了!”他一進(jìn)保育室就說,“嗨,保姆、她怎么樣了?”
貝茜回答說我情況很好。
“那她應(yīng)該高興才是。過來、簡小姐,你的名字叫簡,是不是?”
“是,先生,叫簡.愛。”
“瞧,你一直在哭,簡.愛小姐,你能告訴我為什么嗎?哪兒疼嗎?”
“不疼,先生。”
“啊,我想是因?yàn)椴荒芨〗銈円黄鹱R車出去才哭的,”貝茜插嘴說。
“當(dāng)然不是羅!她那么大了,不會為這點(diǎn)小事鬧別扭的。”
這恰恰也是我的想法。而她這么冤枉我傷了我的自尊,所以我當(dāng)即回答,“我長得這么大從來沒有為這種事哭過,而且我又討厭乘馬車出去。我是因?yàn)樾睦镫y受才哭的。”
“嘿,去去,小姐!”貝茜說。
好心的藥劑師似乎有些莫明其妙。我站在他面前,他目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地看著我。他灰色的小眼睛并不明亮,但現(xiàn)在想來也許應(yīng)當(dāng)說是非常銳利的。他的面相既嚴(yán)厲而又溫厚,他從從容容地打量了我一番后說:
“昨天你怎么得病的呢?”
“她跌了一跤。”貝茜又插嘴了。
“跌交:又耍娃娃脾氣了!她這樣年紀(jì)還不會走路?八九歲總有了吧。”
“我是被人給打倒的,”我脫口而出。由于自尊心再次受到傷害,引起了一陣痛楚,我冒昧地作了這樣的辯解。“但光那樣也不會生病。”我趁勞埃德先生取了一撮鼻煙吸起來時說。
他把煙盒放入背心口袋。這時,鈴聲大作,叫傭人們?nèi)コ燥?。他明白是怎么回事?ldquo;那是叫你的,保姆,”他說,“你可以下去啦,我來開導(dǎo)開導(dǎo)簡小姐,等著你回來,”
貝茜本想留著,但又不得不走,準(zhǔn)時吃飯是蓋茨黑德府的一條成規(guī)。
“你不是以為跌了跤才生病吧?那么因?yàn)槭裁茨兀?rdquo;貝茜一走,勞埃德先生便追問道。
“他們把我關(guān)在一間鬧鬼的房子里,直到天黑。”
我看到勞埃德先生微微一笑,同時又皺起眉頭來,“鬼?瞧,你畢竟還是個娃娃!你怕鬼嗎?”
里德先生的鬼魂我是怕的,他就死在那同房子里,還在那里停過欞。無論貝茜,還是別人,能不進(jìn)去,是不在夜里進(jìn)那房間的。多狠心呀,把我一個人關(guān)在里面,連支蠟燭也不點(diǎn)。心腸那么狠,我一輩子都忘不了。”
“瞎說!就因?yàn)檫@個使你心里難受,現(xiàn)在大白天你還怕嗎?”
“現(xiàn)在不怕,不過馬上又要到夜里了。另外,我不愉快,很不愉快,為的是其他事情。”
“其他什么事?能說些給我聽聽嗎?”
我多么希望能原原本本回答這個問題!要作出回答又何其困難:孩子們能夠感覺,但無法分析自己的情感,即使部分分折能夠意會,分析的過程也難以言傳。但是我又擔(dān)心失去這第一次也是唯一一次吐苦水的機(jī)會。所以局促不安地停了一停之后,便琢磨出一個雖不詳盡卻相當(dāng)真實(shí)的回答。
“一方面是因?yàn)槲覜]有父母,沒有兄弟姐妹的緣故。”
“可是你有一位和藹可親的舅母,還有表兄妹們。”
我又頓了頓,隨后便笨嘴笨舌地說:
“可是約翰.里德把我打倒了,而舅媽又把我關(guān)在紅房子里。”
勞埃德先生再次掏出了鼻煙盒。
“你不覺得蓋茨黑德府是座漂亮的房子嗎?”他問,“讓你住那么好一個地方,你難道不感激?”
“這又不是我的房子,先生。艾博特還說我比這兒的傭人還不如呢。”
“去!你總不至于傻得想離開這個好地方吧。”
“要是我有地方去,我是樂意走的??墒遣坏鹊介L大成人我休想擺脫蓋茨黑德。”
“也許可以——誰知道?除了里德太太,你還有別的親戚嗎?”
“我想沒有了,先生。”
“你父親那頭也沒有了嗎?”
“我不知道,有一回我問過舅媽,她說可能有些姓愛的親戚,人又窮,地位又低,她對他們的情況一無所知。”
“要是有這樣的親戚,你愿意去嗎?”
我陷入了沉思,在成年人看來貧困顯得冷酷無情,孩子則尤其如此。至于勤勞刻苦、令人欽敬的貧困,孩子們不甚了了。在他們心目中,這個字眼始終與衣衫檻襤褸、食品匿乏、壁爐無火、行為粗魯以及低賤的惡習(xí)聯(lián)系在一起。對我來說,貧困就是墮落的別名。
“不,我不愿與窮人為伍,”這就是我的回答。
“即使他們待你很好也不愿意?”
我搖了搖頭,不明白窮人怎么會有條件對人仁慈,更不說我還得學(xué)他們的言談舉止,同他們一樣沒有文化,長大了像有時見到的那種貧苦女人一樣,坐在蓋茨黑德府茅屋門口,奶孩子或者搓洗衣服。不,我可沒有那樣英雄氣概,寧愿拋卻身份來換取自由。
“但是你的親戚就那么窮,都是靠干活過日子的么?”
“我說不上來。里德舅媽說,要是我有親戚,也準(zhǔn)是一群要飯的,我可不愿去要飯。”
“你想上學(xué)嗎?”
我再次沉思起來。我?guī)缀醪恢缹W(xué)校是什么樣子。光聽貝茜有時說起過,那個地方,年輕女子帶足枷坐著,戴著脊骨矯正板,還非得要十分文雅和規(guī)矩才行。約翰.里德對學(xué)校恨之入骨,還大罵教師。不過他的感受不足為憑。如果貝茜關(guān)于校紀(jì)的說法(她來蓋茨黑德之前,從她主人家一些年輕小姐那兒收集來的)有些駭人聽聞,那么她細(xì)說的關(guān)于那些小姐所學(xué)得的才藝,我想也同樣令人神往。她繪聲繪色地談起了她們制作的風(fēng)景畫和花卉畫;談起了她們能唱的歌,能彈的曲,能編織的錢包,能翻譯的法文書,一直談得我聽著聽著就為之心動,躍躍欲試。更何況上學(xué)也是徹底變換環(huán)境,意味著一次遠(yuǎn)行,意味著同蓋茨黑德完全決裂,意味著踏上新的生活旅程。
“我真的愿意去上學(xué),”這是我三思之后輕聲說出的結(jié)論。
“唉,唉,誰知道會發(fā)生什么呢?”勞埃德先生立起身來說。“這孩子應(yīng)當(dāng)換換空氣,換換地方,”他自言自語地補(bǔ)充說,“神經(jīng)不很好。”
這時,貝茜回來了,同時聽得見砂石路上響起了滾滾而來的馬車聲。
“是你們太太嗎,保姆?”勞埃德先生問道。“走之前我得跟她談一談。”
貝茜請他進(jìn)早餐室,并且領(lǐng)了路。從以后發(fā)生的情況推測,藥劑師在隨后與里德太太的會見中,大膽建議送我進(jìn)學(xué)校。無疑,這個建議被欣然采納了。一天夜里,艾博特和貝茜坐在保育室里,做著針錢活兒,談起了這件事。那時,我已經(jīng)上床,她們以為我睡著了。艾博特說:“我想太太一定巴不得擺脫這樣一個既討厭、品質(zhì)又不好的孩子,她那樣子就好像眼睛老盯著每個人,暗地里在搞什么陰謀似的。”我想艾博特準(zhǔn)相信我是幼年的蓋伊.福克斯式人物了。
就是這一回,我從艾博特與貝茜的文談中第一次獲悉,我父親生前是個牧師,我母親違背了朋友們的意愿嫁給了他,他們認(rèn)為這樁婚事有失她的身份。我的外祖父里德,因?yàn)槲夷赣H不聽話而勃然大怒,一氣之下同她斷絕了關(guān)系,沒留給她一個子兒。我父母親結(jié)婚才一年,父親染上了斑疹傷寒,因?yàn)樗甲哂诟蹦翈煿┞毜貐^(qū)、一個大工業(yè)城鎮(zhèn)的窮人中間,而當(dāng)時該地流行著斑疹傷寒。我母親從父親那兒染上了同一疾病,結(jié)果父母雙雙故去,前后相距下到一個月。
貝茜聽了這番話便長嘆一聲說:“可憐的簡小姐也是值得同情吶,艾博特。”
“是呀,”艾博特回答,“她若是漂亮可愛,人家倒也會可憐她那么孤苦伶仃的,可是像她那樣的小東西,實(shí)在不討人喜歡。”
“確實(shí)不大討人喜歡,”貝茜表示同意,“至少在同樣處境下,喬治亞娜這樣的美人兒會更惹人喜愛。”
“是呀,我就是喜歡喬治亞娜小姐!”狂熱的艾博特嚷道,“真是個小寶貝——長長的卷發(fā),藍(lán)藍(lán)的眼睛,還有那么可愛的膚色,簡直像畫出來的一股!——貝茜,晚餐我真想吃威爾士兔子。”
“我也一樣——外加烤洋蔥。來吧,我們下樓去。”她們走了。