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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, CHAPTER XXI-a

CHAPTER XXI-a

Presentiments are strange things!

and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key. I never laughed at presentiments in my life, because I have had strange ones of my own. Sympathies, I believe, exist (for instance, between far-distant, long-absent, wholly estranged relatives asserting, notwithstanding their alienation, the unity of the source to which each traces his origin) whose workings baffle mortal comprehension. And signs, for aught we know, may be but the sympathies of Nature with man.

When I was a little girl, only six years old, I one night heard Bessie Leaven say to Martha Abbot that she had been dreaming about a little child; and that to dream of children was a sure sign of trouble, either to one's self or one's kin. The saying might have worn out of my memory, had not a circumstance immediately followed which served indelibly to fix it there. The next day Bessie was sent for home to the deathbed of her little sister.

Of late I had often recalled this saying and this incident; for during the past week scarcely a night had gone over my couch that had not brought with it a dream of an infant, which I sometimes hushed in my arms, sometimes dandled on my knee, sometimes watched playing with daisies on a lawn, or again, dabbling its hands in running water.

It was a wailing child this night, and a laughing one the next: now it nestled close to me, and now it ran from me; but whatever mood the apparition evinced, whatever aspect it wore, it failed not for seven successive nights to meet me the moment I entered the land of slumber.

I did not like this iteration of one idea—this strange recurrence of one image, and I grew nervous as bedtime approached and the hour of the vision drew near.

It was from companionship with this baby-phantom I had been roused on that moonlight night when I heard the cry; and it was on the afternoon of the day following I was summoned downstairs by a message that some one wanted me in Mrs. Fairfax's room. On repairing thither, I found a man waiting for me, having the appearance of a gentleman's servant: he was dressed in deep mourning, and the hat he held in his hand was surrounded with a crape band. “I daresay you hardly remember me, Miss,” he said, rising as I entered; “but my name is Leaven: I lived coachman with Mrs. Reed when you were at Gateshead, eight or nine years since, and I live there still.”

“Oh, Robert!

how do you do? I remember you very well: you used to give me a ride sometimes on Miss Georgiana's bay pony. And how is Bessie? You are married to Bessie?”

“Yes, Miss: my wife is very hearty, thank you; she brought me another little one about two months since—we have three now—and both mother and child are thriving.”

“And are the family well at the house, Robert?”

“I am sorry I can't give you better news of them, Miss: they are very badly at present—in great trouble.” “I hope no one is dead,” I said, glancing at his black dress.

He too looked down at the crape round his hat and replied—

“Mr.

John died yesterday was a week, at his chambers in London.”

“Mr.

John?”

“Yes.”

“And how does his mother bear it?”

“Why, you see, Miss Eyre, it is not a common mishap: his life has been very wild: these last three years he gave himself up to strange ways, and his death was shocking.”

“I heard from Bessie he was not doing well.”

“Doing well!

He could not do worse: he ruined his health and his estate amongst the worst men and the worst women. He got into debt and into jail: his mother helped him out twice, but as soon as he was free he returned to his old companions and habits. His head was not strong: the knaves he lived amongst fooled him beyond anything I ever heard. He came down to Gateshead about three weeks ago and wanted missis to give up all to him. Missis refused: her means have long been much reduced by his extravagance; so he went back again, and the next news was that he was dead. How he died, God knows!—they say he killed himself.”

I was silent: the things were frightful.

Robert Leaven resumed—

“Missis had been out of health herself for some time: she had got very stout, but was not strong with it; and the loss of money and fear of poverty were quite breaking her down.

The information about Mr. John's death and the manner of it came too suddenly: it brought on a stroke. She was three days without speaking; but last Tuesday she seemed rather better: she appeared as if she wanted to say something, and kept making signs to my wife and mumbling. It was only yesterday morning, however, that Bessie understood she was pronouncing your name; and at last she made out the words, ‘Bring Jane—fetch Jane Eyre: I want to speak to her. ' Bessie is not sure whether she is in her right mind, or means anything by the words; but she told Miss Reed and Miss Georgiana, and advised them to send for you. The young ladies put it off at first; but their mother grew so restless, and said, ‘Jane, Jane,' so many times, that at last they consented. I left Gateshead yesterday: and if you can get ready, Miss, I should like to take you back with me early to-morrow morning.”

“Yes, Robert, I shall be ready: it seems to me that I ought to go.”

“I think so too, Miss.

Bessie said she was sure you would not refuse: but I suppose you will have to ask leave before you can get off?”

“Yes; and I will do it now;” and having directed him to the servants' hall, and recommended him to the care of John's wife, and the attentions of John himself, I went in search of Mr. Rochester. He was not in any of the lower rooms; he was not in the yard, the stables, or the grounds.

I asked Mrs. Fairfax if she had seen him;—yes: she believed he was playing billiards with Miss Ingram. To the billiard-room I hastened: the click of balls and the hum of voices resounded thence; Mr. Rochester, Miss Ingram, the two Misses Eshton, and their admirers, were all busied in the game. It required some courage to disturb so interesting a party; my errand, however, was one I could not defer, so I approached the master where he stood at Miss Ingram's side. She turned as I drew near, and looked at me haughtily: her eyes seemed to demand, “What can the creeping creature want now?” and when I said, in a low voice, “Mr. Rochester,” she made a movement as if tempted to order me away. I remember her appearance at the moment—it was very graceful and very striking: she wore a morning robe of sky-blue crape; a gauzy azure scarf was twisted in her hair. She had been all animation with the game, and irritated pride did not lower the expression of her haughty lineaments.

“Does that person want you?” she inquired of Mr. Rochester; and Mr. Rochester turned to see who the “person” was.

He made a curious grimace—one of his strange and equivocal demonstrations—threw down his cue and followed me from the room.

“Well, Jane?” he said, as he rested his back against the schoolroom door, which he had shut.

“If you please, sir, I want leave of absence for a week or two.”

“What to do?—where to go?”

“To see a sick lady who has sent for me.”

“What sick lady?—where does she live?”

“At Gateshead; in ---shire.”

“-shire?

That is a hundred miles off! Who may she be that sends for people to see her that distance?”

“Her name is Reed, sir—Mrs.

Reed.”

“Reed of Gateshead?

There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate.”

“It is his widow, sir.”

“And what have you to do with her?

How do you know her?”

“Mr.

Reed was my uncle—my mother's brother.” “The deuce he was!

You never told me that before: you always said you had no relations.”

“None that would own me, sir.

Mr. Reed is dead, and his wife cast me off.”

“Why?”

“Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me.”

“But Reed left children?—you must have cousins?

Sir George Lynn was talking of a Reed of Gateshead yesterday, who, he said, was one of the veriest rascals on town; and Ingram was mentioning a Georgiana Reed of the same place, who was much admired for her beauty a season or two ago in London.”

“John Reed is dead, too, sir: he ruined himself and half-ruined his family, and is supposed to have committed suicide.

The news so shocked his mother that it brought on an apoplectic attack.”

“And what good can you do her?

Nonsense, Jane! I would never think of running a hundred miles to see an old lady who will, perhaps, be dead before you reach her: besides, you say she cast you off.”

“Yes, sir, but that is long ago; and when her circumstances were very different: I could not be easy to neglect her wishes now.”

“How long will you stay?”

“As short a time as possible, sir.”

“Promise me only to stay a week—”

“I had better not pass my word: I might be obliged to break it.”

“At all events you will come back: you will not be induced under any pretext to take up a permanent residence with her?”

“Oh, no!

I shall certainly return if all be well.”

“And who goes with you?

You don't travel a hundred miles alone.” “No, sir, she has sent her coachman.”

“A person to be trusted?”

“Yes, sir, he has lived ten years in the family.”

Mr.

Rochester meditated. “When do you wish to go?”

“Early to-morrow morning, sir.”

“Well, you must have some money; you can't travel without money, and I daresay you have not much: I have given you no salary yet. How much have you in the world, Jane?” he asked, smiling.

I drew out my purse; a meagre thing it was.

“Five shillings, sir.” He took the purse, poured the hoard into his palm, and chuckled over it as if its scantiness amused him. Soon he produced his pocket-book: “Here,” said he, offering me a note; it was fifty pounds, and he owed me but fifteen. I told him I had no change.

“I don't want change; you know that. Take your wages.”

I declined accepting more than was my due.

He scowled at first; then, as if recollecting something, he said—

“Right, right!

Better not give you all now: you would, perhaps, stay away three months if you had fifty pounds. There are ten; is it not plenty?”

“Yes, sir, but now you owe me five.”

“Come back for it, then; I am your banker for forty pounds.”

“Mr.

Rochester, I may as well mention another matter of business to you while I have the opportunity.”

“Matter of business?

I am curious to hear it.”

“You have as good as informed me, sir, that you are going shortly to be married?”

“Yes; what then?”

“In that case, sir, Adèle ought to go to school: I am sure you will perceive the necessity of it.”

“To get her out of my bride's way, who might otherwise walk over her rather too emphatically? There's sense in the suggestion; not a doubt of it. Adèle, as you say, must go to school; and you, of course, must march straight to—the devil?”

“I hope not, sir; but I must seek another situation somewhere.”

“In course!” he exclaimed, with a twang of voice and a distortion of features equally fantastic and ludicrous.

He looked at me some minutes.

“And old Madam Reed, or the Misses, her daughters, will be solicited by you to seek a place, I suppose?”

“No, sir; I am not on such terms with my relatives as would justify me in asking favours of them—but I shall advertise.”

“You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!” he growled.

“At your peril you advertise! I wish I had only offered you a sovereign instead of ten pounds. Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I've a use for it.” “And so have I, sir,” I returned, putting my hands and my purse behind me.

“I could not spare the money on any account.”

“Little niggard!” said he, “refusing me a pecuniary request!

Give me five pounds, Jane.”

“Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence.”

“Just let me look at the cash.”

“No, sir; you are not to be trusted.”

“Jane!”

“Sir?”

“Promise me one thing.”

“I'll promise you anything, sir, that I think I am likely to perform.” “Not to advertise: and to trust this quest of a situation to me.

I'll find you one in time.” “I shall be glad so to do, sir, if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adèle shall be both safe out of the house before your bride enters it.”

“Very well!

very well! I'll pledge my word on it. You go to-morrow, then?”

“Yes, sir; early.”

“Shall you come down to the drawing-room after dinner?”

“No, sir, I must prepare for the journey.”

“Then you and I must bid good-bye for a little while?”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane?

Teach me; I'm not quite up to it.” “They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer.”

“Then say it.”

“Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present.”

“What must I say?”

“The same, if you like, sir.”

“Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?”

“Yes?”

“It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly.

I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no—that would not content me either. So you'll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?” “It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.”

“Very likely; but it is blank and cool—‘Farewell.

'” “How long is he going to stand with his back against that door?” I asked myself; “I want to commence my packing.” The dinner-bell rang, and suddenly away he bolted, without another syllable: I saw him no more during the day, and was off before he had risen in the morning.

I reached the lodge at Gateshead about five o'clock in the afternoon of the first of May: I stepped in there before going up to the hall. It was very clean and neat: the ornamental windows were hung with little white curtains; the floor was spotless; the grate and fire-irons were burnished bright, and the fire burnt clear. Bessie sat on the hearth, nursing her last-born, and Robert and his sister played quietly in a corner.

“Bless you!—I knew you would come!” exclaimed Mrs. Leaven, as I entered.

“Yes, Bessie,” said I, after I had kissed her; “and I trust I am not too late.

How is Mrs. Reed?—Alive still, I hope.”

“Yes, she is alive; and more sensible and collected than she was.

The doctor says she may linger a week or two yet; but he hardly thinks she will finally recover.”

“Has she mentioned me lately?”

“She was talking of you only this morning, and wishing you would come, but she is sleeping now, or was ten minutes ago, when I was up at the house.

She generally lies in a kind of lethargy all the afternoon, and wakes up about six or seven. Will you rest yourself here an hour, Miss, and then I will go up with you?”

Robert here entered, and Bessie laid her sleeping child in the cradle and went to welcome him: afterwards she insisted on my taking off my bonnet and having some tea; for she said I looked pale and tired.

I was glad to accept her hospitality; and I submitted to be relieved of my travelling garb just as passively as I used to let her undress me when a child.

Old times crowded fast back on me as I watched her bustling about—setting out the tea-tray with her best china, cutting bread and butter, toasting a tea-cake, and, between whiles, giving little Robert or Jane an occasional tap or push, just as she used to give me in former days.

Bessie had retained her quick temper as well as her light foot and good looks.

Tea ready, I was going to approach the table; but she desired me to sit still, quite in her old peremptory tones.

I must be served at the fireside, she said; and she placed before me a little round stand with my cup and a plate of toast, absolutely as she used to accommodate me with some privately purloined dainty on a nursery chair: and I smiled and obeyed her as in bygone days.

She wanted to know if I was happy at Thornfield Hall, and what sort of a person the mistress was; and when I told her there was only a master, whether he was a nice gentleman, and if I liked him.

I told her he was rather an ugly man, but quite a gentleman; and that he treated me kindly, and I was content. Then I went on to describe to her the gay company that had lately been staying at the house; and to these details Bessie listened with interest: they were precisely of the kind she relished.

In such conversation an hour was soon gone: Bessie restored to me my bonnet, &c., and, accompanied by her, I quitted the lodge for the hall. It was also accompanied by her that I had, nearly nine years ago, walked down the path I was now ascending. On a dark, misty, raw morning in January, I had left a hostile roof with a desperate and embittered heart—a sense of outlawry and almost of reprobation—to seek the chilly harbourage of Lowood: that bourne so far away and unexplored. The same hostile roof now again rose before me: my prospects were doubtful yet; and I had yet an aching heart. I still felt as a wanderer on the face of the earth; but I experienced firmer trust in myself and my own powers, and less withering dread of oppression. The gaping wound of my wrongs, too, was now quite healed; and the flame of resentment extinguished.

“You shall go into the breakfast-room first,” said Bessie, as she preceded me through the hall; “the young ladies will be there.”

In another moment I was within that apartment.

There was every article of furniture looking just as it did on the morning I was first introduced to Mr. Brocklehurst: the very rug he had stood upon still covered the hearth. Glancing at the bookcases, I thought I could distinguish the two volumes of Bewick's British Birds occupying their old place on the third shelf, and Gulliver's Travels and the Arabian Nights ranged just above. The inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition.

Two young ladies appeared before me; one very tall, almost as tall as Miss Ingram—very thin too, with a sallow face and severe mien.

There was something ascetic in her look, which was augmented by the extreme plainness of a straight-skirted, black, stuff dress, a starched linen collar, hair combed away from the temples, and the nun-like ornament of a string of ebony beads and a crucifix. This I felt sure was Eliza, though I could trace little resemblance to her former self in that elongated and colourless visage.

The other was as certainly Georgiana: but not the Georgiana I remembered—the slim and fairy-like girl of eleven.

This was a full-blown, very plump damsel, fair as waxwork, with handsome and regular features, languishing blue eyes, and ringleted yellow hair. The hue of her dress was black too; but its fashion was so different from her sister's—so much more flowing and becoming—it looked as stylish as the other's looked puritanical. In each of the sisters there was one trait of the mother—and only one; the thin and pallid elder daughter had her parent's Cairngorm eye: the blooming and luxuriant younger girl had her contour of jaw and chin—perhaps a little softened, but still imparting an indescribable hardness to the countenance otherwise so voluptuous and buxom. Both ladies, as I advanced, rose to welcome me, and both addressed me by the name of “Miss Eyre.” Eliza's greeting was delivered in a short, abrupt voice, without a smile; and then she sat down again, fixed her eyes on the fire, and seemed to forget me. Georgiana added to her “How d'ye do?” several commonplaces about my journey, the weather, and so on, uttered in rather a drawling tone: and accompanied by sundry side-glances that measured me from head to foot—now traversing the folds of my drab merino pelisse, and now lingering on the plain trimming of my cottage bonnet. Young ladies have a remarkable way of letting you know that they think you a “quiz” without actually saying the words. A certain superciliousness of look, coolness of manner, nonchalance of tone, express fully their sentiments on the point, without committing them by any positive rudeness in word or deed.

A sneer, however, whether covert or open, had now no longer that power over me it once possessed: as I sat between my cousins, I was surprised to find how easy I felt under the total neglect of the one and the semi-sarcastic attentions of the other—Eliza did not mortify, nor Georgiana ruffle me.

The fact was, I had other things to think about; within the last few months feelings had been stirred in me so much more potent than any they could raise—pains and pleasures so much more acute and exquisite had been excited than any it was in their power to inflict or bestow—that their airs gave me no concern either for good or bad.

“How is Mrs. Reed?” I asked soon, looking calmly at Georgiana, who thought fit to bridle at the direct address, as if it were an unexpected liberty.

“Mrs.

Reed? Ah! mama, you mean; she is extremely poorly: I doubt if you can see her to-night.”

“If,” said I, “you would just step upstairs and tell her I am come, I should be much obliged to you.”

Georgiana almost started, and she opened her blue eyes wild and wide.

“I know she had a particular wish to see me,” I added, “and I would not defer attending to her desire longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“Mama dislikes being disturbed in an evening,” remarked Eliza.

I soon rose, quietly took off my bonnet and gloves, uninvited, and said I would just step out to Bessie—who was, I dared say, in the kitchen—and ask her to ascertain whether Mrs. Reed was disposed to receive me or not to-night. I went, and having found Bessie and despatched her on my errand, I proceeded to take further measures. It had heretofore been my habit always to shrink from arrogance: received as I had been to-day, I should, a year ago, have resolved to quit Gateshead the very next morning; now, it was disclosed to me all at once that that would be a foolish plan. I had taken a journey of a hundred miles to see my aunt, and I must stay with her till she was better—or dead: as to her daughters' pride or folly, I must put it on one side, make myself independent of it. So I addressed the housekeeper; asked her to show me a room, told her I should probably be a visitor here for a week or two, had my trunk conveyed to my chamber, and followed it thither myself: I met Bessie on the landing.

“Missis is awake,” said she; “I have told her you are here: come and let us see if she will know you.”

I did not need to be guided to the well-known room, to which I had so often been summoned for chastisement or reprimand in former days.

I hastened before Bessie; I softly opened the door: a shaded light stood on the table, for it was now getting dark. There was the great four-post bed with amber hangings as of old; there the toilet-table, the armchair, and the footstool, at which I had a hundred times been sentenced to kneel, to ask pardon for offences by me uncommitted. I looked into a certain corner near, half-expecting to see the slim outline of a once dreaded switch which used to lurk there, waiting to leap out imp-like and lace my quivering palm or shrinking neck. I approached the bed; I opened the curtains and leant over the high-piled pillows.

Well did I remember Mrs. Reed's face, and I eagerly sought the familiar image. It is a happy thing that time quells the longings of vengeance and hushes the promptings of rage and aversion. I had left this woman in bitterness and hate, and I came back to her now with no other emotion than a sort of ruth for her great sufferings, and a strong yearning to forget and forgive all injuries—to be reconciled and clasp hands in amity.

The well-known face was there: stern, relentless as ever—there was that peculiar eye which nothing could melt, and the somewhat raised, imperious, despotic eyebrow.

How often had it lowered on me menace and hate! and how the recollection of childhood's terrors and sorrows revived as I traced its harsh line now! And yet I stooped down and kissed her: she looked at me.

“Is this Jane Eyre?” she said.

“Yes, Aunt Reed.

How are you, dear aunt?”

CHAPTER XXI-a CAPÍTULO XXI-a ГЛАВА XXI-а BÖLÜM XXI-a

Presentiments are strange things! Les présentiments sont des choses étranges!

and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key. et les sympathies aussi; et les signes aussi; et les trois combinés forment un mystère dont l'humanité n'a pas encore trouvé la clé. I never laughed at presentiments in my life, because I have had strange ones of my own. Je n'ai jamais ri des pressentiments de ma vie, parce que j'en ai eu d'étranges à moi. Sympathies, I believe, exist (for instance, between far-distant, long-absent, wholly estranged relatives asserting, notwithstanding their alienation, the unity of the source to which each traces his origin) whose workings baffle mortal comprehension. Des sympathies, je crois, existent (par exemple, entre des parents éloignés, absents depuis longtemps, totalement séparés, affirmant, malgré leur aliénation, l'unité de la source à laquelle chacun trace son origine) dont le fonctionnement déroute la compréhension mortelle. And signs, for aught we know, may be but the sympathies of Nature with man. Et les signes, pour ce que nous savons, ne sont peut-être que les sympathies de la nature avec l'homme.

When I was a little girl, only six years old, I one night heard Bessie Leaven say to Martha Abbot that she had been dreaming about a little child; and that to dream of children was a sure sign of trouble, either to one's self or one's kin. When I was a little girl, only six years old, I one night heard Bessie Leaven say to Martha Abbot that she had been dreaming about a little child; and that to dream of children was a sure sign of trouble, either to one's self or one's kin. Quand j'étais petite fille, seulement six ans, j'ai entendu une nuit Bessie Leaven dire à Martha Abbot qu'elle avait rêvé d'un petit enfant; et que rêver d'enfants était un signe certain de trouble, que ce soit pour soi-même ou pour ses proches. The saying might have worn out of my memory, had not a circumstance immediately followed which served indelibly to fix it there. The saying might have worn out of my memory, had not a circumstance immediately followed which served indelibly to fix it there. Le dicton aurait pu épuiser ma mémoire, si une circonstance n'eût suivi immédiatement qui servait indélébile à y fixer. The next day Bessie was sent for home to the deathbed of her little sister. The next day Bessie was sent for home to the deathbed of her little sister. Le lendemain, Bessie fut renvoyée chez elle sur le lit de mort de sa petite sœur.

Of late I had often recalled this saying and this incident; for during the past week scarcely a night had gone over my couch that had not brought with it a dream of an infant, which I sometimes hushed in my arms, sometimes dandled on my knee, sometimes watched playing with daisies on a lawn, or again, dabbling its hands in running water. Dernièrement, je m'étais souvent rappelé ce dicton et cet incident; car au cours de la semaine écoulée à peine une nuit s'était passée sur mon canapé qui n'eût amené avec elle un rêve d'enfant, que je taisais tantôt dans mes bras, tantôt dandais sur mes genoux, tantôt regardais jouer avec des marguerites sur une pelouse, ou encore , barbotant ses mains dans l'eau courante.

It was a wailing child this night, and a laughing one the next: now it nestled close to me, and now it ran from me; but whatever mood the apparition evinced, whatever aspect it wore, it failed not for seven successive nights to meet me the moment I entered the land of slumber. C'était un enfant qui pleurait cette nuit, et un enfant qui riait le lendemain: maintenant il se blottissait près de moi, et maintenant il me fuyait; mais quelle que soit l'humeur manifestée par l'apparition, quel que soit son aspect, elle n'a pas échoué pendant sept nuits successives pour me rencontrer au moment où je suis entré dans le pays du sommeil.

I did not like this iteration of one idea—this strange recurrence of one image, and I grew nervous as bedtime approached and the hour of the vision drew near.

It was from companionship with this baby-phantom I had been roused on that moonlight night when I heard the cry; and it was on the afternoon of the day following I was summoned downstairs by a message that some one wanted me in Mrs. Fairfax's room. C'était de la compagnie de ce bébé-fantôme que j'avais été réveillé cette nuit de clair de lune quand j'entendis le cri; et c'était dans l'après-midi du jour suivant que j'ai été convoqué en bas par un message que quelqu'un voulait que je dans la chambre de Mme Fairfax. On repairing thither, I found a man waiting for me, having the appearance of a gentleman's servant: he was dressed in deep mourning, and the hat he held in his hand was surrounded with a crape band. En me rendant là-bas, je trouvai un homme qui m'attendait, ayant l'apparence d'un gentilhomme de service: il était vêtu d'un profond deuil, et le chapeau qu'il tenait à la main était entouré d'une bande de crêpe. “I daresay you hardly remember me, Miss,” he said, rising as I entered; “but my name is Leaven: I lived coachman with Mrs. Reed when you were at Gateshead, eight or nine years since, and I live there still.” «J'ose dire que vous vous souvenez à peine de moi, mademoiselle,» dit-il en se levant en entrant; «Mais je m'appelle Leaven: j'ai vécu cocher avec Mme Reed quand vous étiez à Gateshead, huit ou neuf ans depuis, et j'y vis toujours.

“Oh, Robert!

how do you do? I remember you very well: you used to give me a ride sometimes on Miss Georgiana's bay pony. Je me souviens très bien de vous: vous me faisiez parfois monter sur le poney bai de Miss Georgiana. And how is Bessie? You are married to Bessie?”

“Yes, Miss: my wife is very hearty, thank you; she brought me another little one about two months since—we have three now—and both mother and child are thriving.” «Oui, mademoiselle: ma femme est très chaleureuse, merci; elle m'a apporté un autre petit depuis deux mois environ - nous en avons trois maintenant - et la mère et l'enfant sont en plein essor.

“And are the family well at the house, Robert?”

“I am sorry I can't give you better news of them, Miss: they are very badly at present—in great trouble.” «Je suis désolé de ne pas pouvoir vous donner de meilleures nouvelles d’eux, mademoiselle: ils sont très mal en ce moment - en grande difficulté. “I hope no one is dead,” I said, glancing at his black dress. «J'espère que personne n'est mort,» dis-je en jetant un coup d'œil à sa robe noire.

He too looked down at the crape round his hat and replied— Lui aussi a regardé la cravate autour de son chapeau et a répondu...

“Mr.

John died yesterday was a week, at his chambers in London.” John est mort hier il y a une semaine, dans ses appartements à Londres.

“Mr.

John?”

“Yes.”

“And how does his mother bear it?” «Et comment sa mère le supporte-t-elle?

“Why, you see, Miss Eyre, it is not a common mishap: his life has been very wild: these last three years he gave himself up to strange ways, and his death was shocking.” «Eh bien, vous voyez, Miss Eyre, ce n'est pas un accident commun: sa vie a été très sauvage: ces trois dernières années, il s'est livré à des voies étranges, et sa mort a été choquante.

“I heard from Bessie he was not doing well.” «J'ai entendu de Bessie qu'il n'allait pas bien.

“Doing well!

He could not do worse: he ruined his health and his estate amongst the worst men and the worst women. Il ne pouvait pas faire pire: il a ruiné sa santé et son patrimoine parmi les pires hommes et les pires femmes. He got into debt and into jail: his mother helped him out twice, but as soon as he was free he returned to his old companions and habits. Il s'est endetté et emprisonné: sa mère l'a aidé deux fois, mais dès qu'il a été libre, il est retourné à ses anciens compagnons et habitudes. His head was not strong: the knaves he lived amongst fooled him beyond anything I ever heard. Sa tête n'était pas forte: les fripons parmi lesquels il vivait le trompaient au-delà de tout ce que j'avais entendu. He came down to Gateshead about three weeks ago and wanted missis to give up all to him. Il est venu à Gateshead il y a environ trois semaines et voulait que les missis lui abandonnent tout. Missis refused: her means have long been much reduced by his extravagance; so he went back again, and the next news was that he was dead. Missis a refusé: ses moyens ont longtemps été très réduits par son extravagance; alors il est retourné, et la nouvelle suivante était qu'il était mort. How he died, God knows!—they say he killed himself.”

I was silent: the things were frightful. Je me taisais: les choses étaient affreuses.

Robert Leaven resumed—

“Missis had been out of health herself for some time: she had got very stout, but was not strong with it; and the loss of money and fear of poverty were quite breaking her down. «Missis était en mauvaise santé elle-même depuis un certain temps: elle était devenue très grosse, mais elle n'était pas forte avec cela; et la perte d'argent et la peur de la pauvreté la brisaient complètement.

The information about Mr. John's death and the manner of it came too suddenly: it brought on a stroke. L'information sur la mort de M. John et ses modalités est venue trop soudainement: elle a provoqué un AVC. She was three days without speaking; but last Tuesday she seemed rather better: she appeared as if she wanted to say something, and kept making signs to my wife and mumbling. It was only yesterday morning, however, that Bessie understood she was pronouncing your name; and at last she made out the words, ‘Bring Jane—fetch Jane Eyre: I want to speak to her. '  Bessie is not sure whether she is in her right mind, or means anything by the words; but she told Miss Reed and Miss Georgiana, and advised them to send for you. The young ladies put it off at first; but their mother grew so restless, and said, ‘Jane, Jane,' so many times, that at last they consented. Les jeunes filles l'ont d'abord retardé; mais leur mère est devenue si inquiète et a dit: «Jane, Jane», tant de fois, qu'ils ont finalement consenti. I left Gateshead yesterday: and if you can get ready, Miss, I should like to take you back with me early to-morrow morning.” J'ai quitté Gateshead hier: et si vous pouvez vous préparer, mademoiselle, je voudrais vous ramener avec moi tôt demain matin.

“Yes, Robert, I shall be ready: it seems to me that I ought to go.”

“I think so too, Miss.

Bessie said she was sure you would not refuse: but I suppose you will have to ask leave before you can get off?” Bessie a dit qu'elle était sûre que vous ne refuseriez pas: mais je suppose que vous devrez demander la permission avant de pouvoir descendre?

“Yes; and I will do it now;” and having directed him to the servants' hall, and recommended him to the care of John's wife, and the attentions of John himself, I went in search of Mr. Rochester. "Après l'avoir dirigé vers la salle des domestiques et l'avoir recommandé aux soins de la femme de John et aux attentions de John lui-même, je suis parti à la recherche de M. Rochester. He was not in any of the lower rooms; he was not in the yard, the stables, or the grounds. Il n'était dans aucune des pièces inférieures, ni dans la cour, ni dans les écuries, ni sur le terrain.

I asked Mrs. Fairfax if she had seen him;—yes: she believed he was playing billiards with Miss Ingram. To the billiard-room I hastened: the click of balls and the hum of voices resounded thence; Mr. Rochester, Miss Ingram, the two Misses Eshton, and their admirers, were all busied in the game. Je me précipitai dans la salle de billard : le cliquetis des boules et le bourdonnement des voix y résonnaient ; M. Rochester, Mlle Ingram, les deux demoiselles Eshton et leurs admirateurs étaient tous occupés à jouer. It required some courage to disturb so interesting a party; my errand, however, was one I could not defer, so I approached the master where he stood at Miss Ingram's side. Il fallait du courage pour déranger une fête si intéressante; ma course, cependant, était celle que je ne pouvais pas différer, alors j'ai approché le maître où il se tenait aux côtés de Miss Ingram. She turned as I drew near, and looked at me haughtily: her eyes seemed to demand, “What can the creeping creature want now?” and when I said, in a low voice, “Mr. Rochester,” she made a movement as if tempted to order me away. Rochester, »elle fit un mouvement comme si elle était tentée de m'ordonner. I remember her appearance at the moment—it was very graceful and very striking: she wore a morning robe of sky-blue crape; a gauzy azure scarf was twisted in her hair. Je me souviens de son apparence en ce moment - elle était très gracieuse et très frappante: elle portait une robe du matin en crêpe bleu ciel; une écharpe azur vaporeuse était tordue dans ses cheveux. She had been all animation with the game, and irritated pride did not lower the expression of her haughty lineaments. Elle avait été toute animée avec le jeu, et l'orgueil irrité ne diminuait pas l'expression de ses linéaments hautains.

“Does that person want you?” she inquired of Mr. Rochester; and Mr. Rochester turned to see who the “person” was.

He made a curious grimace—one of his strange and equivocal demonstrations—threw down his cue and followed me from the room. Il fit une curieuse grimace - une de ses démonstrations étranges et équivoques - jeta son signal et me suivit hors de la pièce.

“Well, Jane?” he said, as he rested his back against the schoolroom door, which he had shut. «Eh bien, Jane? dit-il en s'appuyant le dos contre la porte de la salle de classe, qu'il avait fermée.

“If you please, sir, I want leave of absence for a week or two.”

“What to do?—where to go?”

“To see a sick lady who has sent for me.”

“What sick lady?—where does she live?”

“At Gateshead; in ---shire.”

“-shire?

That is a hundred miles off! C'est à une centaine de kilomètres! Who may she be that sends for people to see her that distance?” Qui peut-elle être qui envoie les gens la voir à cette distance?

“Her name is Reed, sir—Mrs.

Reed.”

“Reed of Gateshead?

There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate.”

“It is his widow, sir.” «C'est sa veuve, monsieur.

“And what have you to do with her? «Et qu'avez-vous à faire avec elle?

How do you know her?”

“Mr.

Reed was my uncle—my mother's brother.” “The deuce he was! «Le diable qu'il était!

You never told me that before: you always said you had no relations.”

“None that would own me, sir. Personne qui me posséderait, monsieur.

Mr. Reed is dead, and his wife cast me off.” M. Reed est mort et sa femme m'a rejeté.

“Why?”

“Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me.” "Parce que j'étais pauvre et encombrant, et qu'elle ne m'aimait pas."

“But Reed left children?—you must have cousins? "Mais Reed a laissé des enfants ? tu dois avoir des cousins ?

Sir George Lynn was talking of a Reed of Gateshead yesterday, who, he said, was one of the veriest rascals on town; and Ingram was mentioning a Georgiana Reed of the same place, who was much admired for her beauty a season or two ago in London.” Sir George Lynn parlait hier d'un roseau de Gateshead, qui, disait-il, était l'un des plus vrais coquins de la ville; et Ingram mentionnait une Georgiana Reed du même endroit, qui était très admirée pour sa beauté il y a une saison ou deux à Londres.

“John Reed is dead, too, sir: he ruined himself and half-ruined his family, and is supposed to have committed suicide.

The news so shocked his mother that it brought on an apoplectic attack.” La nouvelle a tellement choqué sa mère qu'elle a provoqué une attaque apoplectique.

“And what good can you do her? "Et quel bien pouvez-vous lui faire ?

Nonsense, Jane! I would never think of running a hundred miles to see an old lady who will, perhaps, be dead before you reach her: besides, you say she cast you off.” Je ne penserais jamais à courir cent milles pour voir une vieille dame qui sera peut-être morte avant que vous ne l'atteigniez: d'ailleurs, vous dites qu'elle vous a rejeté.

“Yes, sir, but that is long ago; and when her circumstances were very different: I could not be easy to neglect her wishes now.” «Oui, monsieur, mais c'est il y a longtemps; et quand ses circonstances étaient très différentes: je ne pouvais pas être facile de négliger ses souhaits maintenant.

“How long will you stay?”

“As short a time as possible, sir.”

“Promise me only to stay a week—” "Promettez-moi de ne rester qu'une semaine..."

“I had better not pass my word: I might be obliged to break it.” «Je ferais mieux de ne pas passer ma parole: je serais peut-être obligé de la rompre.

“At all events you will come back: you will not be induced under any pretext to take up a permanent residence with her?” «En tout cas vous reviendrez: vous ne serez incités sous aucun prétexte à vous installer définitivement avec elle?

“Oh, no!

I shall certainly return if all be well.” Je reviendrai certainement si tout va bien".

“And who goes with you?

You don't travel a hundred miles alone.” “No, sir, she has sent her coachman.”

“A person to be trusted?”

“Yes, sir, he has lived ten years in the family.”

Mr.

Rochester meditated. “When do you wish to go?”

“Early to-morrow morning, sir.”

“Well, you must have some money; you can't travel without money, and I daresay you have not much: I have given you no salary yet. "Vous devez avoir un peu d'argent ; vous ne pouvez pas voyager sans argent, et j'ose dire que vous n'en avez pas beaucoup : Je ne vous ai pas encore donné de salaire. How much have you in the world, Jane?” he asked, smiling.

I drew out my purse; a meagre thing it was. J'ai sorti mon sac à main; c'était maigre chose.

“Five shillings, sir.”  He took the purse, poured the hoard into his palm, and chuckled over it as if its scantiness amused him. «Cinq shillings, monsieur. Il prit le sac à main, versa le trésor dans sa paume et se mit à rire dessus comme si sa rareté l'amusait. Soon he produced his pocket-book: “Here,” said he, offering me a note; it was fifty pounds, and he owed me but fifteen. Bientôt, il sortit son livre de poche: «Ici», dit-il en m'offrant un mot; c'était cinquante livres, et il ne me devait que quinze. I told him I had no change.

“I don't want change; you know that. Take your wages.” Prenez votre salaire.

I declined accepting more than was my due.

He scowled at first; then, as if recollecting something, he said—

“Right, right!

Better not give you all now: you would, perhaps, stay away three months if you had fifty pounds. Mieux vaut ne pas tout vous donner maintenant: vous resteriez peut-être trois mois à l'écart si vous aviez cinquante livres. There are ten; is it not plenty?” Il ya dix; n'est-ce pas beaucoup?

“Yes, sir, but now you owe me five.”

“Come back for it, then; I am your banker for forty pounds.” "Revenez le chercher, alors ; je suis votre banquier pour quarante livres."

“Mr.

Rochester, I may as well mention another matter of business to you while I have the opportunity.” Rochester, je pourrais aussi bien vous mentionner une autre question d’affaires pendant que j’en ai l’occasion.

“Matter of business?

I am curious to hear it.”

“You have as good as informed me, sir, that you are going shortly to be married?” «Vous m'avez aussi bien informé, monsieur, que vous allez bientôt vous marier?

“Yes; what then?”

“In that case, sir, Adèle ought to go to school: I am sure you will perceive the necessity of it.” «Dans ce cas, monsieur, Adèle devrait aller à l'école: je suis sûr que vous en percevrez la nécessité.

“To get her out of my bride's way, who might otherwise walk over her rather too emphatically? «Pour la mettre hors de portée de ma mariée, qui autrement la marcherait avec trop d'insistance? There's sense in the suggestion; not a doubt of it. Adèle, as you say, must go to school; and you, of course, must march straight to—the devil?” Adèle, comme vous le dites, doit aller à l'école; et vous, bien sûr, devez marcher droit vers… le diable?

“I hope not, sir; but I must seek another situation somewhere.” «J'espère que non, monsieur; mais je dois chercher une autre situation quelque part.

“In course!” he exclaimed, with a twang of voice and a distortion of features equally fantastic and ludicrous. "En cours!" s'exclama-t-il avec un pincement de voix et une distorsion de traits tout aussi fantastiques et ridicules.

He looked at me some minutes.

“And old Madam Reed, or the Misses, her daughters, will be solicited by you to seek a place, I suppose?”

“No, sir; I am not on such terms with my relatives as would justify me in asking favours of them—but I shall advertise.” "Non, monsieur ; je ne suis pas en bons termes avec mes proches, ce qui me permettrait de leur demander des faveurs, mais je vais faire de la publicité.

“You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!” he growled. «Tu monteras les pyramides d'Égypte!» grogna-t-il.

“At your peril you advertise! I wish I had only offered you a sovereign instead of ten pounds. J'aurais aimé ne vous offrir qu'un souverain au lieu de dix livres. Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I've a use for it.” Rends-moi neuf livres, Jane; J'en ai une utilité. “And so have I, sir,” I returned, putting my hands and my purse behind me. «Et moi aussi, monsieur,» je suis retourné, mettant mes mains et mon sac à main derrière moi.

“I could not spare the money on any account.” «Je ne pouvais épargner l’argent sur aucun compte.»

“Little niggard!” said he, “refusing me a pecuniary request! «Petit nègre!» dit-il, «me refusant une demande pécuniaire!

Give me five pounds, Jane.”

“Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence.”

“Just let me look at the cash.” "Laisse-moi juste regarder l'argent."

“No, sir; you are not to be trusted.” "Non monsieur; on ne vous fait pas confiance. »

“Jane!”

“Sir?”

“Promise me one thing.”

“I'll promise you anything, sir, that I think I am likely to perform.” «Je vous promets tout ce que je pense que je suis susceptible de jouer, monsieur. “Not to advertise: and to trust this quest of a situation to me. «Ne pas faire de publicité: et me confier cette quête d'une situation.

I'll find you one in time.” “I shall be glad so to do, sir, if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adèle shall be both safe out of the house before your bride enters it.” «Je serai heureux de le faire, monsieur, si vous, à votre tour, promettez que moi et Adèle serons tous les deux en sécurité hors de la maison avant que votre épouse n'y entre.

“Very well!

very well! I'll pledge my word on it. Je promets ma parole là-dessus. You go to-morrow, then?”

“Yes, sir; early.”

“Shall you come down to the drawing-room after dinner?”

“No, sir, I must prepare for the journey.”

“Then you and I must bid good-bye for a little while?” «Alors toi et moi devons nous dire au revoir pendant un petit moment?»

“I suppose so, sir.”

“And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane?

Teach me; I'm not quite up to it.” Enseigne moi; Je ne suis pas tout à fait à la hauteur. “They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer.”

“Then say it.”

“Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present.”

“What must I say?”

“The same, if you like, sir.”

“Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?”

“Yes?”

“It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. «Cela semble avare, à mes notions, et sec et inamical.

I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. J'aimerais autre chose: un petit ajout au rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no—that would not content me either. Si on se serrait la main, par exemple; mais non, cela ne me contenterait pas non plus. So you'll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?” “It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.” «Cela suffit, monsieur: autant de bonne volonté peut être exprimée en un mot chaleureux qu'en plusieurs.

“Very likely; but it is blank and cool—‘Farewell. "Très probable; mais il est vide et cool - Adieu.

'” “How long is he going to stand with his back against that door?” I asked myself; “I want to commence my packing.”  The dinner-bell rang, and suddenly away he bolted, without another syllable: I saw him no more during the day, and was off before he had risen in the morning. «Combien de temps va-t-il se tenir dos à cette porte? Je me suis demandé; «Je veux commencer mes bagages.» La cloche du dîner sonna, et tout à coup il s'éloigna, sans autre syllabe: je ne le revis plus dans la journée, et j'étais parti avant qu'il ne se soit levé le matin.

I reached the lodge at Gateshead about five o'clock in the afternoon of the first of May: I stepped in there before going up to the hall. J'arrivai à la loge de Gateshead vers cinq heures de l'après-midi du 1er mai: j'y pénétrai avant de monter dans la salle. It was very clean and neat: the ornamental windows were hung with little white curtains; the floor was spotless; the grate and fire-irons were burnished bright, and the fire burnt clear. C'était très propre et soigné: les fenêtres décoratives étaient accrochées à de petits rideaux blancs; le sol était impeccable; la grille et les fers à repasser étaient brillants et le feu était clair. Bessie sat on the hearth, nursing her last-born, and Robert and his sister played quietly in a corner. Bessie était assise sur le foyer, allaitant son dernier-né, et Robert et sa sœur jouaient tranquillement dans un coin.

“Bless you!—I knew you would come!” exclaimed Mrs. Leaven, as I entered.

“Yes, Bessie,” said I, after I had kissed her; “and I trust I am not too late.

How is Mrs. Reed?—Alive still, I hope.”

“Yes, she is alive; and more sensible and collected than she was. «Oui, elle est vivante; et plus sensible et recueillie qu'elle ne l'était.

The doctor says she may linger a week or two yet; but he hardly thinks she will finally recover.” Le médecin dit qu'elle peut encore s'attarder une semaine ou deux; mais il pense à peine qu'elle va enfin récupérer.

“Has she mentioned me lately?”

“She was talking of you only this morning, and wishing you would come, but she is sleeping now, or was ten minutes ago, when I was up at the house.

She generally lies in a kind of lethargy all the afternoon, and wakes up about six or seven. Will you rest yourself here an hour, Miss, and then I will go up with you?” Voulez-vous vous reposer ici une heure, mademoiselle, puis je monterai avec vous?

Robert here entered, and Bessie laid her sleeping child in the cradle and went to welcome him: afterwards she insisted on my taking off my bonnet and having some tea; for she said I looked pale and tired. Robert entra ici, Bessie déposa son enfant endormi dans le berceau et alla l'accueillir: ensuite elle insista pour que j'enlève mon bonnet et que je prenne du thé; car elle a dit que j'avais l'air pâle et fatigué.

I was glad to accept her hospitality; and I submitted to be relieved of my travelling garb just as passively as I used to let her undress me when a child. J'étais heureux d'accepter son hospitalité; et je me suis soumis à être soulagé de ma tenue de voyage tout aussi passivement que je la laissais me déshabiller quand j'étais enfant.

Old times crowded fast back on me as I watched her bustling about—setting out the tea-tray with her best china, cutting bread and butter, toasting a tea-cake, and, between whiles, giving little Robert or Jane an occasional tap or push, just as she used to give me in former days. Les temps anciens se pressaient rapidement sur moi alors que je la regardais s'affairer - installer le plateau de thé avec sa meilleure porcelaine, couper du pain et du beurre, griller un gâteau au thé, et, entre les moments, donner au petit Robert ou Jane un robinet occasionnel ou pousser, comme elle me le faisait autrefois.

Bessie had retained her quick temper as well as her light foot and good looks. Bessie avait conservé son tempérament vif ainsi que son pied léger et sa beauté.

Tea ready, I was going to approach the table; but she desired me to sit still, quite in her old peremptory tones. Thé prêt, j'allais m'approcher de la table; mais elle me demanda de rester assise, tout à fait dans ses vieux tons péremptoires.

I must be served at the fireside, she said; and she placed before me a little round stand with my cup and a plate of toast, absolutely as she used to accommodate me with some privately purloined dainty on a nursery chair: and I smiled and obeyed her as in bygone days. I must be served at the fireside, she said; and she placed before me a little round stand with my cup and a plate of toast, absolutely as she used to accommodate me with some privately purloined dainty on a nursery chair: and I smiled and obeyed her as in bygone days. Je dois être servi au coin du feu, dit-elle; et elle a placé devant moi un petit stand rond avec ma tasse et une assiette de pain grillé, absolument comme elle m'accueillait avec quelque délice volé en privé sur une chaise de chambre d'enfant: et je lui souris et lui obéis comme autrefois.

She wanted to know if I was happy at Thornfield Hall, and what sort of a person the mistress was; and when I told her there was only a master, whether he was a nice gentleman, and if I liked him. Elle voulait savoir si j'étais heureux à Thornfield Hall, et quel genre de personne était la maîtresse ; et quand je lui ai dit qu'il n'y avait qu'un maître, elle voulait savoir si c'était un gentilhomme, et si je l'aimais bien.

I told her he was rather an ugly man, but quite a gentleman; and that he treated me kindly, and I was content. Je lui ai dit que c'était un homme plutôt laid, mais tout à fait gentleman, qu'il me traitait gentiment et que j'étais satisfaite. Then I went on to describe to her the gay company that had lately been staying at the house; and to these details Bessie listened with interest: they were precisely of the kind she relished. Puis je lui ai décrit la société gay qui résidait dernièrement à la maison; et Bessie écoutait avec intérêt ces détails: ils étaient précisément du genre qu'elle aimait.

In such conversation an hour was soon gone: Bessie restored to me my bonnet, &c., and, accompanied by her, I quitted the lodge for the hall. It was also accompanied by her that I had, nearly nine years ago, walked down the path I was now ascending. C'était aussi accompagné d'elle que j'avais emprunté, il y a près de neuf ans, le chemin que je gravissais maintenant. On a dark, misty, raw morning in January, I had left a hostile roof with a desperate and embittered heart—a sense of outlawry and almost of reprobation—to seek the chilly harbourage of Lowood: that bourne so far away and unexplored. Par une matinée sombre, brumeuse et crue de janvier, j'avais quitté un toit hostile avec un cœur désespéré et aigri - un sentiment de hors-la-loi et presque de réprobation - pour chercher le port froid de Lowood: cette bourne si lointaine et inexplorée. The same hostile roof now again rose before me: my prospects were doubtful yet; and I had yet an aching heart. Le même toit hostile se dressait à nouveau devant moi: mes perspectives étaient encore douteuses; et j'avais encore un cœur douloureux. I still felt as a wanderer on the face of the earth; but I experienced firmer trust in myself and my own powers, and less withering dread of oppression. Je me sentais toujours comme un vagabond sur la face de la terre; mais j'éprouvais une confiance plus ferme en moi et en mes propres pouvoirs, et moins de peur de l'oppression. The gaping wound of my wrongs, too, was now quite healed; and the flame of resentment extinguished. La blessure béante de mes torts, aussi, était maintenant tout à fait guérie; et la flamme du ressentiment s'éteignit.

“You shall go into the breakfast-room first,” said Bessie, as she preceded me through the hall; “the young ladies will be there.” - Vous entrerez d'abord dans la salle du petit-déjeuner, dit Bessie en me précédant dans le couloir; «Les jeunes filles seront là.»

In another moment I was within that apartment. À un autre moment, j'étais dans cet appartement.

There was every article of furniture looking just as it did on the morning I was first introduced to Mr. Brocklehurst: the very rug he had stood upon still covered the hearth. Il y avait tous les meubles qui avaient l'air exactement comme ils le faisaient le matin où j'ai été présenté à M. Brocklehurst: le tapis même sur lequel il s'était tenu couvrait toujours le foyer. Glancing at the bookcases, I thought I could distinguish the two volumes of Bewick's British Birds occupying their old place on the third shelf, and Gulliver's Travels and the Arabian Nights ranged just above. Jetant un coup d'œil aux bibliothèques, je pensais pouvoir distinguer les deux volumes de Bewick's British Birds occupant leur ancienne place sur la troisième étagère, et Gulliver's Travels and the Arabian Nights se situaient juste au-dessus. The inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition. Les objets inanimés n'ont pas été modifiés; mais les êtres vivants avaient changé la reconnaissance passée.

Two young ladies appeared before me; one very tall, almost as tall as Miss Ingram—very thin too, with a sallow face and severe mien. Deux jeunes filles sont apparues devant moi; un très grand, presque aussi grand que Miss Ingram - très maigre aussi, avec un visage pâle et un air sévère.

There was something ascetic in her look, which was augmented by the extreme plainness of a straight-skirted, black, stuff dress, a starched linen collar, hair combed away from the temples, and the nun-like ornament of a string of ebony beads and a crucifix. Il y avait quelque chose d'ascétique dans son regard, qui était augmenté par l'extrême simplicité d'une robe noire à jupe droite, un col en lin amidonné, les cheveux peignés loin des tempes et l'ornement en forme de nonne d'un collier de perles d'ébène. et un crucifix. This I felt sure was Eliza, though I could trace little resemblance to her former self in that elongated and colourless visage. J'étais sûr que c'était Eliza, même si je pouvais peu ressembler à elle-même dans ce visage allongé et incolore.

The other was as certainly Georgiana: but not the Georgiana I remembered—the slim and fairy-like girl of eleven. L'autre était aussi certainement Georgiana: mais pas la Georgiana dont je me souvenais - la fille mince et féerique de onze ans.

This was a full-blown, very plump damsel, fair as waxwork, with handsome and regular features, languishing blue eyes, and ringleted yellow hair. C'était une demoiselle épanouie, très dodue, blonde comme de la cire, avec de beaux traits réguliers, des yeux bleus languissants et des cheveux jaunes bouclés. The hue of her dress was black too; but its fashion was so different from her sister's—so much more flowing and becoming—it looked as stylish as the other's looked puritanical. La teinte de sa robe était également noire; mais sa mode était si différente de celle de sa sœur - tellement plus fluide et plus élégante - elle avait l'air aussi élégante que celle de l'autre avait l'air puritaine. In each of the sisters there was one trait of the mother—and only one; the thin and pallid elder daughter had her parent's Cairngorm eye: the blooming and luxuriant younger girl had her contour of jaw and chin—perhaps a little softened, but still imparting an indescribable hardness to the countenance otherwise so voluptuous and buxom. Dans chacune des sœurs, il y avait un trait de la mère - et un seul; la fille aînée maigre et pâle avait l'œil de Cairngorm de ses parents: la jeune fille épanouie et luxuriante avait le contour de la mâchoire et du menton - peut-être un peu adouci, mais donnant toujours une dureté indescriptible à la physionomie autrement si voluptueuse et plantureuse. Both ladies, as I advanced, rose to welcome me, and both addressed me by the name of “Miss Eyre.”  Eliza's greeting was delivered in a short, abrupt voice, without a smile; and then she sat down again, fixed her eyes on the fire, and seemed to forget me. Les deux dames, lorsque j'avançai, se levèrent pour me souhaiter la bienvenue et m'adressèrent toutes deux le nom de "Mlle Eyre". Le salut d'Eliza fut prononcé d'une voix brève et abrupte, sans un sourire ; puis elle se rassit, fixa ses yeux sur le feu et sembla m'oublier. Georgiana added to her “How d'ye do?” several commonplaces about my journey, the weather, and so on, uttered in rather a drawling tone: and accompanied by sundry side-glances that measured me from head to foot—now traversing the folds of my drab merino pelisse, and now lingering on the plain trimming of my cottage bonnet. Georgiana a ajouté à son "Comment vas-tu?" plusieurs lieux communs sur mon voyage, le temps, etc., prononcés sur un ton plutôt traînant: et accompagnés de divers regards latéraux qui me mesuraient de la tête aux pieds - traversant maintenant les plis de ma terne pelisse mérinos, et s'attardant maintenant sur le coupe simple de mon bonnet de cottage. Young ladies have a remarkable way of letting you know that they think you a “quiz” without actually saying the words. Les jeunes filles ont une façon remarquable de vous faire savoir qu'elles pensent que vous êtes un «quiz» sans vraiment dire les mots. A certain superciliousness of look, coolness of manner, nonchalance of tone, express fully their sentiments on the point, without committing them by any positive rudeness in word or deed. Une certaine insouciance du regard, une froideur des manières, une nonchalance de ton, expriment pleinement leurs sentiments sur ce point, sans les engager par aucune grossièreté positive en paroles ou en actes.

A sneer, however, whether covert or open, had now no longer that power over me it once possessed: as I sat between my cousins, I was surprised to find how easy I felt under the total neglect of the one and the semi-sarcastic attentions of the other—Eliza did not mortify, nor Georgiana ruffle me. Un ricanement, cependant, qu'il soit secret ou ouvert, n'avait plus ce pouvoir sur moi qu'il possédait autrefois: alors que j'étais assis entre mes cousins, je fus surpris de constater à quel point je me sentais facile sous la totale négligence de l'un et du semi-sarcastique. attentions de l'autre - Eliza ne me mortifia pas, ni Georgiana ne m'ébroua.

The fact was, I had other things to think about; within the last few months feelings had been stirred in me so much more potent than any they could raise—pains and pleasures so much more acute and exquisite had been excited than any it was in their power to inflict or bestow—that their airs gave me no concern either for good or bad. Le fait était que j'avais d'autres choses à penser; au cours des derniers mois, des sentiments avaient été suscités en moi tellement plus puissants que tout ce qu'ils pouvaient soulever - des douleurs et des plaisirs tellement plus aigus et exquis avaient été excités que tout ce qu'il était en leur pouvoir d'infliger ou de donner - que leurs airs me donnaient. aucun souci ni pour le bien ni pour le mal.

“How is Mrs. Reed?” I asked soon, looking calmly at Georgiana, who thought fit to bridle at the direct address, as if it were an unexpected liberty. «Comment va Mme Reed? Demandai-je bientôt, en regardant calmement Georgiana, qui jugea bon de se brider à l'adresse directe, comme s'il s'agissait d'une liberté inattendue.

“Mrs.

Reed? Ah! mama, you mean; she is extremely poorly: I doubt if you can see her to-night.” maman, tu veux dire; elle va très mal: je doute que vous puissiez la voir ce soir.

“If,” said I, “you would just step upstairs and tell her I am come, I should be much obliged to you.” «Si, lui dis-je, vous vouliez simplement monter l'escalier et lui dire que je suis venu, je vous serais très obligé.

Georgiana almost started, and she opened her blue eyes wild and wide. Georgiana faillit sursauter et ouvrit grand ses yeux bleus.

“I know she had a particular wish to see me,” I added, “and I would not defer attending to her desire longer than is absolutely necessary.” «Je sais qu'elle avait un souhait particulier de me voir», ai-je ajouté, «et je ne différerais pas de répondre à son désir plus longtemps qu'il n'est absolument nécessaire.

“Mama dislikes being disturbed in an evening,” remarked Eliza.

I soon rose, quietly took off my bonnet and gloves, uninvited, and said I would just step out to Bessie—who was, I dared say, in the kitchen—and ask her to ascertain whether Mrs. Reed was disposed to receive me or not to-night. Je me suis vite levé, j'ai enlevé tranquillement mon bonnet et mes gants, sans y être invité, et j'ai dit que je sortirais juste à Bessie - qui était, j'osais dire, dans la cuisine - et lui demandais de vérifier si Mme Reed était disposée à me recevoir ou pas ce soir. I went, and having found Bessie and despatched her on my errand, I proceeded to take further measures. J'y suis allé, et après avoir trouvé Bessie et l'avoir expédiée pour ma course, je me suis mis à prendre d'autres mesures. It had heretofore been my habit always to shrink from arrogance: received as I had been to-day, I should, a year ago, have resolved to quit Gateshead the very next morning; now, it was disclosed to me all at once that that would be a foolish plan. J'avais eu jusqu'ici l'habitude de toujours me dérober à l'arrogance: reçu comme je l'avais été aujourd'hui, j'aurais dû, il y a un an, résolu de quitter Gateshead le lendemain matin; maintenant, on m'a tout à coup révélé que ce serait un plan insensé. I had taken a journey of a hundred miles to see my aunt, and I must stay with her till she was better—or dead: as to her daughters' pride or folly, I must put it on one side, make myself independent of it. J'avais fait un voyage de cent milles pour voir ma tante, et je devais rester avec elle jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit meilleure - ou morte: quant à l'orgueil ou à la folie de ses filles, je dois le mettre de côté, m'en rendre indépendant . So I addressed the housekeeper; asked her to show me a room, told her I should probably be a visitor here for a week or two, had my trunk conveyed to my chamber, and followed it thither myself: I met Bessie on the landing. Alors je me suis adressé à la femme de ménage; lui a demandé de me montrer une chambre, lui a dit que je devrais probablement être un visiteur ici pendant une semaine ou deux, a fait porter ma malle dans ma chambre, et l'a suivie moi-même: j'ai rencontré Bessie sur le palier.

“Missis is awake,” said she; “I have told her you are here: come and let us see if she will know you.” «Missis est réveillée», dit-elle; «Je lui ai dit que tu étais là: viens et voyons si elle te connaîtra.

I did not need to be guided to the well-known room, to which I had so often been summoned for chastisement or reprimand in former days. Je n'avais pas besoin d'être guidé vers la salle bien connue, dans laquelle j'avais été si souvent convoqué pour châtiment ou réprimande autrefois.

I hastened before Bessie; I softly opened the door: a shaded light stood on the table, for it was now getting dark. Je me hâtai devant Bessie; J'ouvris doucement la porte: une lumière ombragée se dressait sur la table, car il faisait maintenant nuit. There was the great four-post bed with amber hangings as of old; there the toilet-table, the armchair, and the footstool, at which I had a hundred times been sentenced to kneel, to ask pardon for offences by me uncommitted. Il y avait le grand lit à quatre colonnes avec des tentures d'ambre comme jadis; là, la table de toilette, le fauteuil et le repose-pieds, où j'avais été cent fois condamné à m'agenouiller, pour demander pardon des fautes de ma part. I looked into a certain corner near, half-expecting to see the slim outline of a once dreaded switch which used to lurk there, waiting to leap out imp-like and lace my quivering palm or shrinking neck. Je regardai dans un certain coin proche, m'attendant à moitié à voir le contour mince d'un interrupteur autrefois redouté qui se cachait là, attendant de sauter comme un lutin et de lacer ma paume tremblante ou mon cou rétréci. I approached the bed; I opened the curtains and leant over the high-piled pillows. Je m'approchai du lit; J'ouvris les rideaux et me penchai sur les oreillers empilés.

Well did I remember Mrs. Reed's face, and I eagerly sought the familiar image. Je me suis bien souvenu du visage de Mme Reed, et j'ai cherché avec impatience l'image familière. It is a happy thing that time quells the longings of vengeance and hushes the promptings of rage and aversion. C'est une chose heureuse que le temps apaise les désirs de vengeance et étouffe les poussées de rage et d'aversion. I had left this woman in bitterness and hate, and I came back to her now with no other emotion than a sort of ruth for her great sufferings, and a strong yearning to forget and forgive all injuries—to be reconciled and clasp hands in amity. J'avais laissé cette femme dans l'amertume et la haine, et je lui revenais maintenant sans autre émotion qu'une sorte de vérité pour ses grandes souffrances, et un fort désir d'oublier et de pardonner toutes les blessures - d'être réconcilié et de serrer la main dans l'amitié .

The well-known face was there: stern, relentless as ever—there was that peculiar eye which nothing could melt, and the somewhat raised, imperious, despotic eyebrow. Le visage bien connu était là: sévère, implacable comme toujours - il y avait cet œil particulier que rien ne pouvait fondre, et le sourcil un peu relevé, impérieux, despotique.

How often had it lowered on me menace and hate! Combien de fois avait-il abaissé sur moi la menace et la haine! and how the recollection of childhood's terrors and sorrows revived as I traced its harsh line now! et comment le souvenir des terreurs et des peines de l'enfance a repris vie alors que je traçais sa ligne dure maintenant! And yet I stooped down and kissed her: she looked at me. Et pourtant je me suis baissé et je l'ai embrassée: elle m'a regardé.

“Is this Jane Eyre?” she said.

“Yes, Aunt Reed.

How are you, dear aunt?”