英文版讀書筆記

　　mrs. fairfax stayed behind a moment to fasten the trapdoor. i by dint of groping found the outlet from the attic and proceeded to descend the narrow garret staircase. i lingered in the long passage to which this led separating the front and back rooms of the third story – narrow low and dim wit only one little window at the far end and looking with its two rows of small black doors all shut like a corridor in some bluebeard’s castle.

　　while i paced softly on the last sound i expected to hear in so still a region a laugh struck my ears. it was a curious laugh—distinct formal mirthless i stopped. the sound ceased only for an instant. it began again louder—for at first though very distinct it was very low. it passed off in a clamorous peal that seemed to echo in every lonely chamber though it originated but in one and i could have pointed out the door whence the accents issued.

　　p99

　　i really did not expect any grace to answer for the laugh was as tragic as preternatural a laugh as any i ever heard; and but that it was high noon and that no circumstance of ghostliness accompanied the curious cachinnation; but that neither scene nor season favored fear i should have been superstitiously afraid. however the event showed me i was a fool for entertaining a sense even of surprise.

　　p100

　　anybody may blame me who likes when i add further that now and then when i took a walk by myself in the grounds; when i went down to the gates and i looked through then along the road; or when while adele played with her nurse and mrs. fairfax made jellies in the storeroom i climbed the three stair cases raised the trapdoor of the attic and having reached the leads looked out afar over sequestered field and hill and along dim skyline—that then i longed for a power of vision which might overpass that limit; which might reach the busy world towns regions full of life i had heard of but never seen; that then i desired more of practical experience than i possessed; more of  intercourse with my kind of acquaintance with variety of character than was here within my reach. i valued what was good in mrs.. fairfax and what was good in adele; but i believed in the existence of other and more vivid kinds of goodness and what i believed in i wished to behold.

　　who blames me? many no doubt; and i shall be called discontented. i could not help it; the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes. then my sole relief was to walk along the corridor of the third story backwards and forwards safe in the silence and solitude of the spot. and allow my mind’ eye to dwell on whatever bright visions rose before it—and certainly they were many and glowing; to let my heart be heaved by the exultant movement which while it swelled it in trouble expanded it with life; and best of all to open my inward ear to a tale that was never ended—a tale my imagination created and narrated continuously; quickened with all of incident life fire feeling that i desired and had not in my actual existence.

　　p102

　　it is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. nobody knows how many rebellions besides politically rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint too absolute a stagnation precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. it is thoughtless to condemn them. or laugh at them if they seek to do ore or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.

　　when thus alone i not unfrequently herd grace poole’s laugh: the same peal the same low slow ha! ha! which when first heard had thrilled me: i heard too her eccentric murmurs; stranger than her laugh. there were days when she was quite silent; but there were others when i could not account for the sounds she made. sometimes i saw her: she would come out of her room with a basin or a plate or a tray in her hand go down to the kitchen and shortly return generally (oh romantic reader forgive me for telling the plain truth!) bearing a pot of porter. her appearance always acted as a damper to the curiosity raised by her oral oddities: hard-featured and staid she had no point to which interest could attach. i made some attempts to draw her into conversation but she seemed a person of few words: a monosyllabic reply usually cut short every effort of that sort.