Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Deluxe Edition Chapter 17.

A week passed, and no news arrived of Mr. Rochester: ten days,
and still he did not come. Mrs. Fairfax said she should not be
surprised if he were to go straight from the Leas to London, and
thence to the Continent, and not show his face again at Thornfield
for a year to come; he had not unfrequently quitted it in a manner
quite as abrupt and unexpected. When I heard this, I was beginning
to feel a strange chill and failing at the heart. I was actually
permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment;
but rallying my wits, and recollecting my principles, I at once
called my sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got over
the temporary blunder how I cleared up the mistake of supposing
Mr. Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take
a vital interest.

Not that I humbled myself by a slavish notion of inferiority: on the
contrary, I just said, "You have nothing to do with the master of
Thornfield, further than to receive the salary he gives you for
teaching his protegee, and to be grateful for such respectful and
kind treatment as, if you do your duty, you have a right to expect
at his hands. Be sure that is the only tie he seriously acknowledges
between you and him; so don't make him the object of your fine
feelings, your raptures, agonies, and so forth. He is not of your
order: keep to your caste, and be too self respecting to lavish the
love of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift
is not wanted and would be despised."

I went on with my day's business tranquilly; but ever and anon
vague suggestions kept wandering across my brain of reasons why I
should quit Thornfield; and I kept involuntarily framing advertisements
and pondering conjectures about new situations: these thoughts I
did not think to check; they might germinate and bear fruit if they
could. Mr. Rochester had been absent upwards of a fortnight, when the
post brought Mrs. Fairfax a letter. "It is from the master," said she,
as she looked at the direction. "Now I suppose we shall know whether
we are to expect his return or not."

And while she broke the seal and perused the document, I went on
taking my coffee (we were at breakfast): it was hot, and I attributed
to that circumstance a fiery glow which suddenly rose to my face.
Why my hand shook, and why I involuntarily spilt half the contents
of my cup into my saucer, I did not choose to consider.
"Well, I sometimes think we are too quiet; but we run a chance of
being busy enough now: for a little while at least," said Mrs.
Fairfax, still holding the note before her spectacles.

Ere I permitted myself to request an explanation, I tied the string
of Adele's pinafore, which happened to be loose: having helped her
also to another bun and refilled her mug with milk, I said, nonchalantly
"Mr. Rochester is not likely to return soon, I suppose?"
"Indeed he is in three days, he says: that will be next Thursday;
and not alone either. I don't know how many of the fine people
at the Leas are coming with him: he sends directions for all the
best bedrooms to be prepared; and the library and drawing rooms are
to be cleaned out; I am to get more kitchen hands from the George
Inn, at Millcote, and from wherever else I can; and the ladies will
bring their maids and the gentlemen their valets: so we shall have
a full house of it." And Mrs. Fairfax swallowed her breakfast and
hastened away to commence operations.

The three days were, as she had foretold, busy enough. I had thought
all the rooms at Thornfield beautifully clean and well arranged;
but it appears I was mistaken. Three women were got to help; and
such scrubbing, such brushing, such washing of paint and beating of
carpets, such taking down and putting up of pictures, such polishing
of mirrors and lustres, such lighting of fires in bedrooms, such
airing of sheets and feather beds on hearths, I never beheld,
either before or since. Adele ran quite wild in the midst of it:
the preparations for company and the prospect of their arrival,
seemed to throw her into ecstasies.

She would have Sophie to look over all her "toilettes," as she called
frocks; to furbish up any that were "passees," and to air and arrange
the new. For herself, she did nothing but caper about in the front
chambers, jump on and off the bedsteads, and lie on the mattresses
and piled up bolsters and pillows before the enormous fires roaring
in the chimneys. From school duties she was exonerated: Mrs. Fairfax
had pressed me into her service, and I was all day in the storeroom,
helping (or hindering) her and the cook; learning to make custards and
cheese cakes and French pastry, to truss game and garnish desert dishes.

The party were expected to arrive on Thursday afternoon, in time
for dinner at six. During the intervening period I had no time to
nurse chimeras; and I believe I was as active and gay as anybody
Adele excepted. Still, now and then, I received a damping check
to my cheerfulness; and was, in spite of myself, thrown back on
the region of doubts and portents, and dark conjectures. This was
when I chanced to see the third storey staircase door (which of
late had always been kept locked) open slowly, and give passage to
the form of Grace Poole, in prim cap, white apron, and handkerchief; when
I watched her glide along the gallery, her quiet tread muffled in
a list slipper; when I saw her look into the bustling, topsy turvy
bedrooms, just say a word, perhaps, to the charwoman about the
proper way to polish a grate, or clean a marble mantelpiece, or
take stains from papered walls, and then pass on.

She would thus descend to the kitchen once a day, eat her dinner,
smoke a moderate pipe on the hearth, and go back, carrying her
pot of porter with her, for her private solace, in her own gloomy,
upper haunt. Only one hour in the twenty four did she pass with
her fellow servants below; all the rest of her time was spent in
some low ceiled, oaken chamber of the second storey: there she
sat and sewed and probably laughed drearily to herself, as
companionless as a prisoner in his dungeon.

The strangest thing of all was, that not a soul in the house,
except me, noticed her habits, or seemed to marvel at them: no one
discussed her position or employment; no one pitied her solitude
or isolation. I once, indeed, overheard part of a dialogue between
Leah and one of the charwomen, of which Grace formed the subject.
Leah had been saying something I had not caught, and the
charwoman remarked, "She gets good wages, I guess?"

"Yes," said Leah; "I wish I had as good; not that mine are to
complain of, there's no stinginess at Thornfield; but they're
not one fifth of the sum Mrs. Poole receives. And she is laying
by: she goes every quarter to the bank at Millcote. I should
not wonder but she has saved enough to keep her independent if she
liked to leave; but I suppose she's got used to the place; and then
she's not forty yet, and strong and able for anything. It is too
soon for her to give up business."

"She is a good hand, I daresay," said the charwoman.
"Ah! she understands what she has to do, nobody better,"
rejoined Leah significantly; "and it is not every one could fill
her shoes not for all the money she gets." "That it is not!" was
the reply. "I wonder whether the master "

The charwoman was going on; but here Leah turned and
perceived me, and she instantly gave her companion a nudge.
"Doesn't she know?" I heard the woman whisper.
Leah shook her head, and the conversation was of course dropped.
All I had gathered from it amounted to this, that there was a
mystery at Thornfield; and that from participation in that mystery
I was purposely excluded.

Thursday came: all work had been completed the previous evening;
carpets were laid down, bed hangings festooned, radiant white
counterpanes spread, toilet tables arranged, furniture rubbed,
flowers piled in vases: both chambers and saloons looked as fresh
and bright as hands could make them. The hall, too, was scoured;
and the great carved clock, as well as the steps and banisters of
the staircase, were polished to the brightness of glass; in the
dining room, the sideboard flashed resplendent with plate; in the
drawing room and boudoir, vases of exotics bloomed on all sides.

Afternoon arrived: Mrs. Fairfax assumed her best black satin gown,
her gloves, and her gold watch; for it was her part to receive the
company, to conduct the ladies to their rooms, etc. Adele, too,
would be dressed: though I thought she had little chance of being
introduced to the party that day at least. However, to please her,
I allowed Sophie to apparel her in one of her short, full muslin
frocks. For myself, I had no need to make any change; I should not
be called upon to quit my sanctum of the schoolroom; for a sanctum
it was now become to me, "a very pleasant refuge in time of trouble."

It had been a mild, serene spring day one of those days which,
towards the end of March or the beginning of April, rise shining
over the earth as heralds of summer. It was drawing to an end now;
but the evening was even warm, and I sat at work in the schoolroom
with the window open.

"It gets late," said Mrs. Fairfax, entering in rustling state.
"I am glad I ordered dinner an hour after the time Mr. Rochester
mentioned; for it is past six now. I have sent John down to the
gates to see if there is anything on the road: one can see a long
way from thence in the direction of Millcote." She went to the
window. "Here he is!" said she. "Well, John" (leaning out), "any news?"
"They're coming, ma'am," was the answer. "They'll be here in ten
minutes." Adele flew to the window. I followed, taking care to stand on
one side, so that, screened by the curtain, I could see without being seen.

The ten minutes John had given seemed very long, but at last wheels
were heard; four equestrians galloped up the drive, and after them
came two open carriages. Fluttering veils and waving plumes filled
the vehicles; two of the cavaliers were young, dashing looking
gentlemen; the third was Mr. Rochester, on his black horse, Mesrour,
Pilot bounding before him; at his side rode a lady, and he and she
were the first of the party. Her purple riding habit almost swept
the ground, her veil streamed long on the breeze; mingling with
its transparent folds, and gleaming through them, shone rich raven
ringlets. "Miss Ingram!" exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax, and away she hurried
to her post below.

The cavalcade, following the sweep of the drive, quickly turned the
angle of the house, and I lost sight of it. Adele now petitioned
to go down; but I took her on my knee, and gave her to understand
that she must not on any account think of venturing in sight of
the ladies, either now or at any other time, unless expressly sent
for: that Mr. Rochester would be very angry, etc. "Some natural
tears she shed" on being told this; but as I began to look very
grave, she consented at last to wipe them.

A joyous stir was now audible in the hall: gentlemen's deep
tones and ladies' silvery accents blent harmoniously together, and
distinguishable above all, though not loud, was the sonorous voice
of the master of Thornfield Hall, welcoming his fair and gallant
guests under its roof. Then light steps ascended the stairs; and
there was a tripping through the gallery, and soft cheerful laughs,
and opening and closing doors, and, for a time, a hush.

"Elles changent de toilettes," said Adele; who, listening attentively,
had followed every movement; and she sighed. "Chez maman," said she,
"quand il y avait du monde, je le suivais partout, au salon et e leurs
chambres; souvent je regardais les femmes de chambre coiffer et habiller
les dames, et c'etait si amusant: comme cela on apprend."
"Don't you feel hungry, Adele?" "Mais oui, mademoiselle: voile cinq
ou six heures que nous n'avons pas mange." "Well now, while the ladies
are in their rooms, I will venture down and get you something to eat."

And issuing from my asylum with precaution, I sought a back stairs
which conducted directly to the kitchen. All in that region was
fire and commotion; the soup and fish were in the last stage of
projection, and the cook hung over her crucibles in a frame of mind
and body threatening spontaneous combustion. In the servants' hall
two coachmen and three gentlemen's gentlemen stood or sat round the
fire; the abigails, I suppose, were upstairs with their mistresses;
the new servants, that had been hired from Millcote, were bustling
about everywhere. Threading this chaos, I at last reached the
larder; there I took possession of a cold chicken, a roll of bread,
some tarts, a plate or two and a knife and fork: with this booty
I made a hasty retreat. I had regained the gallery, and was just
shutting the back door behind me, when an accelerated hum warned me
that the ladies were about to issue from their chambers. I could
not proceed to the schoolroom without passing some of their doors,
and running the risk of being surprised with my cargo of victualage;
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 chambers gave up their fair tenants one after another:
each came out gaily and airily, with dress that gleamed lustrous
through the dusk. For a moment they stood grouped together at
the other extremity of the gallery, conversing in a key of sweet
subdued vivacity: they then descended the staircase almost as
noiselessly as a bright mist rolls down a hill. Their collective
appearance had left on me an impression of high born elegance, such
as I had never before received.

I found Adele peeping through the schoolroom door, which she held
ajar. "What beautiful ladies!" cried she in English. "Oh, I wish
I might go to them! Do you think Mr. Rochester will send for us
by and bye, after dinner?" "No, indeed, I don't; Mr. Rochester has
something else to think about. Never mind the ladies to night;
perhaps you will see them tomorrow: here is your dinner."

She was really hungry, so the chicken and tarts served to divert
her attention for a time. It was well I secured this forage, or
both she, I, and Sophie, to whom I conveyed a share of our repast,
would have run a chance of getting no dinner at all: every one
downstairs was too much engaged to think of us. The dessert was not
carried out till after nine and at ten footmen were still running
to and fro with trays and coffee cups. I allowed Adele to sit up
much later than usual; for she declared she could not possibly go
to sleep while the doors kept opening and shutting below, and people
bustling about. Besides, she added, a message might possibly come
from Mr. Rochester when she was undressed; "et alors quel dommage!"

I told her stories as long as she would listen to them; and then
for a change I took her out into the gallery. The hall lamp was
now lit, and it amused her to look over the balustrade and watch
the servants passing backwards and forwards. When the evening
was far advanced, a sound of music issued from the drawing room,
whither the piano had been removed; Adele and I sat down on the
top step of the stairs to listen. Presently a voice blent with
the rich tones of the instrument; it was a lady who sang, and very
sweet her notes were. The solo over, a duet followed, and then a
glee: a joyous conversational murmur filled up the intervals. I
listened long: suddenly I discovered that my ear was wholly intent
on analysing the mingled sounds, and trying to discriminate amidst
the confusion of accents those of Mr. Rochester; and when it caught
them, which it soon did, it found a further task in framing the
tones, rendered by distance inarticulate, into words.

The clock struck eleven. I looked at Adele, whose head leant
against my shoulder; her eyes were waxing heavy, so I took her up
in my arms and carried her off to bed. It was near one before the
gentlemen and ladies sought their chambers.

The next day was as fine as its predecessor: it was devoted by
the party to an excursion to some site in the neighbourhood. They
set out early in the forenoon, some on horseback, the rest in
carriages; I witnessed both the departure and the return. Miss
Ingram, as before, was the only lady equestrian; and, as before,
Mr. Rochester galloped at her side; the two rode a little apart from
the rest. I pointed out this circumstance to Mrs. Fairfax,
who was standing at the window with me

"You said it was not likely they should think of being married,"
said I, "but you see Mr. Rochester evidently prefers her to any of
the other ladies." "Yes, I daresay: no doubt he admires her."
"And she him," I added; "look how she leans her head towards him
as if she were conversing confidentially; I wish I could see her
face; I have never had a glimpse of it yet."

"You will see her this evening," answered Mrs. Fairfax. "I happened
to remark to Mr. Rochester how much Adele wished to be introduced
to the ladies, and he said: 'Oh! let her come into the drawing room
after dinner; and request Miss Eyre to accompany her.'" "Yes; he said
that from mere politeness: I need not go, I am sure," I answered.

"Well, I observed to him that as you were unused to company, I did
not think you would like appearing before so gay a party all
strangers; and he replied, in his quick way 'Nonsense! If she
objects, tell her it is my particular wish; and if she resists,
say I shall come and fetch her in case of contumacy.'"
"I will not give him that trouble," I answered. "I will go, if
no better may be; but I don't like it. Shall you be there, Mrs.
Fairfax?"

"No; I pleaded off, and he admitted my plea. I'll tell you how to
manage so as to avoid the embarrassment of making a formal entrance,
which is the most disagreeable part of the business. You must go
into the drawing room while it is empty, before the ladies leave
the dinner table; choose your seat in any quiet nook you like; you
need not stay long after the gentlemen come in, unless you please:
just let Mr. Rochester see you are there and then slip away
nobody will notice you."

"Will these people remain long, do you think?"
"Perhaps two or three weeks, certainly not more. After the
Easter recess, Sir George Lynn, who was lately elected member for
Millcote, will have to go up to town and take his seat; I daresay
Mr. Rochester will accompany him: it surprises me that he has
already made so protracted a stay at Thornfield."

It was with some trepidation that I perceived the hour approach
when I was to repair with my charge to the drawing room. Adele
had been in a state of ecstasy all day, after hearing she was to be
presented to the ladies in the evening; and it was not till Sophie
commenced the operation of dressing her that she sobered down. Then
the importance of the process quickly steadied her, and by the time
she had her curls arranged in well smoothed, drooping clusters, her
pink satin frock put on, her long sash tied, and her lace mittens
adjusted, she looked as grave as any judge. No need to warn her not
to disarrange her attire: when she was dressed, she sat demurely
down in her little chair, taking care previously to lift up the
satin skirt for fear she should crease it, and assured me she would
not stir thence till I was ready. This I quickly was: my best
dress (the silver grey one, purchased for Miss Temple's wedding,
and never worn since) was soon put on; my hair was soon smoothed;
my sole ornament, the pearl brooch, soon assumed. We descended.

Fortunately there was another entrance to the drawing room than
that through the saloon where they were all seated at dinner. We
found the apartment vacant; a large fire burning silently on the
marble hearth, and wax candles shining in bright solitude, amid the
exquisite flowers with which the tables were adorned. The crimson
curtain hung before the arch: slight as was the separation
this drapery formed from the party in the adjoining saloon, they
spoke in so low a key that nothing of their conversation could be
distinguished beyond a soothing murmur.

Adele, who appeared to be still under the influence of a most
solemnising impression, sat down, without a word, on the footstool I
pointed out to her. I retired to a window seat, and taking a book
from a table near, endeavoured to read. Adele brought her stool
to my feet; ere long she touched my knee. "What is it, Adele?"

"Est ce que je ne puis pas prendrie une seule de ces fleurs
magnifiques, mademoiselle? Seulement pour completer ma toilette."
"You think too much of your 'toilette,' Adele: but you may have
a flower." And I took a rose from a vase and fastened it in her
sash. She sighed a sigh of ineffable satisfaction, as if her cup
of happiness were now full. I turned my face away to conceal a
smile I could not suppress: there was something ludicrous as well
as painful in the little Parisienne's earnest and innate devotion
to matters of dress.

A soft sound of rising now became audible; the curtain was swept
back from the arch; through it appeared the dining room, with its
lit lustre pouring down light on the silver and glass of a magnificent
dessert service covering a long table; a band of ladies stood in
the opening; they entered, and the curtain fell behind them.

There were but eight; yet, somehow, as they flocked in, they gave
the impression of a much larger number. Some of them were very
tall; many were dressed in white; and all had a sweeping amplitude
of array that seemed to magnify their persons as a mist magnifies
the moon. I rose and curtseyed to them: one or two bent their
heads in return, the others only stared at me.

They dispersed about the room, reminding me, by the lightness and
buoyancy of their movements, of a flock of white plumy birds. Some
of them threw themselves in half reclining positions on the sofas
and ottomans: some bent over the tables and examined the flowers
and books: the rest gathered in a group round the fire: all
talked in a low but clear tone which seemed habitual to them. I
knew their names afterwards, and may as well mention them now.

First, there was Mrs. Eshton and two of her daughters. She had
evidently been a handsome woman, and was well preserved still.
Of her daughters, the eldest, Amy, was rather little: naive,
and child like in face and manner, and piquant in form; her white
muslin dress and blue sash became her well. The second, Louisa,
was taller and more elegant in figure; with a very pretty face,
of that order the French term minois chiffone: both sisters were
fair as lilies.

Lady Lynn was a large and stout personage of about forty, very erect,
very haughty looking, richly dressed in a satin robe of changeful
sheen: her dark hair shone glossily under the shade of an azure
plume, and within the circlet of a band of gems.
Mrs. Colonel Dent was less showy; but, I thought, more lady like.
She had a slight figure, a pale, gentle face, and fair hair. Her
black satin dress, her scarf of rich foreign lace, and her pearl
ornaments, pleased me better than the rainbow radiance of the titled
dame.

But the three most distinguished partly, perhaps, because the
tallest figures of the band were the Dowager Lady Ingram and her
daughters, Blanche and Mary. They were all three of the loftiest
stature of women. The Dowager might be between forty and fifty:
her shape was still fine; her hair (by candle light at least) still
black; her teeth, too, were still apparently perfect. Most people
would have termed her a splendid woman of her age: and so she was,
no doubt, physically speaking; but then there was an expression of
almost insupportable haughtiness in her bearing and countenance.
She had Roman features and a double chin, disappearing into a throat
like a pillar: these features appeared to me not only inflated and
darkened, but even furrowed with pride; and the chin was sustained
by the same principle, in a position of almost preternatural
erectness. She had, likewise, a fierce and a hard eye: it reminded
me of Mrs. Reed's; she mouthed her words in speaking; her voice
was deep, its inflections very pompous, very dogmatical, very
intolerable, in short. A crimson velvet robe, and a shawl turban
of some gold wrought Indian fabric, invested her (I suppose she
thought) with a truly imperial dignity.

Blanche and Mary were of equal stature, straight and tall as
poplars. Mary was too slim for her height, but Blanche was moulded
like a Dian. I regarded her, of course, with special interest.
First, I wished to see whether her appearance accorded with
Mrs. Fairfax's description; secondly, whether it at all resembled
the fancy miniature 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 person went, she answered point for point, both to my
picture and Mrs. Fairfax's description. The noble bust, the sloping
shoulders, the graceful neck, the dark eyes and black ringlets
were all there; but her face? Her face was like her mother's;
a youthful unfurrowed likeness: the same low brow, the same high
features, the same pride. It was not, however, so saturnine a
pride! she laughed continually; her laugh was satirical, and so
was the habitual expression of her arched and haughty lip.

Genius is said to be self conscious. I cannot tell whether Miss
Ingram was a genius, but she was self conscious remarkably self
conscious indeed. She entered into a discourse on botany with the
gentle Mrs. Dent. It seemed Mrs. Dent had not studied that science:
though, as she said, she liked flowers, "especially wild ones;"
Miss Ingram had, and she ran over its vocabulary with an air. I
presently perceived she was (what is vernacularly termed) TRAILING
Mrs. Dent; that is, playing on her ignorance her TRAIL might be
clever, but it was decidedly not good natured. She played: her
execution was brilliant; she sang: her voice was fine; she talked
French apart to her mamma; and she talked it well, with fluency
and with a good accent.

Mary had a milder and more open countenance than Blanche; softer
features too, and a skin some shades fairer (Miss Ingram was dark
as a Spaniard) but Mary was deficient in life: her face lacked
expression, her eye lustre; she had nothing to say, and having once
taken her seat, remained fixed like a statue in its niche. The
sisters were both attired in spotless white.

And did I now think Miss Ingram such a choice as Mr. Rochester
would be likely to make? I could not tell I did not know his
taste in female beauty. If he liked the majestic, she was the
very type of majesty: then she was accomplished, sprightly. Most
gentlemen would admire her, I thought; and that he DID admire her,
I already seemed to have obtained proof: to remove the last shade
of doubt, it remained but to see them together.

You are not to suppose, reader, that Adele has all this time been
sitting motionless on the stool at my feet: no; when the ladies
entered, she rose, advanced to meet them, made a stately
reverence, and said with gravity, "Bon jour, mesdames."
And Miss Ingram had looked down at her with a mocking air, and
exclaimed, "Oh, what a little puppet!"Lady Lynn had remarked, "It is
Mr. Rochester's ward, I suppose the little French girl he was speaking of."

Mrs. Dent had kindly taken her hand, and given her a kiss.
Amy and Louisa Eshton had cried out simultaneously "What a love
of a child!"And then they had called her to a sofa, where she now
sat, ensconced between them, chattering alternately in French and
broken English; absorbing not only the young ladies' attention, but that
of Mrs. Eshton and Lady Lynn, and getting spoilt to her heart's content.

At last coffee is brought in, and the gentlemen are summoned. I
sit in the shade if any shade there be in this brilliantly lit
apartment; the window curtain half hides me. Again the arch yawns;
they come. The collective appearance of the gentlemen, like that
of the ladies, is very imposing: they are all costumed in black;
most of them are tall, some young. Henry and Frederick Lynn are
very dashing sparks indeed; and Colonel Dent is a fine soldierly
man. Mr. Eshton, the magistrate of the district, is gentleman like:
his hair is quite white, his eyebrows and whiskers still dark,
which gives him something of the appearance of a "pere noble de
theatre." lord Ingram, like his sisters, is very tall; like them,
also, he is handsome; but he shares Mary's apathetic and listless
look: he seems to have more length of limb than vivacity of blood
or vigour of brain. And where is Mr. Rochester?

He comes in last: I am not looking at the arch, yet I see him
enter. I try to concentrate my attention on those netting needles,
on the meshes of the purse I am forming I wish to think only
of the work I have in my hands, to see only the silver beads and
silk threads that lie in my lap; whereas, I distinctly behold his
figure, and I inevitably recall the moment when I last saw it; just
after I had rendered him, what he deemed, an essential service, and
he, holding my hand, and looking down on my face, surveyed me with
eyes that revealed a heart full and eager to overflow; in whose
emotions I had a part. How near had I approached him at that moment!
What had occurred since, calculated to change his and my relative
positions? Yet now, how distant, how far estranged we were! So
far estranged, that I did not expect him to come and speak to me.
I did not wonder, when, without looking at me, he took a seat at
the other side of the room, and began conversing with some of the
ladies.

No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and
that I might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn
involuntarily to his face; I could not keep their lids under control:
they would rise, and the irids would fix on him. 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 man might feel who knows the well to which he has
crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.

Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gazer." My
master's colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and
jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth, all
energy, decision, will, were not beautiful, according to rule;
but they were more than beautiful to me; they were full of an interest,
an influence that quite mastered me, that took my feelings from
my own power and fettered them in his. I had not intended to love
him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul
the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view
of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and strong! He made me
love him without looking at me.

I compared him with his guests. What was the gallant grace of the
Lynns, the languid elegance of lord Ingram, even the military
distinction of Colonel Dent, contrasted with his look of native
pith and genuine power? I had no sympathy in their appearance,
their expression: yet I could imagine that most observers would
call them attractive, handsome, imposing; while they would pronounce
Mr. Rochester at once harsh featured and melancholy looking. I
saw them smile, laugh it was nothing; the light of the candles
had as much soul in it as their smile; the tinkle of the bell as
much significance as their laugh. I saw Mr. Rochester smile: his
stern features softened; his eye grew both brilliant and gentle,
its ray both searching and sweet. He was talking, at the moment,
to Louisa and Amy Eshton. I wondered to see them receive with
calm that look which seemed to me so penetrating: I expected their
eyes to fall, their colour to rise under it; yet I was glad when I
found they were in no sense moved. "He is not to them what he is
to me," I thought: "he is not of their kind. I believe he is of
mine; I am sure he is I feel akin to him I understand the
language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth
sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my
blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.

Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but
to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of
him in any other light than as a paymaster? Blasphemy against
nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively
round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother
hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when
I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to
influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain
tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat
continually that we are for ever sundered: and yet, while I
breathe and think, I must love him."

Coffee is handed. The ladies, since the gentlemen entered, have
become lively as larks; conversation waxes brisk and merry. Colonel
Dent and Mr. Eshton argue on politics; their wives listen. The two
proud dowagers, Lady Lynn and Lady Ingram, confabulate together.
Sir George whom, by the bye, I have forgotten to describe, a
very big, and very fresh looking country gentleman, stands before
their sofa, coffee cup in hand, and occasionally puts in a word.
Mr. Frederick Lynn has taken a seat beside Mary Ingram, and is
showing her the engravings of a splendid volume: she looks, smiles
now and then, but apparently says little.

The tall and phlegmatic lord Ingram leans with folded arms on
the chair back of the little and lively Amy Eshton; she glances
up at him, and chatters like a wren: she likes him better than
she does Mr. Rochester. Henry Lynn has taken possession of an
ottoman at the feet of Louisa: Adele shares it with him: he is
trying to talk French with her, and Louisa laughs at his blunders.
With whom will Blanche Ingram pair? She is standing alone at
the table, bending gracefully over an album. She seems waiting to be
sought; but she will not wait too long: she herself selects a mate.

Mr. Rochester, having quitted the Eshtons, stands on the hearth
as solitary as she stands by the table: she confronts him, taking
her station on the opposite side of the mantelpiece. "Mr. Rochester,
I thought you were not fond of children?" "Nor am I." "Then,
what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that?"
(pointing to Adele). "Where did you pick her up?" "I did not pick her
up; she was left on my hands." "You should have sent her to school."
"I could not afford it: schools are so dear."

"Why, I suppose you have a governess for her: I saw a person with
her just now is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind
the window curtain. You pay her, of course; I should think it
quite as expensive, more so; for you have them both to keep in
addition." I feared or should I say, hoped? the allusion to me would
make Mr. Rochester glance my way; and I involuntarily shrank
farther into the shade: but he never turned his eyes.

"I have not considered the subject," said he indifferently, looking
straight before him. "No, you men never do consider economy and
common sense. You should hear mama on the chapter of governesses:
Mary and I have had, I should think, a dozen at least in our day;
half of them detestable and the rest ridiculous, and all incubi
were they not, mama?" "Did you speak, my own?"

The young lady thus claimed as the dowager's special property,
reiterated her question with an explanation.
"My dearest, don't mention governesses; the word makes me nervous.
I have suffered a martyrdom from their incompetency and caprice.
I thank Heaven I have now done with them!"
Mrs. Dent here bent over to the pious lady and whispered something
in her ear; I suppose, from the answer elicited, it was a reminder
that one of the anathematised race was present.

"Tant pis!" said her Ladyship, "I hope it may do her good!" Then,
in a lower tone, but still loud enough for me to hear, "I noticed
her; I am a judge of physiognomy, and in hers I see all the faults of
her class." "What are they, madam?" inquired Mr. Rochester aloud.
"I will tell you in your private ear," replied she, wagging her
turban three times with portentous significancy.
"But my curiosity will be past its appetite; it craves food now."
"Ask Blanche; she is nearer you than I."

"Oh, don't refer him to me, mama! I have just one word to say of
the whole tribe; they are a nuisance. Not that I ever suffered much
from them; I took care to turn the tables. What tricks Theodore
and I used to play on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Madame
Jouberts! Mary was always too sleepy to join in a plot with
spirit. The best fun was with Madame Joubert: Miss Wilson was
a poor sickly thing, lachrymose and low spirited, not worth the
trouble of vanquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey was coarse and
insensible; no blow took effect on her. But poor Madame Joubert!
I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had driven her to
extremities spilt our tea, crumbled our bread and butter, tossed
our books up to the ceiling, and played a charivari with the ruler
and desk, the fender and fire irons. Theodore, do you remember
those merry days?"

"Yaas, to be sure I do," drawled lord Ingram; "and the poor old
stick used to cry out 'Oh you villains childs!' and then we
sermonised her on the presumption of attempting to teach such clever
blades as we were, when she was herself so ignorant."

"We did; and, Tedo, you know, I helped you in prosecuting (or
persecuting) your tutor, whey faced Mr. Vining the parson in the
pip, as we used to call him. He and Miss Wilson took the liberty
of falling in love with each other at least Tedo and I thought
so; we surprised sundry tender glances and sighs which we interpreted
as tokens of 'la belle passion,' and I promise you the public soon
had the benefit of our discovery; we employed it as a sort of lever
to hoist our dead weights from the house. Dear mama, there, as
soon as she got an inkling of the business, found out that it was
of an immoral tendency. Did you not, my lady mother?"

"Certainly, my best. And I was quite right: depend on that: there
are a thousand reasons why liaisons between governesses and tutors
should never be tolerated a moment in any well regulated house; firstly "

"Oh, gracious, mama! Spare us the enumeration! Au reste, we
all know them: danger of bad example to innocence of childhood;
distractions and consequent neglect of duty on the part of the attached
mutual alliance and reliance; confidence thence resulting
insolence accompanying mutiny and general blow up. Am I right,
Baroness Ingram, of Ingram Park?" "My lily flower, you are right
now, as always." "Then no more need be said: change the subject."

Amy Eshton, not hearing or not heeding this dictum, joined in with
her soft, infantine tone: "Louisa and I used to quiz our governess
too; but she was such a good creature, she would bear anything:
nothing put her out. She was never cross with us; was she, Louisa?"

"No, never: we might do what we pleased; ransack her desk and
her workbox, and turn her drawers inside out; and she was so good
natured, she would give us anything we asked for."

"I suppose, now," said Miss Ingram, curling her lip sarcastically,
"we shall have an abstract of the memoirs of all the governesses
extant: in order to avert such a visitation, I again move
the introduction of a new topic. Mr. Rochester, do you second my
motion?" "Madam, I support you on this point, as on every other."
"Then on me be the onus of bringing it forward. Signior Eduardo,
are you in voice to night?" "Donna Bianca, if you command it, I will be."

"Then, signior, I lay on you my sovereign behest to furbish up your
lungs and other vocal organs, as they will be wanted on my royal
service." "Who would not be the Rizzio of so divine a Mary?"
"A fig for Rizzio!" cried she, tossing her head with all its
curls, as she moved to the piano. "It is my opinion the fiddler
David must have been an insipid sort of fellow; I like black Bothwell
better: to my mind a man is nothing without a spice of the devil
in him; and history may say what it will of James Hepburn, but I
have a notion, he was just the sort of wild, fierce, bandit hero
whom I could have consented to gift with my hand."

"Gentlemen, you hear! Now which of you most resembles Bothwell?"
cried Mr. Rochester. "I should say the preference lies with you,"
responded Colonel Dent. "On my honour, I am much obliged to you,"
was the reply. Miss Ingram, who had now seated herself with proud
grace at the piano, spreading out her snowy robes in queenly amplitude,
commenced a brilliant prelude; talking meantime. She appeared to be
on her high horse to night; both her words and her air seemed intended
to excite not only the admiration, but the amazement of her auditors:
she was evidently bent on striking them as something very dashing
and daring indeed.

"Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day!" exclaimed
she, rattling away at the instrument. "Poor, puny things, not fit
to stir a step beyond papa's park gates: nor to go even so far
without mama's permission and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed
in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and
their small feet; as if a man had anything to do with beauty! As
if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman her
legitimate appanage and heritage! I grant an ugly WOMAN is a blot
on the fair face of creation; but as to the GENTLEMEN, let them be
solicitous to possess only strength and valour: let their motto
be: Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a fillip. Such
should be my device, were I a man."

"Whenever I marry," she continued after a pause which none interrupted,
"I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me.
I will suffer no competitor near the throne; I shall exact an
undivided homage: his devotions shall not be shared between me
and the shape he sees in his mirror. Mr. Rochester, now sing, and
I will play for you." "I am all obedience," was the response.

"Here then is a Corsair song. Know that I doat on Corsairs; and
for that reason, sing it con spirito." "Commands from Miss Ingram's
lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and water."
"Take care, then: if you don't please me, I will shame you by
showing how such things SHOULD be done."

"That is offering a premium on incapacity: I shall now endeavour
to fail." "Gardez vous en bien! If you err wilfully, I shall devise a
proportionate punishment." "Miss Ingram ought to be clement,
for she has it in her power to inflict a chastisement beyond
mortal endurance." "Ha! explain!" commanded the lady.

"Pardon me, madam: no need of explanation; your own fine sense must
inform you that one of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute
for capital punishment." "Sing!" said she, and again touching the piano,
she commenced an accompaniment in spirited style.

"Now is my time to slip away," thought I: but the tones that then
severed the air arrested me. Mrs. Fairfax had said Mr. Rochester
possessed a fine voice: he did a mellow, powerful bass, into
which he threw his own feeling, his own force; finding a way through
the ear to the heart, and there waking sensation strangely. I
waited till the last deep and full vibration had expired till
the tide of talk, checked an instant, had resumed its flow; I then
quitted my sheltered corner and made my exit by the side door,
which was fortunately near. Thence a narrow passage led into the
hall: in crossing it, I perceived my sandal was loose; I stopped
to tie it, kneeling down for that purpose on the mat at the foot of
the staircase. I heard the dining room door unclose; a gentleman
came out; rising hastily, I stood face to face with him: it was
Mr. Rochester.

"How do you do?" he asked. "I am very well, sir." "Why did you
not come and speak to me in the room?" I thought I might have
retorted the question on him who put it: but I would not take that
freedom. I answered "I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed
engaged, sir." "What have you been doing during my absence?"

"Nothing particular; teaching Adele as usual." "And getting a good
deal paler than you were as I saw at first sight. What is the matter?"
"Nothing at all, sir." "Did you take any cold that night you half
drowned me?" "Not the least." "Return to the drawing room: you are
deserting too early." "I am tired, sir." He looked at me for a minute.
"And a little depressed," he said. "What about? Tell me." "Nothing
nothing, sir. I am not depressed."

"But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more
words would bring tears to your eyes indeed, they are there
now, shining and swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash
and fallen on to the flag. If I had time, and was not in mortal
dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what
all this means. Well, to night I excuse you; but understand that
so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing room
every evening; it is my wish; don't neglect it. Now go, and send
Sophie for Adele. Good night, my. " He stopped, bit his lip,
and abruptly left me.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Deluxe Edition Chapter 18.>