Mr. Rochester, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed earlythat night; nor did he rise soon next morning. When he did comedown, it was to attend to business: his agent and some of histenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with him.

Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it would be in dailyrequisition as a reception-room for callers. A fire was lit in anapartment upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged itfor the future schoolroom. I discerned in the course of the morningthat Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent as achurch, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door, or aclang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed the hall, and newvoices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer worldwas flowing through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked itbetter.

Adele was not easy to teach that day; she could not apply: she keptrunning to the door and looking over the banisters to see if shecould get a glimpse of Mr. Rochester; then she coined pretexts to godownstairs, 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 (Ihad not before heard his prenomens), and to conjecture what presentshe had brought her: for it appears he had intimated the nightbefore, that when his luggage came from Millcote, there would befound amongst it a little box in whose contents she had an interest.

"Et cela doit signifier," said she, "qu'il y aura le dedans uncadeau 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 peupale. 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; theafternoon was wild and snowy, and we passed it in the schoolroom.At dark I allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to rundownstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from thecessation 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 togetherthickened the air, and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. I let downthe curtain and went back to the fireside.

In the clear embers I was tracing a view, not unlike a picture Iremembered to have seen of the castle of Heidelberg, on the Rhine,when Mrs. Fairfax came in, breaking up by her entrance the fierymosaic I had been piercing together, and scattering too some heavyunwelcome thoughts that were beginning to throng on my solitude.

"Mr. Rochester would be glad if you and your pupil would take teawith him in the drawing-room this evening," said she: "he has beenso 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 hadbetter 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, Irepaired to my room, and, with Mrs. Fairfax's aid, replaced my blackstuff dress by one of black silk; the best and the only additionalone I had, except one of light grey, which, in my Lowood notions ofthe toilette, I thought too fine to be worn, except on first-rateoccasions.

"You want a brooch," said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearlornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put iton, and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers, itwas rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr.Rochester's presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into thedining-room, and kept in her shade as we crossed that apartment;and, passing the arch, whose curtain was now dropped, entered theelegant recess beyond.

Two wax candles stood lighted on the table, and two on themantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, layPilot--Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr.Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking atAdele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew mytraveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead,made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. Irecognised his decisive nose, more remarkable for character thanbeauty; his full nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grimmouth, chin, and jaw--yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake.His shape, now divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised insquareness with his physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure inthe 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. Fairfaxand myself; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice us, forhe never lifted his head as we approached.

"Here is Miss Eyre, sir," said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way. Hebowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog andchild.

"Let Miss Eyre be seated," said he: and there was something in theforced stiff bow, in the impatient yet formal tone, which seemedfurther to express, "What the deuce is it to me whether Miss Eyre bethere or not? At this moment I am not disposed to accost her."

I sat down quite disembarrassed. A reception of finished politenesswould probably have confused me: I could not have returned orrepaid it by answering grace and elegance on my part; but harshcaprice laid me under no obligation; on the contrary, a decentquiescence, under the freak of manner, gave me the advantage.Besides, the eccentricity of the proceeding was piquant: I feltinterested 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 beamiable, and she began to talk. Kindly, as usual--and, as usual,rather trite--she condoled with him on the pressure of business hehad had all day; on the annoyance it must have been to him with thatpainful sprain: then she commended his patience and perseverance ingoing 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 proceededto arrange the cups, spoons, &c., with assiduous celerity. I andAdele went to the table; but the master did not leave his couch.

"Will you hand Mr. Rochester's cup?" said Mrs. Fairfax to me; "Adelemight 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 Eyredans 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 witheyes that I saw were dark, irate, and piercing.

"I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they aregenerally thought pleasant things."

"Generally thought? But what do YOU think?"

"I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you ananswer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it,has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing anopinion 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 thebush."

"Because I have less confidence in my deserts than Adele has: shecan prefer the claim of old acquaintance, and the right too ofcustom; for she says you have always been in the habit of giving herplaythings; 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 anacknowledgment."

"Oh, don't fall back on over-modesty! I have examined Adele, andfind you have taken great pains with her: she is not bright, shehas 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 isthe 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; whileAdele was leading me by the hand round the room, showing me thebeautiful books and ornaments on the consoles and chiffonnieres. Weobeyed, 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 thetime in such a place would have done up any constitution! No wonderyou have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where youhad got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane lastnight, I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mindto 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 yousat 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 damnedice on the causeway?"

I shook my head. "The men in green all forsook England a hundredyears ago," said I, speaking as seriously as he had done. "And noteven in Hay Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace ofthem. I don't think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, willever 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 havesome 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 andcareful 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 ofThornfield."

"Have you read much?"

"Only such books as came in my way; and they have not been numerousor very learned."

"You have lived the life of a nun: no doubt you are well drilled inreligious forms;--Brocklehurst, who I understand directs Lowood, isa parson, is he not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you girls probably worshipped him, as a convent full ofreligieuses 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 ourhair; and for economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, withwhich we could hardly sew."

"That was very false economy," remarked Mrs. Fairfax, who now againcaught 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 provisiondepartment, before the committee was appointed; and he bored us withlong lectures once a week, and with evening readings from books ofhis own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, which made usafraid 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 hardlyhave been able to guess your age. It is a point difficult to fixwhere the features and countenance are so much at variance as inyour 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--Imean, 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 forone new inmate.)--Go, then, into the library; take a candle withyou; 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, Isee; like any other English school-girl; perhaps rather better thansome, but not well."

I closed the piano and returned. Mr. Rochester continued--"Adeleshowed me some sketches this morning, which she said were yours. Idon't know whether they were entirely of your doing; probably amaster aided you?"

"No, indeed!" I interjected.

"Ah! that pricks pride. Well, fetch me your portfolio, if you canvouch for its contents being original; but don't pass your wordunless 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. Adeleand Mrs. Fairfax drew near to see the pictures.

"No crowding," said Mr. Rochester: "take the drawings from my handas I finish with them; but don't push your faces up to mine."

He deliberately scrutinised each sketch and painting. Three he laidaside; the others, when he had examined them, he swept from him.

"Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax," said he, and lookat them with Adele;--you" (glancing at me) "resume your seat, andanswer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by onehand: 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 hadno 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 themalternately.

While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are:and first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. Thesubjects had, indeed, risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them withthe spiritual eye, before I attempted to embody them, they werestriking; but my hand would not second my fancy, and in each case ithad wrought out but a pale portrait of the thing I had conceived.

These pictures were in water-colours. The first represented cloudslow and livid, rolling over a swollen sea: all the distance was ineclipse; so, too, was the foreground; or rather, the nearestbillows, for there was no land. One gleam of light lifted intorelief a half-submerged mast, on which sat a cormorant, dark andlarge, with wings flecked with foam; its beak held a gold braceletset with gems, that I had touched with as brilliant tints as mypalette could yield, and as glittering distinctness as my pencilcould impart. Sinking below the bird and mast, a drowned corpseglanced through the green water; a fair arm was the only limbclearly visible, whence the bracelet had been washed or torn.

The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of ahill, with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze. Beyondand above spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at twilight:rising into the sky was a woman's shape to the bust, portrayed intints as dusk and soft as I could combine. The dim forehead wascrowned with a star; the lineaments below were seen as through thesuffusion of vapour; the eyes shone dark and wild; the hair streamedshadowy, like a beamless cloud torn by storm or by electric travail.On the neck lay a pale reflection like moonlight; the same faintlustre touched the train of thin clouds from which rose and bowedthis vision of the Evening Star.

The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar wintersky: a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances, closeserried, along the horizon. Throwing these into distance, rose, inthe foreground, a head,--a colossal head, inclined towards theiceberg, and resting against it. Two thin hands, joined under theforehead, and supporting it, drew up before the lower features asable veil, a brow quite bloodless, white as bone, and an eyehollow and fixed, blank of meaning but for the glassiness ofdespair, alone were visible. Above the temples, amidst wreathedturban folds of black drapery, vague in its character andconsistency as cloud, gleamed a ring of white flame, gemmed withsparkles of a more lurid tinge. This pale crescent was "thelikeness of a kingly crown;" what it diademed was "the shape whichshape 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, inshort, was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known."

"That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, havebeen few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist'sdreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did yousit at them long each day?"

"I had nothing else to do, because it was the vacation, and I sat atthem from morning till noon, and from noon till night: the lengthof the midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply."

"And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardentlabours?"

"Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea andmy handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I wasquite powerless to realise."

"Not quite: you have secured the shadow of your thought; but nomore, probably. You had not enough of the artist's skill andscience to give it full being: yet the drawings are, for a school-girl, peculiar. As to the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes inthe Evening Star you must have seen in a dream. How could you makethem look so clear, and yet not at all brilliant? for the planetabove quells their rays. And what meaning is that in their solemndepth? And who taught you to paint wind. There is a high gale inthat sky, and on this hill-top. Where did you see Latmos? For thatis Latmos. There! put the drawings away!"

I had scarce tied the strings of the portfolio, when, looking at hiswatch, he said abruptly -

"It is nine o'clock: what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adelesit up so long? Take her to bed."

Adele went to kiss him before quitting the room: he endured thecaress, but scarcely seemed to relish it more than Pilot would havedone, nor so much.

"I wish you all good-night, now," said he, making a movement of thehand towards the door, in token that he was tired of our company,and wished to dismiss us. Mrs. Fairfax folded up her knitting: Itook my portfolio: we curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow inreturn, and so withdrew.

"You said Mr. Rochester was not strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax,"I observed, when I rejoined her in her room, after putting Adele tobed.

"Well, is he?"

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

"True: no doubt he may appear so to a stranger, but I am soaccustomed to his manner, I never think of it; and then, if he haspeculiarities of temper, allowance should be made."

"Why?"

"Partly because it is his nature--and we can none of us help ournature; and partly because he has painful thoughts, no doubt, toharass him, and make his spirits unequal."

"What about?"

"Family troubles, for one thing."

"But he has no family."

"Not now, but he has had--or, at least, relatives. He lost hiselder brother a few years since."

"His ELDER brother?"

"Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long inpossession of the property; only about nine years."

"Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brotheras to be still inconsolable for his loss?"

"Why, no--perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandingsbetween them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quite just to Mr.Edward; and perhaps he prejudiced his father against him. The oldgentleman was fond of money, and anxious to keep the family estatetogether. He did not like to diminish the property by division, andyet he was anxious that Mr. Edward should have wealth, too, to keepup the consequence of the name; and, soon after he was of age, somesteps were taken that were not quite fair, and made a great deal ofmischief. Old Mr. Rochester and Mr. Rowland combined to bring Mr.Edward into what he considered a painful position, for the sake ofmaking his fortune: what the precise nature of that position was Inever clearly knew, but his spirit could not brook what he had tosuffer in it. He is not very forgiving: he broke with his family,and now for many years he has led an unsettled kind of life. Idon't think he has ever been resident at Thornfield for a fortnighttogether, since the death of his brother without a will left himmaster of the estate; and, indeed, no wonder he shuns the oldplace."

"Why should he shun it?"

"Perhaps he thinks it gloomy."

The answer was evasive. I should have liked something clearer; butMrs. Fairfax either could not, or would not, give me more explicitinformation of the origin and nature of Mr. Rochester's trials. Sheaverred they were a mystery to herself, and that what she knew waschiefly from conjecture. It was evident, indeed, that she wished meto drop the subject, which I did accordingly.