The promise of a smooth career, which my first calm introduction toThornfield Hall seemed to pledge, was not belied on a longeracquaintance with the place and its inmates. Mrs. Fairfax turnedout to be what she appeared, a placid-tempered, kind-natured woman,of competent education and average intelligence. My pupil was alively child, who had been spoilt and indulged, and therefore wassometimes wayward; but as she was committed entirely to my care, andno injudicious interference from any quarter ever thwarted my plansfor her improvement, she soon forgot her little freaks, and becameobedient and teachable. She had no great talents, no marked traitsof character, no peculiar development of feeling or taste whichraised her one inch above the ordinary level of childhood; butneither had she any deficiency or vice which sunk her below it. Shemade reasonable progress, entertained for me a vivacious, thoughperhaps not very profound, affection; and by her simplicity, gayprattle, and efforts to please, inspired me, in return, with adegree of attachment sufficient to make us both content in eachother's society.

This, par parenthese, will be thought cool language by persons whoentertain solemn doctrines about the angelic nature of children, andthe duty of those charged with their education to conceive for theman idolatrous devotion: but I am not writing to flatter parentalegotism, to echo cant, or prop up humbug; I am merely telling thetruth. I felt a conscientious solicitude for Adele's welfare andprogress, and a quiet liking for her little self: just as Icherished towards Mrs. Fairfax a thankfulness for her kindness, anda pleasure in her society proportionate to the tranquil regard shehad for me, and the moderation of her mind and character.

Anybody may blame me who likes, when I add further, that, now andthen, when I took a walk by myself in the grounds; when I went downto the gates and looked through them along the road; or when, whileAdele played with her nurse, and Mrs. Fairfax made jellies in thestoreroom, I climbed the three staircases, raised the trap-door ofthe attic, and having reached the leads, looked out afar oversequestered field and hill, and along dim sky-line--that then Ilonged for a power of vision which might overpass that limit; whichmight reach the busy world, towns, regions full of life I had heardof but never seen--that then I desired more of practical experiencethan I possessed; more of intercourse with my kind, of acquaintancewith variety of character, than was here within my reach. I valuedwhat was good in Mrs. Fairfax, and what was good in Adele; but Ibelieved in the existence of other and more vivid kinds of goodness,and what I believed in I wished to behold.

Who blames me? Many, no doubt; and I shall be called discontented.I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitatedme to pain sometimes. Then my sole relief was to walk along thecorridor of the third storey, backwards and forwards, safe in thesilence and solitude of the spot, and allow my mind's eye to dwellon whatever bright visions rose before it--and, certainly, they weremany and glowing; to let my heart be heaved by the exultantmovement, which, while it swelled it in trouble, expanded it withlife; and, best of all, to open my inward ear to a tale that wasnever ended--a tale my imagination created, and narratedcontinuously; 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 withtranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if theycannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine,and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knowshow many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in themasses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be verycalm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercisefor their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as theirbrothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute astagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-mindedin their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought toconfine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, toplaying on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless tocondemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learnmore than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.

When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole's laugh: thesame peal, the same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first heard, hadthrilled me: I heard, too, her eccentric murmurs; stranger than herlaugh. There were days when she was quite silent; but there wereothers when I could not account for the sounds she made. SometimesI 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 plaintruth!) bearing a pot of porter. Her appearance always acted as adamper to the curiosity raised by her oral oddities: hard-featuredand staid, she had no point to which interest could attach. I madesome attempts to draw her into conversation, but she seemed a personof few words: a monosyllabic reply usually cut short every effortof that sort.

The other members of the household, viz., John and his wife, Leahthe housemaid, and Sophie the French nurse, were decent people; butin no respect remarkable; with Sophie I used to talk French, andsometimes I asked her questions about her native country; but shewas not of a descriptive or narrative turn, and generally gave suchvapid and confused answers as were calculated rather to check thanencourage 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 mehow precious occasional holidays had been to me in my own childhood,I accorded it, deeming that I did well in showing pliability on thepoint. It was a fine, calm day, though very cold; I was tired ofsitting still in the library through a whole long morning: Mrs.Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting to be posted, soI put on my bonnet and cloak and volunteered to carry it to Hay; thedistance, 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 Iusually 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 akiss I set out.

The ground was hard, the air was still, my road was lonely; I walkedfast till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analysethe species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation.It was three o'clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under thebelfry: the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, inthe low-gliding and pale-beaming sun. I was a mile from Thornfield,in a lane noted for wild roses in summer, for nuts and blackberriesin autumn, and even now possessing a few coral treasures in hips andhaws, but whose best winter delight lay in its utter solitude andleafless repose. If a breath of air stirred, it made no sound here;for there was not a holly, not an evergreen to rustle, and thestripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as the white, wornstones which causewayed the middle of the path. Far and wide, oneach side, there were only fields, where no cattle now browsed; andthe 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 themiddle, I sat down on a stile which led thence into a field.Gathering my mantle about me, and sheltering my hands in my muff, Idid not feel the cold, though it froze keenly; as was attested by asheet of ice covering the causeway, where a little brooklet, nowcongealed, had overflowed after a rapid thaw some days since. Frommy seat I could look down on Thornfield: the grey and battlementedhall was the principal object in the vale below me; its woods anddark rookery rose against the west. I lingered till the sun wentdown amongst the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them. Ithen 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 lostin trees, sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet amile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thinmurmurs of life. My ear, too, felt the flow of currents; in whatdales and depths I could not tell: but there were many hills beyondHay, and doubtless many becks threading their passes. That eveningcalm betrayed alike the tinkle of the nearest streams, the sough ofthe most remote.

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

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

It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to thetramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by thehazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour madehim a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form ofBessie's Gytrash--a lion-like creature with long hair and a hugehead: it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to lookup, with strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expectedit would. The horse followed,--a tall steed, and on its back arider. The man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothingever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins, to mynotions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts,could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human form. NoGytrash was this,--only a traveller taking the short cut toMillcote. He passed, and I went on; a few steps, and I turned: asliding sound and an exclamation of "What the deuce is to do now?"and a clattering tumble, arrested my attention. Man and horse weredown; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed thecauseway. The dog came bounding back, and seeing his master in apredicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the eveninghills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to hismagnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran upto me; it was all he could do,--there was no other help at hand tosummon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller, by thistime struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were sovigorous, I thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him thequestion -

"Are you injured, sir?"

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

"Can I do anything?" I asked again.

"You must just stand on one side," he answered as he rose, first tohis knees, and then to his feet. I did; whereupon began a heaving,stamping, clattering process, accompanied by a barking and bayingwhich removed me effectually some yards' distance; but I would notbe driven quite away till I saw the event. This was finallyfortunate; the horse was re-established, and the dog was silencedwith a "Down, Pilot!" The traveller now, stooping, felt his footand leg, as if trying whether they were sound; apparently somethingailed them, for he halted to the stile whence I had just risen, andsat 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 eitherfrom 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 aninvoluntary "Ugh!"

Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxingbright: I could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in ariding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were notapparent, but I traced the general points of middle height andconsiderable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with sternfeatures and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows lookedireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reachedmiddle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him,and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-lookingyoung gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioninghim against his will, and offering my services unasked. I hadhardly 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 inmasculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neitherhad nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should haveshunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that isbright but antipathetic.

If even this stranger had smiled and been good-humoured to me when Iaddressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily andwith thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocationto 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 thissolitary 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 inmy direction before.

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

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

"You live just below--do you mean at that house with thebattlements?" pointing to Thornfield Hall, on which the moon cast ahoary 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--" Hestopped, ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quitesimple: a black merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither ofthem half fine enough for a lady's-maid. He seemed puzzled todecide what I was; I helped him.

"I am the governess."

"Ah, the governess!" he repeated; "deuce take me, if I had notforgotten! The governess!" and again my raiment underwent scrutiny.In two minutes he rose from the stile: his face expressed pain whenhe tried to move.

"I cannot commission you to fetch help," he said; "but you may helpme 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 arenot afraid?"

I should have been afraid to touch a horse when alone, but when toldto 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 itshead; I made effort on effort, though in vain: meantime, I wasmortally afraid of its trampling fore-feet. The traveller waitedand watched for some time, and at last he laughed.

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

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

"Now," said he, releasing his under lip from a hard bite, "just handme 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 asfast as you can."

A touch of a spurred heel made his horse first start and rear, andthen 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 wasgone for me: it WAS an incident of no moment, no romance, nointerest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of amonotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had givenit: I was pleased to have done something; trivial, transitorythough the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary ofan existence all passive. The new face, too, was like a new pictureintroduced to the gallery of memory; and it was dissimilar to allthe others hanging there: firstly, because it was masculine; and,secondly, because it was dark, strong, and stern. I had it stillbefore 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. WhenI 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 willowbefore me, rising up still and straight to meet the moonbeams; Iheard only the faintest waft of wind roaming fitful among the treesround Thornfield, a mile distant; and when I glanced down in thedirection of the murmur, my eye, traversing the hall-front, caught alight kindling in a window: it reminded me that I was late, and Ihurried on.

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

I lingered at the gates; I lingered on the lawn; I paced backwardsand forwards on the pavement; the shutters of the glass door wereclosed; I could not see into the interior; and both my eyes andspirit seemed drawn from the gloomy house--from the grey-hollowfilled with rayless cells, as it appeared to me--to that skyexpanded before me,--a blue sea absolved from taint of cloud; themoon ascending it in solemn march; her orb seeming to look up as sheleft the hill-tops, from behind which she had come, far and fartherbelow her, and aspired to the zenith, midnight dark in itsfathomless depth and measureless distance; and for those tremblingstars that followed her course; they made my heart tremble, my veinsglow when I viewed them. Little things recall us to earth; theclock struck in the hall; that sufficed; I turned from moon andstars, opened a side-door, and went in.

The hall was not dark, nor yet was it lit, only by the high-hungbronze lamp; a warm glow suffused both it and the lower steps of theoak staircase. This ruddy shine issued from the great dining-room,whose two-leaved door stood open, and showed a genial fire in thegrate, glancing on marble hearth and brass fire-irons, and revealingpurple draperies and polished furniture, in the most pleasantradiance. It revealed, too, a group near the mantelpiece: I hadscarcely caught it, and scarcely become aware of a cheerful minglingof 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, butno candle, and no Mrs. Fairfax. Instead, all alone, sitting uprighton the rug, and gazing with gravity at the blaze, I beheld a greatblack 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 thething got up and came to me and snuffed me. I caressed him, and hewagged his great tail; but he looked an eerie creature to be alonewith, and I could not tell whence he had come. I rang the bell, forI wanted a candle; and I wanted, too, to get an account of thisvisitant. 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 gonefor a surgeon; for master has had an accident; his horse fell andhis 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 repeatedthe news; adding that Mr. Carter the surgeon was come, and was nowwith Mr. Rochester: then she hurried out to give orders about tea,and I went upstairs to take off my things.