第17章
第17章fiveo’clockhadhardlystruckonthemorningofthe19thofjanuary,whenbessiebroughtacandleintomyclosetandfoundmealreadyupandnearlydressed.ihadrisenhalf-an-hourbeforeherentrance,andhadwashedmyface,andputonmyclothesbythelightofahalf-moonjustsetting,whoseraysstreamedthroughthenarrowwindownearmycrib.iwastoleavegatesheadthatdaybyacoachwhichpassedthelodgegatesatsixa.m.bessiewastheonlypersonyetrisen;shehadlitafireinthenursery,whereshenowproceededtomakemybreakfast.fewchildrencaneatwhenexcitedwiththethoughtsofajourney;norcouldi.bessie,havingpressedmeinvaintotakeafewspoonfulsoftheboiledmilkandbreadshehadpreparedforme,wrappedupsomebiscuitsinapaperandputthemintomybag;thenshehelpedmeonwithmypelisseandbonnet,andwrappingherselfinashawl,sheandileftthenursery.aswepassedmrs.reed’sbedroom,shesaid,“willyougoinandbidmissisgood-bye?”
“no,bessie:shecametomycriblastnightwhenyouweregonedowntosupper,andsaidineednotdisturbherinthemorning,ormycousinseither;andshetoldmetorememberthatshehadalwaysbeenmybestfriend,andtospeakofherandbegratefultoheraccordingly.”
“whatdidyousay,miss?”
“nothing:icoveredmyfacewiththebedclothes,andturnedfromhertothewall.”
“thatwaswrong,missjane.”
“itwasquiteright,bessie.yourmissishasnotbeenmyfriend:shehasbeenmyfoe.”
“omissjane!don’tsayso!”
“good-byetogateshead!”criedi,aswepassedthroughthehallandwentoutatthefrontdoor.
themoonwasset,anditwasverydark;bessiecarriedalantern,whoselightglancedonwetstepsandgravelroadsoddenbyarecentthaw.rawandchillwasthewintermorning:myteethchatteredasihasteneddownthedrive.therewasalightintheporter’slodge:whenwereachedit,wefoundtheporter’swifejustkindlingherfire:mytrunk,whichhadbeencarrieddowntheeveningbefore,stoodcordedatthedoor.itwantedbutafewminutesofsix,andshortlyafterthathourhadstruck,thedistantrollofwheelsannouncedthecomingcoach;iwenttothedoorandwatcheditslampsapproachrapidlythroughthegloom.
“isshegoingbyherself?”askedtheporter’swife.
“yes.”
“andhowfarisit?”
“fiftymiles.”
“whatalongway!iwondermrs.reedisnotafraidtotrusthersofaralone.”
thecoachdrewup;thereitwasatthegateswithitsfourhorsesanditstopladenwithpassengers:theguardandcoachmanloudlyurgedhaste;mytrunkwashoistedup;iwastakenfrombessie’sneck,towhichiclungwithkisses.
“besureandtakegoodcareofher,”criedshetotheguard,asheliftedmeintotheinside.
“ay,ay!”wastheanswer:thedoorwasslappedto,avoiceexclaimed“allright,”andonwedrove.thuswasiseveredfrombessieandgateshead;thuswhirledawaytounknown,and,asithendeemed,remoteandmysteriousregions.
irememberbutlittleofthejourney;ionlyknowthatthedayseemedtomeofapreternaturallength,andthatweappearedtotraveloverhundredsofmilesofroad.wepassedthroughseveraltowns,andinone,averylargeone,thecoachstopped;thehorsesweretakenout,andthepassengersalightedtodine.iwascarriedintoaninn,wheretheguardwantedmetohavesomedinner;but,asihadnoappetite,heleftmeinanimmenseroomwithafireplaceateachend,achandelierpendentfromtheceiling,andalittleredgalleryhighupagainstthewallfilledwithmusicalinstruments.hereiwalkedaboutforalongtime,feelingverystrange,andmortallyapprehensiveofsomeonecominginandkidnappingme;foribelievedinkidnappers,theirexploitshavingfrequentlyfiguredinbessie’sfiresidechronicles.atlasttheguardreturned;oncemoreiwasstowedawayinthecoach,myprotectormountedhisownseat,soundedhishollowhorn,andawaywerattledoverthe“stonystreet”ofl—.
theafternooncameonwetandsomewhatmisty:asitwanedintodusk,ibegantofeelthatweweregettingveryfarindeedfromgateshead:weceasedtopassthroughtowns;thecountrychanged;greatgreyhillsheaveduproundthehorizon:astwilightdeepened,wedescendedavalley,darkwithwood,andlongafternighthadovercloudedtheprospect,iheardawildwindrushingamongsttrees.
lulledbythesound,iatlastdroppedasleep;ihadnotlongslumberedwhenthesuddencessationofmotionawokeme;thecoach-doorwasopen,andapersonlikeaservantwasstandingatit:isawherfaceanddressbythelightofthelamps.
“istherealittlegirlcalledjaneeyrehere?”sheasked.ianswered“yes,”andwasthenliftedout;mytrunkwashandeddown,andthecoachinstantlydroveaway.
iwasstiffwithlongsitting,andbewilderedwiththenoiseandmotionofthecoach:gatheringmyfaculties,ilookedaboutme.rain,wind,anddarknessfilledtheair;nevertheless,idimlydiscernedawallbeforemeandadooropeninit;throughthisdooripassedwithmynewguide:sheshutandlockeditbehindher.therewasnowvisibleahouseorhouses—forthebuildingspreadfar—withmanywindows,andlightsburninginsome;wewentupabroadpebblypath,splashingwet,andwereadmittedatadoor;thentheservantledmethroughapassageintoaroomwithafire,wheresheleftmealone.istoodandwarmedmynumbedfingersovertheblaze,thenilookedround;therewasnocandle,buttheuncertainlightfromthehearthshowed,byintervals,paperedwalls,carpet,curtains,shiningmahoganyfurniture:itwasaparlour,notsospaciousorsplendidasthedrawing-roomatgateshead,butcomfortableenough.iwaspuzzlingtomakeoutthesubjectofapictureonthewall,whenthedooropened,andanindividualcarryingalightentered;anotherfollowedclosebehind.
thefirstwasatallladywithdarkhair,darkeyes,andapaleandlargeforehead;herfigurewaspartlyenvelopedinashawl,hercountenancewasgrave,herbearingerect.