那本书，那段故事
2006-01-14 00:16阅读：
一下子就是偷得浮生“两”日闲。想着别人都在上班，自己能躲在家里干些总想做却总没时间做的事情，感觉真是---爽！
第一天上午先狠狠地睡到了中午十二点以后。厚重的窗帘不透一丝光线，整个楼都非常安静，大家都去上班了。所以睁开眼还以为仍是清晨，要不是肚子有点饿就继续拥被高卧了。
饭后。
收拾书架上堆尘的书籍。在最不起眼的角落，一些小摆件的后面无意间发现一本书。它被整齐细致地包着书皮，书脊处略显松散地写着《简.爱》。这书是我们当初一起去购买来的。而今这本已静静躲起来十余年，久未翻开的书里，居然还夹着一株暗赤色干枯的玫瑰。猜测它也许采自那间小屋前的花园里吧，这么说它应该是一株月季。花香早已不再，记忆却如花香，一下子弥漫开来……
那是大学时我们最爱的一本书，书里曾挑出很多我们一致喜欢和感动的句子。还有很多个下午，都曾坐在一起读书、画画，在感动中感受着时光消磨共处的幸福。也有时，会在花园中苦苦等待，盼望着对方赶快到来。在那些个艳阳天里，邻家小院的铁栅栏上，粉红色的繁花布成了一面花墙。坐在幽静的小小花园中，甚至可以听到花开的声音。高大松树的环抱中，花坛里种着些月季，舒展自由地开放着，散发着淡淡的甜香。小屋里的录音机放着一首悠扬的歌---《情网》。
带一身花香，结满心情网……
如今，捧起这本书，很自然地寻找那些句子。书页在指间快速的翻动，熟悉的段落跳跃着带来那时读它们的语调和表情的片段。一幕幕如电影，无声播放。就把它录下来，看看还能否令我们感动。（为了保证原汁原味，读时各自联想，特意对照录下英文原著的相关段落。）
------
“What have you
heard? What do you see? ”asked st. John. I saw
nothing, but I heard a voice somewhere cry ---“Jane! Jane! Jane!”
Nothing
more.
“Oh god! what is
it?” I gasped.
I might have
side, “where is it?” for it did not seem in the room---nor in the
house---nor in the garden. It did not come out of the air---nor
from under the earth---nor from over head. 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 spoken in pain and woe---wildly,
eerily , urgently.
“I am coming!” I
cried. “wait for me! Oh , I will come!” 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 hill 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 hash.
“Down
superstition !”I commented, as that specter 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.”
------
'Who is it? What is it? Who speaks?'
'Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here. I came only this
evening,' I answered.
'Great God!- what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has
seized me?'
'No delusion- no madness: your mind, sir, is too strong for
delusion, your health too sound for frenzy.'
'And where is the speaker? Is it only a voice? Oh! I cannot see,
but I must feel, or my heart will stop and my brain burst.
Whatever- whoever you are- be perceptible to the touch or I cannot
live!'
He groped; I arrested his wandering hand, and prisoned it in both
mine.
'Her very fingers!' he cried; 'her small, slight fingers! If so
there must be more of her.'
The muscular hand broke from my custody; my arm was seized, my
shoulder- neck- waist- I was entwined and gathered to
him.
'Is it Jane? What is it? This is her shape- this is her
size-'
'And this her voice,' I added. 'She is all here: her heart, too.
God bless you, sir! I am glad to be so near you
again.'
'Jane Eyre!- Jane Eyre,' was all he said.
'My dear master,' I answered, 'I am Jane Eyre: I have found you
out- I am come back to you.'
'In truth?- in the flesh? My living Jane?'
'You touch me, sir,- you hold me, and fast enough: I am not cold
like a corpse, nor vacant like air, am I?'
'My living darling! These are certainly her limbs, and these her
features; but I cannot be so blest, after all my misery. It is a
dream; such dreams as I have had at night when I have clasped her
once more to my heart, as I do now; and kissed her, as thus- and
felt that she loved me, and trusted that she would not leave
me.'
'Which I never will, sir, from this day.'
'Never will, says the vision? But I always woke and found it an
empty mockery; and I was desolate and abandoned- my life dark,
lonely, hopeless- my soul athirst and forbidden to drink- my heart
famished
and never to be
fed. Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly,
too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before
you go- embrace me, Jane.'
'There, sir- and there!'
I pressed my lips to his once brilliant and now rayless eyes- I
swept his hair from his brow, and kissed that too. He suddenly
seemed to arouse himself: the conviction of the reality of all this
seized him.
'It is you- is it, Jane? You are come back to me
then?'
'I am.'
------
'Absolutely,
sir! Oh, you need not be jealous! I wanted to tease you a little to
make you less sad: I thought anger would be better than grief. But
if you wish me to love you, could you but see how
much
I do love you,
you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: it
belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile
the rest of me from your presence for ever.'
------
'Jane! you think
me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with
gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not
as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far
more wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower-
breathed guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me.
I, in my stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation:
instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice
pursued its course; disasters came thick on me: I was forced to
pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His chastisements
are mighty; and one smote me which has humbled me for ever. You
know I was proud of my strength: but what is it now, when I must
give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its weakness? Of
late, Jane- only- only of late- I began to see and acknowledge the
hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse, repentance;
the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to pray:
very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.
'Some days since: nay, I can number them- four; it was last Monday
night, a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced
frenzy- sorrow, sullenness. I had long had the impression that
since I could nowhere find you, you must be dead. Late that night-
perhaps it might be between eleven and twelve o'clock- ere I retired to my dreary rest, I supplicated God, that,
if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be taken from this life, and
admitted to that world to come, where there was still hope of
rejoining Jane.
'I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open:
it soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no
stars, and only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a
moon. I longed for thee, Janet! Oh, I longed for thee both with
soul and flesh! I asked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if
I had not been long enough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and
might not soon taste bliss and peace once more. That I merited all
I endured, I acknowledged- that I could scarcely endure more, I
pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my heart's wishes broke
involuntarily from my lips in the words- 'Jane! Jane!
Jane!''
'Did you speak these words aloud?'
'I did, Jane. If
