第49部分(第7/8 頁)

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It　was　not　a　bright　or　splendid　summer　evening；　though　fair　and　soft：　the　haymakers　were　at　work　all　along　the　road；　and　the　sky；　though　far　from　cloudless；　was　such　as　promised　well　for　the　future：　its　blue—where　blue　was　visible—was　mild　and　settled；　and　its　cloud　strata　high　and　thin。　The　west；　too；　was　warm：　no　watery　gleam　chilled　it—it　seemed　as　if　there　was　a　fire　lit；　an　altar　burning　behind　its　screen　of　marbled　vapour；　and　out　of　apertures　shone　a　golden　redness。

I　felt　glad　as　the　road　shortened　before　me：　so　glad　that　I　stopped　once　to　ask　myself　what　that　joy　meant：　and　to　remind　reason　that　it　was　not　to　my　home　I　was　going；　or　to　a　permanent　resting…place；　or　to　a　place　where　fond　friends　looked　out　for　me　and　waited　my　arrival。　“Mrs。　Fairfax　will　smile　you　a　calm　wele；　to　be　sure；”　said　I；　“and　little　Adèle　will　clap　her　hands　and　jump　to　see　you：　but　you　know　very　well　you　are　thinking　of　another　than　they；　and　that　he　is　not　thinking　of　you。”

But　what　is　so　headstrong　as　youth？　What　so　blind　as　inexperience？　These　affirmed　that　it　was　pleasure　enough　to　have　the　privilege　of　again　looking　on　Mr。　Rochester；　whether　he　looked　on　me　or　not；　and　they　added—“Hasten！　hasten！　be　with　him　while　you　may：　but　a　few　more　days　or　weeks；　at　most；　and　you　are　parted　from　him　for　ever！”　And　then　I　strangled　a　new…born　agony—a　deformed　thing　which　I　could　not　persuade　myself　to　own　and　rear—and　ran　on。

They　are　making　hay；　too；　in　Thornfield　me