that night; nor did he rise soon next morning. When he did come

down, it was to attend to business: his agent and some of his

tenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with him.

Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it would be in daily

requisition as a reception-room for callers. A fire was lit in an

apartment upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged it for

the future schoolroom. I discerned in the course of the morning that

Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent as a church,

it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door, or a clang of

the bell: steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke

in different keys below; a rill from the outer world was flowing

through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked it better.

Adele was not easy to teach that day; she could not apply: she kept

running to the door and looking over the banisters to see if she could

get a glimpse of Mr. Rochester; then she coined pretexts to go

downstairs, in order, as I shrewdly suspected, to visit the library,

where I knew she was not wanted; then, when I got a little angry,

and made her sit still, she continued to talk incessantly of her 'ami,

Monsieur Edouard Fairfax de Rochester,' as she dubbed him (I had not

before heard his prenomens), and to conjecture what presents he had

brought her: for it appears he had intimated the night before, that

when his luggage came from Millcote, there would be found amongst it a

little box in whose contents she had an interest.

'Et cela doit signifier,' said she, 'qu'il y aura la dedans un

cadeau pour moi, et peut-etre pour vous aussi, mademoiselle.

Monsieur a parle de vous: il m'a demande le nom de ma gouvernante,

et si elle n'etait pas une petite personne, assez mince et un peu

pale. J'ai dit qu'oui: car c'est vrai, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?'

I and my pupil dined as usual in Mrs. Fairfax's parlour; the

afternoon was wild and snowy, and we passed it in the schoolroom. At

dark I allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to run

downstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from the

cessation of appeals to the door-bell, I conjectured that Mr.

Rochester was now at liberty. Left alone, I walked to the window;

but nothing was to be seen thence: twilight and snowflakes together

thickened the air, and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. I let down the

curtain and went back to the fireside.

In the clear embers I was tracing a view, not unlike a picture I

remembered to have seen of the castle of Heidelberg, on the Rhine,

when Mrs. Fairfax came in, breaking up by her entrance the fiery

mosaic I had been piecing together, and scattering too some heavy

unwelcome thoughts that were beginning to throng on my solitude.

'Mr. Rochester would be glad if you and your pupil would take tea

with him in the drawing-room this evening,' said she: 'he has been

so much engaged all day that he could not ask to see you before.'

'When is his tea-time?' I inquired.

'Oh, at six o'clock: he keeps early hours in the country. You had

better change your frock now; I will go with you and fasten it. Here

is a candle.'

'Is it necessary to change my frock?'

'Yes, you had better: I always dress for the evening when Mr.

Rochester is here.'

This additional ceremony seemed somewhat stately; however, I

repaired to my room, and, with Mrs. Fairfax's aid, replaced my black

stuff dress by one of black silk; the best and the only additional one

I had, except one of light grey, which, in my Lowood notions of the

toilette, I thought too fine to be worn, except on first-rate

occasions.

'You want a brooch,' said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearl

ornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put it on,

and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers, it was

rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr. Rochester's

presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into the dining-room, and kept

in her shade as we crossed that apartment; and, passing the arch,

whose curtain was now dropped, entered the elegantrecess beyond.

Two wax candles stood lighted on the table, and two on the

mantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, lay

Pilot- Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr.

Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at

Adele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my

traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made

squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his

decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full

nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and

jaw- yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now

divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his

physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of

the term- broad chested and thin flanked, though neither tall nor

graceful.

Mr. Rochester must have been aware of the entrance of Mrs.

Fairfax and myself; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice

us, for he never lifted his head as we approached.

'Here is Miss Eyre, sir,' said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way. He

bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and child.

'Let Miss Eyre be seated,' said he: and there was something in

the forced stiff bow, in the impatient yet formal tone, which seemed

further to express, 'What the deuce is it to me whether Miss Eyre be

there or not? At this moment I am not disposed to accost her.'

I sat down quite disembarrassed. A reception of finished politeness

would probably have confused me: I could not have returned or repaid

it by answering grace and elegance on my part; but harsh caprice

laid me under no obligation; on the contrary, a decent quiescence,

under the freak of manner, gave me the advantage. Besides, the

eccentricity of the proceeding was piquant: I felt interested to see

how he would go on.

He went on as a statue would, that is, he neither spoke nor

moved. Mrs. Fairfax seemed to think it necessary that some one

should be amiable, and she began to talk. Kindly, as usual- and, as

usual, rather trite- she condoled with him on the pressure of business

he had had all day; on the annoyance it must have been to him with

that painful sprain: then she commended his patience and

perseverance in going through with it.

'Madam, I should like some tea,' was the sole rejoinder she got.

She hastened to ring the bell; and when the tray came, she proceeded

to arrange the cups, spoons, etc., with assiduous celerity. I and

Adele went to the table; but the master did not leave his couch.

'Will you hand Mr. Rochester's cup?' said Mrs. Fairfax to me;

'Adele might perhaps spill it.'

I did as requested. As he took the cup from my hand, Adele,

thinking the moment propitious for making a request in my favour,

cried out-

'N'est-ce pas, monsieur, qu'il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre

dans votre petit coffre?'

'Who talks of cadeaux?' said he gruffly. 'Did you expect a present,

Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?' and he searched my face with

eyes that I saw were dark, irate, and piercing.

'I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they are

generally thought pleasant things.'

'Generally thought? But what do you think?'

'I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you

an answer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it,

has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion

as to its nature.'

'Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adele: she demands

a "cadeau," clamorously, the moment she sees me: you beat about the

bush.'

'Because I have less confidence in my deserts than Adele has: she

can prefer the claim of old acquaintance, and the right too of custom;

for she says you have always been in the habit of giving her

playthings; but if I had to make out a case I should be puzzled, since

I am a stranger, and have done nothing to entitle me to an

acknowledgment.'

'Oh, don't fall back on over-modesty! I have examined Adele, and

find you have taken great pains with her: she is not bright, she has

no talents; yet in a short time she has made much improvement.'

'Sir, you have now given me my "cadeau"; I am obliged to you: it is

the meed teachers most covet-praise of their pupils' progress.'

'Humph!' said Mr. Rochester, and he took his tea in silence.

'Come to the fire,' said the master, when the tray was taken

away, and Mrs. Fairfax had settled into a corner with her knitting;

while Adele was leading me by the hand round the room, showing me

the beautiful books and ornaments on the consoles and chiffonnieres.

We obeyed, as in duty bound; Adele wanted to take a seat on my knee,

but she was ordered to amuse herself with Pilot.

'You have been resident in my house three months?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you came from-?'

'Ah! a charitable concern. How long were you there?'

'Eight years.'

'Eight years! you must be tenacious of life. I thought half the

time in such a place would have done up any constitution! No wonder

you have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had

got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I

thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand

whether you had bewitched my horse: I am not sure yet. Who are your

parents?'

'I have none.'

'Nor ever had, I suppose: do you remember them?'

'No.'

'I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you

sat on that stile?'

'For whom, sir?'

'For the men in green: it was a proper moonlight evening for

them. Did I break through one of your rings, that you spread that

damned ice on the causeway?'

I shook my head. 'The men in green all forsook England a hundred

years ago,' said I, speaking as seriously as he had done. 'And not

even in Hay Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace of

them. I don't think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, will

ever shine on their revels more.'

Mrs. Fairfax had dropped her knitting, and, with raised eyebrows,

seemed wondering what sort of talk this was.

'Well,' resumed Mr. Rochester, 'if you disown parents, you must

have some sort of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?'

'No; none that I ever saw.'

'And your home?'

'I have none.'

'Where do your brothers and sisters live?'

'I have no brothers or sisters.'

'Who recommended you to come here?'

'I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement.'

'Yes,' said the good lady, who now knew what ground we were upon,

'and I am daily thankful for the choice Providence led me to make.

Miss Eyre has been an invaluable companion to me, and a kind and

careful teacher to Adele.'

'Don't trouble yourself to give her a character,' returned Mr.

Rochester: 'eulogiums will not bias me; I shall judge for myself.

She began by felling my horse.'

'Sir?' said Mrs. Fairfax.

'I have to thank her for this sprain.'

The widow looked bewildered.

'Miss Eyre, have you ever lived in a town?'

'No, sir.'

'Have you seen much society?'

'None but the pupils and teachers of Lowood, and now the inmates of

Thornfield.'

'Have you read much?'

'Only such books as came in my way; and they have not been numerous

or very learned.'

'You have lived the life of a nun: no doubt you are well drilled in

religious forms;- Brocklehurst, who I understand directs Lowood, is

a parson, is he not?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you girls probably worshipped him, as a convent full of

religieuses would worship their director.'

'Oh, no.'

'You are very cool! No! What! a novice not worship her priest! That

sounds blasphemous.'

'I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst; and I was not alone in the feeling.

He is a harsh man; at once pompous and meddling; he cut off our

hair; and for economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, with

which we could hardly sew.'

'That was very false economy,' remarked Mrs. Fairfax, who now again

caught the drift of the dialogue.

'And was that the head and front of his offending?' demanded Mr.

Rochester.

'He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of the

provision department, before the committee was appointed; and he bored

us with long lectures once a week, and with evening readings from

books of his own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, which

made us afraid to go to bed.'

'What age were you when you went to Lowood?'

'About ten.'

'And you stayed there eight years: you are now, then, eighteen?'

I assented.

'Arithmetic, you see, is useful; without its aid, I should hardly

have been able to guess your age. It is a point difficult to fix where

the features and countenance are so much at variance as in your

case. And now what did you learn at Lowood? Can you play?'

'A little.'

'Of course: that is the established answer. Go into the library-