No More Learning

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 piercing 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, &c. , 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 bush. "

"Because I have less confidence in my deserts than Adele has: she can
prefer the claim of old acquaintance, and the right too of custom; for
she says you have always been in the habit of giving her playthings; but
if I had to make out a case I should be puzzled, since I am a stranger,
and have done nothing to entitle me to an acknowledgment. "

"Oh, don't fall back on over-modesty! I have examined Adele, and find
you have taken great pains with her: she is not bright, she has no
talents; yet in a short time she has made much improvement. "

"Sir, you have now given me my 'cadeau;' I am obliged to you: it is the
meed teachers most covet--praise of their pupils' progress. "

"Humph! " said Mr. Rochester, and he took his tea in silence.

"Come to the fire," said the master, when the tray was taken away, and
Mrs. Fairfax had settled into a corner with her knitting; while Adele was
leading me by the hand round the room, showing me the beautiful books and
ornaments on the consoles and chiffonnieres. We obeyed, as in duty
bound; Adele wanted to take a seat on my knee, but she was ordered to
amuse herself with Pilot.

"You have been resident in my house three months? "

"Yes, sir. "

"And you came from--? "

"From Lowood school, in ---shire. "

"Ah! a charitable concern. How long were you there? "

"Eight years. "

"Eight years! you must be tenacious of life. I thought half the time in
such a place would have done up any constitution! No wonder you have
rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that
sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I thought
unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you
had bewitched my horse: I am not sure yet. Who are your parents? "

"I have none. "

"Nor ever had, I suppose: do you remember them? "

"No. "

"I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on
that stile? "

"For whom, sir? "

"For the men in green: it was a proper moonlight evening for them. Did I
break through one of your rings, that you spread that damned ice on the
causeway? "

I shook my head. "The men in green all forsook England a hundred years
ago," said I, speaking as seriously as he had done. "And not even in Hay
Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace of them. I don't
think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, will ever shine on their
revels more. "

Mrs. Fairfax had dropped her knitting, and, with raised eyebrows, seemed
wondering what sort of talk this was.

"Well," resumed Mr. Rochester, "if you disown parents, you must have some
sort of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts? "

"No; none that I ever saw. "

"And your home? "

"I have none. "

"Where do your brothers and sisters live? "

"I have no brothers or sisters. "

"Who recommended you to come here? "

"I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement. "

"Yes," said the good lady, who now knew what ground we were upon, "and I
am daily thankful for the choice Providence led me to make. Miss Eyre
has been an invaluable companion to me, and a kind and careful teacher to
Adele. "

"Don't trouble yourself to give her a character," returned Mr. Rochester:
"eulogiums will not bias me; I shall judge for myself. She began by
felling my horse. "

"Sir? " said Mrs. Fairfax.

"I have to thank her for this sprain. "

The widow looked bewildered.

"Miss Eyre, have you ever lived in a town? "

"No, sir. "

"Have you seen much society? "

"None but the pupils and teachers of Lowood, and now the inmates of
Thornfield. "

"Have you read much? "

"Only such books as came in my way; and they have not been numerous or
very learned. "

"You have lived the life of a nun: no doubt you are well drilled in
religious forms;--Brocklehurst, who I understand directs Lowood, is a
parson, is he not? "

"Yes, sir. "

"And you girls probably worshipped him, as a convent full of religieuses
would worship their director. "

"Oh, no. "

"You are very cool! No! What! a novice not worship her priest! That
sounds blasphemous. "

"I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst; and I was not alone in the feeling. He is
a harsh man; at once pompous and meddling; he cut off our hair; and for
economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, with which we could
hardly sew. "

"That was very false economy," remarked Mrs. Fairfax, who now again
caught the drift of the dialogue.

"And was that the head and front of his offending? " demanded Mr.
Rochester.

"He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of the provision
department, before the committee was appointed; and he bored us with long
lectures once a week, and with evening readings from books of his own
inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, which made us afraid to go
to bed. "

"What age were you when you went to Lowood? "

"About ten. "

"And you stayed there eight years: you are now, then, eighteen? "

I assented.

"Arithmetic, you see, is useful; without its aid, I should hardly have
been able to guess your age. It is a point difficult to fix where the
features and countenance are so much at variance as in your case. And
now what did you learn at Lowood? Can you play? "

"A little. "

"Of course: that is the established answer. Go into the library--I mean,
if you please. --(Excuse my tone of command; I am used to say, 'Do this,'
and it is done: I cannot alter my customary habits for one new
inmate. )--Go, then, into the library; take a candle with you; leave the
door open; sit down to the piano, and play a tune. "

I departed, obeying his directions.

"Enough! " he called out in a few minutes. "You play _a little_, I see;
like any other English school-girl; perhaps rather better than some, but
not well. "

I closed the piano and returned. Mr. Rochester continued--"Adele showed
me some sketches this morning, which she said were yours. I don't know
whether they were entirely of your doing; probably a master aided you? "

"No, indeed! " I interjected.

"Ah! that pricks pride. Well, fetch me your portfolio, if you can vouch
for its contents being original; but don't pass your word unless you are
certain: I can recognise patchwork. "

"Then I will say nothing, and you shall judge for yourself, sir. "

I brought the portfolio from the library.

"Approach the table," said he; and I wheeled it to his couch. Adele and
Mrs. Fairfax drew near to see the pictures.

"No crowding," said Mr. Rochester: "take the drawings from my hand as I
finish with them; but don't push your faces up to mine. "

He deliberately scrutinised each sketch and painting. Three he laid
aside; the others, when he had examined them, he swept from him.

"Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax," said he, "and look at
them with Adele;--you" (glancing at me) "resume your seat, and answer my
questions. I perceive those pictures were done by one hand: was that
hand yours? "

"Yes. "

"And when did you find time to do them? They have taken much time, and
some thought.
"

"I did them in the last two vacations I spent at Lowood, when I had no
other occupation. "

"Where did you get your copies? "

"Out of my head. "

"That head I see now on your shoulders? "

"Yes, sir. "

"Has it other furniture of the same kind within? "

"I should think it may have: I should hope--better. "

He spread the pictures before him, and again surveyed them alternately.

While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are: and
first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. The subjects had,
indeed, risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them with the spiritual eye,
before I attempted to embody them, they were striking; but my hand would
not second my fancy, and in each case it had wrought out but a pale
portrait of the thing I had conceived.

These pictures were in water-colours. The first represented clouds low
and livid, rolling over a swollen sea: all the distance was in eclipse;
so, too, was the foreground; or rather, the nearest billows, for there
was no land. One gleam of light lifted into relief a half-submerged
mast, on which sat a cormorant, dark and large, with wings flecked with
foam; its beak held a gold bracelet set with gems, that I had touched
with as brilliant tints as my palette could yield, and as glittering
distinctness as my pencil could impart. Sinking below the bird and mast,
a drowned corpse glanced through the green water; a fair arm was the only
limb clearly visible, whence the bracelet had been washed or torn.

The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of a hill,
with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze. Beyond and above
spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at twilight: rising into the sky
was a woman's shape to the bust, portrayed in tints as dusk and soft as I
could combine. The dim forehead was crowned with a star; the lineaments
below were seen as through the suffusion of vapour; the eyes shone dark
and wild; the hair streamed shadowy, like a beamless cloud torn by storm
or by electric travail. On the neck lay a pale reflection like
moonlight; the same faint lustre touched the train of thin clouds from
which rose and bowed this vision of the Evening Star.

The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar winter sky:
a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances, close serried, along
the horizon. Throwing these into distance, rose, in the foreground, a
head,--a colossal head, inclined towards the iceberg, and resting against
it. Two thin hands, joined under the forehead, and supporting it, drew
up before the lower features a sable veil, a brow quite bloodless, white
as bone, and an eye hollow and fixed, blank of meaning but for the
glassiness of despair, alone were visible. Above the temples, amidst
wreathed turban folds of black drapery, vague in its character and
consistency as cloud, gleamed a ring of white flame, gemmed with sparkles
of a more lurid tinge. This pale crescent was "the likeness of a kingly
crown;" what it diademed was "the shape which shape had none. "

"Were you happy when you painted these pictures? " asked Mr. Rochester
presently.

"I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy. To paint them, in short, was
to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known. "

"That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, have been
few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist's dreamland while
you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did you sit at them long
each day? "

"I had nothing else to do, because it was the vacation, and I sat at them
from morning till noon, and from noon till night: the length of the
midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply. "

"And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent labours? "

"Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and my
handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was quite
powerless to realise. "

"Not quite: you have secured the shadow of your thought; but no more,
probably. You had not enough of the artist's skill and science to give
it full being: yet the drawings are, for a school-girl, peculiar. As to
the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes in the Evening Star you must
have seen in a dream. How could you make them look so clear, and yet not
at all brilliant? for the planet above quells their rays. And what
meaning is that in their solemn depth? And who taught you to paint wind?
There is a high gale in that sky, and on this hill-top. Where did you
see Latmos? For that is Latmos. There! put the drawings away! "

I had scarce tied the strings of the portfolio, when, looking at his
watch, he said abruptly--

"It is nine o'clock: what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adele sit up
so long? Take her to bed. "

Adele went to kiss him before quitting the room: he endured the caress,
but scarcely seemed to relish it more than Pilot would have done, nor so
much.

"I wish you all good-night, now," said he, making a movement of the hand
towards the door, in token that he was tired of our company, and wished
to dismiss us. Mrs. Fairfax folded up her knitting: I took my portfolio:
we curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow in return, and so withdrew.

"You said Mr. Rochester was not strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax," I
observed, when I rejoined her in her room, after putting Adele to bed.

"Well, is he? "

"I think so: he is very changeful and abrupt. "

"True: no doubt he may appear so to a stranger, but I am so accustomed to
his manner, I never think of it; and then, if he has peculiarities of
temper, allowance should be made. "

"Why? "

"Partly because it is his nature--and we can none of us help our nature;
and partly because he has painful thoughts, no doubt, to harass him, and
make his spirits unequal. "

"What about? "

"Family troubles, for one thing. "

"But he has no family. "

"Not now, but he has had--or, at least, relatives. He lost his elder
brother a few years since. "

"His _elder_ brother? "

"Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long in possession of
the property; only about nine years. "

"Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brother as
to be still inconsolable for his loss? "

"Why, no--perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandings
between them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quite just to Mr. Edward;
and perhaps he prejudiced his father against him. The old gentleman was
fond of money, and anxious to keep the family estate together. He did
not like to diminish the property by division, and yet he was anxious
that Mr. Edward should have wealth, too, to keep up the consequence of
the name; and, soon after he was of age, some steps were taken that were
not quite fair, and made a great deal of mischief. Old Mr. Rochester and
Mr. Rowland combined to bring Mr. Edward into what he considered a
painful position, for the sake of making his fortune: what the precise
nature of that position was I never clearly knew, but his spirit could
not brook what he had to suffer in it. He is not very forgiving: he
broke with his family, and now for many years he has led an unsettled
kind of life. I don't think he has ever been resident at Thornfield for
a fortnight together, since the death of his brother without a will left
him master of the estate; and, indeed, no wonder he shuns the old place. "

"Why should he shun it? "

"Perhaps he thinks it gloomy. "

The answer was evasive. I should have liked something clearer; but Mrs.
Fairfax either could not, or would not, give me more explicit information
of the origin and nature of Mr. Rochester's trials. She averred they
were a mystery to herself, and that what she knew was chiefly from
conjecture. It was evident, indeed, that she wished me to drop the
subject, which I did accordingly.




CHAPTER XIV


For several subsequent days I saw little of Mr. Rochester. In the
mornings he seemed much engaged with business, and, in the afternoon,
gentlemen from Millcote or the neighbourhood called, and sometimes stayed
to dine with him. When his sprain was well enough to admit of horse
exercise, he rode out a good deal; probably to return these visits, as he
generally did not come back till late at night.

During this interval, even Adele was seldom sent for to his presence, and
all my acquaintance with him was confined to an occasional rencontre in
the hall, on the stairs, or in the gallery, when he would sometimes pass
me haughtily and coldly, just acknowledging my presence by a distant nod
or a cool glance, and sometimes bow and smile with gentlemanlike
affability. His changes of mood did not offend me, because I saw that I
had nothing to do with their alternation; the ebb and flow depended on
causes quite disconnected with me.

One day he had had company to dinner, and had sent for my portfolio; in
order, doubtless, to exhibit its contents: the gentlemen went away early,
to attend a public meeting at Millcote, as Mrs. Fairfax informed me; but
the night being wet and inclement, Mr. Rochester did not accompany them.
Soon after they were gone he rang the bell: a message came that I and
Adele were to go downstairs. I brushed Adele's hair and made her neat,
and having ascertained that I was myself in my usual Quaker trim, where
there was nothing to retouch--all being too close and plain, braided
locks included, to admit of disarrangement--we descended, Adele wondering
whether the _petit coffre_ was at length come; for, owing to some
mistake, its arrival had hitherto been delayed. She was gratified: there
it stood, a little carton, on the table when we entered the dining-room.
She appeared to know it by instinct.

"Ma boite! ma boite! " exclaimed she, running towards it.

"Yes, there is your 'boite' at last: take it into a corner, you genuine
daughter of Paris, and amuse yourself with disembowelling it," said the
deep and rather sarcastic voice of Mr. Rochester, proceeding from the
depths of an immense easy-chair at the fireside. "And mind," he
continued, "don't bother me with any details of the anatomical process,
or any notice of the condition of the entrails: let your operation be
conducted in silence: tiens-toi tranquille, enfant; comprends-tu? "

Adele seemed scarcely to need the warning--she had already retired to a
sofa with her treasure, and was busy untying the cord which secured the
lid. Having removed this impediment, and lifted certain silvery
envelopes of tissue paper, she merely exclaimed--

"Oh ciel! Que c'est beau! " and then remained absorbed in ecstatic
contemplation.

"Is Miss Eyre there? " now demanded the master, half rising from his seat
to look round to the door, near which I still stood.

"Ah! well, come forward; be seated here. " He drew a chair near his own.
"I am not fond of the prattle of children," he continued; "for, old
bachelor as I am, I have no pleasant associations connected with their
lisp. It would be intolerable to me to pass a whole evening
_tete-a-tete_ with a brat. Don't draw that chair farther off, Miss Eyre;
sit down exactly where I placed it--if you please, that is. Confound
these civilities! I continually forget them. Nor do I particularly
affect simple-minded old ladies. By-the-bye, I must have mine in mind;
it won't do to neglect her; she is a Fairfax, or wed to one; and blood is
said to be thicker than water. "

He rang, and despatched an invitation to Mrs. Fairfax, who soon arrived,
knitting-basket in hand.

"Good evening, madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose. I have
forbidden Adele to talk to me about her presents, and she is bursting
with repletion: have the goodness to serve her as auditress and
interlocutrice; it will be one of the most benevolent acts you ever
performed. "

Adele, indeed, no sooner saw Mrs. Fairfax, than she summoned her to her
sofa, and there quickly filled her lap with the porcelain, the ivory, the
waxen contents of her "boite;" pouring out, meantime, explanations and
raptures in such broken English as she was mistress of.

"Now I have performed the part of a good host," pursued Mr. Rochester,
"put my guests into the way of amusing each other, I ought to be at
liberty to attend to my own pleasure. Miss Eyre, draw your chair still a
little farther forward: you are yet too far back; I cannot see you
without disturbing my position in this comfortable chair, which I have no
mind to do. "

I did as I was bid, though I would much rather have remained somewhat in
the shade; but Mr. Rochester had such a direct way of giving orders, it
seemed a matter of course to obey him promptly.

We were, as I have said, in the dining-room: the lustre, which had been
lit for dinner, filled the room with a festal breadth of light; the large
fire was all red and clear; the purple curtains hung rich and ample
before the lofty window and loftier arch; everything was still, save the
subdued chat of Adele (she dared not speak loud), and, filling up each
pause, the beating of winter rain against the panes.

Mr. Rochester, as he sat in his damask-covered chair, looked different to
what I had seen him look before; not quite so stern--much less gloomy.
There was a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, whether with wine
or not, I am not sure; but I think it very probable. He was, in short,
in his after-dinner mood; more expanded and genial, and also more self-
indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning; still he
looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling
back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-
hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes,
and very fine eyes, too--not without a certain change in their depths
sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that
feeling.

He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the
same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze
fastened on his physiognomy.

"You examine me, Miss Eyre," said he: "do you think me handsome? "

I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by
something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped
from my tongue before I was aware--"No, sir. "

"Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you," said he: "you
have the air of a little _nonnette_; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as
you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the
carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face;
as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a
remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder,
which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it? "

"Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that
it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about
appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little
consequence, or something of that sort. "

"You ought to have replied no such thing. Beauty of little consequence,
indeed! And so, under pretence of softening the previous outrage, of
stroking and soothing me into placidity, you stick a sly penknife under
my ear! Go on: what fault do you find with me, pray? I suppose I have
all my limbs and all my features like any other man? "

"Mr. Rochester, allow me to disown my first answer: I intended no pointed
repartee: it was only a blunder. "

"Just so: I think so: and you shall be answerable for it. Criticise me:
does my forehead not please you? "

He lifted up the sable waves of hair which lay horizontally over his
brow, and showed a solid enough mass of intellectual organs, but an
abrupt deficiency where the suave sign of benevolence should have risen.

"Now, ma'am, am I a fool? "

"Far from it, sir. You would, perhaps, think me rude if I inquired in
return whether you are a philanthropist? "

"There again! Another stick of the penknife, when she pretended to pat
my head: and that is because I said I did not like the society of
children and old women (low be it spoken! ). No, young lady, I am not a
general philanthropist; but I bear a conscience;" and he pointed to the
prominences which are said to indicate that faculty, and which,
fortunately for him, were sufficiently conspicuous; giving, indeed, a
marked breadth to the upper part of his head: "and, besides, I once had a
kind of rude tenderness of heart. When I was as old as you, I was a
feeling fellow enough, partial to the unfledged, unfostered, and unlucky;
but Fortune has knocked me about since: she has even kneaded me with her
knuckles, and now I flatter myself I am hard and tough as an India-rubber
ball; pervious, though, through a chink or two still, and with one
sentient point in the middle of the lump. Yes: does that leave hope for
me? "

"Hope of what, sir? "

"Of my final re-transformation from India-rubber back to flesh? "

"Decidedly he has had too much wine," I thought; and I did not know what
answer to make to his queer question: how could I tell whether he was
capable of being re-transformed?

"You looked very much puzzled, Miss Eyre; and though you are not pretty
any more than I am handsome, yet a puzzled air becomes you; besides, it
is convenient, for it keeps those searching eyes of yours away from my
physiognomy, and busies them with the worsted flowers of the rug; so
puzzle on. Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative
to-night. "

With this announcement he rose from his chair, and stood, leaning his arm
on the marble mantelpiece: in that attitude his shape was seen plainly as
well as his face; his unusual breadth of chest, disproportionate almost
to his length of limb. I am sure most people would have thought him an
ugly man; yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much
ease in his demeanour; such a look of complete indifference to his own
external appearance; so haughty a reliance on the power of other
qualities, intrinsic or adventitious, to atone for the lack of mere
personal attractiveness, that, in looking at him, one inevitably shared
the indifference, and, even in a blind, imperfect sense, put faith in the
confidence.

"I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night," he repeated,
"and that is why I sent for you: the fire and the chandelier were not
sufficient company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these
can talk. Adele is a degree better, but still far below the mark; Mrs.
Fairfax ditto; you, I am persuaded, can suit me if you will: you puzzled
me the first evening I invited you down here. I have almost forgotten
you since: other ideas have driven yours from my head; but to-night I am
resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and recall what
pleases. It would please me now to draw you out--to learn more of
you--therefore speak. "

Instead of speaking, I smiled; and not a very complacent or submissive
smile either.

"Speak," he urged.

"What about, sir? "

"Whatever you like. I leave both the choice of subject and the manner of
treating it entirely to yourself. "

Accordingly I sat and said nothing: "If he expects me to talk for the
mere sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed
himself to the wrong person," I thought.

"You are dumb, Miss Eyre. "

I was dumb still. He bent his head a little towards me, and with a
single hasty glance seemed to dive into my eyes.

"Stubborn? " he said, "and annoyed. Ah! it is consistent. I put my
request in an absurd, almost insolent form.