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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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Boils
round
the
naked
,
melancholy
isles
Of
farthest
Thule
;
and
the
Atlantic
surge
Pours
in
among
the
stormy
Hebrides
.
"
Nor
could
I
pass
unnoticed
the
suggestion
of
the
bleak
shores
of
Lapland
,
Siberia
,
Spitzbergen
,
Nova
Zembla
,
Iceland
,
Greenland
,
with
"
the
vast
sweep
of
the
Arctic
Zone
,
and
those
forlorn
regions
of
dreary
space
,
--
that
reservoir
of
frost
and
snow
,
where
firm
fields
of
ice
,
the
accumulation
of
centuries
of
winters
,
glazed
in
Alpine
heights
above
heights
,
surround
the
pole
,
and
concentre
the
multiplied
rigours
of
extreme
cold
.
"
Of
these
death-white
realms
I
formed
an
idea
of
my
own
:
shadowy
,
like
all
the
half-comprehended
notions
that
float
dim
through
children
's
brains
,
but
strangely
impressive
.
The
words
in
these
introductory
pages
connected
themselves
with
the
succeeding
vignettes
,
and
gave
significance
to
the
rock
standing
up
alone
in
a
sea
of
billow
and
spray
;
to
the
broken
boat
stranded
on
a
desolate
coast
;
to
the
cold
and
ghastly
moon
glancing
through
bars
of
cloud
at
a
wreck
just
sinking
.
I
can
not
tell
what
sentiment
haunted
the
quite
solitary
churchyard
,
with
its
inscribed
headstone
;
its
gate
,
its
two
trees
,
its
low
horizon
,
girdled
by
a
broken
wall
,
and
its
newly-risen
crescent
,
attesting
the
hour
of
eventide
.
The
two
ships
becalmed
on
a
torpid
sea
,
I
believed
to
be
marine
phantoms
.
The
fiend
pinning
down
the
thief
's
pack
behind
him
,
I
passed
over
quickly
:
it
was
an
object
of
terror
.
So
was
the
black
horned
thing
seated
aloof
on
a
rock
,
surveying
a
distant
crowd
surrounding
a
gallows
.
Each
picture
told
a
story
;
mysterious
often
to
my
undeveloped
understanding
and
imperfect
feelings
,
yet
ever
profoundly
interesting
:
as
interesting
as
the
tales
Bessie
sometimes
narrated
on
winter
evenings
,
when
she
chanced
to
be
in
good
humour
;
and
when
,
having
brought
her
ironing-table
to
the
nursery
hearth
,
she
allowed
us
to
sit
about
it
,
and
while
she
got
up
Mrs.
Reed
's
lace
frills
,
and
crimped
her
nightcap
borders
,
fed
our
eager
attention
with
passages
of
love
and
adventure
taken
from
old
fairy
tales
and
other
ballads
;
or
(
as
at
a
later
period
I
discovered
)
from
the
pages
of
Pamela
,
and
Henry
,
Earl
of
Moreland
.
With
Bewick
on
my
knee
,
I
was
then
happy
:
happy
at
least
in
my
way
.
I
feared
nothing
but
interruption
,
and
that
came
too
soon
.
The
breakfast-room
door
opened
.
