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Jane Eyre-第33章

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never make much of him; i think。”

“what does he look like?”

“he is very tall: some people call him a fine…looking young man; but he has such thick lips。”

“and mrs。 reed?”

“missis looks stout and well enough in the face; but i think she’s not quite easy in her mind: mr。 john’s conduct does not please her—he spends a deal of money。”

“did she send you here; bessie?”

“no; indeed: but i have long wanted to see you; and when i heard that there had been a letter from you; and that you were going to another part of the country; i thought i’d just set of; and get a look at you before you were quite out of my reach。”

“i am afraid you are disappointed in me; bessie。” i said this laughing: i perceived that bessie’s glance; though it expressed regard; did in no shape denote admiration。

“no; miss jane; not exactly: you are genteel enough; you look like a lady; and it is as much as ever i expected of you: you were no beauty as a child。”

i smiled at bessie’s frank answer: i felt that it was correct; but i confess i was not quite indifferent to its import: at eighteen most people wish to please; and the conviction that they have not an exterior likely to second that desire brings anything but gratification。

“i dare say you are clever; though;” continued bessie; by way of solace。 “what can you do? can you play on the piano?”

“a little。”

there was one in the room; bessie went and opened it; and then asked me to sit down and give her a tune: i played a waltz or two; and she was charmed。

“the miss reeds could not play as well!” said she exultingly。 “i always said you would surpass them in learning: and can you draw?”

“that is one of my paintings over the chimney…piece。” it was a landscape in water colours; of which i had made a present to the superintendent; in acknowledgment of her obliging mediation with the mittee on my behalf; and which she had framed and glazed。

“well; that is beautiful; miss jane! it is as fine a picture as any miss reed’s drawing…master could paint; let alone the young ladies themselves; who could not e near it: and have you learnt french?”

“yes; bessie; i can both read it and speak it。”

“and you can work on muslin and canvas?”

“i can。”

“oh; you are quite a lady; miss jane! i knew you would be: you will get on whether your relations notice you or not。 there was something i wanted to ask you。 have you ever heard anything from your father’s kinsfolk; the eyres?”

“never in my life。”

“well; you know missis always said they were poor and quite despicable: and they may be poor; but i believe they are as much gentry as the reeds are; for one day; nearly seven years ago; a mr。 eyre came to gateshead and wanted to see you; missis said you were it school fifty miles off; he seemed so much disappointed; for he could not stay: he was going on a voyage to a foreign country; and the ship was to sail from london in a day or two。 he looked quite a gentleman; and i believe he was your father’s brother。”

“what foreign country was he going to; bessie?”

“an island thousands of miles off; where they make wine—the butler did tell me—”

“madeira?” i suggested。

“yes; that is it—that is the very word。”

“so he went?”

“yes; he did not stay many minutes in the house: missis was very high with him; she called him afterwards a ‘sneaking tradesman。’ my robert believes he was a wine…merchant。”

“very likely;” i returned; “or perhaps clerk or agent to a wine… merchant。”

bessie and i conversed about old times an hour longer; and then she was obliged to leave me: i saw her again for a few minutes the next morning at lowton; while i was waiting for the coach。 we parted finally at the door of the brocklehurst arms there: each went her separate way; she set off for the brow of lowood fell to meet the conveyance which was to take her back to gateshead; i mounted the vehicle which was to bear me to new duties and a new life in the unknown environs of millcote。

。d xs 



Chapter 11


a new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play; and when i draw up the curtain this time; reader; you must fancy you see a room in the george inn at millcote; with such large figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet; such furniture; such ornaments on the mantelpiece; such prints; including a portrait of george the third; and another of the prince of wales; and a representation of the death of wolfe。 all this is visible to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling; and by that of an excellent fire; near which i sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff and umbrella lie on the table; and i am warming away the numbness and chill contracted by sixteen hours’ exposure to the rawness of an october day: i left lowton at four o’clock a。m。; and the millcote town clock is now just striking eight。

reader; though i look fortably acmodated; i am not very tranquil in my mind。 i thought when the coach stopped here there would be some one to meet me; i looked anxiously round as i descended the wooden steps the “boots” placed for my convenience; expecting to hear my name pronounced; and to see some description of carriage waiting to convey me to thornfield。 nothing of the sort was visible; and when i asked a waiter if any one had been to inquire after a miss eyre; i was answered in the negative: so i had no resource but to request to be shown into a private room: and here i am waiting; while all sorts of doubts and fears are troubling my thoughts。

it is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world; cut adrift from every connection; uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached; and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted。 the charm of adventure sweetens that sensation; the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half…an…hour elapsed and still i was alone。 i bethought myself to ring the bell。

“is there a place in this neighbourhood called thornfield?” i asked of the waiter who answered the summons。

“thornfield? i don’t 
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