第85部分(第7/8 頁)

d？　What　do　you　see？”　asked　St。　John。　I　saw　nothing；　but　I　heard　a　voice　somewhere　cry—

“Jane！　Jane！　Jane！”—nothing　more。

“O　God！　what　is　it？”　I　gasped。

I　might　have　said；　“Where　is　it？”　for　it　did　not　seem　in　the　room—　nor　in　the　house—nor　in　the　garden；　it　did　not　e　out　of　the　air—nor　from　under　the　earth—nor　from　overhead。　I　had　heard　it—　where；　or　whence；　for　ever　impossible　to　know！　And　it　was　the　voice　of　a　human　being—a　known；　loved；　well…remembered　voice—that　of　Edward　Fairfax　Rochester；　and　it　spoke　in　pain　and　woe；　wildly；　eerily；　urgently。

“I　am　ing！”　I　cried。　“Wait　for　me！　Oh；　I　will　e！”　I　flew　to　the　door　and　looked　into　the　passage：　it　was　dark。　I　ran　out　into　the　garden：　it　was　void。

“Where　are　you？”　I　exclaimed。

The　hills　beyond　Marsh　Glen　sent　the　answer　faintly　back—“Where　are　you？”　I　listened。　The　wind　sighed　low　in　the　firs：　all　was　moorland　loneliness　and　midnight　hush。

“Down　superstition！”　I　mented；　as　that　spectre　rose　up　black　by　the　black　yew　at　the　gate。　“This　is　not　thy　deception；　nor　thy　witchcraft：　it　is　the　work　of　nature。　She　was　roused；　and　did—no　miracle—but　her　best。”

I　broke　from　St。　John；　who　had　followed；　and　would　have　detained　me。　It　was　my　time　to　assume　ascendency。　My　powers　were　in　play　and　in　force。　I　told　him　to　forbear　question　or　remark；　I　desired　him　to　leave　me：　I　must　and　would　be　alone。　He　obeyed　at　once。　Where　there　is　energy　to　mand　well　enough；　obedience　never　fails。　I