No More Learning

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 storey, backwards and forwards, safe in the silence and
solitude of the spot, and allow my mind's 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.

It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with
tranquillity: 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 political 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 more or
learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.

When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard 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.

The other members of the household, viz. , John and his wife, Leah the
housemaid, and Sophie the French nurse, were decent people; but in no
respect remarkable; with Sophie I used to talk French, and sometimes I
asked her questions about her native country; but she was not of a
descriptive or narrative turn, and generally gave such vapid and confused
answers as were calculated rather to check than encourage inquiry.

October, November, December passed away. One afternoon in January, Mrs.
Fairfax had begged a holiday for Adele, because she had a cold; and, as
Adele seconded the request with an ardour that reminded me how precious
occasional holidays had been to me in my own childhood, I accorded it,
deeming that I did well in showing pliability on the point. It was a
fine, calm day, though very cold; I was tired of sitting still in the
library through a whole long morning: Mrs. Fairfax had just written a
letter which was waiting to be posted, so I put on my bonnet and cloak
and volunteered to carry it to Hay; the distance, two miles, would be a
pleasant winter afternoon walk. Having seen Adele comfortably seated in
her little chair by Mrs. Fairfax's parlour fireside, and given her her
best wax doll (which I usually kept enveloped in silver paper in a
drawer) to play with, and a story-book for change of amusement; and
having replied to her "Revenez bientot, ma bonne amie, ma chere Mdlle.
Jeannette," with a kiss I set out.

The ground was hard, the air was still, my road was lonely; I walked fast
till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analyse the
species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation. It was
three o'clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under the belfry: the
charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and
pale-beaming sun. I was a mile from Thornfield, in a lane noted for wild
roses in summer, for nuts and blackberries in autumn, and even now
possessing a few coral treasures in hips and haws, but whose best winter
delight lay in its utter solitude and leafless repose. If a breath of
air stirred, it made no sound here; for there was not a holly, not an
evergreen to rustle, and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as
still as the white, worn stones which causewayed the middle of the path.
Far and wide, on each side, there were only fields, where no cattle now
browsed; and the little brown birds, which stirred occasionally in the
hedge, looked like single russet leaves that had forgotten to drop.

This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay; having reached the middle,
I sat down on a stile which led thence into a field. Gathering my mantle
about me, and sheltering my hands in my muff, I did not feel the cold,
though it froze keenly; as was attested by a sheet of ice covering the
causeway, where a little brooklet, now congealed, had overflowed after a
rapid thaw some days since. From my seat I could look down on
Thornfield: the grey and battlemented hall was the principal object in
the vale below me; its woods and dark rookery rose against the west. I
lingered till the sun went down amongst the trees, and sank crimson and
clear behind them. I then turned eastward.

On the hill-top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but
brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees,
sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet a mile distant,
but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life.
My ear, too, felt the flow of currents; in what dales and depths I could
not tell: but there were many hills beyond Hay, and doubtless many becks
threading their passes. That evening calm betrayed alike the tinkle of
the nearest streams, the sough of the most remote.

A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings, at once so
far away and so clear: a positive tramp, tramp, a metallic clatter, which
effaced the soft wave-wanderings; as, in a picture, the solid mass of a
crag, or the rough boles of a great oak, drawn in dark and strong on the
foreground, efface the aerial distance of azure hill, sunny horizon, and
blended clouds where tint melts into tint.

The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane
yet hid it, but it approached. I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the
path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by. In those days I was young,
and all sorts of fancies bright and dark tenanted my mind: the memories
of nursery stories were there amongst other rubbish; and when they
recurred, maturing youth added to them a vigour and vividness beyond what
childhood could give. As this horse approached, and as I watched for it
to appear through the dusk, I remembered certain of Bessie's tales,
wherein figured a North-of-England spirit called a "Gytrash," which, in
the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and
sometimes came upon belated travellers, as this horse was now coming upon
me.

It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to the tramp,
tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems
glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct
object against the trees. It was exactly one form of Bessie's Gytrash--a
lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me, however,
quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange pretercanine eyes,
in my face, as I half expected it would. The horse followed,--a tall
steed, and on its back a rider. The man, the human being, broke the
spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and
goblins, to my notions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of
beasts, could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human form. No
Gytrash was this,--only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote. He
passed, and I went on; a few steps, and I turned: a sliding sound and an
exclamation of "What the deuce is to do now? " and a clattering tumble,
arrested my attention. Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the
sheet of ice which glazed the causeway. The dog came bounding back, and
seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked
till the evening hills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to
his magnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran up
to me; it was all he could do,--there was no other help at hand to
summon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller, by this time
struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were so vigorous, I
thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the question--

"Are you injured, sir? "

I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was pronouncing
some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly.

"Can I do anything? " I asked again.

"You must just stand on one side," he answered as he rose, first to his
knees, and then to his feet. I did; whereupon began a heaving, stamping,
clattering process, accompanied by a barking and baying which removed me
effectually some yards' distance; but I would not be driven quite away
till I saw the event. This was finally fortunate; the horse was
re-established, and the dog was silenced with a "Down, Pilot! " The
traveller now, stooping, felt his foot and leg, as if trying whether they
were sound; apparently something ailed them, for he halted to the stile
whence I had just risen, and sat down.

I was in the mood for being useful, or at least officious, I think, for I
now drew near him again.

"If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch some one either from
Thornfield Hall or from Hay. "

"Thank you: I shall do: I have no broken bones,--only a sprain;" and
again he stood up and tried his foot, but the result extorted an
involuntary "Ugh! "

Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I
could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak, fur
collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent, but I traced
the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest. He
had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and
gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth,
but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt
no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-
looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus
questioning him against his will, and offering my services unasked. I
had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I
had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry,
fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape,
I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have
sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would
fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.

If even this stranger had smiled and been good-humoured to me when I
addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and with
thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation to renew
inquiries: but the frown, the roughness of the traveller, set me at my
ease: I retained my station when he waved to me to go, and announced--

"I cannot think of leaving you, sir, at so late an hour, in this solitary
lane, till I see you are fit to mount your horse. "

He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my
direction before.

"I should think you ought to be at home yourself," said he, "if you have
a home in this neighbourhood: where do you come from? "

"From just below; and I am not at all afraid of being out late when it is
moonlight: I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure, if you wish it:
indeed, I am going there to post a letter. "

"You live just below--do you mean at that house with the battlements? "
pointing to Thornfield Hall, on which the moon cast a hoary gleam,
bringing it out distinct and pale from the woods that, by contrast with
the western sky, now seemed one mass of shadow.

"Yes, sir. "

"Whose house is it? "

"Mr. Rochester's. "

"Do you know Mr. Rochester? "

"No, I have never seen him. "

"He is not resident, then? "

"No. "

"Can you tell me where he is? "

"I cannot. "

"You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are--" He stopped,
ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quite simple: a black
merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither of them half fine enough for
a lady's-maid. He seemed puzzled to decide what I was; I helped him.

"I am the governess. "

"Ah, the governess! " he repeated; "deuce take me, if I had not forgotten!
The governess! " and again my raiment underwent scrutiny. In two minutes
he rose from the stile: his face expressed pain when he tried to move.

"I cannot commission you to fetch help," he said; "but you may help me a
little yourself, if you will be so kind. "

"Yes, sir. "

"You have not an umbrella that I can use as a stick? "

"No. "

"Try to get hold of my horse's bridle and lead him to me: you are not
afraid? "

I should have been afraid to touch a horse when alone, but when told to
do it, I was disposed to obey. I put down my muff on the stile, and went
up to the tall steed; I endeavoured to catch the bridle, but it was a
spirited thing, and would not let me come near its head; I made effort on
effort, though in vain: meantime, I was mortally afraid of its trampling
fore-feet. The traveller waited and watched for some time, and at last
he laughed.

{I was mortally afraid of its trampling forefeet: p107. jpg}

"I see," he said, "the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all
you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain; I must beg of you to
come here. "

I came. "Excuse me," he continued: "necessity compels me to make you
useful. " He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and leaning on me with
some stress, limped to his horse. Having once caught the bridle, he
mastered it directly and sprang to his saddle; grimacing grimly as he
made the effort, for it wrenched his sprain.

"Now," said he, releasing his under lip from a hard bite, "just hand me
my whip; it lies there under the hedge. "

I sought it and found it.

"Thank you; now make haste with the letter to Hay, and return as fast as
you can. "

A touch of a spurred heel made his horse first start and rear, and then
bound away; the dog rushed in his traces; all three vanished,

"Like heath that, in the wilderness,
The wild wind whirls away. "

I took up my muff and walked on. The incident had occurred and was gone
for me: it _was_ an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a
sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My
help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have
done something; trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an
active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive. The new face,
too, was like a new picture introduced to the gallery of memory; and it
was dissimilar to all the others hanging there: firstly, because it was
masculine; and, secondly, because it was dark, strong, and stern. I had
it still before me when I entered Hay, and slipped the letter into the
post-office; I saw it as I walked fast down-hill all the way home. When
I came to the stile, I stopped a minute, looked round and listened, with
an idea that a horse's hoofs might ring on the causeway again, and that a
rider in a cloak, and a Gytrash-like Newfoundland dog, might be again
apparent: I saw only the hedge and a pollard willow before me, rising up
still and straight to meet the moonbeams; I heard only the faintest waft
of wind roaming fitful among the trees round Thornfield, a mile distant;
and when I glanced down in the direction of the murmur, my eye,
traversing the hall-front, caught a light kindling in a window: it
reminded me that I was late, and I hurried on.

I did not like re-entering Thornfield. To pass its threshold was to
return to stagnation; to cross the silent hall, to ascend the darksome
staircase, to seek my own lonely little room, and then to meet tranquil
Mrs. Fairfax, and spend the long winter evening with her, and her only,
was to quell wholly the faint excitement wakened by my walk,--to slip
again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an uniform and too still
existence; of an existence whose very privileges of security and ease I
was becoming incapable of appreciating. What good it would have done me
at that time to have been tossed in the storms of an uncertain struggling
life, and to have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for
the calm amidst which I now repined! Yes, just as much good as it would
do a man tired of sitting still in a "too easy chair" to take a long
walk: and just as natural was the wish to stir, under my circumstances,
as it would be under his.

I lingered at the gates; I lingered on the lawn; I paced backwards and
forwards on the pavement; the shutters of the glass door were closed; I
could not see into the interior; and both my eyes and spirit seemed drawn
from the gloomy house--from the grey-hollow filled with rayless cells, as
it appeared to me--to that sky expanded before me,--a blue sea absolved
from taint of cloud; the moon ascending it in solemn march; her orb
seeming to look up as she left the hill-tops, from behind which she had
come, far and farther below her, and aspired to the zenith, midnight dark
in its fathomless depth and measureless distance; and for those trembling
stars that followed her course; they made my heart tremble, my veins glow
when I viewed them. Little things recall us to earth; the clock struck
in the hall; that sufficed; I turned from moon and stars, opened a side-
door, and went in.

The hall was not dark, nor yet was it lit, only by the high-hung bronze
lamp; a warm glow suffused both it and the lower steps of the oak
staircase. This ruddy shine issued from the great dining-room, whose two-
leaved door stood open, and showed a genial fire in the grate, glancing
on marble hearth and brass fire-irons, and revealing purple draperies and
polished furniture, in the most pleasant radiance. It revealed, too, a
group near the mantelpiece: I had scarcely caught it, and scarcely become
aware of a cheerful mingling of voices, amongst which I seemed to
distinguish the tones of Adele, when the door closed.

I hastened to Mrs. Fairfax's room; there was a fire there too, but no
candle, and no Mrs. Fairfax. Instead, all alone, sitting upright on the
rug, and gazing with gravity at the blaze, I beheld a great black and
white long-haired dog, just like the Gytrash of the lane. It was so like
it that I went forward and said--"Pilot" and the thing got up and came to
me and snuffed me. I caressed him, and he wagged his great tail; but he
looked an eerie creature to be alone with, and I could not tell whence he
had come. I rang the bell, for I wanted a candle; and I wanted, too, to
get an account of this visitant. Leah entered.

"What dog is this? "

"He came with master. "

"With whom? "

"With master--Mr. Rochester--he is just arrived. "

"Indeed! and is Mrs. Fairfax with him? "

"Yes, and Miss Adele; they are in the dining-room, and John is gone for a
surgeon; for master has had an accident; his horse fell and his ankle is
sprained. "

"Did the horse fall in Hay Lane? "

"Yes, coming down-hill; it slipped on some ice. "

"Ah! Bring me a candle will you Leah? "

Leah brought it; she entered, followed by Mrs. Fairfax, who repeated the
news; adding that Mr. Carter the surgeon was come, and was now with Mr.
Rochester: then she hurried out to give orders about tea, and I went
upstairs to take off my things.




CHAPTER XIII


Mr. Rochester, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed early 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 piercing 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, &c. , 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--? "

"From Lowood school, in ---shire. "

"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.