Emily Brontë - Сборник лучших произведений английской классической литературы. Уровень 3

Luckily, the horse was unharmed. But the rider felt his foot and leg and limped.

“If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch someone either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay.”

“Thank you, but I have no broken bones, – only a sprain,” he said. As he stood up and tried his foot, he gave an involuntary 'Ugh!'

The sun had not set yet, and I could see him clearly. His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak, but I traced middle height and a considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features, he was past youth. I concluded he was about thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, probably just little shyness. He was not a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, he had not smiled and been good-humoured to me. If he had, I would have long been gone. But now when he waved to me to go, I announced, “I cannot think of leaving you, sir, at so late an hour till I see you are fit to mount your horse.”

He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my direction before.

“I should think you ought to be at home yourself,” he said. “If you have a home in this neighbourhood, where do you come from?'”

“From just below. And I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure, if you wish it. Indeed, I am going there to post a letter.”

“You live just below-do you mean at that house?” he pointed to Thornfield Hall.

“Yes, sir.”

“Whose house is it?”

“Mr. Rochester's.”

“Do you know Mr. Rochester?”

“No, I have never seen him.”

“Can you tell me where he is?”

“I cannot.”

“You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are-“

He stopped, looked at my plain dress, puzzled to decide what I was. I helped him.

“I am the governess.”

“Ah, the governess!”

In two minutes he rose, and his face expressed pain when he tried to move.

“I will not ask you to fetch help, but you may help me a little yourself, if you are so kind.”

I went over to him, and he leaned on my shoulder. With much grimacing, we reached his horse, and he hauled himself into the saddle. “Thank you; now hurry with the letter to Hay, and return as fast as you can.'” He spurred the horse on, the dog followed, and they all disappeared.

I went on my way to Hay. The incident was over-there was no need to think about it. Yet as I walked into the village, as I posted the letters, as I tramped down the hill in the dark, I couldn't help thinking about the man. His face hung in the air before me, so stern and strong, unlike the face of anyone else I knew. When I was on my way back, I stopped and wondered for a moment if I might meet him again. I could see yellow light shining from the windows of Thornfield Hall, reminding me that I was late, and I hurried on.

When I got in, the hallway was dark, but there was a warm glow coming from the dining room, as the door was half-open. I heard voices inside, including Adèle's, as I walked past. I went into Mrs. Fairfax's little office. There was a fire burning in the grate, but Mrs. Fairfax was not there. Instead, I was amazed to see a large, hairy dog sitting on the hearth rug, exactly like the one I had seen a few hours before. It was so similar that I called out “Pilot!”, and the thing got up and came to me and snuffed me. I caressed him, and he wagged his great tail.

I rang the bell, for I wanted a candle, and I wanted, too, to ask Leah a few questions about the dog.

“What dog is this?”

“He came with master.”

“With whom?”

“With master-Mr. Rochester-he is just arrived.”

“Oh! and is Mrs. Fairfax with him?”

“Yes, and Miss Adèle. They are in the dining-room. But the master has had an accident. His horse fell and his ankle is sprained.”

“Did the horse fall on the road to Hay?”

“Yes, it slipped on some ice.”

“Ah! Bring me a candle, will you Leah?”

Leah brought it. When she returned, Mrs. Fairfax entered the room with her and repeated the news. The surgeon had arrived and was now with Mr. Rochester. Then she hurried out to give orders about tea, and I went upstairs to take off my things.

Mr. Rochester, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed early that night. Did he rise soon next morning. Adèle and I had now to vacate the library. Mr. Rochester needed it as a reception-room for visitors.

Adèle was not easy to teach that day. The doorbell rang constantly all day as various visitors arrived. My pupil kept running to the top of the bannisters to see if she could get a glimpse of Mr. Rochester. She invented pretexts to go downstairs in order to visit the library, where she was not wanted. Even when I got a little angry and made her sit still, she continued to talk of her dear friend Mr. Rochester and the presents he must have brought for her. “And yesterday he asked me a lot about you, Mademoiselle,” she added in French: “He must have a present for you, too.”

At dark I allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to run downstairs. It had been silent there and I thought that Mr. Rochester was no longer busy.

Mrs. Fairfax came in. “Mr. Rochester would like you and your pupil to take tea with him in the drawing-room this evening,” she said: “he has been so busy all day that he could not ask to see you before.”

“When does he expect us?”

“Oh, at six o'clock. You had better change your frock now.”

“Is it necessary to change my frock?”

“Yes, you had better: I always dress for the evening when Mr. Rochester is here.”

She came with me to my room and helped me to put on my black silk dress.

“You want a brooch,” said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a little pearl ornament, which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake. I put it on, and then we went downstairs.

Mr. Rochester was resting on a sofa, with his bad foot raised up on a cushion, while Adèle played with Pilot by the fire.

“Here is Miss Eyre, sir,” said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way. He bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and child. While Mrs. Fairfax fetched the tea, I sat down, feeling just as I had before-that his lack of courtesy made things easier for me. It meant that I felt no obligation to be polite.

“Did you bring Miss Eyre a present?” Adèle asked suddenly, running over to Mr. Rochester.

Mr. Rochester raised his eyebrows, and turned to me. “Did you expect a present, Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?” he asked searching my face with eyes that I saw were dark and piercing.

“I hardly know, sir. I have little experience of them. They are generally thought pleasant things.”

“But what do YOU think?”

“A present has many faces to it, has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion.”

“Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adèle. The moment she sees me, she demands presents.”

“I have less confidence in my deserts than Adèle has. If I had to make out a case I should be puzzled, since I am a stranger and have done nothing worth of acknowledgement.”

“That's not true at all,” he replied. “I can see what good work you have done with Adèle. She is not bright, she has no talents; yet in a short time she has made much progress.”

“Sir, you have now given me my present, as this praise is the best present you could ever give a teacher,” I said.

Mr. Rochester grunted, and took his cup of tea from Mrs. Fairfax.

“You have been here how long?”

“Three months, sir.”

“And you came from —?”

“From Lowood school, in – shire.”

“How long were you there?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years! No wonder you have rather the look of another world. When I saw you last night, I thought of fairy tales. I decided you had bewitched my horse. I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?”