第104章

第104章ihadnotnotifiedtomrs.fairfaxtheexactdayofmyreturn；forididnotwisheithercarorcarriagetomeetmeatmillcote.iproposedtowalkthedistancequietlybymyself；andveryquietly，afterleavingmyboxintheostler’scare，didislipawayfromthegeorgeinn，aboutsixo’clockofajuneevening，andtaketheoldroadtothornfield：aroadwhichlaychieflythroughfields，andwasnowlittlefrequented.

itwasnotabrightorsplendidsummerevening，thoughfairandsoft：thehaymakerswereatworkallalongtheroad；andthesky，thoughfarfromcloudless，wassuchaspromisedwellforthefuture：itsblue—wherebluewasvisible—wasmildandsettled，anditscloudstratahighandthin.thewest，too，waswarm：nowaterygleamchilledit—itseemedasiftherewasafirelit，analtarburningbehinditsscreenofmarbledvapour，andoutofaperturesshoneagoldenredness.

ifeltgladastheroadshortenedbeforeme：sogladthatistoppedoncetoaskmyselfwhatthatjoymeant：andtoremindreasonthatitwasnottomyhomeiwasgoing，ortoapermanentresting-place，ortoaplacewherefondfriendslookedoutformeandwaitedmyarrival.“mrs.fairfaxwillsmileyouacalmwelcome，tobesure，”saidi；“andlittleadèlewillclapherhandsandjumptoseeyou：butyouknowverywellyouarethinkingofanotherthanthey，andthatheisnotthinkingofyou.”

butwhatissoheadstrongasyouth？whatsoblindasinexperience？theseaffirmedthatitwaspleasureenoughtohavetheprivilegeofagainlookingonmr.rochester，whetherhelookedonmeornot；andtheyadded—“hasten！hasten！bewithhimwhileyoumay：butafewmoredaysorweeks，atmost，andyouarepartedfromhimforever！”andthenistrangledanew-bornagony—adeformedthingwhichicouldnotpersuademyselftoownandrear—andranon.

theyaremakinghay，too，inthornfieldmeadows：orrather，thelabourersarejustquittingtheirwork，andreturninghomewiththeirrakesontheirshoulders，now，atthehouriarrive.ihavebutafieldortwototraverse，andthenishallcrosstheroadandreachthegates.howfullthehedgesareofroses！butihavenotimetogatherany；iwanttobeatthehouse.ipassedatallbriar，shootingleafyandflowerybranchesacrossthepath；iseethenarrowstilewithstonesteps；andisee—mr.rochestersittingthere，abookandapencilinhishand；heiswriting.

well，heisnotaghost；yeteverynerveihaveisunstrung：foramomentiambeyondmyownmastery.whatdoesitmean？ididnotthinkishouldtrembleinthiswaywhenisawhim，orlosemyvoiceorthepowerofmotioninhispresence.iwillgobackassoonasicanstir：ineednotmakeanabsolutefoolofmyself.iknowanotherwaytothehouse.itdoesnotsignifyifiknewtwentyways；forhehasseenme.

“hello！”hecries；andheputsuphisbookandhispencil.“thereyouare！comeon，ifyouplease.”

isupposeidocomeon；thoughinwhatfashioniknownot；beingscarcelycognisantofmymovements，andsolicitousonlytoappearcalm；and，aboveall，tocontroltheworkingmusclesofmyface—whichifeelrebelinsolentlyagainstmywill，andletoexpresswhatihadresolvedtoconceal.butihaveaveil—itisdown：imakeshiftyettobehavewithdecentcomposure.

“andthisisjaneeyre？areyoucomingfrommillcote，andonfoot？yes—justoneofyourtricks：nottosendforacarriage，andcomeclatteringoverstreetandroadlikeacommonmortal，buttostealintothevicinageofyourhomealongwithtwilight，justasifyouwereadreamorashade.whatthedeucehaveyoudonewithyourselfthislastmonth？”

“ihavebeenwithmyaunt，sir，whoisdead.”

“atruejanianreply！goodangelsbemyguard！shecomesfromtheotherworld—fromtheabodeofpeoplewhoaredead；andtellsmesowhenshemeetsmealonehereinthegloaming！ifidared，i’dtouchyou，toseeifyouaresubstanceorshadow，youelf！—buti’dassoonoffertotakeholdofablueignisfatuuslightinamarsh.truant！truant！”headded，whenhehadpausedaninstant.“absentfrommeawholemonth，andforgettingmequite，i’llbesworn！”