Джейн Ейр

Chapter XI

           Leaningoverthebattlementsandlookingfardown,Isurveyedthegroundslaidoutlikeamap:thebrightandvelvetlawncloselygirdlingthegreybaseofthemansion;thefield,wideasapark,dottedwithitsancienttimber; thewood,dunandsere,dividedbyapathvisiblyovergrown,greenerwithmossthanthetreeswerewithfoliage;thechurchatthegates,theroad,thetranquilhills,allreposingintheautumnday’ssun;thehorizonboundedbyapropitioussky,azure,marbledwithpearlywhite. Nofeatureinthescenewasextraordinary,butallwaspleasing. WhenIturnedfromitandrepassedthetrap-door,Icouldscarcelyseemywaydowntheladder; theatticseemedblackasavaultcomparedwiththatarchofblueairtowhichIhadbeenlookingup,andtothatsunlitsceneofgrove,pasture,andgreenhill,ofwhichthehallwasthecentre,andoverwhichIhadbeengazingwithdelight. 

           Mrs.Fairfaxstayedbehindamomenttofastenthetrap-door;I,bydriftofgroping,foundtheoutletfromtheattic,andproceededtodescendthenarrowgarretstaircase. Ilingeredinthelongpassagetowhichthisled,separatingthefrontandbackroomsofthethirdstorey:narrow,low,anddim,withonlyonelittlewindowatthefarend,andlooking,withitstworowsofsmallblackdoorsallshut,likeacorridorinsomeBluebeard’scastle. 

           WhileIpacedsoftlyon,thelastsoundIexpectedtohearinsostillaregion,alaugh,struckmyear. Itwasacuriouslaugh;distinct,formal,mirthless. 

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