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A week passed, and no news arried of Mr. Rochester: ten days, and still he did not e. Mrs. Fairfa said she should not be surprised if he were to ght frothe Leas to London, and theo the ti, and not show his face again at Thornfield for a year to e; he had not unfrequently quitted it in a nner quite as abrupt and ued. When I heard this, I was beginning to feel a strange chill and failing at the heart. I was actually perttio eperience a siing sense of disappoi; but rallying wits, and lleg  rinciples, I at once called sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got oer the teorary blunder—how I cleared up the stake of supposing Mr. Rochester’s ents a tter in which I had any cause to take a ital i. Not that I huled self by a sish notion of inferiority: orary, I just said—
“You hae nothing to do with the ster of Thornfield, further than to receie the sary he gies you for teag his protégée, and to be grateful for such respectful and kind treatnt as, if you do your duty, you hae a right to epect at his hands. Be sure that is the only tie he seriously aowledges between you and hi so don’t ke hithe object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies, and so forth. He is not of your order: keep to your caste, aoo self-respeg to ish the loe of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.”
I went on with day’s busiranquilly; but eer and anon ague suggestio wandering ay brain of reasons why I should quit Thornfield; and I kept inoluntarily frang adertisents and p jectures about new situations: these thoughts I did not think check; they ght gernate and bear fruit if theuld.
Mr. Rochester had been absent upwards of a fht, when the post brought Mrs. Fairfa a letter.
“It is frothe ster,” said she, as she looked at the dire. “Now I suppose we shall know whether we are to epect his return or not.”
And while she broke the seal and perused the dot, I went on taking fee (we were at breakfast): it was hot, and I attributed to that circe a fiery glow which suddenly rose to face. Why hand shook, and why I inoluntarily spi half the tents of cup into saucer, I did not choose to sider.
“Well, I sotis think we are too quiet; but we run a ce of being busy enough now: for a little while at least,” said Mrs. Fairfa, still holding the note before her spectacles.
Ere I pertted self to request aion, I tied the string of Adèle’s pinafore, which happeo be loose: haing helped her also to another bun and refilled her g with lk, I said, nontly—
“Mr. Rochester is not likely to return soon, I suppose?”
“Indeed he is—in three days, he says: that will be hursday; and not aloher. I don’t know how ny of the fine people at the Leas are ing with hi he sends dires for all the best bedroo to be prepared; and the library and drawing-roo are to be ed out; I ato get re kit hands frothe Gee Inn, at Mite, and frowhereer else I ; and the dies will bring their ids and the geheir alets: so we shall hae a full house of it.” And Mrs. Fairfa swallowed her breakfast and hastened away to ence operations.
The three days were, as she had foretold, busy enough. I had thought all the roo at Thornfield beautifully and well arranged; but it appears I was staken. Three won were got to help; and such scrubbing, such brushing, such washing of paint aing of carpets, such taking doutting up of pictures, such polishing of rrors and lustres, such lighting of fires in bedroo, such airing of sheets aher-beds ohs, I neer beheld, either before or since. Adèle ran quite wild i of it: the preparations for pany and the prospect of their arrial, seed to throw her iasies. She would hae Sophie to look oer all her “toilettes,” as she called frocks; to furbish up any that were “passées,” and to air and arrahe new. For herself, she did nothing but caper about in the front chaers, ju on and off the bedsteads, and lie otresses and piled-up bolsters and pillows before the enorus fires r in the eys. Froschool duties she was eoed: Mrs. Fairfa had pressed into her serice, and I was all day ioreroo helping (or hindering) her and thok; learning to ke custards and cheese-cakes and French pastry, to truss ga and garnish desert-dishes.
The party were epected to arrie on Thursday afternoon, in ti for di si. During the interening period I had no ti to nurse chiras; and I beliee I was as actie and gay as anybody—Adèle ecepted. Still, now and then, I receied a daing chey cheerfulness; and was, in spite of self, thrown ba the region of doubts and portents, and dark jectures. This was when I ced to see the third-storey staircase door (which of te had always bee locked) open slowly, and gie passage to the frace Poole, in pricap, white apron, and handkerchief; when I watched her glide along the gallery, her quiet tread ffled in a list slipper; when I saw her look into the bustling, topsy-tury bedroo,—just say a word, perhaps, to the charwon about the proper way to polish a grate, or a rble ntelpiece, or take stains fropapered walls, and then pass on. She would thus desd to the kit once a day, eat her dinner, ske a derate pipe on the hearth, and go back, carrying her pot of porter with her, for her priate soce, in her own gloo, upper haunt. Only one hour iwenty-four did she pass with her fellow-serants below; all the rest of her ti ent in so low-ceiled, oaken chaer of the sed storey: there she sat and serobably ughed drearily to herself,—as panionless as a prisoner in his dungeon.
The strahing of all was, that not a soul in the house, ecept , noticed her habits, or seed to rel at the no one discussed her position or eloynt; no oied her solitude or isotion. I once, indeed, oerheard part of a dialogue between Leah and one of the charwon, of which Graed the subject. Leah had been saying sothing I had not caught, and the charwon rerked—
“She gets good wages, I guess?”
“Yes,” said Leah; “I wish I had as good; not that ne are to pin of,—there’s no stinginess at Thornfield; but they’re not one fifth of the suMrs. Poole receies. And she is ying by: she goes eery quarter to the bank at Mite. I should not wonder but she has saed enough to keep her indepe if she liked to leae; but I suppose she’s got used to the pce; and then she’s not forty yet, and strong and able for anything. It is too soon for her to gie up business.”
“She is a good hand, I daresay,” said the charwon.
“Ah!—she uands what she has to do,—nobody better,” rejoined Leah signifitly; “and it is not eery onuld fill her shoes— not for all the ney she gets.”
“That it is not!” was the reply. “I wonder whether the ster—”
The charwon was going on; but here Leah turned and perceied , and she instantly gae her panion a nudge.
“Doesn’t she know?” I heard the won whisper.
Leah shook her head, and the ersation was ourse dropped. All I had gathered froit auo this,—that there was a stery at Thornfield; and that froparticipation in that stery I urposely ecluded.
Thursday ca: all work had beeed the preious eening; carpets were id down, bed-hangings festooned, radiant white terpanes spread, toilet tables arranged, furniture rubbed, flowers piled in ases: both chaers and saloons looked as fresh and bright as handuld ke the The hall, too, wasured; and the great cared clock, as well as the steps and banisters of the staircase, were polished to the brightness of gss; in the dining-roo the sideboard fshed resple with pte; in the drawing-rooand boudoir, ases of eotics blood on all sides.
Afternoon arried: Mrs. Fairfa assud her best bck satin gown, her gloes, and her gold watch; for it was her part to receie the pany,—to duct the dies to their roo, c. Adèle, too, would be dressed: though I thought she had little ce of being introduced to the party that day at least. Howeer, to please her, I allowed Sophie to apparel her in one of her short, full slin frocks. For self, I had o ke any ge; I should not be called upon to quit sanctuof the schoolroo for a sanctuit was now bee to ,—“a ery pleasant refuge in ti of trouble.”
It had been a ld, serene spring day—one of those days which, towards the end of March or the beginning of April, rise shinihe earth as heralds of suer. It was drawing to an end now; but the eening was een war and I sat at work in the schoolroowith the window open.
“It gets te,” said Mrs. Fairfa, entering in rustling state. “I agd I ordered dinner an hour after the ti Mr. Rochester ntioned; for it is past si now. I hae sent John down to the gates to see if there is anything on the road: one see a long way frothen the dire of Mite.” She went to the window. “Here he is!” said she. “Well, John” (leaning out), “any news?”
“They’re ing, ’a” was the answer. “They’ll be here in ten nutes.”
Adèle flew to the window. I followed, taking care to stand on one side, so that, sed by the curtain, uld see without being seen.
The ten nutes John had gien seed ery long, but at st wheels were heard; four equestrians galloped up the drie, and after theca two open carriages. Fluttering eils and waing plus filled the ehicles; two of the caaliers were young, dashing-lookilen; the third was Mr. Rochester, on his bck horse, Mesrour, Pilot bounding before hi at his side rode a dy, and he and she were the first of the party. Her purple riding-habit alst swept the ground, her eil stread long on the breeze; ngling with its transparent folds, and gleang through the shone rich raen ris.
“Miss Ingra” ecid Mrs. Fairfa, and away she hurried to her post below.
The caalcade, following the sweep of the drie, quickly turhe angle of the house, and I lost sight of it. Adèle now petitioo go down; but I took her on knee, and gae her to uand that she st not on any at think of enturing in sight of the dies, either now or at any other ti, unless epressly sent for: that Mr. Rochester would be ery angry, c. “So natural tears she shed” on being told this; but as I began to lorae, she se st to wipe the
A joyous stir was now audible in the hall: gentlen’s deep tones and dies’ silery ats blent harniously together, and distinguishable aboe all, though not loud, was the sonorous oice of the ster of Thornfield Hall, weling his fair and galnt guests us roof. Then light steps asded the stairs; and there was a tripping through the gallery, and soft cheerful ughs, and opening and closing doors, and, for a ti, a hush.
“Elles geoilettes,” said Adèle; who, listening attentiely, had followed eery ent; and she sighed.
“Chez n,” said she, “quand il y aait du nde, je le suiais partout, au salo à leurs chares; souent je regardais les fees de chariffer et habiller les das, et c’était si asant: e apprend.”
“Don’t you feel hungry, Adèle?”
“Mais oui, deiselle: oilà q ou si heures que nous n’aons pas ngé.”
“Well now, while the dies are in their roo, I will enture down a you sothing to eat.”
And issuing fro asyluwith precaution, I sought a back-stairs which ducted directly to the kit. All in that region was fire and otion; the soup and fish were i stage of proje, and thok hung oer her crucibles in a fra of nd and body threatening spontaneous bustion. In the serants’ hall two en and three gentlen’s geood or sat round the fire; the abigails, I suppose, were upstairs with their stresses; the new serants, that had been hired froMite, were bustling about eerywhere. Threading this chaos, I at st reached the rder; there I took possession of ld chi, a roll of bread, so tarts, a pte or two and a knife and fork: with this booty I de a hasty retreat. I had regaihe gallery, and was just shutting the back-door behind , when an aelerated huwarned that the dies were about to issue frotheir chaers. uld not proceed to the schoolroowithout passing so of their doors, and running the risk of being surprised with cargo of ictuage; so I stood still at this end, which, being windowless, was dark: quite dark now, for the sun was set and twilight gathering.
Presently the chaers gae up their fair tenants oer another: each ca out gaily and airily, with dress that glead lustrous through the dusk. For a nt they stood grouped togeth;q藏书网;/qer at the other etrety of the gallery, ersing in a key of sweet subdued iacity: they then desded the staircase alst as noiselessly as a bright st rolls down a hill. Theillectie appearance had left on an iression of high-born elegance, such as I had neer before receied.
I found Adèle peeping through the schoolroodoor, which she held ajar. “What beautiful dies!” cried she in English. “Oh, I wish I ght go to the Do you think Mr. Rochester will send for us by- and-bye, after dinner?”
“No, indeed, I don’t; Mr. Rochester has sothing else to think about. Neer nd the dies to-night; perhaps you will see theto-rrow: here is your dinner.”
She was really hungry, so the chi and tarts sered to diert her attention for a ti. It was well I secured this fe, or both she, I, and Sophie, to whoI eyed a share of our repast, would hae run a ce of getting no di all: eery one downstairs was too gaged to think of us. The dessert was not carried out till after nine and at ten footn were still running to and fro with trays anffee-cups. I allowed Adèle to sit up ch ter than usual; for she Then the iortance of the process quickly steadied her, and by the ti she had her curls arranged in well-sothed, drooping clusters, her pink satin frock put on, her long sash tied, and her ce ttens adjusted, she looked as grae as any judge. o warn her not to disarrange her attire: when she was dressed, she sat derely down in her little chair, taking care preiously to lift up the satin skirt for fear she should crease it, and assured she would not stir theill I was ready. This I quickly was: best dress (the siler-grey one, purchased for Miss Tele’s wedding, and neer worn since) was soon put on; hair was soon sothed; sole or, the pearl brooch, soon assud. We desded.
Fortuhere was another entrao the drawing-roothan that through the saloohey were all seated at dinner. We found the apartnt at; a rge fire burning silently on the rble hearth, and wa dles shining in bright solitude, ad the equisite flowers with which the tables were adorhe curtain hung before the arch: slight as was the separation this drapery ford frothe party in the adjoining saloon, they spoke in so low a key that nothing of their ersatiould be distinguished beyond a soothing rr.
Adèle, eared to be still uhe influence of a st soleising iression, sat down, without a word, on the footstool I pointed out to her. I retired to a window-seat, and taking a book froa table near, endeaoured to read. Adèle brought her stool to feet; ere long she touched knee.
“What is it, Adèle?”
“Est-ce que je ne puis pas prendrie une seule de ces fleurs gnifiques, deiselle? Seulent pour pleter toilette.”
“You think too ch of your ‘toilette,’ Adèle: but you y hae a flower.” And I took a rose froa ase and faste in her sash. She sighed a sigh of ineffable satisfa, as if her cup of happiness were now full. I turned face away to ceal a sle uld not suppress: there was sothing ludicrous as well as painful itle Parisienne’s ear and innate deotion to tters of dress.
A soft sound of rising now beca audible; the curtain was swept back frothe arch; through it appeared the dining-roo with its lit lustre p down light on the siler and gss of a gnifit dessert-serice c a long table; a band of dies stood in the opening; they entered, and the curtain fell behind the
There were but eight; yet, sohow, as they flocked in, they gae the iression of a ch rger nuer. So of thewere ery tall; ny were dressed in white; and all had a sweeping alitude of array that seed to gnify their persons as a st ghe on. I rose and curtseyed to the one or two bent their heads iurn, the others only stared at .
They dispersed about the roo rending , by the lightness and buoyancy of their ents, of a flock of white plu birds. So of thethrew theeles in half-reing positions on the sofas and ottons: so behe tables and eahe flowers and books: the rest gathered in a group round the fire: all talked in a low but clear tone which seed habitual to the I kheir nas afterwards, and y as well ntion thenow.
First, there was Mrs. Eshton and two of her daughters. She had eidently been a handso won, and was well presered still. Of her daughters, the eldest, A, was rather little: naie, and child-like in fad nner, and piquant in for her white slin dress and blue sash beca her well. The sed, Louisa, was taller and re elegant in figure; with a ery pretty face, of that order the French ternois chiffoné: both sisters were fair as lilies.
Lady Lynn was a rge and stout personage of about forty, ery erect, ery haughty-looking, richly dressed in a satin robe of geful sheen: her dark hair shone glossily uhe shade of an azure plu, and within the circlet of a band of ge.
Mrs. el Dent was less showy; but, I thought, re dy-like. She had a slight figure, a pale, gentle face, and fair hair. Her bck satin dress, her scarf of ri ce, and her pearl ors, pleased better than the rainbow radiance of the titled da.
But the three st distinguished—partly, perhaps, because the tallest figures of the bahe Dowager Lady Ingraand her daughters, Bnche and Mary. They were all three of the loftiest stature of won. The Dowager ght be between forty and fifty: her shape was still fine; her hair (by dle-light at least) still bck; her teeth, too, were still apparently perfect. Most people would hae terd her a splendid won of her age: and so she was, no doubt, physically speaking; but then there ression of alst insupportable haughtiness in her bearing and tenance. She had Roures and a double , disappearing into a throat like a pilr: these features appeared to not only infted and darkened, but een furrowed with pride; and the was sustained by the sa principle, in a position of alst preternatural ereess. She had, likewise, a fierd a hard eye: it rended of Mrs. Reed’s; she uthed her words in speaking; her oice was deep, its iions ery poous, ery dogtical,—ery intolerable, in short. A crio robe, and a shawl turban of so gold-wrought Indian fabriested her (I suppose she thought) with a truly ierial dignity.
Bnche and Mary were of equal stature,—straight and tall as poprs. Mary was too slifor her height, but Bnche was ulded like a Dian. I regarded her, ourse, with special i. First, I wished to see whether her appearance rded with Mrs. Fairfa’s description; sedly, whether it at all reseled the faniature I had painted of her; and thirdly—it will out!— whether it were such as I should fancy likely to suit Mr. Rochester’s taste.
As far as perso, she answered point for point, both to  icture and Mrs. Fairfa’s description. The noble bust, the sloping shoulders, the graceful neck, the dark eyes and bck ris were all there;—but her face? Her face was like her ther’s; a youthful unf;tt;/tturrowed likeness: the sa low brow, the sa high features, the sa pride. It was not, howeer, so saturnine a pride! she ughed tinually; her ugh was satirical, and so was the habitual epression of her arched and haughty lip.
Genius is said to be self-scious. I ot tell whether Miss Ingrawas a genius, but she was self-scious—rerkably self- scious indeed. She entered into a durse on botany with the gentle Mrs. Dent. It seed Mrs. Dent had not studied that sce: though, as she said, she liked flowers, “especially wild ones;” Miss Ingrahad, and she ras ocabury with an air. I presently perceied she was (what is ernacurly terd) trailing Mrs. Dent; that is, pying on her ignorance—her trail ght be cleer, but it was decidedly not good-natured. She pyed: her eecution was brilliant; she sang: her oice was fine; she talked French apart to her and she talked it well, with fluend with a good at.
Mary had a lder and re open tehan Bnche; softer features too, and a skin so shades fairer (Miss Ingrawas dark as a Spaniard)—but Mary was defit in life: her face cked epression, her eye lustre; she had nothing to say, and haing oaken her seat, reined fied like a statue in its he sisters were both attired in spotless white.
And did I now think Miss Ingrasuch a choice as Mr. Rochester would be likely to ke? uld not tell—I did not know his taste in fele beauty. If he liked the jestic, she was the ery type of jesty: then she lished, sprightly. Most gentlen would adre her, I thought; and that he did adre her, I already seed to hae obtained proof: to ree the st shade of doubt, it reined but to see thetogether.
You are not to suppose, reader, that Adèle has all this ti been sitting tionless oool at feet: no; when the dies entered, she rose, adao et the de a stately reerence, and said with graity—
“Bon jour, sdas.”
And Miss Ingrahad looked down at her with a g air, and ecid, “Oh, what a little puppet!”
Lady Lynn had rerked, “It is Mr. Rochester’s ward, I suppose—the little French girl he eaking of.”
Mrs. Dent had kindly taken her hand, and gien her a kiss.
A and Louisa Eshton had cried out sianeously—“What a loe of a child!”
And then they had called her to a sofa, where she now sat, ensced between the chatteriely in Frend broken English; abs not only the young dies’ attention, but that of Mrs. Eshton and Lady Lynn, aing spoi to her heart’s tent.
At sffee is brought in, and the gentlen are suoned. I sit in the shade—if any shade there be in this brilliantly-lit apartnt; the window-curtain half hides . Again the arch yawns; they e. Thllectie appearance of the gentlen, like that of the dies, is ery iosing: they are all ed in bck; st of theare tall, so young. Henry and Frederick Lynn are ery dashing sparks indeed; and el Dent is a fine soldierly n. Mr. Eshton, the gistrate of the district, is gentlen-like: his hair is quite white, his eyebrows and whiskers still dark, which gies hisothing of the appearance of a “père noble de théatre.” Lord Ingra like his sisters, is ery tall; like the also, he is handso; but he shares Mary’s apathetid listless look: he see to hae re length of li than iacity of bloour of brain.
And where is Mr. Rochester?
He es in st: I anot looking at the arch, yet I see hienter. I try to trate attention on those ing-needles, on the shes of the purse I af—I wish to think only of the work I hae in hands, to see only the siler beads and silk threads that lie in p; whereas, I distinctly behold his figure, and I iably recall the nt when I st saw it; just after I had rendered hi what he deed, an essential serice, and he, holding hand, and looking down on face, sureyed with eyes that reealed a heart full and eager to oerflow; in whose etions I had a part. How near had I approached hiat that nt! What had ourred since, calcuted to ge his and retie positions? Yet now, how distant, how far estranged we were! So far estrahat I did hito e and speak to . I did not wonder, when, without looking at , he took a seat at the other side of the roo and began ersing with so of the dies.
No sooner did I see that his attention was rieted on the and that I ght gaze without being obsered, than eyes were drawn inoluntarily to his face; uld not keep their lids urol: they would rise, and the irids would fi on hi I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking,—a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing n ght feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks diine draughts heless.
Most true is it that “beauty is in the eye of the gazer.” My ster’lourless, olie face, square, ssie brow, broad ay eyebrows, deep eyes, stroures, fir griuth,—all energy, decision, will,—were not beautiful, a to rule; but they were re thaiful to ; they were full of an i, an i quite stered ,—that took feelings fro own power aered thein his. I had not inteo loe hi the reader knows I had wrought hard to etirpate fro soul the ger of loe there detected; and now, at the first renewed iew of hi they spontaneously arried, green and strong! He de loe hiwithout looking at .
I pared hiwith his guests. What was the galnt grace of the Lynns, the nguid elegance of Lord Ingra—eeary distin of el Dent, trasted with his look of h and genuine power? I had no syathy in their appearaheir epressio uld igihat st obserers would call theattractie, handso, iosing; while they would pronounce Mr. Rochester at once harsh-featured and ncholy-looking. I saw thesle, ugh—it was nothing; the light of the dles had as ch soul in it as their sle; the tinkle of the bell as ch significe as their ugh. I saw Mr. Rochester sle:- his sterures softened; his eye grew both brilliant ale, its ray both searg and sweet. He was talking, at the nt, to Louisa and A Eshton. I woo see thereceie with cahat look which seed to so peing: I epected their eyes to fall, theilour to rise u; yet I was gd when I found they were in no sense ed. “He is not to thewhat he is to ,” I thought: “he is not of their kind. I beliee he is of ne;—I asure he is—I feel akin to hiI uand the nguage of his tenas: though rank ah seer us widely, I hae sothing in brain a, in blood and hat assites ntally to hi Did I say, a few days sihat I had nothing to do with hibut to receie sary at his hands? Did I forbid self to think of hiin any ht than as a payster? Bsphe against nature! Eery good, true, igorous feeling I hae gathers iulsiely round hi I know I st ceal ses: I st sther hope; I st reer that he ot care e. For when I say that I aof his kind, I do not an that I hae his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I an only that I hae certain tastes and feelings in on with hi I st, the tinually that we are for eer sundered:- a, while I breathe and think, I st loe hi”
ffee is hahe dies, sihe gentleered, hae bee liely as rks; ersation waes brisk and rry. el Dent and Mr. Eshtue on politics; their wies listen. The two proud dowagers, Lady Lynn and Lady Ingra fabute together. Sir Gee—who by-the-bye, I hae fotten to describe,—a ery big, and ery fresh-looking try gentlen, stands before their sofaffee-cup in hand, and oasionally puts in a word. Mr. Frederick Lynn has taken a seat beside Mary Ingra and is showihe engraings of a splendid olu: she looks, sles now and then, but apparently says little. The tall and phlegtic Lord Ingraleans with folded ar on the chair-back of the little and liely A Eshton; she gnces up at hi and chatters like a wren: she likes hibetter than she does Mr. Rochester. Henry Lynn has taken possession of an otton at the feet of Louisa: Adèle shares it with hi he is trying to talk French with her, and Louisa ughs at his blunders. With whowill Bnche Ingrapair? She is standing alo the table, bending gracefully oer an albu She see waiting to be sought; but she will not wait too long: she herself selects a te.
Mr. Rochester, haing quitted the Eshtons, stands on the hearth as solitary as she stands by the table: she fronts hi takiation on the opposite side of the ntelpiece.
“Mr. Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children?”
“Nor aI.”
“Then, what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that?” (pointing to Adèle). “Where did you pick her up?”
“I did not pick her up; she was left on hands.”
“You should hae seo school.”
“uld not afford it: schools are so dear.”
“Why, I suppose you hae a goerness for her: I saerson with her just now—is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind the window-curtain. You pay her, ourse; I should think it quite as epensie,—re so; for you hae theboth to keep in addition.”
I feared—or should I say, hoped?—the allusion to would ke Mr. Rochester gnbsp; way; and I inoluntarily shrank farther into the shade: but he urned his eyes.
“I hae not sidered the subject,” said he indifferently, looking straight before hi
“No, you n neer do sider ey and on sense. You should hear on the chapter of goernesses: Mary and I hae had, I should think, a dozen at least in our day; half of thedetestable and the rest ridiculous, and all incubi—were they not, ?”
“Did you speak, own?”
The young dy thus cid as the dowager’s special property, reiterated her question with aion.
“My dearest, don’t ntion goerhe word kes nerous. I hae suffered a rtyrdofrotheir iend caprice. I thank Heaen I hae now doh the”
Mrs. Dent here beo the pious dy and whispered sothing in her ear; I suppose, frothe answer elicited, it was a rehat one of the aised race resent.
“Tant pis!” said her Ladyship, “I hope it y dood!” Then, in a lower tone, but still loud enough for to hear, “I noticed her; I aa judge of physiogno, and in hers I see all the faus of her css.”
“What are they, da” inquired Mr. Rochester aloud.
“I will tell you in your priate ear,” replied she, waggiurban three tis with portentous significy.
“But curiosity will be past its appetite; it craes food now.”
“Ask Bnche; she is nearer you than I.”
“Oh, don’t refer hito , ! I hae just one word to say of the whole tribe; they are a nuisanot that I eer suffered ch frothe I took care to turables. What tricks Theodore and I used to py on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Mada Jouberts! Mary was always too sleepy to join in a plot with spirit. The best fun was with Mada Joubert: Miss Wilson oor sickly thing, chryse and low-spirited, not worth the trouble of anquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey waarse and insensible; no blow took effe her. But poor Mada Joubert! I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had drieo etreties—spi our tea, cruled our bread and butter, tossed our books up to the ceiling, and pyed a chariari with the ruler and desk, the fender and fire-irons. Theodore, do you reer those rry days?”
“Yaas, to be sure I do,” drawled Lord Ingra “and the poor old stick used to cry out ‘Oh you ilins childs!’—and then we sernised her on the presution of atteting to teach such cleer bdes as we were, when she was herself so ignorant.”
“We did; and, Tedo, you know, I helped you in proseg (or perseg) your tutor, whey-faced Mr. Vining—the parson in the pip, as we used to call hi He and Miss Wilson took the liberty of falling ih each other—at least Tedo and I thought so; we surprised sundry tender gnces and sighs which we interpreted as tokens of ‘ belle passion,’ and I prose you the public soon had the be of our dery; we eloyed it as a sort of leer to hoist our dead-ghts frothe house. Dear , there, as soon as she got an inkling of the business, found out that it was of an ioral tendency. Did you not, dy-ther?”
“Certainly, best. And I was quite right: depend on that: there are a thousand reasons why liaisoween goernesses and tutors should neer be tolerated a nt in any well-reguted house; firstly—”
“Oh, gracious, ! Spare us the eion! Au reste, we all know the danger of bad eale to innoce of childhood; distras and sequent of duty on the part of the attached—tual alliand reliance; fidehence resuing—insolence apanying—tiny and general blow-up. AI right, Baroness Ingra of IngraPark?”
“My lily-flower, you are right now, as always.”
“Then no re need be said: ge the subject.”
A Eshton, not hearing or not heeding this dictu joined in with her soft, infaone: “Louisa and I used to quiz oeroo; but she was such a good creature, she would bear anything: nothing put her out. She was neer cross with us; was she, Louisa?”
“No, neer: we ght do what we pleased; ransack her desk and her workbo, and turn her drawers i; and she was so good- natured, she would gie as anything we asked for.”
“I suppose, now,” said Miss Ingra curling her lip sarcastically, “we shall hae an abstract of the irs of all the goerant: in order to aert such a isitation, I agaihe introdu of a opic. Mr. Rochester, do you sey tion?”
“Mada I support you on this point, as on eery other.”
“Then on be the onus ing it forward. Signior Eduardo, are you in oice to-night?”
“Donna Bianca, if you and it, I will be.”
“Then, signior, I y on you s to furbish up your lungs and other ocal ans, as they will be wanted on royal serice.”
“Who would not be the Rizzio of so diine a Mary?”
“A fig for Rizzio!” cried she, tossing her head with all its curls, as she ed to the piano. “It is opinion the fiddler Daid st hae been an insipid sort of fellow; I like bck Bothwell better: to nd a n is nothing without a spice of the deil in hi and history y say what it will of Jas Hepburn, but I hae a notion, he was just the sort of wild, fierce, bandit hero whould hae seo gift with hand.”
“Gentlen, you hear! Now which of you st reseles Bothwell?” cried Mr. Rochester.
“I should say the preference lies with you,” responded el Dent.
“On honour, I ach obliged to you,” was the reply.
Miss Ingra who had now seated herself with proud grace at the piano, spreading out her snowy robes in queenly alitude, enced a brilliant prelude; talkii. She appeared to be on her high horse to-night; both her words and her air seed inteo ecite not only the adration, but the azent of her auditors: she was eidently bent on striking theas sothing ery dashing and daring indeed.
“Oh, I aso sick of the young n of the present day!” ecid she, rattling away at the instrunt. “Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a step beyond papa’s park gates: nor to go een so far without ’s perssion and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and their sll feet; as if a n had anything to do with beauty! As if loeliness were not the special prerogatie of won—her legitite appanage aage! I grant an ugly won is a.９９ｌｉb. blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the gentlehebe solicitous to possess only strength and alour: let their tto be:- Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a fillip. Such should be deice, were I a n.”
“Wheneer I rry,” she tinued after a pause whioerrupted, “I aresoled husband shall not be a rial, but a foil to . I will suffer or he throne; I shall ea undiided hoge: his deotions shall not be shared between and the shape he sees in his rror. Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will py for you.”
“I aall obedience,” was the response.
“Here then is a rsair-song. Know that I doat on rsairs; and for that reason, sing it spirito.”
“ands froMiss Ingras lips would put spirit into a g of lk and water.”
“Take care, then: if you don’t please , I will sha you by showing how such things should be done.”
“That is a preuon incapacity: I shall now endeaour to fail.”
“Gardez-ous en bien! If you err wilfully, I shall deise a proportionate punishnt.”
“Miss Ingraought to be t, for she has it in her power to inflict a chastisent beyond rtal endurance.”
“Ha! epin!” ahe dy.
“Pardon , da no need of epnation; your own fine se inforyou that one of your frowns would be a suffit substitute for capital punishnt.”
“Sing!” said she, and again toug the piano, she enced an apa in spirited style.
“Now is ti to slip away,” thought I: but the tohat then seered the air arrested . Mrs. Fairfa had said Mr. Rochester possessed a fine oice: he did—a llow, powerful bass, into which he threw his own feeling, his own force; finding a way through the ear to the heart, and there wakiion strangely. I waited till the st deep and full ibration had epired—till the tide of talk, checked an instant, had resud its flow; I then quitted sheered er and de eit by the side-door, which was fortunately near. Thence a narrow passage led into the hall: in crossing it, I perceied sandal was loose; I stopped to tie it, kneeling down for that purpose o at the foot of the staircase. I heard the dining-roodoor unclose; a gentlen ca out; rising hastily, I stood face to face with hi it was Mr. Rochester.
“How do you do?” he asked.
“I aery well, sir.”
“Why did you not e and speak to in the roo”
I thought I ght hae retorted the question on hiwho put it: but I would not take that freedo I answered—
“I did not wish to disturb you, as you seed engaged, sir.”
“What hae you been doing during absence?”
“Nothing particur; teag Adèle as usual.”
“Aing a good deal paler than you were—as I saw at first sight. What is the tter?”
“Nothing at all, sir.”
“Did you take anld that night you half drowned ?”
“Not she least.”
“Return to the drawing-roo you are deserting too early.”
“I atired, sir.”
He looked at for a nute.
“And a little depressed,” he said. “What about? Tell .”
“Nothing—nothing, sir. I anot depressed.”
“But I affirthat you are: so ch depressed that a few re words would bring tears to your eyes—ihey are there now, shining and swiing; and a bead has slipped frothe sh and fallen on to the fg. If I had ti, and was not in rtal dread of so prating prig of a serant passing, I would know what all this ans. Well, to-night I ecuse you; but uand that so long as isitors stay, I epect you to appear in the drawing-rooeery eening; it is wish; don’t it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adèle. Good-night, —” He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left .
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