about. Never mind the ladies to-night; perhaps you will see them
to-morrow: 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 prendre 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 candlelight 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 mama; 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!'
