简爱(英文版)-第80部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


“Is　the　luggage　brought　down？”
“They　are　bringing　it　down；　sir。”
“Go　you　to　the　church：　see　if　Mr。　Wood　（the　clergyman）　and　the　clerk　are　there：　return　and　tell　me。”
The　church；　as　the　reader　knows；　was　but　just　beyond　the　gates；　the　footman　soon　returned。
“Mr。　Wood　is　in　the　vestry；　sir；　putting　on　his　surplice。”
“And　the　carriage？”
“The　horses　are　harnessing。”
“We　shall　not　want　it　to　go　to　church；　but　it　must　be　ready　the　moment　we　return：　all　the　boxes　and　luggage　arranged　and　strapped　on；　and　the　coachman　in　his　seat。”
“Yes；　sir。”
“Jane；　are　you　ready？”
I　rose。　There　were　no　groomsmen；　no　bridesmaids；　no　relatives　to　wait　for　or　marshal：　none　but　Mr。　Rochester　and　I。　Mrs。　Fairfax　stood　in　the　hall　as　we　passed。　I　would　fain　have　spoken　to　her；　but　my　hand　was　held　by　a　grasp　of　iron：　I　was　hurried　along　by　a　stride　I　could　hardly　follow；　and　to　look　at　Mr。　Rochester’s　face　was　to　feel　that　not　a　second　of　delay　would　be　tolerated　for　any　purpose。　I　wonder　what　other　bridegroom　ever　looked　as　he　did—so　bent　up　to　a　purpose；　so　grimly　resolute：　or　who；　under　such　steadfast　brows；　ever　revealed　such　flaming　and　flashing　eyes。
I　know　not　whether　the　day　was　fair　or　foul；　in　descending　the　drive；　I　gazed　neither　on　sky　nor　earth：　my　heart　was　with　my　eyes；　and　both　seemed　migrated　into　Mr。　Rochester’s　frame。　I　wanted　to　see　the　invisible　thing　on　which；　as　we　went　along；　he　appeared　to　fasten　a　glance　fierce　and　fell。　I　wanted　to　feel　the　thoughts　whose　force　he　seemed　breasting　and　resisting。
At　the　churchyard　wicket　he　stopped：　he　discovered　I　was　quite　out　of　breath。　“Am　I　cruel　in　my　love？”　he　said。　“Delay　an　instant：　lean　on　me；　Jane。”
And　now　I　can　recall　the　picture　of　the　grey　old　house　of　God　rising　calm　before　me；　of　a　rook　wheeling　round　the　steeple；　of　a　ruddy　morning　sky　beyond。　I　remember　something；　too；　of　the　green　grave…　mounds；　and　I　have　not　forgotten；　either；　two　figures　of　strangers　straying　amongst　the　low　hillocks　and　reading　the　mementoes　graven　on　the　few　mossy　head…stones。　I　noticed　them；　because；　as　they　saw　us；　they　passed　round　to　the　back　of　the　church；　and　I　doubted　not　they　were　going　to　enter　by　the　side…aisle　door　and　witness　the　ceremony。　By　Mr。　Rochester　they　were　not　observed；　he　was　earnestly　looking　at　my　face　from　which　the　blood　had；　I　daresay；　momentarily　fled：　for　I　felt　my　forehead　dewy；　and　my　cheeks　and　lips　cold。　When　I　rallied；　which　I　soon　did；　he　walked　gently　with　me　up　the　path　to　the　porch。
ple；　the　priest　waited　in　his　white　surplice　at　the　lowly　altar；　the　clerk　beside　him。　All　was　still：　two　shadows　only　moved　in　a　remote　corner。　My　conjecture　had　been　correct：　the　strangers　had　slipped　in　before　us；　and　they　now　stood　by　the　vault　of　the　Rochesters；　their　backs　towards　us；　viewing　through　the　rails　the　old　time…stained　marble　tomb；　where　a　kneeling　angel　guarded　the　remains　of　Damer　de　Rochester；　slain　at　Marston　Moor　in　the　time　of　the　civil　wars；　and　of　Elizabeth；　his　wife。
Our　place　was　taken　at　the　munion　rails。　Hearing　a　cautious　step　behind　me；　I　glanced　over　my　shoulder：　one　of　the　strangers—a　gentleman；　evidently—was　advancing　up　the　chancel。　The　service　began。　The　explanation　of　the　intent　of　matrimony　was　gone　through；　and　then　the　clergyman　came　a　step　further　forward；　and；　bending　slightly　towards　Mr。　Rochester；　went　on。
“I　require　and　charge　you　both　（as　ye　will　answer　at　the　dreadful　day　of　judgment；　when　the　secrets　of　all　hearts　shall　be　disclosed）；　that　if　either　of　you　know　any　impediment　why　ye　may　not　lawfully　be　joined　together　in　matrimony；　ye　do　now　confess　it；　for　be　ye　well　assured　that　so　many　as　are　coupled　together　otherwise　than　God’s　Word　doth　allow；　are　not　joined　together　by　God；　neither　is　their　matrimony　lawful。”
He　paused；　as　the　custom　is。　When　is　the　pause　after　that　sentence　ever　broken　by　reply？　Not；　perhaps；　once　in　a　hundred　years。　And　the　clergyman；　who　had　not　lifted　his　eyes　from　his　book；　and　had　held　his　breath　but　for　a　moment；　was　proceeding：　his　hand　was　already　stretched　towards　Mr。　Rochester；　as　his　lips　unclosed　to　ask；　“Wilt　thou　have　this　woman　for　thy　wedded　wife？”—when　a　distinct　and　near　voice　said—
“The　marriage　cannot　go　on：　I　declare　the　existence　of　an　impediment。”
The　clergyman　looked　up　at　the　speaker　and　stood　mute；　the　clerk　did　the　same；　Mr。　Rochester　moved　slightly；　as　if　an　earthquake　had　rolled　under　his　feet：　taking　a　firmer　footing；　and　not　turning　his　head　or　eyes；　he　said；　“Proceed。”
Profound　silence　fell　when　he　had　uttered　that　word；　with　deep　but　low　intonation。　Presently　Mr。　Wood　said—
“I　cannot　proceed　without　some　investigation　into　what　has　been　asserted；　and　evidence　of　its　truth　or　falsehood。”
“The　ceremony　is　quite　broken　off；”　subjoined　the　voice　behind　us。　“I　am　in　a　condition　to　prove　my　allegation：　an　insuperable　impediment　to　this　marriage　exists。”
Mr。　Rochester　heard；　but　heeded　not：　he　stood　stubborn　and　rigid；　making　no　movement　but　to　possess　himself　of　my　hand。　What　a　hot　and　strong　grasp　he　had！　and　hoarble　was　his　pale；　firm；　massive　front　at　this　moment！　How　his　eye　shone；　still　watchful；　and　yet　wild　beneath！
Mr。　Wood　seemed　at　a　loss。　“What　is　the　nature　of　the　impediment？”　he　asked。　“Perhaps　it　may　be　got　over—explained　away？”
“Hardly；”　was　the　answer。　“I　have　called　it　insuperable；　and　I　speak　advisedly。”
The　speaker　came　forward　and　leaned　on　the　rails。　He　continued；　uttering　each　word　distinctly；　calmly；　steadily；　but　not　loudly—
“It　simply　consists　in　the　existence　of　a　previous　marriage。　Mr。　Rochester　has　a　wife　now　living。”
My　nerves　vibrated　to　those　low…spoken　words　as　they　had　never　vibrated　to　thunder—my　blood　felt　their　subtle　violence　as　it　had　never　felt　frost　or　fire；　but　I　was　collected；　and　in　no　danger　of　swooning。　I　looked　at　Mr。　Rochester：　I　made　him　look　at　me。　His　whole　face　was　colourless　rock：　his　eye　was　both　spark　and　flint。　He　disavowed　nothing：　he　seemed　as　if　he　would　defy　all　things。　Without　speaking；　without　smiling；　without　seeming　to　recognise　in　me　a　human　being；　he　only　twined　my　waist　with　his　arm　and　riveted　me　to　his　side。
“Who　are　you？”　he　asked　of　the　intruder。
“My　name　is　Briggs；　a　solicitor　of—Street；　London。”
“And　you　would　thrust　on　me　a　wife？”
“I　would　remind　you　of　your　lady’s　existence；　sir；　which　the　law　recognises；　if　you　do　not。”
“Favour　me　with　an　account　of　her—with　her　name；　her　parentage；　her　place　of　abode。”
“Certainly。”　Mr。　Briggs　calmly　took　a　paper　from　his　pocket；　and　read　out　in　a　sort　of　official；　nasal　voice：—
“‘I　affirm　and　can　prove　that　on　the　20th　of　October　A。D。—（a　date　of　fifteen　years　back）；　Edward　Fairfax　Rochester；　of　Thornfield　Hall；　in　the　county　of　—；　and　of　Ferndean　Manor；　in—shire；　England；　was　married　to　my　sister；　Bertha　Antoita　Mason；　daughter　of　Jonas　Mason；　merchant；　and　of　Antoita　his　wife；　a　Creole；　at—church；　Spanish　Town；　Jamaica。　The　record　of　the　marriage　will　be　found　in　the　register　of　that　church—a　copy　of　it　is　now　in　my　possession。　Signed；　Richard　Mason。’”
“That—if　a　genuine　document—may　prove　I　have　been　married；　but　it　does　not　prove　that　the　woman　mentioned　therein　as　my　wife　is　still　living。”
“She　was　living　three　months　ago；”　returned　the　lawyer。
“How　do　you　know？”
“I　have　a　witness　to　the　fact；　whose　testimony　even　you；　sir；　will　scarcely　controvert。”
“Produce　him—or　go　to　hell。”
“I　will　produce　him　first—he　is　on　the　spot。　Mr。　Mason；　have　the　goodness　to　step　forward。”
Mr。　Rochester；　on　hearing　the　name；　set　his　teeth；　he　experienced；　too；　a　sort　of　strong　convulsive　quiver；　near　to　him　as　I　was；　I　felt　the　spasmodic　movement　of　fury　or　despair　run　through　his　frame。　The　second　stranger；　who　had　hitherto　lingered　in　the　background；　now　drew　near；　a　pale　face　looked　over　the　solicitor’s　shoulder—yes；　it　was　Mason　himself。　Mr。　Rochester　turned　and　glared　at　him。　His　eye；　as　I　have　often　said；　was　a　black　eye：　it　had　now　a　tawny；　nay；　a　bloody　light　in　its　gloom；　and　his　face　flushed—olive　cheek　and　hueless　forehead　received　a　glow　as　from　spreading；　ascending　heart…fire：　and　he　stirred；　lifted　his　strong　arm—he　could　have　struck　Mason；　dashed　hi