Adele sang the canzonette tunefully enough, and with the naivete ofher age. This achieved, she jumped from my knee and said, 'Now,Mademoiselle, I will repeat you some poetry.'
Assuming an attitude, she began 'La Ligue des Rats: fable de LaFontaine.' She then declaimed the little piece with an attention topunctuation and emphasis, a flexibility of voice and anappropriateness of gesture, very unusual indeed at her age, andwhich proved she had been carefully trained.
'Was it your mama who taught you that piece?' I asked.
'Yes, and she just used to say it in this way: "Qu'avez vousdonc? lui dit un de ces rats; parlez!" She made me lift my hand- so-to remind me to raise my voice at the question. Now shall I dancefor you?'
'No, that will do: but after your mama went to the Holy Virgin,as you say, with whom did you live then?'
'With Madame Frederic and her husband: she took care of me, but sheis nothing related to me. I think she is poor, for she had not so finea house as mama. I was not long there. Mr. Rochester asked me if Iwould like to go and live with him in England, and I said yes; for Iknew Mr. Rochester before I knew Madame Frederic, and he was alwayskind to me and gave me pretty dresses and toys: but you see he has notkept his word, for he has brought me to England, and now he is goneback again himself, and I never see him.'
After breakfast, Adele and I withdrew to the library, which room,it appears, Mr. Rochester had directed should be used as theschoolroom. Most of the books were locked up behind glass doors; butthere was one bookcase left open containing everything that could beneeded in the way of elementary works, and several volumes of lightliterature, poetry, biography, travels, a few romances, etc. I supposehe had considered that these were all the governess would requirefor her private perusal; and, indeed, they contented me amply forthe present; compared with the scanty pickings I had now and then beenable to glean at Lowood, they seemed to offer an abundant harvest ofentertainment and information. In this room, too, there was acabinet piano, quite new and of superior tone; also an easel forpainting and a pair of globes.
I found my pupil sufficiently docile, though disinclined toapply: she had not been used to regular occupation of any kind. I feltit would be injudicious to confine her too much at first; so, when Ihad talked to her a great deal, and got her to learn a little, andwhen the morning had advanced to noon, I allowed her to return toher nurse. I then proposed to occupy myself till dinner-time indrawing some little sketches for her use.
As I was going upstairs to fetch my portfolio and pencils, Mrs.Fairfax called to me: 'Your morning school-hours are over now, Isuppose,' said she. She was in a room the folding doors of which stoodopen: I went in when she addressed me. It was a large, statelyapartment, with purple chairs and curtains, a Turkey carpet,walnut-panelled walls, one vast window rich in stained glass, and alofty ceiling, nobly moulded. Mrs. Fairfax was dusting some vases offine purple spar, which stood on a sideboard.
'What a beautiful room!' I exclaimed, as I looked round; for Ihad never before seen any half so imposing.
'Yes; this is the dining-room. I have just opened the window, tolet in a little air and sunshine; for everything gets so damp inapartments that are seldom inhabited; the drawing-room yonder feelslike a vault.'
She pointed to a wide arch corresponding to the window, and hunglike it with a Tyrian-dyed curtain, now looped up. Mounting to it bytwo broad steps, and looking through, I thought I caught a glimpseof a fairy place, so bright to my novice-eyes appeared the viewbeyond. Yet it was merely a very pretty drawing-room, and within ita boudoir, both spread with white carpets, on which seemed laidbrilliant garlands of flowers; both ceiled with snowy mouldings ofwhite grapes and vine-leaves, beneath which glowed in rich contrastcrimson couches and ottomans; while the ornaments on the pale Parianmantelpiece were of sparkling Bohemian glass, ruby red; and betweenthe windows large mirrors repeated the general blending of snow andfire.
'In what order you keep these rooms, Mrs. Fairfax!' said I. 'Nodust, no canvas coverings: except that the air feels chilly, one wouldthink they were inhabited daily.'
'Why, Miss Eyre, though Mr. Rochester's visits here are rare,they are always sudden and unexpected; and as I observed that it puthim out to find everything swathed up, and to have a bustle ofarrangement on his arrival, I thought it best to keep the rooms inreadiness.'
'Is Mr. Rochester an exacting, fastidious sort of man?'
'Not particularly so; but he has a gentleman's tastes and habits,and he expects to have things managed in conformity to them.'
'Do you like him? Is he generally liked?'
'Oh, yes; the family have always been respected here. Almost allthe land in this neighbourhood, as far as you can see, has belonged tothe Rochesters time out of mind.'
'Well, but, leaving his land out of the question, do you likehim? Is he liked for himself?'
'I have no cause to do otherwise than like him; and I believe he isconsidered a just and liberal landlord by his tenants: but he hasnever lived much amongst them.'
'But has he no peculiarities? What, in short, is his character?'
'Oh! his character is unimpeachable, I suppose. He is ratherpeculiar, perhaps: he has travelled a great deal, and seen a greatdeal of the world, I should think. I daresay he is clever, but I neverhad much conversation with him.'
'In what way is he peculiar?'
'I don't know- it is not easy to describe- nothing striking, butyou feel it when he speaks to you; you cannot be always sure whetherhe is in jest or earnest, whether he is pleased or the contrary; youdon't thoroughly understand him, in short- at least, I don't: but itis of no consequence, he is a very good master.'
This was all the account I got from Mrs. Fairfax of her employerand mine. There are people who seem to have no notion of sketching acharacter, or observing and describing salient points, either inpersons or things: the good lady evidently belonged to this class;my queries puzzled, but did not draw her out. Mr. Rochester was Mr.Rochester in her eyes; a gentleman, a landed proprietor- nothing more:she inquired and searched no further, and evidently wondered at mywish to gain a more definite notion of his identity.
When we left the dining-room she proposed to show me over therest of the house; and I followed her upstairs and downstairs,admiring as I went; for all was well arranged and handsome. Thelarge front chambers I thought especially grand: and some of thethird-storey rooms, though dark and low, were interesting from theirair of antiquity. The furniture once appropriated to the lowerapartments had from time to time been removed here, as fashionschanged: and the imperfect light entering by their narrow casementshowed bed-steads of a hundred years old; chests in oak or walnut,looking, with their strange carvings of palm branches and cherubs'heads, like types of the Hebrew ark; rows of venerable chairs,high-backed and narrow; stools still more antiquated, on whosecushioned tops were yet apparent traces of half-effacedembroideries, wrought by fingers that for two generations had beencoffin-dust. All these relics gave to the third storey of ThornfieldHall the aspect of a home of the past: a shrine of memory. I liked thehush, the gloom, the quaintness of these retreats in the day; but I byno means coveted a night's repose on one of those wide and heavy beds:shut in, some of them, with doors of oak; shaded, others, with wroughtold English hangings crusted with thick work, portraying effigies ofstrange flowers, and stranger birds, and strangest human beings,-all which would have looked strange, indeed, by the pallid gleam ofmoonlight.
'Do the servants sleep in these rooms?' I asked.
'No; they occupy a range of smaller apartments to the back; noone ever sleeps here: one would almost say that, if there were a ghostat Thornfield Hall, this would be its haunt.'
'So I think: you have no ghost, then?'
'None that I ever heard of,' returned Mrs. Fairfax, smiling.
'Nor any traditions of one? no legends or ghost stories?'
'I believe not. And yet it is said the Rochesters have beenrather a violent than a quiet race in their time: perhaps, though,that is the reason they rest tranquilly in their graves now.'
'Yes- "after life's fitful fever they sleep well,"' I muttered.'Where are you going now, Mrs. Fairfax?' for she was moving away.
'On to the leads; will you come and see the view from thence?' Ifollowed still, up a very narrow staircase to the attics, and thenceby a ladder and through a trap-door to the roof of the hall. I was nowon a level with the crow colony, and could see into their nests.Leaning over the battlements and looking far down, I surveyed thegrounds laid out like a map: the bright and velvet lawn closelygirdling the grey base of the mansion; the field, wide as a park,dotted with its ancient timber; the wood, dun and sere, divided by apath visibly overgrown, greener with moss than the trees were withfoliage; the church at the gates, the road, the tranquil hills, allreposing in the autumn day's sun; the horizon bounded by apropitious sky, azure, marbled with pearly white. No feature in thescene was extraordinary, but all was pleasing. When I turned from itand repassed the trap-door, I could scarcely see my way down theladder; the attic seemed black as a vault compared with that arch ofblue air to which I had been looking up, and to that sunlit scene ofgrove, pasture, and green hill, of which the hall was the centre,and over which I had been gazing with delight.
Mrs. Fairfax stayed behind a moment to fasten the trap-door; I,by dint of groping, found the outlet from the attic, and proceededto descend the narrow garret staircase. I lingered in the long passageto which this led, separating the front and back rooms of the thirdstorey: narrow, low, and dim, with only one little window at the farend, and looking, with its two rows of small black doors all shut,like a corridor in some Bluebeard's castle.
While I paced softly on, the last sound I expected to hear in sostill a region, a laugh, struck my ear. It was a curious laugh;distinct, formal, mirthless. I stopped: the sound ceased, only foran instant; it began again, louder: for at first, though distinct,it was very low. It passed off in a clamorous peal that seemed to wakean echo in every lonely chamber; though it originated but in one,and I could have pointed out the door whence the accents issued.
'Mrs. Fairfax!' I called out: for I now heard her descending thegreat stairs. 'Did you hear that loud laugh? Who is it?'
'Some of the servants, very likely,' she answered: 'perhaps GracePoole.'
'Did you hear it?' I again inquired.
'Yes, plainly: I often hear her: she sews in one of these rooms.Sometimes Leah is with her; they are frequently noisy together.'
The laugh was repeated in its low, syllabic tone, and terminated inan odd murmur.
'Grace!' exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax.
I really did not expect any Grace to answer; for the laugh was astragic, as preternatural a laugh as any I ever heard; and, but that itwas high noon, and that no circumstance of ghostliness accompanied thecurious cachinnation; but that neither scene nor season favoured fear,I should have been superstitiously afraid. However, the event showedme I was a fool for entertaining a sense even of surprise.
The door nearest me opened, and a servant came out,- a woman ofbetween thirty and forty; a set, square-made figure, red-haired, andwith a hard, plain face: any apparition less romantic or lessghostly could scarcely be conceived.
'Too much noise, Grace,' said Mrs. Fairfax. 'Rememberdirections!' Grace curtseyed silently and went in.
'She is a person we have to sew and assist Leah in herhousemaid's work,' continued the widow; 'not altogetherunobjectionable in some points, but she does well enough. By thebye, how have you got on with your new pupil this morning?'
The conversation, thus turned on Adele, continued till we reachedthe light and cheerful region below. Adele came running to meet usin the hall, exclaiming-
'Mesdames, vous etes servies!' adding, 'J'ai bien faim, moi!'
We found dinner ready, and waiting for us in Mrs. Fairfax's room.
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CHAPTER XII
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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 turned outto be what she appeared, a placid-tempered, kind-natured woman, ofcompetent education and average intelligence. My pupil was a livelychild, who had been spoilt and indulged, and therefore was sometimeswayward; but as she was committed entirely to my care, and noinjudicious interference from any quarter ever thwarted my plans forher 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 which raisedher one inch above the ordinary level of childhood; but neither hadshe any deficiency or vice which sunk her below it. She madereasonable progress, entertained for me a vivacious, though perhapsnot very profound, affection; and by her simplicity, gay prattle,and efforts to please, inspired me, in return, with a degree ofattachment sufficient to make us both content in each other's society.
This, par parenthese, will be thought cool language by personswho entertain solemn doctrines about the angelic nature of children,and the duty of those charged with their education to conceive forthem an idolatrous devotion: but I am not writing to flatterparental egotism, to echo cant, or prop up humbug; I am merely tellingthe truth. 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 she hadfor 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 down tothe gates and looked through them along the road; or when, while Adeleplayed with her nurse, and Mrs. Fairfax made jellies in the storeroom,I climbed the three staircases, raised the trap-door of the attic, andhaving reached the leads, looked out afar over sequestered field andhill, and along dim sky-line- that then I longed for a power of visionwhich might overpass that limit; which might reach the busy world,towns, regions full of life I had heard of but never seen- that then Idesired more of practical experience than I possessed; more ofintercourse with my kind, of acquaintance with variety of character,than was here within my reach. I valued what was good in Mrs. Fairfax,and what was good in Adele; but I believed in the existence of otherand more vivid kinds of goodness, and what I believed in I wished tobehold.
