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 elegant recess 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-

I mean, if you please.- (Excuse my tone of command; I am used to

say, "Do this," and it is done: I cannot alter my customary habits for

one new inmate.)- Go, then, into the library; take a candle with

you; leave the door open; sit down to the piano, and play a tune.'

   I departed, obeying his directions.

   'Enough!' he called out in a few minutes. 'You play a little, I

see; like any other English school-girl; perhaps rather better than

some, but not well.'

   I closed the piano and returned. Mr. Rochester continued-

   'Adele showed me some sketches this morning, which she said were

yours. I don't know whether they were entirely of your doing; probably

a master aided you?'

   'No, indeed!' I interjected.

   'Ah! that pricks pride. Well, fetch me your portfolio, if you can

vouch for its contents being original; but don't pass your word unless

you are certain: I can recognise patchwork.'

   'Then I will say nothing, and you shall judge for yourself, sir.'

   I brought the portfolio from the library.

   'Approach the table,' said he; and I wheeled it to his couch. Adele

and Mrs. Fairfax drew near to see the pictures.

   'No crowding,' said Mr. Rochester: 'take the drawings from my

hand as I finish with them; but don't push your faces up to mine.'

   He deliberately scrutinised each sketch and painting. Three he laid

aside; the others, when he had examined them, he swept from him.

   'Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax,' said he, 'and

look at them with Adele;- you' (glancing at me) 'resume your seat, and

answer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by one

hand: was that hand yours?'

   'Yes.'

   'And when did you find time to do them? They have taken much

time, and some thought.'

   'I did them in the last two vacations I spent at Lowood, when I had

no other occupation.'

   'Where did you get your copies?'

   'Out of my head.'

   'That head I see now on your shoulders?'

   'Yes, sir.'

   'Has it other furniture of the same kind within?'

   'I should think it may have: I should hope- better.'

   He spread the pictures before him, and again surveyed them

alternately.

   While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are:

and first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. The

subjects had, indeed, risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them with the

spiritual eye, before I attempted to embody them, they were

striking; but my hand would not second my fancy, and in each case it

had wrought out but a pale portrait of the thing I had conceived.

   These pictures were in water-colours. The first represented

clouds low and livid, rolling over a swollen sea: all the distance was

in eclipse; so, too, was the foreground; or rather, the nearest

billows, for there was no land. One gleam of light lifted into

relief a half-submerged mast, on which sat a cormorant, dark and

large, with wings flecked with foam; its beak held a gold bracelet set

with gems, that I had touched with as brilliant tints as my palette

could yield, and as glittering distinctness as my pencil could impart.

Sinking below the bird and mast, a drowned corpse glanced through

the green water; a fair arm was the only limb clearly visible,

whence the bracelet had been washed or torn.

   The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of

a hill, with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze.

Beyond and above spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at twilight:

rising into the sky was a woman's shape to the bust, portrayed in

tints as dusk and soft as I could combine. The dim forehead was

crowned with a star; the lineaments below were seen as through the

suffusion of vapour; the eyes shone dark and wild; the hair streamed

shadowy, like a beamless cloud torn by storm or by electric travail.

On the neck lay a pale reflection like moonlight; the same faint

lustre touched the train of thin clouds from which rose and bowed this

vision of the Evening Star.

   The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar winter

sky: a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances, close

serried, along the horizon. Throwing these into distance, rose, in the

foreground, a head,- a colossal head, inclined towards the iceberg,

and resting against it. Two thin hands, joined under the forehead, and

supporting it, drew up before the lower features a sable veil; a

brow quite bloodless, white as bone, and an eye hollow and fixed,

blank of meaning but for the glassiness of despair, alone were

visible. Above the temples, amidst wreathed turban folds of black

drapery, vague in its character and consistency as cloud, gleamed a

ring of white flame, gemmed with sparkles of a more lurid tinge.

This pale crescent was 'the likeness of a kingly crown'; what it

diademed was 'the shape which shape had none.'

   'Were you happy when you painted these pictures?' asked Mr.

Rochester presently.

   'I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy. To paint them, in

short, was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known.'

   'That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, have

been few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist's

dreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did you

sit at them long each day?'

   'I had nothing else to do, because it was the vacation, and I sat

at them from morning till noon, and from noon till night: the length

of the midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply.'

   'And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent

labours?'

   'Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and

my handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was

quite powerless to realise.'

   'Not quite: you have secured the shadow of your thought; but no

more, probably. You had not enough of the artist's skill and science

to give it full being: yet the drawings are, for a school-girl,

peculiar. As to the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes in the

Evening Star you must have seen in a dream. How could you make them

look so clear, and yet not at all brilliant? for the planet above

quells their rays. And what meaning is that in their solemn depth? And

who taught you to paint wind? There is a high gale in that sky, and on

this hill-top. Where did you see Latmos? For that is Latmos. There!

put the drawings away!'

   I had scarce tied the strings of the portfolio, when, looking at

his watch, he said abruptly-

   'It is nine o'clock: what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adele

sit up so long? Take her to bed!'

   Adele went to kiss him before quitting the room: he endured the

caress, but scarcely seemed to relish it more than Pilot would have

done, nor so much.

   'I wish you all good-night, now,' said he, making a movement of the

hand towards the door, in token that he was tired of our company,

and wished to dismiss us. Mrs. Fairfax folded up her knitting: I

took my portfolio: we curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow in

return, and so withdrew.

   'You said Mr. Rochester was not strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax,'

I observed, when I rejoined her in her room, after putting Adele to

bed.

   'Well, is he?'

   'I think so: he is very changeful and abrupt.'

   'True: no doubt he may appear so to a stranger, but I am so

accustomed to his manner, I never think of it; and then, if he has

peculiarities of temper, allowance should be made.'

   'Why?'

   'Partly because it is his nature- and we can none of us help our

nature; and partly because he has painful thoughts, no doubt, to

harass him, and make his spirits unequal.'

   'What about?'

   'Family troubles, for one thing.'

   'But he has no family.'

   'Not now, but he has had- or, at least, relatives. He lost his

elder brother a few years since.'

   'His elder brother?'

   'Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long in

possession of the property; only about nine years.'

   'Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brother

as to be still inconsolable for his loss?'

   'Why, no- perhaps not. I believe there were some

misunderstandings between them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quite

just to Mr. Edward; and perhaps he prejudiced his father against

him. The old gentleman was fond of money, and anxious to keep the

family estate together. He did not like to diminish the property by

division, and yet he was anxious that Mr. Edward should have wealth,

too, to keep up the consequence of the name; and, soon after he was of

age, some steps were taken that were not quite fair, and made a

great deal of mischief. Old Mr. Rochester and Mr. Rowland combined

to bring Mr. Edward into what he considered a painful position, for

the sake of making his fortune: what the precise nature of that

position was I never clearly knew, but his spirit could not brook what

he had to suffer in it. He is not very forgiving: he broke with his

family, and now for many years he has led an unsettled kind of life. I

don't think he has ever been resident at Thornfield for a fortnight

together, since the death of his brother without a will left him

master of the estate; and, indeed, no wonder he shuns the old place.'

   'Why should he shun it?'

   'Perhaps he thinks it gloomy.'

   The answer was evasive. I should have liked something clearer;

but Mrs. Fairfax either could not, or would not, give me more explicit

information of the origin and nature of Mr. Rochester's trials. She

averred they were a mystery to herself, and that what she knew was

chiefly from conjecture. It was evident, indeed, that she wished me to

drop the subject, which I did accordingly.