Mr. Rocer did, on a future occasion, explain it. It ernoon, me and Adèle in t and tlecock, o walk up and down a long beec of her.
ser of a Frencourn saille d’ate” to the Apollo Belvidere.
“And, Miss Eyre, so muctered by tis I installed el; gave e establis of servants, a carriage, caselles, amp;c. In s, I began tyle, like any ot, it seems, ty to c a neo sruction, but trode track upid exactness not to deviate an incen centre. I o e of all oto call one evening me, I found ; but it rolling t doed so lately by e; I never t ting virtue about of pastille perfume s; a scent of musk and amber, tity. I beginning to stifle ory floo open tep out on to t ill and serene. t doook out a cigar,—I ake one now, if you will excuse me.”
ing of a cigar; to rail of on—
“I liked bonbons too in t— (overlook t ce comfits, and smoking alternately, cime t rolled along treets to close carriage draiful pair of Englisinctly seen in t city-nigure’ I urning: of course my tience against t upon. topped, as I ed, at tel door; my flame (t is ta) aligantly by tle foot, seen peeping from t of ep. Bending over t to murmur ‘Mon ange’—in a tone, of course, er t ed e cocel.
“You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You iments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; t to be given ence lapses in as quiet a flo in ing on ling not far off in t t I tell you—and you may mark my o a craggy pass in tream o , foam and noise: eito atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-o a calmer current—as I am now.
“I like t sky of steel; I like ternness and stillness of t. I like ts antiquity, its retirement, its old crorees and trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark ing t metal of it, s like a great plague-ill abhor —”
eet: ed ep and struck against ted t seemed to s grip, and to ig advance.
e ing o its battlements, over tience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to in ting under le anotriumpe: it settled rified enance: on—
“During t I , Miss Eyre, I iny. Sood t beecrunk—a o Macbeting e in to, if you can! Like it if you dare!’
“‘I ,’ said I; ‘I dare like it;’ and” (acles to o goodness—yes, goodness. I ter man t, and t as iron and brass, I eem but straten wood.”
Adèle tlecock. “Aance, co Sopinuing to pursue ured to recall o t wly diverged—
“Did you leave tered?”
I almost expected a rebuff for timed question, but, on trary, of raction, urned oo clear off ten Céline! ell, to resume. o ing coils from t balcony, glided coat, and ate its es to my ’s core. Strange!” arting again from t. “Strange t I s of all trange t you sen to me quietly, as if it usual to tell stories of resses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you! But t singularity explains t, as I intimated once before: you, y, considerateness, and caution o be t of secrets. Besides, I kno of a mind I ion is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one. mean to : but, if I did, it take ter; for his digression he proceeded—
“I remained in to ,’ t I: ‘let me prepare an ambusting my ain over it, leaving only an opening take observations; t, all but a c to lovers’ o my c t ture. Céline’s cered, lit a lamp, left it on table, and o me clearly: botin and jes of course,—and te—a brainless and vicious youtimes met in society, and of ing because I despised ely. On recognising antly broken; because at t my love for Céline sank under an extinguisray me for suc ending for; shan I, who had been her dupe.
“to talk; tion eased me completely: frivolous, mercenary, less, and senseless, it ed to ener. A card of mine lay on table; t my name under discussion. Neit to belabour me soundly, but ted me as coarsely as ttle s—deformities sermed t om to launc into fervent admiration of -blank, at tervie you did not trast struck me at time and—”
Adèle here came running up again.
“Monsieur, Jo been to say t your agent o see you.”
“A case I must abridge. Opening ted Céline from my protection; gave ice to vacate el; offered e exigencies; disregarded screams, erics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment e for a meeting at t morning I ering a bullet in one of iolated arms, feeble as t I unluckily tte Adèle, y ten in enance: Pilot is more like me ter I o Italy ural claim on Adèle’s part to be supported by me, nor do I no se destitute, I e’en took t of transplanted it o grory garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but no it is timate offspring of a Frencly of your post and protégée: you o me some day ice t you you beg me to look out for a new governess, amp;c.—Eh?”
“No: Adèle is not anss or yours: I I kno of a e o a lonely little orpowards her as a friend?”
“O is t in go in nooo: it darkens.”
But I stayed out a fees longer —ran a race tledore and stlecock. in, and I and coat, I took o prattle as s rebuking even some little freedoms and trivialities into o stray o appreciate all t most. I sougenance and features a likeness to Mr. Rocer, but found none: no trait, no turn of expression announced relations y: if s o resemble more of her.
It till after I o my o I steadily revieale Mr. Rocer old me. As all extraordinary in tance of tive itself: a reaco ters enoug, in society; but trange in tion contentment of s environs. I meditated ; but gradually quitting it, as I found it for t inexplicable, I turned to tion of my master’s manner to myself. t fit to repose in me seemed a tribute to my discretion: I regarded and accepted it as sucment o t. I never seemed in take fits of ceur: edly, ter seemed ion to y of reception t made me feel I really possessed to amuse t as muc.
I, indeed, talked comparatively little, but I alk o be communicative; o open to a mind unacquainted s scenes and mean its corrupt scenes and sucerest from t scale on range novelty by ures rayed, and folloartled or troubled by one noxious allusion.
traint: t as cordial, reated me, dreo at times as if ion rater: yet imes still; but I did not mind t; I sa erest added to life, t I ceased to pine after kindred: my t-destiny seemed to enlarge; tence h.
And itude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made I best liked to see; est fire. Yet I forgotten s; indeed, I could not, for tly before me. o inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I kne kindness to me severity to many otoo; unaccountably so; I more t for to read to ting in on a malignant, sco I believed t s of morality (I say former, for noe. I believed urally a man of better tendencies, astes tances ion instilled, or destiny encouraged. I t t materials in toget spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny t I grieved for ever t .
tinguis sleep for told iny o be thornfield.
“?” I asked myself. “ alienates again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said ayed nig a time; and eig spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!”
I or not after t any rate, I started above me. I s up in bed, listening. the sound was hushed.
I tried again to sleep; but my beat anxiously: my inranquillity ruck t t seemed my couc tside. I said, “h fear.
All at once I remembered t it mig, open, not unfrequently found o ter’s c: I lay doo feel turn of slumber. But it fated t I s nig fled affrig enough.
ttered, as it seemed, at t at first tood at my bedside—or rat I rose, looked round, and could see notill gazed, tural sound erated: and I kne came from be impulse o rise and fasten t; my next, again to cry out, “here?”
Someteps retreated up toorey staircase: a door ely been made to s in t staircase; I open and close, and all ill.
“as t Grace Poole? and is s I. Impossible noo remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I and opened trembling outside, and on tting in t tance: but still more o perceive te dim, as if filled o t , to find wrong smell of burning.
Somet door no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I t no more of Grace Poole, or tant, I ongues of flame darted round tains of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rocer lay stretcionless, in deep sleep.
“ake! upefied a moment could be lost: ts ely, one er. I s occupant, fleo my oized tinguis.
t, tcied it, and, above all, to last. t range anat finding er.
“Is there a flood?” he cried.
“No, sir,” I ans t up, do; you are quencch you a candle.”
“In tendom, is t Jane Eyre?” cted to drown me?”
“I c up. Somebody ted somet too soon find out is.”
“t at your peril you fetc: tes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be—yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!”
I did run; I brougill remained in took it from my up, and surveyed ts drenc round ser.
“ is it? and o ranspired: trange laugep ascending to torey; ted me to state I ters ter I could lay hands on.
ened very gravely; on, expressed more concern tonis; immediately speak when I had concluded.
“Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?” I asked.
“Mrs. Fairfax? No; can s ed.”
“tch Leah, and wake John and his wife.”
“Not at all: just be still. You about you, and sit do it on. No on tool, to keep t of t. I am going to leave you a fees. I sake till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to torey. Don’t move, remember, or call any one.”
: I c ly, unclosed taircase door tle noise as possible, s it after ray vanis in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but ime elapsed. I gre e of t see taying, as I to rouse t of risking Mr. Rocer’s displeasure by disobeying once more gleamed dimly on t tread tting. “I is I, “and not something worse.”
ered, pale and very gloomy. “I all out,” said ting and; “it is as I t.”
“how, sir?”
stood tes one—
“I forget whing when you opened your chamber door.”
“No, sir, only tick on the ground.”
“But you laug?”
“Yes, sir: t way. She is a singular person.”
“Just so. Grace Poole—you . S on t. Meantime, I am glad t you are ted ails of to-nig. You are no talking fool: say not it. I for tate of affairs” (pointing to turn to your o. It is near four:- in two s will be up.”
“Good-niging.
ently so, as told me to go.
“!” ting me already, and in t way?”
“You said I might go, sir.”
“But not taking leave; not a and good-, in s, in t brief, dry fascing deat me as if ual strangers! At least shake hands.”
ook it first in one, th his own.
“You . I cannot say more. Not olerable to me in ter of creditor for sucion: but you: it is different;—I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.”
me: visible trembled on his voice was checked.
“Good-nig, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.”
“I kne some time;—I sa in your eyes ” (ily) “strike deligo my very inmost so for notalk of natural sympatrut fable. My c!”
Strange energy was in range fire in his look.
“I am glad I o be ahen I was going.
“! you will go?”
“I am cold, sir.”
“Cold? Yes,—and standing in a pool! Go, t ill retained my free it. I bet myself of an expedient.
“I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir,” said I.
“ell, leave me:” he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.
I regained my couc never t of sleep. till morning daossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, sometimes I sas ers a s as t triumply to I could not reac, even in fancy—a counteracting breeze bleinually drove me back. Sense delirium: judgment oo feveriso rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.