简爱(英文版)-第35部分

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“Then　I　will　say　nothing；　and　you　shall　judge　for　yourself；　sir。”
I　brought　the　portfolio　from　the　library。
“Approach　the　table；”　said　he；　and　I　wheeled　it　to　his　couch。　Adèle　and　Mrs。　Fairfax　drew　near　to　see　the　pictures。
“No　crowding；”　said　Mr。　Rochester：　“take　the　drawings　from　my　hand　as　I　finish　with　them；　but　don’t　push　your　faces　up　to　mine。”
He　deliberately　scrutinised　each　sketch　and　painting。　Three　he　laid　aside；　the　others；　when　he　had　examined　them；　he　swept　from　him。
“Take　them　off　to　the　other　table；　Mrs。　Fairfax；”　said　he；　and　look　at　them　with　Adèle；—you”　（glancing　at　me）　“resume　your　seat；　and　answer　my　questions。　I　perceive　those　pictures　were　done　by　one　hand：　was　that　hand　yours？”
“Yes。”
“And　when　did　you　find　time　to　do　them？　They　have　taken　much　time；　and　some　thought。”
“I　did　them　in　the　last　two　vacations　I　spent　at　Lowood；　when　I　had　no　other　occupation。”
“Where　did　you　get　your　copies？”
“Out　of　my　head。”
“That　head　I　see　now　on　your　shoulders？”
“Yes；　sir。”
“Has　it　other　furniture　of　the　same　kind　within？”
“I　should　think　it　may　have：　I　should　hope—better。”
He　spread　the　pictures　before　him；　and　again　surveyed　them　alternately。
While　he　is　so　occupied；　I　will　tell　you；　reader；　what　they　are：　and　first；　I　must　premise　that　they　are　nothing　wonderful。　The　subjects　had；　indeed；　risen　vividly　on　my　mind。　As　I　saw　them　with　the　spiritual　eye；　before　I　attempted　to　embody　them；　they　were　striking；　but　my　hand　would　not　second　my　fancy；　and　in　each　case　it　had　wrought　out　but　a　pale　portrait　of　the　thing　I　had　conceived。
These　pictures　were　in　water…colours。　The　first　represented　clouds　low　and　livid；　rolling　over　a　swollen　sea：　all　the　distance　was　in　eclipse；　so；　too；　was　the　foreground；　or　rather；　the　nearest　billows；　for　there　was　no　land。　One　gleam　of　light　lifted　into　relief　a　half…submerged　mast；　on　which　sat　a　cormorant；　dark　and　large；　with　wings　flecked　with　foam；　its　beak　held　a　gold　bracelet　set　with　gems；　that　I　had　touched　with　as　brilliant　tints　as　my　palette　could　yield；　and　as　glittering　distinctness　as　my　pencil　could　impart。　Sinking　below　the　bird　and　mast；　a　drowned　corpse　glanced　through　the　green　water；　a　fair　arm　was　the　only　limb　clearly　visible；　whence　the　bracelet　had　been　washed　or　torn。
The　second　picture　contained　for　foreground　only　the　dim　peak　of　a　hill；　with　grass　and　some　leaves　slanting　as　if　by　a　breeze。　Beyond　and　above　spread　an　expanse　of　sky；　dark　blue　as　at　twilight：　rising　into　the　sky　was　a　woman’s　shape　to　the　bust；　portrayed　in　tints　as　dusk　and　soft　as　I　could　bine。　The　dim　forehead　was　crowned　with　a　star；　the　lineaments　below　were　seen　as　through　the　suffusion　of　vapour；　the　eyes　shone　dark　and　wild；　the　hair　streamed　shadowy；　like　a　beamless　cloud　torn　by　storm　or　by　electric　travail。　On　the　neck　lay　a　pale　reflection　like　moonlight；　the　same　faint　lustre　touched　the　train　of　thin　clouds　from　which　rose　and　bowed　this　vision　of　the　Evening　Star。
The　third　showed　the　pinnacle　of　an　iceberg　piercing　a　polar　winter　sky：　a　muster　of　northern　lights　reared　their　dim　lances；　close　serried；　along　the　horizon。　Throwing　these　into　distance；　rose；　in　the　foreground；　a　head；—a　colossal　head；　inclined　towards　the　iceberg；　and　resting　against　it。　Two　thin　hands；　joined　under　the　forehead；　and　supporting　it；　drew　up　before　the　lower　features　a　sable　veil；　a　brow　quite　bloodless；　white　as　bone；　and　an　eye　hollow　and　fixed；　blank　of　meaning　but　for　the　glassiness　of　despair；　alone　were　visible。　Above　the　temples；　amidst　wreathed　turban　folds　of　black　drapery；　vague　in　its　character　and　consistency　as　cloud；　gleamed　a　ring　of　white　flame；　gemmed　with　sparkles　of　a　more　lurid　tinge。　This　pale　crescent　was　“the　likeness　of　a　kingly　crown；”　what　it　diademed　was　“the　shape　which　shape　had　none。”
“Were　you　happy　when　you　painted　these　pictures？”　asked　Mr。　Rochester　presently。
“I　was　absorbed；　sir：　yes；　and　I　was　happy。　To　paint　them；　in　short；　was　to　enjoy　one　of　the　keenest　pleasures　I　have　ever　known。”
“That　is　not　saying　much。　Your　pleasures；　by　your　own　account；　have　been　few；　but　I　daresay　you　did　exist　in　a　kind　of　artist’s　dreamland　while　you　blent　and　arranged　these　strange　tints。　Did　you　sit　at　them　long　each　day？”
“I　had　nothing　else　to　do；　because　it　was　the　vacation；　and　I　sat　at　them　from　morning　till　noon；　and　from　noon　till　night：　the　length　of　the　midsummer　days　favoured　my　inclination　to　apply。”
“And　you　felt　self…satisfied　with　the　result　of　your　ardent　labours？”
“Far　from　it。　I　was　tormented　by　the　contrast　between　my　idea　and　my　handiwork：　in　each　case　I　had　imagined　something　which　I　was　quite　powerless　to　realise。”
“Not　quite：　you　have　secured　the　shadow　of　your　thought；　but　no　more；　probably。　You　had　not　enough　of　the　artist’s　skill　and　science　to　give　it　full　being：　yet　the　drawings　are；　for　a　school…　girl；　peculiar。　As　to　the　thoughts；　they　are　elfish。　These　eyes　in　the　Evening　Star　you　must　have　seen　in　a　dream。　How　could　you　make　them　look　so　clear；　and　yet　not　at　all　brilliant？　for　the　pla　above　quells　their　rays。　And　what　meaning　is　that　in　their　solemn　depth？　And　who　taught　you　to　paint　wind。　There　is　a　high　gale　in　that　sky；　and　on　this　hill…top。　Where　did　you　see　Latmos？　For　that　is　Latmos。　There！　put　the　drawings　away！”
I　had　scarce　tied　the　strings　of　the　portfolio；　when；　looking　at　his　watch；　he　said　abruptly—
“It　is　nine　o’clock：　what　are　you　about；　Miss　Eyre；　to　let　Adèle　sit　up　so　long？　Take　her　to　bed。”
Adèle　went　to　kiss　him　before　quitting　the　room：　he　endured　the　caress；　but　scarcely　seemed　to　relish　it　more　than　Pilot　would　have　done；　nor　so　much。
“I　wish　you　all　good…night；　now；”　said　he；　making　a　movement　of　the　hand　towards　the　door；　in　token　that　he　was　tired　of　our　pany；　and　wished　to　dismiss　us。　Mrs。　Fairfax　folded　up　her　knitting：　I　took　my　portfolio：　we　curtseyed　to　him；　received　a　frigid　bow　in　return；　and　so　withdrew。
“You　said　Mr。　Rochester　was　not　strikingly　peculiar；　Mrs。　Fairfax；”　I　observed；　when　I　rejoined　her　in　her　room；　after　putting　Adèle　to　bed。
“Well；　is　he？”
“I　think　so：　he　is　very　changeful　and　abrupt。”
“True：　no　doubt　he　may　appear　so　to　a　stranger；　but　I　am　so　accustomed　to　his　manner；　I　never　think　of　it；　and　then；　if　he　has　peculiarities　of　temper；　allowance　should　be　made。”
“Why？”
“Partly　because　it　is　his　nature—and　we　can　none　of　us　help　our　nature；　and　partly　because　he　has　painful　thoughts；　no　doubt；　to　harass　him；　and　make　his　spirits　unequal。”
“What　about？”
“Family　troubles；　for　one　thing。”
“But　he　has　no　family。”
“Not　now；　but　he　has　had—or；　at　least；　relatives。　He　lost　his　elder　brother　a　few　years　since。”
“His　elder　brother？”
“Yes。　The　present　Mr。　Rochester　has　not　been　very　long　in　possession　of　the　property；　only　about　nine　years。”
“Nine　years　is　a　tolerable　time。　Was　he　so　very　fond　of　his　brother　as　to　be　still　inconsolable　for　his　loss？”
“Why；　no—perhaps　not。　I　believe　there　were　some　misunderstandings　between　them。　Mr。　Rowland　Rochester　r。　Edward；　and　perhaps　he　prejudiced　his　father　against　him。　The　old　gentleman　was　fond　of　money；　and　anxious　to　keep　the　family　estate　together。　He　did　not　like　to　diminish　the　property　by　division；　and　yet　he　was　anxious　that　Mr。　Edward　should　have　wealth；　too；　to　keep　up　the　consequence　of　the　name；　and；　soon　after　he　was　of　age；　some　steps　were　taken　that　ade　a　great　deal　of　mischief。　Old　Mr。　Rochester　and　Mr。　Rowland　bined　to　bring　Mr。　Edward　into　what　he　considered　a　painful　position；　for　the　sake　of　making　his　fortune：　what　the　precise　nature　of　that　position　was　I　never　clearly　knew；　but　his　spirit　could　not　brook　what　he　had　to　suffer　in　it。　He　is　not　very　forgiving：　he　broke　with　his　family；　and　now　for　many　years　he　has　led　an　unsettled　kind　of　life。　I　don’t　think　he　has　ever　been　resident　at　Thornfield　for　a　fortnight　together；　since　the　death　of　his　brother　without　a　will　left　him　master　of　the　estate；　and；　indeed；　no　wonder　he　shuns　the　old　place。”
“Why　should　he　shun　it？”
“Perhaps　he　thinks　it　gloomy。”
The　answer　was　evasive。　I　should　have　liked　something　clearer；　but　Mrs。　Fairfax　either　could　not；　or　would　no