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第16部分（第1页）

pples；　and　these　fragrant　treasures　were　all　useless　for　most　of　the　inmates　of　Lowood；　except　to　furnish　now　and　then　a　handful　of　herbs　and　blossoms　to　put　in　a　coffin。

But　I；　and　the　rest　who　continued　well；　enjoyed　fully　the　beauties　of　the　scene　and　season；　they　let　us　ramble　in　the　wood；　like　gipsies；　from　morning　till　night；　we　did　what　we　liked；　went　where　we　liked：　we　lived　better　too。　Mr。　Brocklehurst　and　his　family　never　came　near　Lowood　now：　household　matters　were　not　scrutinised　into；　the　cross　housekeeper　was　gone；　driven　away　by　the　fear　of　infection；　her　successor；　who　had　been　matron　at　the　Lowton　Dispensary；　unused　to　the　ways　of　her　new　abode；　provided　with　parative　liberality。　Besides；　there　were　fewer　to　feed；　the　sick　could　eat　little；　our　breakfast…basins　were　better　filled；　when　there　was　no　time　to　prepare　a　regular　dinner；　which　often　happened；　she　would　give　us　a　large　piece　of　cold　pie；　or　a　thick　slice　of　bread　and　cheese；　and　this　we　carried　away　with　us　to　the　wood；　where　we　each　chose　the　spot　we　liked　best；　and　dined　sumptuously。

My　favourite　seat　was　a　smooth　and　broad　stone；　rising　white　and　dry　from　the　very　middle　of　the　beck；　and　only　to　be　got　at　by　wading　through　the　water；　a　feat　I　acplished　barefoot。　The　stone　was　just　broad　enough　to　acmodate；　fortably；　another　girl　and　me；　at　that　time　my　chosen　rade—one　Mary　Ann　Wilson；　a　shrewd；　observant　personage；　whose　society　I　took　pleasure　in；　partly　because　she　was　witty　and　original；　and　partly　because　she　had　a　manner　which　set　me　at　my　ease。　Some　years　older　than　I；　she　knew　more　of　the　world；　and　could　tell　me　many　things　I　liked　to　hear：　with　her　my　curiosity　found　gratification：　to　my　faults　also　she　gave　ample　indulgence；　never　imposing　curb　or　rein　on　anything　I　said。　She　had　a　turn　for　narrative；　I　for　analysis；　she　liked　to　inform；　I　to　question；　so　we　got　on　swimmingly　together；　deriving　much　entertainment；　if　not　much　improvement；　from　our　mutual　intercourse。

And　where；　meantime；　was　Helen　Burns？　Why　did　I　not　spend　these　sweet　days　of　liberty　with　her？　Had　I　forgotten　her？　or　was　I　so　worthless　as　to　have　grown　tired　of　her　pare　society？　Surely　the　Mary　Arm　Wilson　I　have　mentioned　was　inferior　to　my　first　acquaintance：　she　could　only　tell　me　amusing　stories；　and　reciprocate　any　racy　and　pungent　gossip　I　chose　to　indulge　in；　while；　if　I　have　spoken　truth　of　Helen；　she　was　qualified　to　give　those　who　enjoyed　the　privilege　of　her　converse　a　taste　of　far　higher　things。

True；　reader；　and　I　knew　and　felt　this：　and　though　I　am　a　defective　being；　with　many　faults　and　few　redeeming　points；　yet　I　never　tired　of　Helen　Burns；　nor　ever　ceased　to　cherish　for　her　a　sentiment　of　attachment；　as　strong；　tender；　and　respectful　as　any　that　ever　animated　my　heart。　How　could　it　be　otherwise；　when　Helen；　at　all　times　and　under　all　circumstances；　evinced　for　me　a　quiet　and　faithful　friendship；　which　ill…humour　never　soured；　nor　irritation　never　troubled？　But　Helen　was　ill　at　present：　for　some　weeks　she　had　been　removed　from　my　sight　to　I　knew　not　what　room　upstairs。　She　was　not；　I　was　told；　in　the　hospital　portion　of　the　house　with　the　fever　patients；　for　her　plaint　was　consumption；　not　typhus：　and　by　consumption　I；　in　my　ignorance；　understood　something　mild；　which　time　and　care　would　be　sure　to　alleviate。

I　was　confirmed　in　this　idea　by　the　fact　of　her　once　or　twice　ing　downstairs　on　very　warm　sunny　afternoons；　and　being　taken　by　Miss　Temple　into　the　garden；　but；　on　these　occasions；　I　was　not　allowed　to　go　and　speak　to　her；　I　only　saw　her　from　the　schoolroom　window；　and　then　not　distinctly；　for　she　was　much　wrapped　up；　and　sat　at　a　distance　under　the　verandah。

One　evening；　in　the　beginning　of　June；　I　had　stayed　out　very　late　with　Mary　Ann　in　the　wood；　we　had；　as　usual；　separated　ourselves　from　the　others；　and　had　wandered　far；　so　far　that　we　lost　our　way；　and　had　to　ask　it　at　a　lonely　cottage；　where　a　man　and　woman　lived；　who　looked　after　a　herd　of　half…wild　swine　that　fed　on　the　mast　in　the　wood。　When　we　got　back；　it　was　after　moonrise：　a　pony；　which　we　knew　to　be　the　surgeon’s；　was　standing　at　the　garden　door。　Mary　Ann　remarked　that　she　supposed　some　one　must　be　very　ill；　as　Mr。　Bates　had　been　sent　for　at　that　time　of　the　evening。　She　went　into　the　house；　I　stayed　behind　a　few　minutes　to　plant　in　my　garden　a　handful　of　roots　I　had　dug　up　in　the　forest；　and　which　I　feared　would　wither　if　I　left　them　till　the　morning。　This　done；　I　lingered　yet　a　little　longer：　the　flowers　smelt　so　sweet　as　the　dew　fell；　it　was　such　a　pleasant　evening；　so　serene；　so　warm；　the　still　glowing　west　promised　so　fairly　another　fine　day　on　the　morrow；　the　moon　rose　with　such　majesty　in　the　grave　east。　I　was　noting　these　things　and　enjoying　them　as　a　child　might；　when　it　entered　my　mind　as　it　had　never　done　before：—

“How　sad　to　be　lying　now　on　a　sick　bed；　and　to　be　in　danger　of　dying！　This　world　is　pleasant—it　would　be　dreary　to　be　called　from　it；　and　to　have　to　go　who　knows　where？”

And　then　my　mind　made　its　first　earnest　effort　to　prehend　what　had　been　infused　into　it　concerning　heaven　and　hell；　and　for　the　first　time　it　recoiled；　baffled；　and　for　the　first　time　glancing　behind；　on　each　side；　and　before　it；　it　saw　all　round　an　unfathomed　gulf：　it　felt　the　one　point　where　it　stood—the　present；　all　the　rest　was　formless　cloud　and　vacant　depth；　and　it　shuddered　at　the　thought　of　tottering；　and　plunging　amid　that　chaos。　While　pondering　this　new　idea；　I　heard　the　front　door　open；　Mr。　Bates　came　out；　and　with　him　was　a　nurse。　After　she　had　seen　him　mount　his　horse　and　depart；　she　was　about　to　close　the　door；　but　I　ran　up　to　her。

“How　is　Helen　Burns？”

“Very　poorly；”　was　the　answer。

“Is　it　her　Mr。　Bates　has　been　to　see？”

“Yes。”

“And　what　does　he　say　about　her？”

“He　says　she’ll　not　be　here　long。”

This　phrase；　uttered　in　my　hearing　yesterday；　would　have　only　conveyed　the　notion　that　she　was　about　to　be　removed　to　Northumberland；　to　her　own　home。　I　should　not　have　suspected　that　it　meant　she　was　dying；　but　I　knew　instantly　now！　It　opened　clear　on　my　prehension　that　Helen　Burns　was　numbering　her　last　days　in　this　world；　and　that　she　was　going　to　be　taken　to　the　region　of　spirits；　if　such　region　there　were。　I　experienced　a　shock　of　horror；　then　a　strong　thrill　of　grief；　then　a　desire—a　necessity　to　see　her；　and　I　asked　in　what　room　she　lay。

“She　is　in　Miss　Temple’s　room；”　said　the　nurse。

“May　I　go　up　and　speak　to　her？”

“Oh　no；　child！　It　is　not　likely；　and　now　it　is　time　for　you　to　e　in；　you’ll　catch　the　fever　if　you　stop　out　when　the　dew　is　falling。”

The　nurse　closed　the　front　door；　I　went　in　by　the　side　entrance　which　led　to　the　schoolroom：　I　was　just　in　time；　it　was　nine　o’clock；　and　Miss　Miller　was　calling　the　pupils　to　go　to　bed。

It　might　be　two　hours　later；　probably　near　eleven；　when　I—not　having　been　able　to　fall　asleep；　and　deeming；　from　the　perfect　silence　of　the　dormitory；　that　my　panions　were　all　wrapt　in　profound　repose—rose　softly；　put　on　my　frock　over　my　night…dress；　and；　without　shoes；　crept　from　the　apartment；　and　set　off　in　quest　of　Miss　Temple’s　room。　It　was　quite　at　the　other　end　of　the　house；　but　I　knew　my　way；　and　the　light　of　the　unclouded　summer　moon；　entering　here　and　there　at　passage　windows；　enabled　me　to　find　it　without　difficulty。　An　odour　of　camphor　and　burnt　vinegar　warned　me　when　I　came　near　the　fever　room：　and　I　passed　its　door　quickly；　fearful　lest　the　nurse　who　sat　up　all　night　should　hear　me。　I　dreaded　being　discovered　and　sent　back；　for　I　must　see　Helen；—I　must　embrace　her　before　she　died；—I　must　give　her　one　last　kiss；　exchange　with　her　one　last　word。

Having　descended　a　staircase；　traversed　a　portion　of　the　house　below；　and　succeeded　in　opening　and　shutting；　without　noise；　two　doors；　I　reached　another　flight　of　steps；　these　I　mounted；　and　then　just　opposite　to　me　was　Miss　Temple’s　room。　A　light　shone　through　the　keyhole　and　from　under　the　door；　a　profound　stillness　pervaded　the　vicinity。　ing　near；　I　found　the　door　slightly　ajar；　probably　to　admit　some　fresh　air　into　the　close　abode　of　sickness。　Indisposed　to　hesitate；　and　full　of　impatient　impulses—soul　and　senses　quivering　with　keen　throes—I　put　it　back　and　looked　in。　My　eye　sought　Helen；　and　feared　to　find　death。

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