bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第139章
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years will end where it will。 I follow it alone to the end； whatever
the end be。 It may be near； it may be distant； while the road lasts；
nothing turns me。”
“Dear mother； are you so resolved？”
“I am resolved。 I have long outbidden folly with folly； pride with
pride； scorn with scorn； insolence with insolence； and have
outlived many vanities with many more。 I will outlive this danger；
and outdie it； if I can。 It has closed around me； almost as awfully as
if these woods of Chesney Wold； had closed around the house； but
my course through it is the same。 I have but one； I can have but
one。”
“Mr Jarndyce—” I was beginning； when my mother hurriedly
inquired：—
“Does he suspect？”
“No；” said I。 “No； indeed！ Be assured that he does not！” And I
told her what he had related to me as his knowledge of my story。
“But he is so good and sensible；” said I； “that perhaps if he knew—
” My mother； who until this time had made no change in her
position； raised her hand up to my lips； and stopped me。
“Confide fully in him；” she said； after a little while。 “You have
my free consent—a small gift from such a mother to her injured
child！—but do not tell me of it。 Some pride is left in me； even yet。”
I explained； as nearly as I could then； or can recall now—for my
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agitation and distress throughout were so great that I scarcely
understood myself； though every word that was uttered in the
mother’s voice； so unfamiliar and so melancholy to me； which in
my childhood I had never learned to love and recognise； had never
been sung to sleep with； had never heard a blessing from； had
never had a hope inspired by； made an enduring impression on
my memory—I say I explained； or tried to do it； how I had only
hoped that Mr Jarndyce； who had been the best of fathers to me；
might be able to afford some counsel and support to her。 But my
mother answered no； it was impossible； no one could help her。
Through the desert that lay before her； she must go alone。
“My child； my child！” she said。 “For the last time！ These kisses
for the last time！ These arms upon my neck for the last time！ We
shall meet no more。 To hope to do what I seek to do； I must be
what I have been so long。 Such is my reward and doom。 If you
hear of Lady Dedlock； brilliant； prosperous； and flattered； think of
your wretched mother； conscience…stricken； underneath that
mask！ Think that the reality is in her suffering； in her useless
remorse； in her murdering within her breast the only love and
truth of which it is capable！ And then forgive her； if you can； and
cry to Heaven to forgive her； which it never can！”
We held one another for a little space yet； but she was so firm；
that she took my hands away； and put them back against my
breast； and； with a last kiss as she held them there； released them；
and went from me into the wood。 I was alone； and； calm and quiet
below me in the sun and shade； lay the old house； with its terraces
and turrets； on which there had seemed to me to be such complete
repose when I first saw it； but which now looked like the obdurate
and unpitying watcher of my mother’s misery。
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Stunned as I was； as weak and helpless at first as I had ever
been in my sick chamber； the necessity of guarding against the
danger of discovery； or even of the remotest suspicion； did me
service。 I took such precautions as I could to hide from Charley
that I had been crying； and I constrained myself to think of every
sacred obligation that there was upon me to be careful and
collected。 It was not a little while before I could succeed； or could
even restrain bursts of grief； but after an hour or so； I was better；
and felt that I might return。 I went home very slowly； and told
Charley； whom I found at the gate looking for me； that I had been
tempted to extend my walk after Lady Dedlock had left me； and
that I was overtired； and would lie down。 Safe in my own room I
read the letter。 I clearly derived from it—and that was much
then—that I had not been abandoned by my mother。 Her elder
and only sister； the godmother of my childhood； discovering signs
of life in me when I had been laid aside as dead； had； in her stern
sense of duty； with no desire or willingness that I should live；
reared me in rigid secrecy； and had never again beheld my
mother’s face from within a few hours of my birth。 So strangely
did I hold my place in this world； that； until within a short time
back； I had never； to my own mother’s knowledge； breathed—had
been buried—had never been endowed with life—had never borne
a name。 When she had first seen me in the church； she had been
startled； and had thought of what would have been like me； if it
had ever lived； and had lived on； but that was all； then。
What more the letter told me； needs not to be repeated here。 It
has its own times and places in my story。
My first care was to burn what my mother had written； and to
consume even its ashes。 I hope it may not appear very unnatural
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or bad in me； that I then became heavily sorrowful to think I had
ever been reared。 That I felt as if I knew it would have been better
and happier for many people； if indeed I had never breathed。 That
I had a terror of myself； as the danger and the possible disgrace of
my own mother； and of a proud family name。 That I was so
confused and shaken； as to be possessed by a belief that it was
right； and had been intended； that I should die in my birth； and
that it was wrong； and not intended that I should be then alive。
These are the real feelings that I had。 I fell asleep； worn out；
and when I awoke； I cried afresh to think that I was back in the
world； with my load of trouble for others。 I was more than ever
frightened of myself thinking anew of her； against whom I was a
witness； of the owner of Chesney Wold； of the new and terrible
meaning of the old words； now moaning in my ear like a surge
upon the shore； “Your mother； Esther； was your disgrace； and you
are hers。 The time will come—and soon enough—when you will
understand this better； will feel it too； as no one save a woman
can。” With them； those other words returned； “Pray daily that the
sins of others be not visited upon your head。” I could not
disentangle all that was about me； and I felt as if the blame and
the shame were all in me； and the visitation had come down。
The day waned into a gloomy evening； overcast and sad； and I
still contended with the same distress。 I went out alone； and； after
walking a little in the park； watching the dark shades falling on the
trees； and the fitful flight of the bats； which sometimes almost
touched me； was attracted to the house for the first time。 Perhaps I
might not have gone near it； if I had been in a stronger frame of
mind。 As it was； I took the path that led close by it。
I did not dare to linger or to look up； but I passed before the
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terrace garden with its fragrant odours； and its broad walks； and
its well…kept beds and smooth turf； and I saw how beautiful and
grave it was； and how the old stone balustrades and parapets； and
wide flights of shallow steps； were seamed by time and weather；
and how the trained moss and ivy grew about them； and around
the old stone pedestal of the sundial； and I heard the fountain
falling。 Then the way went by long lines of dark windows；
diversified by turreted towers； and porches； of eccentric shapes；
where old stone lions and grotesque monsters bristled outside
dens of shadow； and snarled at the evening gloom over the
escutcheons they held in their grip。 Thence the path wound
underneath a gateway； and through a courtyard where the
principal entrance was （I hurried quickly on）； and by the stables
where none but deep voices seemed to be； whether in the
murmuring of the wind through the strong mass of ivy holding to a
high red wall； or in the low complaining of the weathercock； or in
the barking of the dogs； or in the slow striking of the clock。 So；
encountering presently a sweet smell of limes； whose rustling I
could hear； I turned with the turning of the path； to the south
front； and there； above me； were the balustrades of the Ghost’s
Walk； and one lighted window that might be my mother’s。
The way was paved here； like the terrace overhead； and my
footsteps from being noiseless made an echoing sound upon the
flags。 Stopping to look at nothing； but seeing all I did see as I went；
I was passing quickly on； and in a few moments should have
passed the lighted window； when my echoing footsteps brought it
suddenly into my min
