fast as you can.'
A touch of a spurred heel made his horse first start and rear,
and then bound away; the dog rushed in his traces; all three vanished,
'Like heath that, in the wilderness,
The wild wind whirls away.'
I took up my muff and walked on. The incident had occurred and
was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no
interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a
monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given
it: I was pleased to have done something; trivial, transitory though
the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an
existence all passive. The new face, too, was like a new picture
introduced to the gallery of memory; and it was dissimilar to all
the others hanging there: firstly, because it was masculine; and,
secondly, because it was dark, strong, and stern. I had it still
before me when I entered Hay, and slipped the letter into the
post-office; I saw it as I walked fast down-hill all the way home.
When I came to the stile, I stopped a minute, looked round and
listened, with an idea that a horse's hoofs might ring on the causeway
again, and that a rider in a cloak, and a Gytrash-like Newfoundland
dog, might be again apparent: I saw only the hedge and a pollard
willow before me, rising up still and straight to meet the
moonbeams; I heard only the faintest waft of wind roaming fitful among
the trees round Thornfield, a mile distant; and when I glanced down in
the direction of the murmur, my eye, traversing the hall-front, caught
a light kindling in a window: it reminded me that I was late, and I
hurried on.
I did not like re-entering Thornfield. To pass its threshold was to
return to stagnation; to cross the silent hall, to ascend the darksome
staircase, to seek my own lonely little room, and then to meet
tranquil Mrs. Fairfax, and spend the long winter evening with her, and
her only, was to quell wholly the faint excitement wakened by my
walk,- to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an
uniform and too still existence; of an existence whose very privileges
of security and ease I was becoming incapable of appreciating. What
good it would have done me at that time to have been tossed in the
storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to have been taught by
rough and bitter experience to long for the calm amidst which I now
repined! Yes, just as much good as it would do a man tired of
sitting still in a 'too easy chair' to take a long walk: and just as
natural was the wish to stir, under my circumstances, as it would be
under his.
I lingered at the gates; I lingered on the lawn; I paced
backwards and forwards on the pavement; the shutters of the glass door
were closed; I could not see into the interior; and both my eyes and
spirit seemed drawn from the gloomy house- from the grey hollow filled
with rayless cells, as it appeared to me- to that sky expanded
before me,- a blue sea absolved from taint of cloud; the moon
ascending it in solemn march; her orb seeming to look up as she left
the hill-tops, from behind which she had come, far and farther below
her, and aspired to the zenith, midnight dark in its fathomless
depth and measureless distance; and for those trembling stars that
followed her course; they made my heart tremble, my veins glow when
I viewed them. Little things recall us to earth; the clock struck in
the hall; that sufficed; I turned from moon and stars, opened a
side-door, and went in.
The hall was not dark, nor yet was it lit, only by the high-hung
bronze lamp; a warm glow suffused both it and the lower steps of the
oak staircase. This ruddy shine issued from the great dining-room,
whose two-leaved door stood open, and showed a genial fire in the
grate, glancing on marble hearth and brass fire-irons, and revealing
purple draperies and polished furniture, in the most pleasant
radiance. It revealed, too, a group near the mantelpiece: I had
scarcely caught it, and scarcely become aware of a cheerful mingling
of voices, amongst which I seemed to distinguish the tones of Adele,
when the door closed.
I hastened to Mrs. Fairfax's room; there was a fire there too,
but no candle, and no Mrs. Fairfax. Instead, all alone, sitting
upright on the rug, and gazing with gravity at the blaze, I beheld a
great black and white long-haired dog, just like the Gytrash of the
lane. It was so like it that I went forward and said- 'Pilot,' and the
thing got up and came to me and snuffed me. I caressed him, and he
wagged his great tail; but he looked an eerie creature to be alone
with, and I could not tell whence he had come. I rang the bell, for
I wanted a candle; and I wanted, too, to get an account of this
visitant. Leah entered.
'What dog is this?'
'He came with master.'
'With whom?'
'With master- Mr. Rochester- he is just arrived.'
'Indeed! and is Mrs. Fairfax with him?'
'Yes, and Miss Adele; they are in the dining-room, and John is gone
for a surgeon; for master has had an accident; his horse fell and
his ankle is sprained.'
'Did the horse fall in Hay Lane?'
'Yes, coming down-hill; it slipped on some ice.'
'Ah! Bring me a candle, will you, Leah?'
Leah brought it; she entered, followed by Mrs. Fairfax, who
repeated the news; adding that Mr. Carter the surgeon was come, and
was now with Mr. Rochester: then she hurried out to give orders
about tea, and I went upstairs to take off my things.
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CHAPTER XIII
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MR. ROCHESTER, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed early
that night; nor did he rise soon next morning. When he did come
down, it was to attend to business: his agent and some of his
tenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with him.
Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it would be in daily
requisition as a reception-room for callers. A fire was lit in an
apartment upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged it for
the future schoolroom. I discerned in the course of the morning that
Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent as a church,
it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door, or a clang of
the bell: steps, too, often traversed the hall, and new voices spoke
in different keys below; a rill from the outer world was flowing
through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked it better.
Adele was not easy to teach that day; she could not apply: she kept
running to the door and looking over the banisters to see if she could
get a glimpse of Mr. Rochester; then she coined pretexts to go
downstairs, in order, as I shrewdly suspected, to visit the library,
where I knew she was not wanted; then, when I got a little angry,
and made her sit still, she continued to talk incessantly of her 'ami,
Monsieur Edouard Fairfax de Rochester,' as she dubbed him (I had not
before heard his prenomens), and to conjecture what presents he had
brought her: for it appears he had intimated the night before, that
when his luggage came from Millcote, there would be found amongst it a
little box in whose contents she had an interest.
'Et cela doit signifier,' said she, 'qu'il y aura la dedans un
cadeau pour moi, et peut-etre pour vous aussi, mademoiselle.
Monsieur a parle de vous: il m'a demande le nom de ma gouvernante,
et si elle n'etait pas une petite personne, assez mince et un peu
pale. J'ai dit qu'oui: car c'est vrai, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?'
I and my pupil dined as usual in Mrs. Fairfax's parlour; the
afternoon was wild and snowy, and we passed it in the schoolroom. At
dark I allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to run
downstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from the
cessation of appeals to the door-bell, I conjectured that Mr.
Rochester was now at liberty. Left alone, I walked to the window;
but nothing was to be seen thence: twilight and snowflakes together
thickened the air, and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. I let down the
curtain and went back to the fireside.
In the clear embers I was tracing a view, not unlike a picture I
remembered to have seen of the castle of Heidelberg, on the Rhine,
when Mrs. Fairfax came in, breaking up by her entrance the fiery
mosaic I had been piecing together, and scattering too some heavy
unwelcome thoughts that were beginning to throng on my solitude.
'Mr. Rochester would be glad if you and your pupil would take tea
with him in the drawing-room this evening,' said she: 'he has been
so much engaged all day that he could not ask to see you before.'
'When is his tea-time?' I inquired.
'Oh, at six o'clock: he keeps early hours in the country. You had
better change your frock now; I will go with you and fasten it. Here
is a candle.'
'Is it necessary to change my frock?'
'Yes, you had better: I always dress for the evening when Mr.
Rochester is here.'
This additional ceremony seemed somewhat stately; however, I
repaired to my room, and, with Mrs. Fairfax's aid, replaced my black
stuff dress by one of black silk; the best and the only additional one
I had, except one of light grey, which, in my Lowood notions of the
toilette, I thought too fine to be worn, except on first-rate
occasions.
'You want a brooch,' said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearl
ornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put it on,
and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers, it was
rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr. Rochester's
presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into the dining-room, and kept
in her shade as we crossed that apartment; and, passing the arch,
whose curtain was now dropped, entered the elegant recess beyond.
Two wax candles stood lighted on the table, and two on the
mantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, lay
Pilot- Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr.
Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at
Adele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my
traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made
squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his
decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full
nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and
jaw- yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now
divested of cloak, I perceived harmonised in squareness with his
physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of
the term- broad chested and thin flanked, though neither tall nor
graceful.
Mr. Rochester must have been aware of the entrance of Mrs.
Fairfax and myself; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice
us, for he never lifted his head as we approached.
'Here is Miss Eyre, sir,' said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way. He
bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and child.
'Let Miss Eyre be seated,' said he: and there was something in
the forced stiff bow, in the impatient yet formal tone, which seemed
further to express, 'What the deuce is it to me whether Miss Eyre be
there or not? At this moment I am not disposed to accost her.'
I sat down quite disembarrassed. A reception of finished politeness
would probably have confused me: I could not have returned or repaid
it by answering grace and elegance on my part; but harsh caprice
laid me under no obligation; on the contrary, a decent quiescence,
under the freak of manner, gave me the advantage. Besides, the
eccentricity of the proceeding was piquant: I felt interested to see
how he would go on.
He went on as a statue would, that is, he neither spoke nor
moved. Mrs. Fairfax seemed to think it necessary that some one
should be amiable, and she began to talk. Kindly, as usual- and, as
usual, rather trite- she condoled with him on the pressure of business
he had had all day; on the annoyance it must have been to him with
that painful sprain: then she commended his patience and
perseverance in going through with it.
'Madam, I should like some tea,' was the sole rejoinder she got.
She hastened to ring the bell; and when the tray came, she proceeded
to arrange the cups, spoons, etc., with assiduous celerity. I and
Adele went to the table; but the master did not leave his couch.
'Will you hand Mr. Rochester's cup?' said Mrs. Fairfax to me;
'Adele might perhaps spill it.'
I did as requested. As he took the cup from my hand, Adele,
thinking the moment propitious for making a request in my favour,
cried out-
'N'est-ce pas, monsieur, qu'il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre
dans votre petit coffre?'
'Who talks of cadeaux?' said he gruffly. 'Did you expect a present,
Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?' and he searched my face with
eyes that I saw were dark, irate, and piercing.
'I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they are
generally thought pleasant things.'
'Generally thought? But what do you think?'
'I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you
an answer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it,
has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion
as to its nature.'
'Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adele: she demands
a "cadeau," clamorously, the moment she sees me: you beat about the
