简爱(英文版)-第43部分

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ess　or　desperation　one　would　have　expected　to　see　marking　the　countenance　of　a　woman　who　had　attempted　murder；　and　whose　intended　victim　had　followed　her　last　night　to　her　lair；　and　（as　I　believed）；　charged　her　with　the　crime　she　wished　to　perpetrate。　I　was　amazed—confounded。　She　looked　up；　while　I　still　gazed　at　her：　no　start；　no　increase　or　failure　of　colour　betrayed　emotion；　consciousness　of　guilt；　or　fear　of　detection。　She　said　“Good　morning；　Miss；”　in　her　usual　phlegmatic　and　brief　manner；　and　taking　up　another　ring　and　more　tape；　went　on　with　her　sewing。
“I　will　put　her　to　some　test；”　thought　I：　“such　absolute　imperability　is　past　prehension。”
“Good　morning；　Grace；”　I　said。　“Has　anything　happened　here？　I　thought　I　heard　the　servants　all　talking　together　a　while　ago。”
“Only　master　had　been　reading　in　his　bed　last　night；　he　fell　asleep　with　his　candle　lit；　and　the　curtains　got　on　fire；　but；　fortunately；　he　awoke　before　the　bed…clothes　or　the　wood…work　caught；　and　contrived　to　quench　the　flames　with　the　water　in　the　ewer。
“A　strange　affair！”　I　said；　in　a　low　voice：　then；　looking　at　her　fixedly—“Did　Mr。　Rochester　wake　nobody？　Did　no　one　hear　him　move？”
She　again　raised　her　eyes　to　me；　and　this　time　there　was　something　of　consciousness　in　their　expression。　She　seemed　to　examine　me　warily；　then　she　answered—
“The　servants　sleep　so　far　off；　you　know；　Miss；　they　would　not　be　likely　to　hear。　Mrs。　Fairfax’s　room　and　yours　are　the　nearest　to　master’s；　but　Mrs。　Fairfax　said　she　heard　nothing：　when　people　get　elderly；　they　often　sleep　heavy。”　She　paused；　and　then　added；　with　a　sort　of　assumed　indifference；　but　still　in　a　marked　and　significant　tone—“But　you　are　young；　Miss；　and　I　should　say　a　light　sleeper：　perhaps　you　may　have　heard　a　noise？”
“I　did；”　said　I；　dropping　my　voice；　so　that　Leah；　who　was　still　polishing　the　panes；　could　not　hear　me；　“and　at　first　I　thought　it　was　Pilot：　but　Pilot　cannot　laugh；　and　I　am　certain　I　heard　a　laugh；　and　a　strange　one。”
She　took　a　new　needleful　of　thread；　waxed　it　carefully；　threaded　her　needle　with　a　steady　hand；　and　then　observed；　with　perfect　posure—
“It　is　hardly　likely　master　would　laugh；　I　should　think；　Miss；　when　he　was　in　such　danger：　You　must　have　been　dreaming。”
“I　was　not　dreaming；”　I　said；　with　some　warmth；　for　her　brazen　coolness　provoked　me。　Again　she　looked　at　me；　and　with　the　same　scrutinising　and　conscious　eye。
“Have　you　told　master　that　you　heard　a　laugh？”　she　inquired。
“I　have　not　had　the　opportunity　of　speaking　to　him　this　morning。”
“You　did　not　think　of　opening　your　door　and　looking　out　into　the　gallery？”　she　further　asked。
She　appeared　to　be　cross…questioning　me；　attempting　to　draw　from　me　information　unawares。　The　idea　struck　me　that　if　she　discovered　I　knew　or　suspected　her　guilt；　she　would　be　playing　of　some　of　her　malignant　pranks　on　me；　I　thought　it　advisable　to　be　on　my　guard。
“On　the　contrary；”　said　I；　“I　bolted　my　door。”
“Then　you　are　not　in　the　habit　of　bolting　your　door　every　night　before　you　get　into　bed？”
“Fiend！　she　wants　to　know　my　habits；　that　she　may　lay　her　plans　accordingly！”　Indignation　again　prevailed　over　prudence：　I　replied　sharply；　“Hitherto　I　have　often　omitted　to　fasten　the　bolt：　I　did　not　think　it　necessary。　I　was　not　aware　any　danger　or　annoyance　was　to　be　dreaded　at　Thornfield　Hall：　but　in　future”　（and　I　laid　marked　stress　on　the　words）　“I　shall　take　good　care　to　make　all　secure　before　I　venture　to　lie　down。”
“It　will　be　wise　so　to　do；”　was　her　answer：　“this　neighbourhood　is　as　quiet　as　any　I　know；　and　I　never　heard　of　the　hall　being　attempted　by　robbers　since　it　was　a　house；　though　there　are　hundreds　of　pounds’　worth　of　plate　in　the　plate…closet；　as　is　well　known。　And　you　see；　for　such　a　large　house；　there　are　very　few　servants；　because　master　has　never　lived　here　much；　and　when　he　does　e；　being　a　bachelor；　he　needs　little　waiting　on：　but　I　always　think　it　best　to　err　on　the　safe　side；　a　door　is　soon　fastened；　and　it　is　as　well　to　have　a　drawn　bolt　between　one　and　any　mischief　that　may　be　about。　A　deal　of　people；　Miss；　are　for　trusting　all　to　Providence；　but　I　say　Providence　will　not　dispense　with　the　means；　though　He　often　blesses　them　when　they　are　used　discreetly。”　And　here　she　closed　her　harangue：　a　long　one　for　her；　and　uttered　with　the　demureness　of　a　Quakeress。
I　still　stood　absolutely　dumfoundered　at　what　appeared　to　me　her　miraculous　self…possession　and　most　inscrutable　hypocrisy；　when　the　cook　entered。
“Mrs。　Poole；”　said　she；　addressing　Grace；　“the　servants’　dinner　will　soon　be　ready：　will　you　e　down？”
“No；　just　put　my　pint　of　porter　and　bit　of　pudding　on　a　tray；　and　I’ll　carry　it　upstairs。”
“You’ll　have　some　meat？”
“Just　a　morsel；　and　a　taste　of　cheese；　that’s　all。”
“And　the　sago？”
“Never　mind　it　at　present：　I　shall　be　ing　down　before　teatime：　I’ll　make　it　myself。”
The　cook　here　turned　to　me；　saying　that　Mrs。　Fairfax　was　waiting　for　me：　so　I　departed。
I　hardly　heard　Mrs。　Fairfax’s　account　of　the　curtain　conflagration　during　dinner；　so　much　was　I　occupied　in　puzzling　my　brains　over　the　enigmatical　character　of　Grace　Poole；　and　still　more　in　pondering　the　problem　of　her　position　at　Thornfield　and　questioning　why　she　had　not　been　given　into　custody　that　morning；　or；　at　the　very　least；　dismissed　from　her　master’s　service。　He　had　almost　as　much　as　declared　his　conviction　of　her　criminality　last　night：　what　mysterious　cause　withheld　him　from　accusing　her？　Why　had　he　enjoined　me；　too；　to　secrecy？　It　was　strange：　a　bold；　vindictive；　and　haughty　gentleman　seemed　somehow　in　the　power　of　one　of　the　meanest　of　his　dependants；　so　much　in　her　power；　that　even　when　she　lifted　her　hand　against　his　life；　he　dared　not　openly　charge　her　with　the　attempt；　much　less　punish　her　for　it。
Had　Grace　been　young　and　handsome；　I　should　have　been　tempted　to　think　that　tenderer　feelings　than　prudence　or　fear　influenced　Mr。　Rochester　in　her　behalf；　but；　hard…favoured　and　matronly　as　she　was；　the　idea　could　not　be　admitted。　“Yet；”　I　reflected；　“she　has　been　young　once；　her　youth　would　be　contemporary　with　her　master’s：　Mrs。　Fairfax　told　me　once；　she　had　lived　here　many　years。　I　don’t　think　she　can　ever　have　been　pretty；　but；　for　aught　I　know；　she　may　possess　originality　and　strength　of　character　to　pensate　for　the　want　of　personal　advantages。　Mr。　Rochester　is　an　amateur　of　the　decided　and　eccentric：　Grace　is　eccentric　at　least。　What　if　a　former　caprice　（a　freak　very　possible　to　a　nature　so　sudden　and　headstrong　as　his）　has　delivered　him　into　her　power；　and　she　now　exercises　over　his　actions　a　secret　influence；　the　result　of　his　own　indiscretion；　which　he　cannot　shake　off；　and　dare　not　disregard？”　But；　having　reached　this　point　of　conjecture；　Mrs。　Poole’s　square；　flat　figure；　and　unely；　dry；　even　coarse　face；　recurred　so　distinctly　to　my　mind’s　eye；　that　I　thought；　“No；　impossible！　my　supposition　cannot　be　correct。　Yet；”　suggested　the　secret　voice　which　talks　to　us　in　our　own　hearts；　“you　are　not　beautiful　either；　and　perhaps　Mr。　Rochester　approves　you：　at　any　rate；　you　have　often　felt　as　if　he　did；　and　last　night—remember　his　words；　remember　his　look；　remember　his　voice！”
I　well　remembered　all；　language；　glance；　and　tone　seemed　at　the　moment　vividly　renewed。　I　was　now　in　the　schoolroom；　Adèle　was　drawing；　I　bent　over　her　and　directed　her　pencil。　She　looked　up　with　a　sort　of　start。
“Qu’　avez…vous；　mademoiselle？”　said　she。　“Vos　doigts　tremblent　me　la　feuille；　et　vos　joues　sont　rouges：　mais；　rouges　me　des　cerises！”
“I　am　hot；　Adèle；　with　stooping！”　She　went　on　sketching；　I　went　on　thinking。
I　hastened　to　drive　from　my　mind　the　hateful　notion　I　had　been　conceiving　respecting　Grace　Poole；　it　disgusted　me。　I　pared　myself　with　her；　and　found　we　were　different。　Bessie　Leaven　had　said　I　was　quite　a　lady；　and　she　spoke　truth—I　was　a　lady。　And　now　I　looked　much　better　than　I　did　when　Bessie　saw　me；　I　had　more　colour　and　more　flesh；　more　life；　more　vivacity；　because　I　had　brighter　hopes　and　keener　enjoyments。
“Evening　approaches；”　said　I；　as　I　looked　towards　the　window。　“I　have　never　heard　Mr。　Rochester’s　voice　or　step　in　the　house　to…day；　but　surely