第8章

第8章bessiehadbeendownintothekitchen,andshebroughtupwithheratartonacertainbrightlypaintedchinaplate,whosebirdofparadise,nestlinginawreathofconvolvuliandrosebuds,hadbeenwonttostirinmeamostenthusiasticsenseofadmiration;andwhichplateihadoftenpetitionedtobeallowedtotakeinmyhandinordertoexamineitmoreclosely,buthadalwayshithertobeendeemedunworthyofsuchaprivilege.thispreciousvesselwasnowplacedonmyknee,andiwascordiallyinvitedtoeatthecircletofdelicatepastryuponit.vainfavour!coming,likemostotherfavourslongdeferredandoftenwishedfor,toolate!icouldnoteatthetart;andtheplumageofthebird,thetintsoftheflowers,seemedstrangelyfaded:iputbothplateandtartaway.bessieaskedifiwouldhaveabook:thewordbookactedasatransientstimulus,andiedhertofetchgulliver’stravelsfromthelibrary.thisbookihadagainandagainperusedwithdelight.iconsidereditanarrativeoffacts,anddiscoveredinitaveinofinterestdeeperthanwhatifoundinfairytales:forastotheelves,havingsoughttheminvainamongfoxgloveleavesandbells,undermushroomsandbeneaththeground-ivymantlingoldwall-nooks,ihadatlengthmadeupmymindtothesadtruth,thattheywereallgoneoutofenglandtosomesavagecountrywherethewoodswerewilderandthicker,andthepopulationmorescant;whereas,lilliputandbrobdignagbeing,inmycreed,solidpartsoftheearth’ssurface,idoubtednotthatimightoneday,bytakingalongvoyage,seewithmyowneyesthelittlefields,houses,andtrees,thediminutivepeople,thetinycows,sheep,andbirdsoftheonerealm;andthecorn-fieldsforest-high,themightymastiffs,themonstercats,thetower-likemenandwomen,oftheother.yet,whenthischerishedvolumewasnowplacedinmyhand—wheniturnedoveritsleaves,andsoughtinitsmarvellouspicturesthecharmihad,tillnow,neverfailedtofind—allwaseerieanddreary;thegiantsweregauntgoblins,thepigmiesmalevolentandfearfulimps,gulliveramostdesolatewandererinmostdreadanddangerousregions.iclosedthebook,whichidarednolongerperuse,andputitonthetable,besidetheuntastedtart.

bessiehadnowfinisheddustingandtidyingtheroom,andhavingwashedherhands,sheopenedacertainlittledrawer,fullofsplendidshredsofsilkandsatin,andbeganmakinganewbonnetforgeorgiana’sdoll.meantimeshesang:hersongwas—

“inthedayswhenwewentgipsying,

alongtimeago.”

ihadoftenheardthesongbefore,andalwayswithlivelydelight;forbessiehadasweetvoice,—atleast,ithoughtso.butnow,thoughhervoicewasstillsweet,ifoundinitsmelodyanindescribablesadness.sometimes,upiedwithherwork,shesangtherefrainverylow,verylingeringly;“alongtimeago”cameoutlikethesaddestcadenceofafuneralhymn.shepassedintoanotherballad,thistimeareallydolefulone.

“myfeettheyaresore,andmylimbstheyareweary;

longistheway,andthemountainsarewild;

soonwillthetwilightclosemoonlessanddreary

overthepathofthepoororphanchild.

whydidtheysendmesofarandsolonely,

upwherethemoorsspreadandgreyrocksarepiled?menarehard-hearted,andkindangelsonly

watcho’erthestepsofapoororphanchild.

yetdistantandsoftthenightbreezeisblowing,

cloudstherearenone,andclearstarsbeammild,

god,inhismercy,protectionisshowing,

comfortandhopetothepoororphanchild.

ev’nshouldifallo’erthebrokenbridgepassing,

orstrayinthemarshes,byfalselightsbeguiled,

stillwillmyfather,withpromiseandblessing,

taketohisbosomthepoororphanchild.

thereisathoughtthatforstrengthshouldavailme,

thoughbothofshelterandkindreddespoiled;

heavenisahome,andarestwillnotfailme;

godisafriendtothepoororphanchild.”

“come,missjane,don’tcry,”saidbessieasshefinished.shemightaswellhavesaidtothefire,“don’tburn!”buthowcouldshedivinethemorbidsufferingtowhichiwasaprey?inthecourseofthemorningmr.lloydcameagain.

“what,alreadyup!”saidhe,asheenteredthenursery.“well,nurse,howisshe?”

bessieansweredthatiwasdoingverywell.

“thensheoughttolookmorecheerful.comehere,missjane:yournameisjane,isitnot?”

“yes,sir,janeeyre.”

“well,youhavebeencrying,missjaneeyre;canyoutellmewhatabout?haveyouanypain?”

“no,sir.”

“oh!idaresaysheiscryingbecauseshecouldnotgooutwithmissisinthecarriage,”interposedbessie.

“surelynot!why,sheistoooldforsuchpettishness.”

ithoughtsotoo;andmyself-esteembeingwoundedbythefalsecharge,iansweredpromptly,“inevercriedforsuchathinginmylife:ihategoingoutinthecarriage.icrybecauseiammiserable.”

“ohfie,miss!”saidbessie.

thegoodapothecaryappearedalittlepuzzled.iwasstandingbeforehim;hefixedhiseyesonmeverysteadily:hiseyesweresmallandgrey;notverybright,butidaresayishouldthinkthemshrewdnow:hehadahard-featuredyetgood-naturedlookingface.havingconsideredmeatleisure,hesaid—

“whatmadeyouillyesterday?”

“shehadafall,”saidbessie,againputtinginherword.

“fall!why,thatislikeababyagain!can’tshemanagetowalkatherage?shemustbeeightornineyearsold.”

“iwasknockeddown,”wasthebluntexplanation,jerkedoutofmebyanotherpangofmortifiedpride;“butthatdidnotmakemeill,”iadded;whilemr.lloydhelpedhimselftoapinchofsnuff.

ashewasreturningtheboxtohiswaistcoatpocket,aloudbellrangfortheservants’dinner;heknewwhatitwas.“that’sforyou,nurse,”saidhe;“youcangodown;i’llgivemissjanealecturetillyoucomeback.”

bessiewouldratherhavestayed,butshewasobligedtogo,becausepunctualityatmealswasrigidlyenforcedatgatesheadhall.

“thefalldidnotmakeyouill;whatdid,then?”pursuedmr.lloydwhenbessiewasgone.