第154章

第154章myhome,then,—wheniatlastfindahome,—isacottage;alittleroomwithwhitewashedwallsandasandedfloor,containingfourpaintedchairsandatable,aclock,acupboard,withtwoorthreeplatesanddishes,andasetoftea-thingsindelf.above,achamberofthesamedimensionsasthekitchen,withadealbedsteadandchestofdrawers;small,yettoolargetobefilledwithmyscantywardrobe:thoughthekindnessofmygentleandgenerousfriendshasincreasedthat,byamodeststockofsuchthingsasarenecessary.

itisevening.ihavedismissed,withthefeeofanorange,thelittleorphanwhoservesmeasahandmaid.iamsittingaloneonthehearth.thismorning,thevillageschoolopened.ihadtwentyscholars.butthreeofthenumbercanread:nonewriteorcipher.severalknit,andafewsewalittle.theyspeakwiththebroadestaccentofthedistrict.atpresent,theyandihaveadifficultyinunderstandingeachother’slanguage.someofthemareunmannered,rough,intractable,aswellasignorant;butothersaredocile,haveawishtolearn,andevinceadispositionthatpleasesme.imustnotforgetthatthesecoarsely-cladlittlepeasantsareoffleshandbloodasgoodasthescionsofgentlestgenealogy;andthatthegermsofnativeexcellence,refinement,intelligence,kindfeeling,areaslikelytoexistintheirheartsasinthoseofthebest-born.mydutywillbetodevelopthesegerms:surelyishallfindsomehappinessindischargingthatoffice.muchenjoymentidonotexpectinthelifeopeningbeforeme:yetitwill,doubtless,ifiregulatemymind,andexertmypowersasiought,yieldmeenoughtoliveonfromdaytoday.

wasiverygleeful,settled,content,duringthehoursipassedinyonderbare,humbleschoolroomthismorningandafternoon?nottodeceivemyself,imustreply—no:ifeltdesolatetoadegree.ifelt—yes,idiotthatiam—ifeltdegraded.idoubtedihadtakenastepwhichsankinsteadofraisingmeinthescaleofsocialexistence.iwasweaklydismayedattheignorance,thepoverty,thecoarsenessofalliheardandsawroundme.butletmenothateanddespisemyselftoomuchforthesefeelings;iknowthemtobewrong—thatisagreatstepgained;ishallstrivetoovercomethem.to-morrow,itrust,ishallgetthebetterofthempartially;andinafewweeks,perhaps,theywillbequitesubdued.inafewmonths,itispossible,thehappinessofseeingprogress,andachangeforthebetterinmyscholarsmaysubstitutegratificationfordisgust.

meantime,letmeaskmyselfonequestion—whichisbetter?—tohavesurrenderedtotemptation;listenedtopassion;madenopainfuleffort—nole;—buttohavesunkdowninthesilkensnare;fallenasleepontheflowerscoveringit;wakenedinasouthernclime,amongsttheluxuriesofapleasurevilla:tohavebeennowlivinginfrance,mr.rochester’smistress;deliriouswithhislovehalfmytime—forhewould—oh,yes,hewouldhavelovedmewellforawhile.hedidloveme—noonewilleverlovemesoagain.ishallnevermoreknowthesweethomagegiventobeauty,youth,andgrace—fornevertoanyoneelseshalliseemtopossessthesecharms.hewasfondandproudofme—itiswhatnomanbesideswilleverbe.—butwhereamiwandering,andwhatamisaying,andaboveall,feeling?whetherisitbetter,iask,tobeaslaveinafool’sparadiseatmarseilles—feveredwithdelusiveblissonehour—suffocatingwiththebitteresttearsofremorseandshamethenext—ortobeavillage-schoolmistress,freeandhonest,inabreezymountainnookinthehealthyheartofengland?

yes;ifeelnowthatiwasrightwheniadheredtoprincipleandlaw,andscornedandcrushedtheinsanepromptingsofafrenziedmoment.goddirectedmetoacorrectchoice:ithankhisprovidencefortheguidance!

havingbroughtmyeventidemusingstothispoint,irose,wenttomydoor,andlookedatthesunsetoftheharvest-day,andatthequietfieldsbeforemycottage,which,withtheschool,wasdistanthalfamilefromthevillage.thebirdsweresingingtheirlaststrains—

“theairwasmild,thedewwasbalm.”

whileilooked,ithoughtmyselfhappy,andwassurprisedtofindmyselferelongweeping—andwhy?forthedoomwhichhadreftmefromadhesiontomymaster:forhimiwasnomoretosee;forthedesperategriefandfatalfury—consequencesofmydeparture—whichmightnow,perhaps,beinghimfromthepathofright,toofartoleavehopeofultimaterestorationthither.atthisthought,iturnedmyfaceasidefromthelovelyskyofeveandlonelyvaleofmorton—isaylonely,forinthatbendofitvisibletometherewasnobuildingapparentsavethechurchandtheparsonage,half-hidintrees,and,quiteattheextremity,theroofofvalehall,wheretherichmr.oliverandhisdaughterlived.ihidmyeyes,andleantmyheadagainstthestoneframeofmydoor;butsoonaslightnoisenearthewicketwhichshutinmytinygardenfromthemeadowbeyonditmademelookup.adog—oldcarlo,mr.rivers’pointer,asisawinamoment—waspushingthegatewithhisnose,andst.johnhimselfleantuponitwithfoldedarms;hisbrowknit,hisgaze,gravealmosttodispleasure,fixedonme.iaskedhimtocomein.

“no,icannotstay;ihaveonlybroughtyoualittleparcelmysistersleftforyou.ithinkitcontainsacolour-box,pencils,andpaper.”

iapproachedtotakeit:awelcomegiftitwas.heexaminedmyface,ithought,withausterity,asicamenear:thetracesoftearsweredoubtlessveryvisibleuponit.

“haveyoufoundyourfirstday’sworkharderthanyouexpected?”heasked.

“oh,no!onthecontrary,ithinkintimeishallgetonwithmyscholarsverywell.”

“butperhapsyouraccommodations—yourcottage—yourfurniture—havedisappointedyourexpectations?theyare,intruth,scantyenough;but—”iinterrupted—