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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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- Стр. 232/445
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Sweet-briar
and
southernwood
,
jasmine
,
pink
,
and
rose
have
long
been
yielding
their
evening
sacrifice
of
incense
:
this
new
scent
is
neither
of
shrub
nor
flower
;
it
is
--
I
know
it
well
--
it
is
Mr.
Rochester
's
cigar
.
I
look
round
and
I
listen
.
I
see
trees
laden
with
ripening
fruit
.
I
hear
a
nightingale
warbling
in
a
wood
half
a
mile
off
;
no
moving
form
is
visible
,
no
coming
step
audible
;
but
that
perfume
increases
:
I
must
flee
.
I
make
for
the
wicket
leading
to
the
shrubbery
,
and
I
see
Mr.
Rochester
entering
.
I
step
aside
into
the
ivy
recess
;
he
will
not
stay
long
:
he
will
soon
return
whence
he
came
,
and
if
I
sit
still
he
will
never
see
me
.
But
no
--
eventide
is
as
pleasant
to
him
as
to
me
,
and
this
antique
garden
as
attractive
;
and
he
strolls
on
,
now
lifting
the
gooseberry-tree
branches
to
look
at
the
fruit
,
large
as
plums
,
with
which
they
are
laden
;
now
taking
a
ripe
cherry
from
the
wall
;
now
stooping
towards
a
knot
of
flowers
,
either
to
inhale
their
fragrance
or
to
admire
the
dew-beads
on
their
petals
.
A
great
moth
goes
humming
by
me
;
it
alights
on
a
plant
at
Mr.
Rochester
's
foot
:
he
sees
it
,
and
bends
to
examine
it
.
"
Now
,
he
has
his
back
towards
me
,
"
thought
I
,
"
and
he
is
occupied
too
;
perhaps
,
if
I
walk
softly
,
I
can
slip
away
unnoticed
.
"
I
trode
on
an
edging
of
turf
that
the
crackle
of
the
pebbly
gravel
might
not
betray
me
:
he
was
standing
among
the
beds
at
a
yard
or
two
distant
from
where
I
had
to
pass
;
the
moth
apparently
engaged
him
.
"
I
shall
get
by
very
well
,
"
I
meditated
.
As
I
crossed
his
shadow
,
thrown
long
over
the
garden
by
the
moon
,
not
yet
risen
high
,
he
said
quietly
,
without
turning
--
"
Jane
,
come
and
look
at
this
fellow
.
"
I
had
made
no
noise
:
he
had
not
eyes
behind
--
could
his
shadow
feel
?
I
started
at
first
,
and
then
I
approached
him
.
"
Look
at
his
wings
,
"
said
he
,
"
he
reminds
me
rather
of
a
West
Indian
insect
;
one
does
not
often
see
so
large
and
gay
a
night-rover
in
England
;
there
!
he
is
flown
.
"
The
moth
roamed
away
.
I
was
sheepishly
retreating
also
;
but
Mr.
Rochester
followed
me
,
and
when
we
reached
the
wicket
,
he
said
--
"
Turn
back
:
on
so
lovely
a
night
it
is
a
shame
to
sit
in
the
house
;
and
surely
no
one
can
wish
to
go
to
bed
while
sunset
is
thus
at
meeting
with
moonrise
.
"
It
is
one
of
my
faults
,
that
though
my
tongue
is
sometimes
prompt
enough
at
an
answer
,
there
are
times
when
it
sadly
fails
me
in
framing
an
excuse
;
and
always
the
lapse
occurs
at
some
crisis
,
when
a
facile
word
or
plausible
pretext
is
specially
wanted
to
get
me
out
of
painful
embarrassment
.
I
did
not
like
to
walk
at
this
hour
alone
with
Mr.
Rochester
in
the
shadowy
orchard
;
but
I
could
not
find
a
reason
to
allege
for
leaving
him
.
I
followed
with
lagging
step
,
and
thoughts
busily
bent
on
discovering
a
means
of
extrication
;
but
he
himself
looked
so
composed
and
so
grave
also
,
I
became
ashamed
of
feeling
any
confusion
:
the
evil
--
if
evil
existent
or
prospective
there
was
--
seemed
to
lie
with
me
only
;
his
mind
was
unconscious
and
quiet
.
