第32章

IleftMoorHouseatthreeo’clockp。m。，andsoonafterfourIstoodatthefootofthesign—postofWhitcross，waitingthearrivalofthecoachwhichwastotakemetodistantThornfield。Amidstthesilenceofthosesolitaryroadsanddeserthills，Ihearditapproachfromagreatdistance。Itwasthesamevehiclewhence，ayearago，Ihadalightedonesummereveningonthisveryspot—howdesolate，andhopeless，andobjectless！ItstoppedasIbeckoned。Ientered—notnowobligedtopartwithmywholefortuneasthepriceofitsaccommodation。OncemoreontheroadtoThornfield，Ifeltlikethemessenger—pigeonflyinghome。

Itwasajourneyofsix—and—thirtyhours。IhadsetoutfromWhitcrossonaTuesdayafternoon，andearlyonthesucceedingThursdaymorningthecoachstoppedtowaterthehorsesatawaysideinn，situatedinthemidstofscenerywhosegreenhedgesandlargefieldsandlowpastoralhills（howmildoffeatureandverdantofhuecomparedwiththesternNorth—MidlandmoorsofMorton！）metmyeyelikethelineamentsofaoncefamiliarface。Yes，Iknewthecharacterofthislandscape:Iwassurewewerenearmybourne。

“HowfarisThornfieldHallfromhere？”Iaskedoftheostler。

“Justtwomiles，ma’am，acrossthefields。”

“Myjourneyisclosed，”Ithoughttomyself。Igotoutofthecoach，gaveaboxIhadintotheostler’scharge，tobekepttillIcalledforit;paidmyfare;satisfiedthecoachman，andwasgoing:thebrighteningdaygleamedonthesignoftheinn，andIreadingiltletters，“TheRochesterArms。”Myheartleaptup:Iwasalreadyonmymaster’sverylands。Itfellagain:thethoughtstruckit:—

“YourmasterhimselfmaybebeyondtheBritishChannel，foraughtyouknow:andthen，ifheisatThornfieldHall，towardswhichyouhasten，whobesideshimisthere？Hislunaticwife:andyouhavenothingtodowithhim:youdarenotspeaktohimorseekhispresence。Youhavelostyourlabour—youhadbettergonofarther，”urgedthemonitor。“Askinformationofthepeopleattheinn;theycangiveyouallyouseek:theycansolveyourdoubtsatonce。Gouptothatman，andinquireifMr。Rochesterbeathome。”

Thesuggestionwassensible，andyetIcouldnotforcemyselftoactonit。Isodreadedareplythatwouldcrushmewithdespair。Toprolongdoubtwastoprolonghope。ImightyetoncemoreseetheHallundertherayofherstar。Therewasthestilebeforeme—theveryfieldsthroughwhichIhadhurried，blind，deaf，distractedwitharevengefulfurytrackingandscourgingme，onthemorningIfledfromThornfield:ereIwellknewwhatcourseIhadresolvedtotake，Iwasinthemidstofthem。HowfastIwalked！HowIransometimes！HowIlookedforwardtocatchthefirstviewofthewell—knownwoods！WithwhatfeelingsIwelcomedsingletreesIknew，andfamiliarglimpsesofmeadowandhillbetweenthem！

Atlastthewoodsrose;therookeryclustereddark;aloudcawingbrokethemorningstillness。Strangedelightinspiredme:onIhastened。Anotherfieldcrossed—alanethreaded—andtherewerethecourtyardwalls—thebackoffices:thehouseitself，therookerystillhid。“Myfirstviewofitshallbeinfront，”Idetermined，“whereitsboldbattlementswillstriketheeyenoblyatonce，andwhereIcansingleoutmymaster’sverywindow:perhapshewillbestandingatit—herisesearly:perhapsheisnowwalkingintheorchard，oronthepavementinfront。CouldIbutseehim！—butamoment！Surely，inthatcase，Ishouldnotbesomadastoruntohim？Icannottell—Iamnotcertain。AndifIdid—whatthen？Godblesshim！Whatthen？Whowouldbehurtbymyoncemoretastingthelifehisglancecangiveme？Irave:perhapsatthismomentheiswatchingthesunriseoverthePyrenees，oronthetidelessseaofthesouth。”

Ihadcoastedalongthelowerwalloftheorchard—turneditsangle:therewasagatejustthere，openingintothemeadow，betweentwostonepillarscrownedbystoneballs。FrombehindonepillarIcouldpeeproundquietlyatthefullfrontofthemansion。Iadvancedmyheadwithprecaution，desiroustoascertainifanybedroomwindow—blindswereyetdrawnup:battlements，windows，longfront—allfromthisshelteredstationwereatmycommand。

ThecrowssailingoverheadperhapswatchedmewhileItookthissurvey。Iwonderwhattheythought。TheymusthaveconsideredIwasverycarefulandtimidatfirst，andthatgraduallyIgrewveryboldandreckless。Apeep，andthenalongstare;andthenadeparturefrommynicheandastrayingoutintothemeadow;andasuddenstopfullinfrontofthegreatmansion，andaprotracted，hardygazetowardsit。“Whataffectationofdiffidencewasthisatfirst？”theymighthavedemanded;“whatstupidregardlessnessnow？”

Hearanillustration，reader。

Aloverfindshismistressasleeponamossybank;hewishestocatchaglimpseofherfairfacewithoutwakingher。Hestealssoftlyoverthegrass，carefultomakenosound;hepauses—fancyingshehasstirred:hewithdraws:notforworldswouldhebeseen。Allisstill:heagainadvances:hebendsaboveher;alightveilrestsonherfeatures:heliftsit，bendslower;nowhiseyesanticipatethevisionofbeauty—warm，andblooming，andlovely，inrest。Howhurriedwastheirfirstglance！Buthowtheyfix！Howhestarts！Howhesuddenlyandvehementlyclaspsinbotharmstheformhedarednot，amomentsince，touchwithhisfinger！Howhecallsaloudaname，anddropshisburden，andgazesonitwildly！Hethusgraspsandcries，andgazes，becausehenolongerfearstowakenbyanysoundhecanutter—byanymovementhecanmake。Hethoughthislovesleptsweetly:hefindssheisstonedead。

Ilookedwithtimorousjoytowardsastatelyhouse:Isawablackenedruin。

Noneedtocowerbehindagate—post，indeed！—topeepupatchamberlattices，fearinglifewasastirbehindthem！Noneedtolistenfordoorsopening—tofancystepsonthepavementorthegravel—walk！Thelawn，thegroundsweretroddenandwaste:theportalyawnedvoid。Thefrontwas，asIhadonceseenitinadream，butawell—likewall，veryhighandveryfragile—looking，perforatedwithpanelesswindows:noroof，nobattlements，nochimneys—allhadcrashedin。

Andtherewasthesilenceofdeathaboutit:thesolitudeofalonesomewild。Nowonderthatlettersaddressedtopeopleherehadneverreceivedananswer:aswelldespatchepistlestoavaultinachurchaisle。ThegrimblacknessofthestonestoldbywhatfatetheHallhadfallen—byconflagration:buthowkindled？Whatstorybelongedtothisdisaster？Whatloss，besidesmortarandmarbleandwood—workhadfolloweduponit？Hadlifebeenwreckedaswellasproperty？Ifso，whose？Dreadfulquestion:therewasnooneheretoanswerit—notevendumbsign，mutetoken。

Inwanderingroundtheshatteredwallsandthroughthedevastatedinterior，Igatheredevidencethatthecalamitywasnotoflateoccurrence。Wintersnows，Ithought，haddriftedthroughthatvoidarch，winterrainsbeateninatthosehollowcasements;for，amidstthedrenchedpilesofrubbish，springhadcherishedvegetation:grassandweedgrewhereandtherebetweenthestonesandfallenrafters。Andoh！wheremeantimewasthehaplessownerofthiswreck？Inwhatland？Underwhatauspices？Myeyeinvoluntarilywanderedtothegreychurchtowernearthegates，andIasked，“IshewithDamerdeRochester，sharingtheshelterofhisnarrowmarblehouse？”

Someanswermustbehadtothesequestions。Icouldfinditnowherebutattheinn，andthither，erelong，Ireturned。Thehosthimselfbroughtmybreakfastintotheparlour。Irequestedhimtoshutthedoorandsitdown:Ihadsomequestionstoaskhim。Butwhenhecomplied，Iscarcelyknewhowtobegin;suchhorrorhadIofthepossibleanswers。AndyetthespectacleofdesolationIhadjustleftpreparedmeinameasureforataleofmisery。Thehostwasarespectable—looking，middle—agedman。

“YouknowThornfieldHall，ofcourse？”Imanagedtosayatlast。

“Yes，ma’am;Ilivedthereonce。”

“Didyou？”Notinmytime，Ithought:youareastrangertome。

“IwasthelateMr。Rochester’sbutler，”headded。

Thelate！Iseemtohavereceived，withfullforce，theblowIhadbeentryingtoevade。

“Thelate！”gasped。“Ishedead？”

“Imeanthepresentgentleman，Mr。Edward’sfather，”heexplained。Ibreathedagain:mybloodresumeditsflow。FullyassuredbythesewordsthatMr。Edward—myMr。Rochester（Godblesshim，whereverhewas！）—wasatleastalive:was，inshort，“thepresentgentleman。”Gladdeningwords！ItseemedIcouldhearallthatwastocome—whateverthedisclosuresmightbe—withcomparativetranquillity。Sincehewasnotinthegrave，Icouldbear，Ithought，tolearnthathewasattheAntipodes。

“IsMr。RochesterlivingatThornfieldHallnow？”Iasked，knowing，ofcourse，whattheanswerwouldbe，butyetdesirousofdeferringthedirectquestionastowherehereallywas。

“No，ma’am—oh，no！Nooneislivingthere。Isupposeyouareastrangerintheseparts，oryouwouldhaveheardwhathappenedlastautumn，—ThornfieldHallisquitearuin:itwasburntdownjustaboutharvest—time。Adreadfulcalamity！suchanimmensequantityofvaluablepropertydestroyed:hardlyanyofthefurniturecouldbesaved。Thefirebrokeoutatdeadofnight，andbeforetheenginesarrivedfromMillcote，thebuildingwasonemassofflame。Itwasaterriblespectacle:Iwitnesseditmyself。”

“Atdeadofnight！”Imuttered。Yes，thatwaseverthehouroffatalityatThornfield。“Wasitknownhowitoriginated？”Idemanded。

“Theyguessed，ma’am:theyguessed。Indeed，Ishouldsayitwasascertainedbeyondadoubt。Youarenotperhapsaware，”hecontinued，edginghischairalittlenearerthetable，andspeakinglow，“thattherewasalady—a—alunatic，keptinthehouse？”

“Ihaveheardsomethingofit。”

“Shewaskeptinverycloseconfinement，ma’am:peopleevenforsomeyearswasnotabsolutelycertainofherexistence。Noonesawher:theyonlyknewbyrumourthatsuchapersonwasattheHall;andwhoorwhatshewasitwasdifficulttoconjecture。TheysaidMr。Edwardhadbroughtherfromabroad，andsomebelievedshehadbeenhismistress。Butaqueerthinghappenedayearsince—averyqueerthing。”

Ifearednowtohearmyownstory。Iendeavouredtorecallhimtothemainfact。

“Andthislady？”

“Thislady，ma’am，”heanswered，“turnedouttobeMr。Rochester’swife！Thediscoverywasbroughtaboutinthestrangestway。Therewasayounglady，agovernessattheHall，thatMr。Rochesterfellin—”

“Butthefire，”Isuggested。

“I’mcomingtothat，ma’am—thatMr。Edwardfellinlovewith。Theservantssaythey