No More Learning

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 mamma; 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! "

And then they had called her to a sofa, where she now sat, ensconced
between them, chattering alternately in French and broken English;
absorbing not only the young ladies' attention, but that of Mrs. Eshton
and Lady Lynn, and getting spoilt to her heart's content.

At last coffee is brought in, and the gentlemen are summoned. I sit in
the shade--if any shade there be in this brilliantly-lit apartment; the
window-curtain half hides me. Again the arch yawns; they come. The
collective appearance of the gentlemen, like that of the ladies, is very
imposing: they are all costumed in black; most of them are tall, some
young. Henry and Frederick Lynn are very dashing sparks indeed; and
Colonel Dent is a fine soldierly man. Mr. Eshton, the magistrate of the
district, is gentleman-like: his hair is quite white, his eyebrows and
whiskers still dark, which gives him something of the appearance of a
"pere noble de theatre. " Lord Ingram, like his sisters, is very tall;
like them, also, he is handsome; but he shares Mary's apathetic and
listless look: he seems to have more length of limb than vivacity of
blood or vigour of brain.

And where is Mr. Rochester?

He comes in last: I am not looking at the arch, yet I see him enter. I
try to concentrate my attention on those netting-needles, on the meshes
of the purse I am forming--I wish to think only of the work I have in my
hands, to see only the silver beads and silk threads that lie in my lap;
whereas, I distinctly behold his figure, and I inevitably recall the
moment when I last saw it; just after I had rendered him, what he deemed,
an essential service, and he, holding my hand, and looking down on my
face, surveyed me with eyes that revealed a heart full and eager to
overflow; in whose emotions I had a part. How near had I approached him
at that moment! What had occurred since, calculated to change his and my
relative positions? Yet now, how distant, how far estranged we were! So
far estranged, that I did not expect him to come and speak to me. I did
not wonder, when, without looking at me, he took a seat at the other side
of the room, and began conversing with some of the ladies.

No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I
might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily
to his face; I could not keep their lids under control: they would rise,
and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in
looking,--a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely
point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel
who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and
drinks divine draughts nevertheless.

Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gazer. " My master's
colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows,
deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,--all energy, decision,
will,--were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than
beautiful to me; they were full of an interest, an influence that quite
mastered me,--that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them
in his. I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought
hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now,
at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and
strong! He made me love him without looking at me.

I compared him with his guests. What was the gallant grace of the Lynns,
the languid elegance of Lord Ingram,--even the military distinction of
Colonel Dent, contrasted with his look of native pith and genuine power?
I had no sympathy in their appearance, their expression: yet I could
imagine that most observers would call them attractive, handsome,
imposing; while they would pronounce Mr. Rochester at once harsh-featured
and melancholy-looking. I saw them smile, laugh--it was nothing; the
light of the candles had as much soul in it as their smile; the tinkle of
the bell as much significance as their laugh. I saw Mr. Rochester
smile:--his stern features softened; his eye grew both brilliant and
gentle, its ray both searching and sweet. He was talking, at the moment,
to Louisa and Amy Eshton. I wondered to see them receive with calm that
look which seemed to me so penetrating: I expected their eyes to fall,
their colour to rise under it; yet I was glad when I found they were in
no sense moved. "He is not to them what he is to me," I thought: "he is
not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;--I am sure he is--I feel
akin to him--I understand the language of his countenance and movements:
though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and
heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did
I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive
my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other
light than as a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true,
vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must
conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he
cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not
mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean
only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must,
then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered:--and yet, while I
breathe and think, I must love him. "

Coffee is handed. The ladies, since the gentlemen entered, have become
lively as larks; conversation waxes brisk and merry. Colonel Dent and
Mr. Eshton argue on politics; their wives listen. The two proud
dowagers, Lady Lynn and Lady Ingram, confabulate together. Sir
George--whom, by-the-bye, I have forgotten to describe,--a very big, and
very fresh-looking country gentleman, stands before their sofa, coffee-
cup in hand, and occasionally puts in a word. Mr. Frederick Lynn has
taken a seat beside Mary Ingram, and is showing her the engravings of a
splendid volume: she looks, smiles now and then, but apparently says
little. The tall and phlegmatic Lord Ingram leans with folded arms on
the chair-back of the little and lively Amy Eshton; she glances up at
him, and chatters like a wren: she likes him better than she does Mr.
Rochester. Henry Lynn has taken possession of an ottoman at the feet of
Louisa: Adele shares it with him: he is trying to talk French with her,
and Louisa laughs at his blunders. With whom will Blanche Ingram pair?
She is standing alone at the table, bending gracefully over an album. She
seems waiting to be sought; but she will not wait too long: she herself
selects a mate.

Mr. Rochester, having quitted the Eshtons, stands on the hearth as
solitary as she stands by the table: she confronts him, taking her
station on the opposite side of the mantelpiece.

"Mr. Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children? "

"Nor am I. "

"Then, what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that? "
(pointing to Adele). "Where did you pick her up? "

"I did not pick her up; she was left on my hands. "

"You should have sent her to school. "

"I could not afford it: schools are so dear. "

"Why, I suppose you have a governess for her: I saw a person with her
just now--is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind the window-
curtain. You pay her, of course; I should think it quite as
expensive,--more so; for you have them both to keep in addition. "

I feared--or should I say, hoped? --the allusion to me would make Mr.
Rochester glance my way; and I involuntarily shrank farther into the
shade: but he never turned his eyes.

"I have not considered the subject," said he indifferently, looking
straight before him.

"No, you men never do consider economy and common sense. You should hear
mama on the chapter of governesses: Mary and I have had, I should think,
a dozen at least in our day; half of them detestable and the rest
ridiculous, and all incubi--were they not, mama? "

"Did you speak, my own? "

The young lady thus claimed as the dowager's special property, reiterated
her question with an explanation.

"My dearest, don't mention governesses; the word makes me nervous. I
have suffered a martyrdom from their incompetency and caprice. I thank
Heaven I have now done with them! "

Mrs. Dent here bent over to the pious lady and whispered something in her
ear; I suppose, from the answer elicited, it was a reminder that one of
the anathematised race was present.

"Tant pis! " said her Ladyship, "I hope it may do her good! " Then, in a
lower tone, but still loud enough for me to hear, "I noticed her; I am a
judge of physiognomy, and in hers I see all the faults of her class. "

"What are they, madam? " inquired Mr. Rochester aloud.

"I will tell you in your private ear," replied she, wagging her turban
three times with portentous significancy.

"But my curiosity will be past its appetite; it craves food now. "

"Ask Blanche; she is nearer you than I. "

"Oh, don't refer him to me, mama! I have just one word to say of the
whole tribe; they are a nuisance. Not that I ever suffered much from
them; I took care to turn the tables. What tricks Theodore and I used to
play on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Madame Jouberts! Mary was
always too sleepy to join in a plot with spirit. The best fun was with
Madame Joubert: Miss Wilson was a poor sickly thing, lachrymose and low-
spirited, not worth the trouble of vanquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey
was coarse and insensible; no blow took effect on her. But poor Madame
Joubert! I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had driven her to
extremities--spilt our tea, crumbled our bread and butter, tossed our
books up to the ceiling, and played a charivari with the ruler and desk,
the fender and fire-irons. Theodore, do you remember those merry days? "

"Yaas, to be sure I do," drawled Lord Ingram; "and the poor old stick
used to cry out 'Oh you villains childs! '--and then we sermonised her on
the presumption of attempting to teach such clever blades as we were,
when she was herself so ignorant. "

"We did; and, Tedo, you know, I helped you in prosecuting (or
persecuting) your tutor, whey-faced Mr. Vining--the parson in the pip, as
we used to call him. He and Miss Wilson took the liberty of falling in
love with each other--at least Tedo and I thought so; we surprised sundry
tender glances and sighs which we interpreted as tokens of 'la belle
passion,' and I promise you the public soon had the benefit of our
discovery; we employed it as a sort of lever to hoist our dead-weights
from the house. Dear mama, there, as soon as she got an inkling of the
business, found out that it was of an immoral tendency. Did you not, my
lady-mother? "

"Certainly, my best. And I was quite right: depend on that: there are a
thousand reasons why liaisons between governesses and tutors should never
be tolerated a moment in any well-regulated house; firstly--"

"Oh, gracious, mama! Spare us the enumeration! _Au reste_, we all know
them: danger of bad example to innocence of childhood; distractions and
consequent neglect of duty on the part of the attached--mutual alliance
and reliance; confidence thence resulting--insolence accompanying--mutiny
and general blow-up. Am I right, Baroness Ingram, of Ingram Park? "

"My lily-flower, you are right now, as always. "

"Then no more need be said: change the subject. "

Amy Eshton, not hearing or not heeding this dictum, joined in with her
soft, infantine tone: "Louisa and I used to quiz our governess too; but
she was such a good creature, she would bear anything: nothing put her
out. She was never cross with us; was she, Louisa? "

"No, never: we might do what we pleased; ransack her desk and her
workbox, and turn her drawers inside out; and she was so good-natured,
she would give us anything we asked for. "

"I suppose, now," said Miss Ingram, curling her lip sarcastically, "we
shall have an abstract of the memoirs of all the governesses extant: in
order to avert such a visitation, I again move the introduction of a new
topic. Mr. Rochester, do you second my motion? "

"Madam, I support you on this point, as on every other. "

"Then on me be the onus of bringing it forward. Signior Eduardo, are you
in voice to-night? "

"Donna Bianca, if you command it, I will be. "

"Then, signior, I lay on you my sovereign behest to furbish up your lungs
and other vocal organs, as they will be wanted on my royal service. "

"Who would not be the Rizzio of so divine a Mary? "

"A fig for Rizzio! " cried she, tossing her head with all its curls, as
she moved to the piano. "It is my opinion the fiddler David must have
been an insipid sort of fellow; I like black Bothwell better: to my mind
a man is nothing without a spice of the devil in him; and history may say
what it will of James Hepburn, but I have a notion, he was just the sort
of wild, fierce, bandit hero whom I could have consented to gift with my
hand. "

"Gentlemen, you hear! Now which of you most resembles Bothwell? " cried
Mr. Rochester.

"I should say the preference lies with you," responded Colonel Dent.

"On my honour, I am much obliged to you," was the reply.

Miss Ingram, who had now seated herself with proud grace at the piano,
spreading out her snowy robes in queenly amplitude, commenced a brilliant
prelude; talking meantime. She appeared to be on her high horse
to-night; both her words and her air seemed intended to excite not only
the admiration, but the amazement of her auditors: she was evidently bent
on striking them as something very dashing and daring indeed.

"Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day! " exclaimed she,
rattling away at the instrument. "Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a
step beyond papa's park gates: nor to go even so far without mama's
permission and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed in care about their
pretty faces, and their white hands, and their small feet; as if a man
had anything to do with beauty! As if loveliness were not the special
prerogative of woman--her legitimate appanage and heritage! I grant an
ugly _woman_ is a blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the
_gentlemen_, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour:
let their motto be:--Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a
fillip. Such should be my device, were I a man. "

"Whenever I marry," she continued after a pause which none interrupted,
"I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me. I will
suffer no competitor near the throne; I shall exact an undivided homage:
his devotions shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in his
mirror. Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will play for you. "

"I am all obedience," was the response.

"Here then is a Corsair-song. Know that I doat on Corsairs; and for that
reason, sing it _con spirito_. "

"Commands from Miss Ingram's lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and
water. "

"Take care, then: if you don't please me, I will shame you by showing how
such things _should_ be done. "

"That is offering a premium on incapacity: I shall now endeavour to
fail. "

"Gardez-vous en bien! If you err wilfully, I shall devise a
proportionate punishment. "

"Miss Ingram ought to be clement, for she has it in her power to inflict
a chastisement beyond mortal endurance. "

"Ha! explain! " commanded the lady.

"Pardon me, madam: no need of explanation; your own fine sense must
inform you that one of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute for
capital punishment. "

"Sing! " said she, and again touching the piano, she commenced an
accompaniment in spirited style.

"Now is my time to slip away," thought I: but the tones that then severed
the air arrested me. Mrs. Fairfax had said Mr. Rochester possessed a
fine voice: he did--a mellow, powerful bass, into which he threw his own
feeling, his own force; finding a way through the ear to the heart, and
there waking sensation strangely. I waited till the last deep and full
vibration had expired--till the tide of talk, checked an instant, had
resumed its flow; I then quitted my sheltered corner and made my exit by
the side-door, which was fortunately near.
Thence a narrow passage led
into the hall: in crossing it, I perceived my sandal was loose; I stopped
to tie it, kneeling down for that purpose on the mat at the foot of the
staircase. I heard the dining-room door unclose; a gentleman came out;
rising hastily, I stood face to face with him: it was Mr. Rochester.

"How do you do? " he asked.

"I am very well, sir. "

"Why did you not come and speak to me in the room? "

I thought I might have retorted the question on him who put it: but I
would not take that freedom. I answered--

"I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged, sir. "

"What have you been doing during my absence? "

"Nothing particular; teaching Adele as usual. "

"And getting a good deal paler than you were--as I saw at first sight.
What is the matter? "

"Nothing at all, sir. "

"Did you take any cold that night you half drowned me? "

"Not the least. "

"Return to the drawing-room: you are deserting too early. "

"I am tired, sir. "

He looked at me for a minute.

"And a little depressed," he said. "What about? Tell me. "

"Nothing--nothing, sir. I am not depressed. "

"But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more words would
bring tears to your eyes--indeed, they are there now, shining and
swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on to the flag.
If I had time, and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a
servant passing, I would know what all this means. Well, to-night I
excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you
to appear in the drawing-room every evening; it is my wish; don't neglect
it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adele. Good-night, my--" He stopped,
bit his lip, and abruptly left me.




CHAPTER XVIII


Merry days were these at Thornfield Hall; and busy days too: how
different from the first three months of stillness, monotony, and
solitude I had passed beneath its roof! All sad feelings seemed now
driven from the house, all gloomy associations forgotten: there was life
everywhere, movement all day long. You could not now traverse the
gallery, once so hushed, nor enter the front chambers, once so
tenantless, without encountering a smart lady's-maid or a dandy valet.

The kitchen, the butler's pantry, the servants' hall, the entrance hall,
were equally alive; and the saloons were only left void and still when
the blue sky and halcyon sunshine of the genial spring weather called
their occupants out into the grounds. Even when that weather was broken,
and continuous rain set in for some days, no damp seemed cast over
enjoyment: indoor amusements only became more lively and varied, in
consequence of the stop put to outdoor gaiety.

I wondered what they were going to do the first evening a change of
entertainment was proposed: they spoke of "playing charades," but in my
ignorance I did not understand the term. The servants were called in,
the dining-room tables wheeled away, the lights otherwise disposed, the
chairs placed in a semicircle opposite the arch. While Mr. Rochester and
the other gentlemen directed these alterations, the ladies were running
up and down stairs ringing for their maids. Mrs. Fairfax was summoned to
give information respecting the resources of the house in shawls,
dresses, draperies of any kind; and certain wardrobes of the third storey
were ransacked, and their contents, in the shape of brocaded and hooped
petticoats, satin sacques, black modes, lace lappets, &c. , were brought
down in armfuls by the abigails; then a selection was made, and such
things as were chosen were carried to the boudoir within the
drawing-room.

Meantime, Mr. Rochester had again summoned the ladies round him, and was
selecting certain of their number to be of his party. "Miss Ingram is
mine, of course," said he: afterwards he named the two Misses Eshton, and
Mrs. Dent. He looked at me: I happened to be near him, as I had been
fastening the clasp of Mrs. Dent's bracelet, which had got loose.

"Will you play? " he asked. I shook my head. He did not insist, which I
rather feared he would have done; he allowed me to return quietly to my
usual seat.

He and his aids now withdrew behind the curtain: the other party, which
was headed by Colonel Dent, sat down on the crescent of chairs. One of
the gentlemen, Mr. Eshton, observing me, seemed to propose that I should
be asked to join them; but Lady Ingram instantly negatived the notion.

"No," I heard her say: "she looks too stupid for any game of the sort. "

Ere long a bell tinkled, and the curtain drew up. Within the arch, the
bulky figure of Sir George Lynn, whom Mr. Rochester had likewise chosen,
was seen enveloped in a white sheet: before him, on a table, lay open a
large book; and at his side stood Amy Eshton, draped in Mr. Rochester's
cloak, and holding a book in her hand. Somebody, unseen, rang the bell
merrily; then Adele (who had insisted on being one of her guardian's
party), bounded forward, scattering round her the contents of a basket of
flowers she carried on her arm. Then appeared the magnificent figure of
Miss Ingram, clad in white, a long veil on her head, and a wreath of
roses round her brow; by her side walked Mr. Rochester, and together they
drew near the table. They knelt; while Mrs. Dent and Louisa Eshton,
dressed also in white, took up their stations behind them. A ceremony
followed, in dumb show, in which it was easy to recognise the pantomime
of a marriage. At its termination, Colonel Dent and his party consulted
in whispers for two minutes, then the Colonel called out--

"Bride! " Mr. Rochester bowed, and the curtain fell.

A considerable interval elapsed before it again rose. Its second rising
displayed a more elaborately prepared scene than the last. The drawing-
room, as I have before observed, was raised two steps above the dining-
room, and on the top of the upper step, placed a yard or two back within
the room, appeared a large marble basin--which I recognised as an
ornament of the conservatory--where it usually stood, surrounded by
exotics, and tenanted by gold fish--and whence it must have been
transported with some trouble, on account of its size and weight.

Seated on the carpet, by the side of this basin, was seen Mr. Rochester,
costumed in shawls, with a turban on his head. His dark eyes and swarthy
skin and Paynim features suited the costume exactly: he looked the very
model of an Eastern emir, an agent or a victim of the bowstring.
Presently advanced into view Miss Ingram. She, too, was attired in
oriental fashion: a crimson scarf tied sash-like round the waist: an
embroidered handkerchief knotted about her temples; her
beautifully-moulded arms bare, one of them upraised in the act of
supporting a pitcher, poised gracefully on her head. Both her cast of
form and feature, her complexion and her general air, suggested the idea
of some Israelitish princess of the patriarchal days; and such was
doubtless the character she intended to represent.

She approached the basin, and bent over it as if to fill her pitcher; she
again lifted it to her head. The personage on the well-brink now seemed
to accost her; to make some request:--"She hasted, let down her pitcher
on her hand, and gave him to drink. " From the bosom of his robe he then
produced a casket, opened it and showed magnificent bracelets and
earrings; she acted astonishment and admiration; kneeling, he laid the
treasure at her feet; incredulity and delight were expressed by her looks
and gestures; the stranger fastened the bracelets on her arms and the
rings in her ears. It was Eliezer and Rebecca: the camels only were
wanting.

The divining party again laid their heads together: apparently they could
not agree about the word or syllable the scene illustrated. Colonel
Dent, their spokesman, demanded "the tableau of the whole;" whereupon the
curtain again descended.

On its third rising only a portion of the drawing-room was disclosed; the
rest being concealed by a screen, hung with some sort of dark and coarse
drapery. The marble basin was removed; in its place, stood a deal table
and a kitchen chair: these objects were visible by a very dim light
proceeding from a horn lantern, the wax candles being all extinguished.

Amidst this sordid scene, sat a man with his clenched hands resting on
his knees, and his eyes bent on the ground. I knew Mr. Rochester; though
the begrimed face, the disordered dress (his coat hanging loose from one
arm, as if it had been almost torn from his back in a scuffle), the
desperate and scowling countenance, the rough, bristling hair might well
have disguised him. As he moved, a chain clanked; to his wrists were
attached fetters.

"Bridewell! " exclaimed Colonel Dent, and the charade was solved.

A sufficient interval having elapsed for the performers to resume their
ordinary costume, they re-entered the dining-room. Mr. Rochester led in
Miss Ingram; she was complimenting him on his acting.

"Do you know," said she, "that, of the three characters, I liked you in
the last best? Oh, had you but lived a few years earlier, what a gallant
gentleman-highwayman you would have made! "

"Is all the soot washed from my face? " he asked, turning it towards her.

"Alas! yes: the more's the pity! Nothing could be more becoming to your
complexion than that ruffian's rouge. "

"You would like a hero of the road then? "

"An English hero of the road would be the next best thing to an Italian
bandit; and that could only be surpassed by a Levantine pirate. "

"Well, whatever I am, remember you are my wife; we were married an hour
since, in the presence of all these witnesses. " She giggled, and her
colour rose.

"Now, Dent," continued Mr. Rochester, "it is your turn. " And as the
other party withdrew, he and his band took the vacated seats. Miss
Ingram placed herself at her leader's right hand; the other diviners
filled the chairs on each side of him and her. I did not now watch the
actors; I no longer waited with interest for the curtain to rise; my
attention was absorbed by the spectators; my eyes, erewhile fixed on the
arch, were now irresistibly attracted to the semicircle of chairs. What
charade Colonel Dent and his party played, what word they chose, how they
acquitted themselves, I no longer remember; but I still see the
consultation which followed each scene: I see Mr. Rochester turn to Miss
Ingram, and Miss Ingram to him; I see her incline her head towards him,
till the jetty curls almost touch his shoulder and wave against his
cheek; I hear their mutual whisperings; I recall their interchanged
glances; and something even of the feeling roused by the spectacle
returns in memory at this moment.

I have told you, reader, that I had learnt to love Mr. Rochester: I could
not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice
me--because I might pass hours in his presence, and he would never once
turn his eyes in my direction--because I saw all his attentions
appropriated by a great lady, who scorned to touch me with the hem of her
robes as she passed; who, if ever her dark and imperious eye fell on me
by chance, would withdraw it instantly as from an object too mean to
merit observation. I could not unlove him, because I felt sure he would
soon marry this very lady--because I read daily in her a proud security
in his intentions respecting her--because I witnessed hourly in him a
style of courtship which, if careless and choosing rather to be sought
than to seek, was yet, in its very carelessness, captivating, and in its
very pride, irresistible.

There was nothing to cool or banish love in these circumstances, though
much to create despair. Much too, you will think, reader, to engender
jealousy: if a woman, in my position, could presume to be jealous of a
woman in Miss Ingram's. But I was not jealous: or very rarely;--the
nature of the pain I suffered could not be explained by that word. Miss
Ingram was a mark beneath jealousy: she was too inferior to excite the
feeling. Pardon the seeming paradox; I mean what I say. She was very
showy, but she was not genuine: she had a fine person, many brilliant
attainments; but her mind was poor, her heart barren by nature: nothing
bloomed spontaneously on that soil; no unforced natural fruit delighted
by its freshness. She was not good; she was not original: she used to
repeat sounding phrases from books: she never offered, nor had, an
opinion of her own. She advocated a high tone of sentiment; but she did
not know the sensations of sympathy and pity; tenderness and truth were
not in her. Too often she betrayed this, by the undue vent she gave to a
spiteful antipathy she had conceived against little Adele: pushing her
away with some contumelious epithet if she happened to approach her;
sometimes ordering her from the room, and always treating her with
coldness and acrimony. Other eyes besides mine watched these
manifestations of character--watched them closely, keenly, shrewdly. Yes;
the future bridegroom, Mr. Rochester himself, exercised over his intended
a ceaseless surveillance; and it was from this sagacity--this guardedness
of his--this perfect, clear consciousness of his fair one's defects--this
obvious absence of passion in his sentiments towards her, that my ever-
torturing pain arose.

I saw he was going to marry her, for family, perhaps political reasons,
because her rank and connections suited him; I felt he had not given her
his love, and that her qualifications were ill adapted to win from him
that treasure. This was the point--this was where the nerve was touched
and teased--this was where the fever was sustained and fed: _she could
not charm him_.

If she had managed the victory at once, and he had yielded and sincerely
laid his heart at her feet, I should have covered my face, turned to the
wall, and (figuratively) have died to them. If Miss Ingram had been a
good and noble woman, endowed with force, fervour, kindness, sense, I
should have had one vital struggle with two tigers--jealousy and despair:
then, my heart torn out and devoured, I should have admired
her--acknowledged her excellence, and been quiet for the rest of my days:
and the more absolute her superiority, the deeper would have been my
admiration--the more truly tranquil my quiescence. But as matters really
stood, to watch Miss Ingram's efforts at fascinating Mr. Rochester, to
witness their repeated failure--herself unconscious that they did fail;
vainly fancying that each shaft launched hit the mark, and infatuatedly
pluming herself on success, when her pride and self-complacency repelled
further and further what she wished to allure--to witness _this_, was to
be at once under ceaseless excitation and ruthless restraint.

Because, when she failed, I saw how she might have succeeded. Arrows
that continually glanced off from Mr. Rochester's breast and fell
harmless at his feet, might, I knew, if shot by a surer hand, have
quivered keen in his proud heart--have called love into his stern eye,
and softness into his sardonic face; or, better still, without weapons a
silent conquest might have been won.

"Why can she not influence him more, when she is privileged to draw so
near to him? " I asked myself. "Surely she cannot truly like him, or not
like him with true affection! If she did, she need not coin her smiles
so lavishly, flash her glances so unremittingly, manufacture airs so
elaborate, graces so multitudinous. It seems to me that she might, by
merely sitting quietly at his side, saying little and looking less, get
nigher his heart. I have seen in his face a far different expression
from that which hardens it now while she is so vivaciously accosting him;
but then it came of itself: it was not elicited by meretricious arts and
calculated manoeuvres; and one had but to accept it--to answer what he
asked without pretension, to address him when needful without grimace--and
it increased and grew kinder and more genial, and warmed one like a
fostering sunbeam. How will she manage to please him when they are
married? I do not think she will manage it; and yet it might be managed;
and his wife might, I verily believe, be the very happiest woman the sun
shines on. "

I have not yet said anything condemnatory of Mr. Rochester's project of
marrying for interest and connections. It surprised me when I first
discovered that such was his intention: I had thought him a man unlikely
to be influenced by motives so commonplace in his choice of a wife; but
the longer I considered the position, education, &c. , of the parties, the
less I felt justified in judging and blaming either him or Miss Ingram
for acting in conformity to ideas and principles instilled into them,
doubtless, from their childhood. All their class held these principles:
I supposed, then, they had reasons for holding them such as I could not
fathom. It seemed to me that, were I a gentleman like him, I would take
to my bosom only such a wife as I could love; but the very obviousness of
the advantages to the husband's own happiness offered by this plan
convinced me that there must be arguments against its general adoption of
which I was quite ignorant: otherwise I felt sure all the world would act
as I wished to act.

But in other points, as well as this, I was growing very lenient to my
master: I was forgetting all his faults, for which I had once kept a
sharp look-out. It had formerly been my endeavour to study all sides of
his character: to take the bad with the good; and from the just weighing
of both, to form an equitable judgment. Now I saw no bad. The sarcasm
that had repelled, the harshness that had startled me once, were only
like keen condiments in a choice dish: their presence was pungent, but
their absence would be felt as comparatively insipid. And as for the
vague something--was it a sinister or a sorrowful, a designing or a
desponding expression? --that opened upon a careful observer, now and
then, in his eye, and closed again before one could fathom the strange
depth partially disclosed; that something which used to make me fear and
shrink, as if I had been wandering amongst volcanic-looking hills, and
had suddenly felt the ground quiver and seen it gape: that something, I,
at intervals, beheld still; and with throbbing heart, but not with
palsied nerves. Instead of wishing to shun, I longed only to dare--to
divine it; and I thought Miss Ingram happy, because one day she might
look into the abyss at her leisure, explore its secrets and analyse their
nature.

Meantime, while I thought only of my master and his future bride--saw
only them, heard only their discourse, and considered only their
movements of importance--the rest of the party were occupied with their
own separate interests and pleasures. The Ladies Lynn and Ingram
continued to consort in solemn conferences, where they nodded their two
turbans at each other, and held up their four hands in confronting
gestures of surprise, or mystery, or horror, according to the theme on
which their gossip ran, like a pair of magnified puppets. Mild Mrs. Dent
talked with good-natured Mrs. Eshton; and the two sometimes bestowed a
courteous word or smile on me. Sir George Lynn, Colonel Dent, and Mr.
Eshton discussed politics, or county affairs, or justice business. Lord
Ingram flirted with Amy Eshton; Louisa played and sang to and with one of
the Messrs. Lynn; and Mary Ingram listened languidly to the gallant
speeches of the other. Sometimes all, as with one consent, suspended
their by-play to observe and listen to the principal actors: for, after
all, Mr. Rochester and--because closely connected with him--Miss Ingram
were the life and soul of the party. If he was absent from the room an
hour, a perceptible dulness seemed to steal over the spirits of his
guests; and his re-entrance was sure to give a fresh impulse to the
vivacity of conversation.

The want of his animating influence appeared to be peculiarly felt one
day that he had been summoned to Millcote on business, and was not likely
to return till late. The afternoon was wet: a walk the party had
proposed to take to see a gipsy camp, lately pitched on a common beyond
Hay, was consequently deferred. Some of the gentlemen were gone to the
stables: the younger ones, together with the younger ladies, were playing
billiards in the billiard-room. The dowagers Ingram and Lynn sought
solace in a quiet game at cards. Blanche Ingram, after having repelled,
by supercilious taciturnity, some efforts of Mrs. Dent and Mrs. Eshton to
draw her into conversation, had first murmured over some sentimental
tunes and airs on the piano, and then, having fetched a novel from the
library, had flung herself in haughty listlessness on a sofa, and
prepared to beguile, by the spell of fiction, the tedious hours of
absence. The room and the house were silent: only now and then the
merriment of the billiard-players was heard from above.

It was verging on dusk, and the clock had already given warning of the
hour to dress for dinner, when little Adele, who knelt by me in the
drawing-room window-seat, suddenly exclaimed--

"Voila, Monsieur Rochester, qui revient! "

I turned, and Miss Ingram darted forwards from her sofa: the others, too,
looked up from their several occupations; for at the same time a
crunching of wheels and a splashing tramp of horse-hoofs became audible
on the wet gravel. A post-chaise was approaching.

"What can possess him to come home in that style? " said Miss Ingram. "He
rode Mesrour (the black horse), did he not, when he went out? and Pilot
was with him:--what has he done with the animals? "

As she said this, she approached her tall person and ample garments so
near the window, that I was obliged to bend back almost to the breaking
of my spine: in her eagerness she did not observe me at first, but when
she did, she curled her lip and moved to another casement. The
post-chaise stopped; the driver rang the door-bell, and a gentleman
alighted attired in travelling garb; but it was not Mr. Rochester; it was
a tall, fashionable-looking man, a stranger.

"How provoking! " exclaimed Miss Ingram: "you tiresome monkey! "
(apostrophising Adele), "who perched you up in the window to give false
intelligence? " and she cast on me an angry glance, as if I were in fault.

Some parleying was audible in the hall, and soon the new-comer entered.
He bowed to Lady Ingram, as deeming her the eldest lady present.

"It appears I come at an inopportune time, madam," said he, "when my
friend, Mr. Rochester, is from home; but I arrive from a very long
journey, and I think I may presume so far on old and intimate
acquaintance as to instal myself here till he returns. "

His manner was polite; his accent, in speaking, struck me as being
somewhat unusual,--not precisely foreign, but still not altogether
English: his age might be about Mr. Rochester's,--between thirty and
forty; his complexion was singularly sallow: otherwise he was a
fine-looking man, at first sight especially. On closer examination, you
detected something in his face that displeased, or rather that failed to
please. His features were regular, but too relaxed: his eye was large
and well cut, but the life looking out of it was a tame, vacant life--at
least so I thought.

The sound of the dressing-bell dispersed the party. It was not till
after dinner that I saw him again: he then seemed quite at his ease.