dry, even coarse face, recurred so distinctly to my mind's eye, that I
thought, 'No; impossible! my supposition cannot be correct. Yet,'
suggested the secret voice which talks to us in our own hearts, 'you
are not beautiful either, and perhaps Mr. Rochester approves you: at
any rate, you have often felt as if he did; and last night- remember
his words; remember his look; remember his voice!'
I well remembered all; language, glance, and tone seemed at the
moment vividly renewed. I was now in the schoolroom; Adele was
drawing; I bent over her and directed her pencil. She looked up with a
sort of start.
'Qu'avez-vous, mademoiselle?' said she. 'Vos doigts tremblent comme
la feuille, et vos joues sont rouges: mais, rouges comme des cerises!'
'I am hot, Adele, with stooping!' She went on sketching; I went
on thinking.
I hastened to drive from my mind the hateful notion I had been
conceiving respecting Grace Poole; it disgusted me. I compared
myself with her, and found we were different. Bessie Leaven had said I
was quite a lady; and she spoke truth- I was a lady. And now I
looked much better than I did when Bessie saw me; I had more colour
and more flesh, more life, more vivacity, because I had brighter hopes
and keener enjoyments.
'Evening approaches,' said I, as I looked towards the window. 'I
have never heard Mr. Rochester's voice or step in the house to-day;
but surely I shall see him before night: I feared the meeting in the
morning; now I desire it, because expectation has been so long baffled
that it is grown impatient.'
When dusk actually closed, and when Adele left me to go and play in
the nursery with Sophie, I did most keenly desire it. I listened for
the bell to ring below; I listened for Leah coming up with a
message; I fancied sometimes I heard Mr. Rochester's own tread, and
I turned to the door, expecting it to open and admit him. The door
remained shut; darkness only came in through the window. Still it
was not late; he often sent for me at seven and eight o'clock, and
it was yet but six. Surely I should not be wholly disappointed
to-night, when I had so many things to say to him! I wanted again to
introduce the subject of Grace Poole, and to hear what he would
answer; I wanted to ask him plainly if he really believed it was she
who had made last night's hideous attempt; and if so, why he kept
her wickedness a secret. It little mattered whether my curiosity
irritated him; I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by
turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in, and a sure instinct always
prevented me from going too far; beyond the verge of provocation I
never ventured; on the extreme brink I liked well to try my skill.
Retaining every minute form of respect, every propriety of my station,
I could still meet him in argument without fear or uneasy restraint;
this suited both him and me.
A tread creaked on the stairs at last. Leah made her appearance;
but it was only to intimate that tea was ready in Mrs. Fairfax's room.
Thither I repaired, glad at least to go downstairs; for that brought
me, I imagined, nearer to Mr. Rochester's presence.
'You must want your tea,' said the good lady, as I joined her; 'you
ate so little at dinner. I am afraid,' she continued, 'you are not
well to-day: you look flushed and feverish.'
'Oh, quite well! I never felt better.'
'Then you must prove it by evincing a good appetite; will you
fill the teapot while I knit off this needle?' Having completed her
task, she rose to draw down the blind, which she had hitherto kept up,
by way, I suppose, of making the most of daylight, though dusk was now
fast deepening into total obscurity.
'It is fair to-night,' said she, as she looked through the panes,
'though not starlight; Mr. Rochester has, on the whole, had a
favourable day for his journey.'
'Journey!- Is Mr. Rochester gone anywhere? I did not know he was
out.'
'Oh, he set off the moment he had breakfast! He is gone to the
Leas, Mr. Eshton's place, ten miles on the other side Millcote. I
believe there is quite a party assembled there; Lord Ingram, Sir
George Lynn, Colonel Dent, and others.'
'Do you expect him back to-night?'
'No- nor to-morrow either; I should think he is very likely to stay
a week or more: when these fine, fashionable people get together, they
are so surrounded by elegance and gaiety, so well provided with all
that can please and entertain, they are in no hurry to separate.
Gentlemen especially are often in request on such occasions; and Mr.
Rochester is so talented and so lively in society, that I believe he
is a general favourite: the ladies are very fond of him; though you
would not think his appearance calculated to recommend him
particularly in their eyes: but I suppose his acquirements and
abilities, perhaps his wealth and good blood, make amends for any
little fault of look.'
'Are there ladies at the Leas?'
'There are Mrs. Eshton and her three daughters- very elegant
young ladies indeed; and there are the Honourable Blanche and Mary
Ingram, most beautiful women, I suppose: indeed I have seen Blanche,
six or seven years since, when she was a girl of eighteen. She came
here to a Christmas ball and party Mr. Rochester gave. You should have
seen the dining-room that day- how richly it was decorated, how
brilliantly lit up! I should think there were fifty ladies and
gentlemen present- all of the first county families; and Miss Ingram
was considered the belle of the evening.'
'You saw her, you say, Mrs. Fairfax: what was she like?'
'Yes, I saw her. The dining-room doors were thrown open; and, as it
was Christmas-time, the servants were allowed to assemble in the hall,
to hear some of the ladies sing and play. Mr. Rochester would have
me to come in, and I sat down in a quiet corner and watched them. I
never saw a more splendid scene: the ladies were magnificently
dressed; most of them- at least most of the younger ones- looked
handsome; but Miss Ingram was certainly the queen.'
'And what was she like?'
'Tall, fine bust, sloping shoulders; long, graceful neck: olive
complexion, dark and clear; noble features; eyes rather like Mr.
Rochester's: large and black, and as brilliant as her jewels. And then
she had such a fine head of hair; raven-black and so becomingly
arranged: a crown of thick plaits behind, and in front the longest,
the glossiest curls I ever saw. She was dressed in pure white; an
amber-coloured scarf was passed over her shoulder and across her
breast, tied at the side, and descending in long, fringed ends below
her knee. She wore an amber-coloured flower, too, in her hair: it
contrasted well with the jetty mass of her curls.'
'She was greatly admired, of course?'
'Yes, indeed: and not only for her beauty, but for her
accomplishments. She was one of the ladies who sang: a gentleman
accompanied her on the piano. She and Mr. Rochester sang a duet.'
'Mr. Rochester? I was not aware he could sing.'
'Oh! he has a fine bass voice, and an excellent taste for music.'
'And Miss Ingram: what sort of a voice had she?'
'A very rich and powerful one: she sang delightfully; it was a
treat to listen to her;- and she played afterwards. I am no judge of
music, but Mr. Rochester is; and I heard him say her execution was
remarkably good.'
'And this beautiful and accomplished lady, she is not yet married.'
'It appears not: I fancy neither she nor her sister have very large
fortunes. Old Lord Ingram's estates were chiefly entailed, and the
eldest son came in for everything almost.'
'But I wonder no wealthy nobleman or gentleman has taken a fancy to
her: Mr. Rochester, for instance. He is rich, is he not?'
'Oh! yes. But you see there is a considerable difference in age:
Mr. Rochester is nearly forty; she is but twenty-five.'
'What of that? More unequal matches are made every day.'
'True: yet I should scarcely fancy Mr. Rochester would entertain an
idea of the sort. But you eat nothing: you have scarcely tasted
since you began tea.'
'No: I am too thirsty to eat. Will you let me have another cup?'
I was about again to revert to the probability of a union between
Mr. Rochester and the beautiful Blanche; but Adele came in, and the
conversation was turned into another channel.
When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got;
looked into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and
endeavoured to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying
through imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe
fold of common sense.
Arraigned at my own bar, Memory having given her evidence of the
hopes, wishes, sentiments I had been cherishing since last night- of
the general state of mind in which I had indulged for nearly a
fortnight past; Reason having come forward and told, in her own
quiet way, a plain, unvarnished tale, showing how I had rejected the
real, and rabidly devoured the ideal;- I pronounced judgment to this
effect:-
That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of
life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet
lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.
'You,' I said, 'a favourite with Mr. Rochester? You gifted with the
power of pleasing him? You of importance to him in any way? Go! your
folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional tokens
of preference- equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of family and a
man of the world to a dependant and a novice. How dared you? Poor
stupid dupe!- Could not even self-interest make you wiser? You
repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene of last night?-
Cover your face and be ashamed! He said something in praise of your
eyes, did he? Blind puppy! Open their bleared lids and look on your
own accursed senselessness! It does good to no woman to be flattered
by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; and it is
madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which,
if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and, if
discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatuus-like, into miry
wilds whence there is no extrication.
'Listen, then, Jane Eyre, to your sentence: to-morrow, place the
glass before you, and draw in chalk your own picture, faithfully,
without softening one defect; omit no harsh line, smooth away no
displeasing irregularity; write under it, "Portrait of a Governess,
disconnected, poor, and plain."
'Afterwards, take a piece of smooth ivory- you have one prepared in
your drawing-box: take your palette, mix your freshest, finest,
clearest tints; choose your most delicate camel-hair pencils;
delineate carefully the loveliest face you can imagine; paint it in
your softest shades and sweetest hues, according to the description
given by Mrs. Fairfax of Blanche Ingram; remember the raven
ringlets, the oriental eye;- What! you revert to Mr. Rochester as a
model! Order! No snivel!- no sentiment!- no regret! I will endure only
sense and resolution. Recall the august yet harmonious lineaments, the
Grecian neck and bust; let the round and dazzling arm be visible,
and the delicate hand; omit neither diamond ring nor gold bracelet;
portray faithfully the attire, aerial lace and glistening satin,
graceful scarf and golden rose; call it "Blanche, an accomplished lady
of rank."
'Whenever, in future, you should chance to fancy Mr. Rochester
thinks well of you, take out these two pictures and compare them: say,
"Mr. Rochester might probably win that noble lady's love, if he
chose to strive for it; is it likely he would waste a serious
thought on this indigent and insignificant plebeian?"'
'I'll do it,' I resolved: and having framed this determination, I
grew calm, and fell asleep.
I kept my word. An hour or two sufficed to sketch my own portrait
in crayons; and in less than a fortnight I had completed an ivory
miniature of an imaginary Blanche Ingram. It looked a lovely face
enough, and when compared with the real head in chalk, the contrast
was as great as self-control could desire. I derived benefit from
the task: it had kept my head and hands employed, and had given
force and fixedness to the new impressions I wished to stamp indelibly
on my heart.
Ere long, I had reason to congratulate myself on the course of
wholesome discipline to which I had thus forced my feelings to submit.
Thanks to it, I was able to meet subsequent occurrences with a
decent calm, which, had they found me unprepared, I should probably
have been unequal to maintain, even externally.
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CHAPTER XVII
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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
