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第0章 冷秋泠

　　October, November, December passed away. One afternoon inJanuary, Mrs. Fairfax had begged a holiday for Adele, because shehad a cold; and, as Adele seconded the request with an ardour thatreminded me how precious occasional holidays had been to me in myown childhood, I accorded it, deeming that I did well in showingpliability on the point. It was a fine, calm day, though very cold;I was tired of sitting still in the library through a whole longmorning: Mrs. Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting tobe posted, so I put on my bonnet and cloak and volunteered to carry itto Hay; the distance, two miles, would be a pleasant winterafternoon walk. Having seen Adele comfortably seated in her littlechair by Mrs. Fairfax's parlour fireside, and given her her best waxdoll (which I usually kept enveloped in silver paper in a drawer) toplay with, and a story-book for a change of amusement; and havingreplied to her 'Revenez bientot, ma bonne amie, ma chere Mdlle.Jeannette,' with a kiss I set out.

　　'Why?'

　　'I can.'

　　'Why, no- perhaps not. I believe there were somemisunderstandings between them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quitejust to Mr. Edward; and perhaps he prejudiced his father againsthim. The old gentleman was fond of money, and anxious to keep thefamily estate together. He did not like to diminish the property bydivision, 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 ofage, some steps were taken that were not quite fair, and made agreat deal of mischief. Old Mr. Rochester and Mr. Rowland combinedto bring Mr. Edward into what he considered a painful position, forthe sake of making his fortune: what the precise nature of thatposition was I never clearly knew, but his spirit could not brook whathe had to suffer in it. He is not very forgiving: he broke with hisfamily, and now for many years he has led an unsettled kind of life. Idon't think he has ever been resident at Thornfield for a fortnighttogether, since the death of his brother

　　'Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Varens! Varens is the name of yourfuture pupil.'

　　He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: hehad closed with a desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, amurderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle down myneck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent suffering: these sensationsfor the time predominated over fear, and I received him in franticsort. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he calledme 'Rat! Rat!' and bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him: Eliza andGeorgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs: she now cameupon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were parted:I heard the words-

　　I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze, then Ilooked round; there was no candle, but the uncertain light from thehearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains,shining mahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious orsplendid as the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. Iwas puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, whenthe door opened, and an individual carrying a light entered; anotherfollowed close behind.

　　'Are there any letters for J. E.?' I asked.

　　My seat, to which Bessie and the bitter Miss Abbot had left meriveted, was a low ottoman near the marble chimney-piece; the bed rosebefore me; to my right hand there was the high, dark wardrobe, withsubdued, broken reflections varying the gloss of its panels; to myleft were the muffled windows; a great looking-glass between themrepeated the vacant majesty of the bed and room. I was not quitesure whether they had locked the door; and when I dared move, I got upand went to see. Alas! yes: no jail was ever more secure. Returning, Ihad to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glanceinvoluntarily explored the depth it revealed. All looked colder anddarker in that visionary hollow than in reality: and the strangelittle figure there gazing at me, with a white face and armsspecking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where allelse was still, had the effect of a real spirit: I thought it like oneof the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie's evening storiesrepresented as coming out of lone, f