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sentence ever broken by reply?
When is the pause after that
Not, perhaps, once in a hun-
dred years.
And the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes
from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was
proceeding; his hand was already stretched toward Mr. Roches-
ter, as his lips unclosed to ask, "Wilt thou have this woman for
thy wedded wife? "- when a distinct and near voice said, « The
marriage cannot go on: I declare the existence of an impedi-
ment. "
-
The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute:
the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an
earthquake had rolled under his feet; taking a firmer footing,
and not turning his head or eyes, he said, "Proceed! "
Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, with
deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said, "I cannot
proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted,
and evidence of its truth or falsehood. "
"The ceremony is quite broken off," subjoined the voice.
behind us. "I am in a condition to prove my allegation; an
insuperable impediment to this marriage exists. "
Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not; he stood stubborn and
rigid; making no movement but to possess himself of my hand.
What a hot and strong grasp he had! - and how like quarried
marble was his pale, firm, massive front at this moment! How
his eye shone, still, watchful, and yet wild beneath!
Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. «< 'What is the nature of the
impediment? " he asked. Perhaps it may be got over
«<
explained away? "


## p. 2392 (#594) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2392
"Hardly," was the answer: I have called it insuperable, and
I speak advisedly. "
The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails.
He con-
tinued, uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily, but not
loudly.
"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage.
Mr. Rochester has a wife now living. "
My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had
never vibrated to thunder; my blood felt their subtle violence as
it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no
danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester; I made him look
at me. His whole face was colorless rock; his eye was both
spark and flint. He disavowed nothing; he seemed as if he
would defy all things. Without speaking, without smiling, with-
out seeming to recognize in me a human being, he only twined
my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.
"Who are you? " he asked of the intruder.
<< My name is Briggs, a solicitor of
"And you would thrust on me a wife? "
Street, London. "
"I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the
law recognizes if you do not. "
"Favor me with an account of her- with her name, her par-
entage, her place of abode. "
"Certainly. " Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket,
and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:-
___________________________
_________
"
"I affirm nd can prove that on the 20th of October, A. D.
>> (a date of fifteen years back), "Edward Fairfax Roches-
ter, of Thornfield Hall, in the county of
and of Ferndean
Manor, in —shire, England, was married to my sister, Bertha
Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of
Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at church, Spanish Town,
Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the regis-
ter of that church-a copy of it is now in my possession.
Signed, Richard Mason. "
"That, if a genuine document, may prove I have been mar-
ried, but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as
my wife is still living. "
«< She was living three months ago," returned the lawyer.
"How do you know? "
"I have a witness to the fact whose testimony even you, sir,
will scarcely controvert. "


## p. 2393 (#595) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2393
"Produce him- or go to hell! »
"I will produce him first-he is on the spot: Mr. Mason,
have the goodness to step forward. ”
Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his teeth: he expe-
rienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as
I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run
through his frame.
The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the back-
ground, now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's
shoulder-yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and
glared at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye-
it had now a tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his
face flushed-olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow,
as from spreading, ascending heart-fire; and he stirred, lifted
his strong arm; he could have struck Mason-dashed him on
the church floor-shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his
body; but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, "Good God! "
Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester-his passion died as if
a blight had shriveled it up; he only asked, "What have you
to say? "
An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.
"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again
demand, what have you to say? "
"Sir-sir," interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are
in a sacred place. " Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently,
"Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is
still living? "
>>
"Courage," urged the lawyer; "speak out.
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more
articulate tones. "I saw her there last April. I am her brother. "
"At Thornfield Hall! " ejaculated the clergyman. "Impos-
sible! I am an old resident in this neighborhood, sir, and I
never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall. "
I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lip, and he mut-
tered, "No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it, or
of her under that name. " He mused; for ten minutes he held
counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it:-
"Enough; all shall bolt out at once, like a bullet from the bar-
rel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John
Green" (to the clerk) "leave the church: there will be no wed-
ding to-day. " The man obeyed.


## p. 2394 (#596) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2394
Mr. Rochester continued hardily and recklessly:- "Bigamy is
an ugly word! I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has
out-manœuvred me, or Providence has checked me- perhaps the
last. I am little better than a devil at this moment; and as my
pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judg-
ments of God, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm.
"Gentlemen, my plan is broken up! what this lawyer and his
client say is true: I have been married, and the woman to whom
I was married lives! You say you never heard of a Mrs. Roch-
ester at the house up yonder, Wood; but I dare say you have many
a time inclined your ear to gossip about the mysterious lunatic
kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you
that she is my bastard half-sister; some, my cast-off mistress: I
now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen
years ago - Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute per-
sonage who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks,
showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!
never fear me! I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you.
Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family - idiots
and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole,
was both a mad-woman and a drunkard! as I found out after
I had wed the daughter; for they were silent on family secrets
before. Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both
points. I had a charming partner-pure, wise, modest; you can
fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my
experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe
you no further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you
all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and
my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into
espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the
compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human.
This girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no more than
you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and
legal, and never dreamed that she was going to be entrapped
into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to
a bad, mad, and imbruted partner! Come, all of you, follow. "
Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentle-
men came after. At the front door of the hall we found the
carriage.
-
"Take it back to the coach-house, John," said Mr. Rochester,
coolly: "it will not be wanted to-day. "


## p. 2395 (#597) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2395
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sophie, Leah, advanced
to meet and greet us.
-
"To the right-about - every soul! " cried the master: "away
with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I! they are
fifteen years too late! "
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand,
and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him; which they did.
We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded
to the third story: the low black door, opened by Mr. Roches-
ter's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its
great bed and its pictorial cabinet.
"You know this place, Mason," said our guide; "she bit and
stabbed you here. ”
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second
door; this too he opened. In a room without a window there
burned a fire, guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp
suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over
the fire, apparently cooking something in a saucepan. In the
deep shade, at the further end of the room, a figure ran back-
ward and forward. What it was, whether beast or human being,
one could not at first sight tell; it groveled, seemingly, on all
fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal;
but it was covered with clothing; and a quantity of dark grizzled
hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Poole," said Mr. Rochester. "How are
you? and how is your charge to-day? "
"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the
boiling mess carefully on to the hob: "rather snappish, but not
'rageous. "
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favorable report:
the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind feet.
"Ah, sir, she sees you! " exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not
stay. "
"Only a few moments, Grace; you must allow me a few mo-
ments. "
"Take care then, sir! for God's sake, take care! "
The maniac bellowed; she parted her shaggy locks from her
visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognized well that
purple face-those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced.
"Keep out of the way," said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her
aside; "she has no knife now, I suppose? and I'm on my
guard. "


## p. 2396 (#598) ###########################################

2396
BRONTÉ SISTERS
"One never knows what she has, sir, she is so cunning; it is
not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft. "
"We had better leave her," whispered Mason.
"Go to the devil! " was his brother-in-law's recommendation.
"'Ware! " cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simul-
taneously. Mr. Rochester flung me behind him; the lunatic
sprang and grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to
his cheek; they struggled. She was a big woman, in stature
almost equaling her husband, and corpulent besides; she showed
virile force in the contest-more than once she almost throttled
him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-
planted blow; but he would not strike her; he would only wrestle.
At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and
he pinioned them behind her; with more rope, which was at
hand, he bound her to a chair. The operation was performed
amid the fiercest yells and the most convulsive plunges. Mr.
Rochester then turned to the spectators; he looked at them with
a smile both acrid and desolate.
"That is my wife," said he. "Such is the sole conjugal
embrace I am ever to know-such are the endearments which
are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to
have" (laying his hand on my shoulder): "this young girl, who
stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly
at the gambols of a demon. I wanted her just as a change, after
that fierce ragoût. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference.
Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder-this face
with that mask-this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest
of the Gospel and man of the law, and remember, with what
judgment ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with you now: I
must shut up my prize. "
We all withdrew. Mr. Rochester stayed a moment behind us,
to give some further order to Grace Poole. The solicitor ad-
dressed me as he descended the stair.
"You, madam," said he, "are cleared from all blame; your
uncle will be glad to hear it-if indeed he should be still liv-
ing-when Mr. Mason returns to Madeira. "
"My uncle? What of him? Do you know him? »
"Mr. Mason does; Mr. Eyre has been the Funchal corre-
spondent of his house for some years. When your uncle received
your letter intimating the contemplated union between yourself
and Mr. Rochester, Mr. Mason, who was staying at Madeira to
recruit his health, on his way back to Jamaica happened to be


## p. 2397 (#599) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2397
with him. Mr. Eyre mentioned the intelligence; for he knew
that my client here was acquainted with a gentleman of the name
of Rochester. Mr. Mason, astonished and distressed, as you may
suppose, revealed the real state of matters. Your uncle, I am
sorry to say, is now on a sick-bed; from which, considering the
nature of his disease— decline—and the stage it has reached, it
is unlikely he will ever rise. He could not then hasten to Eng-
land himself, to extricate you from the snare into which you had
fallen, but he implored Mr. Mason to lose no time in taking
steps to prevent the false marriage. He referred him to me for
assistance. I used all dispatch, and am thankful I was not too
late: as you, doubtless, must be also.
Were I not morally cer-
tain that your uncle will be dead ere you reach Madeira, I would
advise you to accompany Mr. Mason back; but as it is, I think
you had better remain in England till you can hear further, either
from or of Mr. Eyre. Have we anything else to stay for? " he
inquired of Mr. Mason.
"No, no; let us be gone, was the anxious reply; and with-
out waiting to take leave of Mr. Rochester, they made their exit
at the hall door. The clergyman stayed to exchange a few
sentences, either of admonition or reproof, with his haughty
parishioner: this duty done, he too departed.
I heard him go as I stood at the half-open door of my own
room, to which I had now withdrawn. The house cleared, I
shut myself in, fastened the bolt that none might intrude, and
proceeded -not to weep, not to mourn, I was yet too calm for
that, but-mechanically to take off the wedding-dress, and replace
if by the stuff gown I had worn yesterday, as I thought for the
last time. I then sat down: I felt weak and tired.
I leaned my
arms on a table, and my head dropped on them.
And now
thought: till now I had only heard, seen, moved - followed up
and down where I was led or dragged-watched event rush on
event, disclosure open beyond disclosure; but now I thought.
The morning had been a quiet morning enough-all except
the brief scene with the lunatic. The transaction in the church
had not been noisy; there was no explosion of passion, no loud
altercation, no dispute, no defiance or challenge, no tears, no
sobs: a few words had been spoken, a calmly pronounced objec-
tion to the marriage made; some stern, short questions put by
Mr. Rochester; answers, explanations given, evidence adduced;
an open admission of the truth had been uttered by my master:
-
>>


## p. 2398 (#600) ###########################################

2398
BRONTE SISTERS
then the living proof had been seen; the intruders were gone,
and all was over.
I was in my own room as usual—just myself, without obvious
change; nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me.
And yet where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday? where was her
life? where were her prospects?
Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman-
almost a bride-was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale;
her prospects were desolate. A Christmas frost had come at
midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice
glazed the ripe apples; drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hay-
field and corn-field lay a frozen shroud; lanes which last night
blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden.
snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and
fragrant as groves between the tropics, now spread waste, wild,
and white as pine forests in wintry Norway.
My hopes were all dead--struck with a subtle doom, such as
in one night fell on all the first-born in the land of Egypt. I
looked on my cherished wishes, yesterday so blooming and glow-
ing; they lay stark, chill, livid corpses that could never revive.
I looked at my love, that feeling which was my master's- which
he had created: it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in
a cold cradle; sickness and anguish had seized it; it could not
seek Mr. Rochester's arms-it could not derive warmth from his
breast. Oh, never more could it turn to him; for faith was
blighted confidence destroyed! Mr. Rochester was not to me
what he had been; for he was not what I had thought him. I
would not ascribe vice to him; I would not say he had betrayed.
me: but the attribute of stainless truth was gone from his idea;
and from his presence I must go; that I perceived well. When-
how-whither, I could not yet discern; but he himself, I doubted
not, would hurry me from Thornfield. Real affection, it seemed,
he could not have for me; it had been only fitful passion; that
was balked; he would want me no more. I should fear even to
cross his path now: my view must be hateful to him. Oh, how
blind had been my eyes! how weak my conduct!
--
-


## p. 2399 (#601) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2399
MADAME BECK
(From Villette')
ayre Engliss? " said a voice at my elbow. I almost
"You bounded, so unexpected was the sound; so certain had I
been of solitude.
2
No ghost stood beside me, nor anything of spectral aspect;
merely a motherly, dumpy little woman, in a large shawl, a
wrapping-gown, and a clean, trim nightcap.
I said I was English, and immediately, without further pre-
lude, we fell to a most remarkable conversation. Madame Beck
(for Madame Beck it was; she had entered by a little door
behind me, and being shod with the shoes of silence, I had
heard neither her entrance nor approach)- Madame Beck had
exhausted her command of insular speech when she said "You
ayre Engliss,” and she now proceeded to work away volubly in
her own tongue. I answered in mine. She partly understood
me, but as I did not at all understand her- though we made
together an awful clamor (anything like madame's gift of utter-
ance I had not hitherto heard or imagined) — we achieved little
progress. She rang, ere long, for aid; which arrived in the
shape of a "maîtresse," who had been partly educated in an
Irish convent, and was esteemed a perfect adept in the English
language. A bluff little personage this maîtresse was— Labasse-
courienne from top to toe: and how she did slaughter the speech
of Albion! However, I told her a plain tale, which she trans-
lated. I told her how I had left my own country, intent on
extending my knowledge and gaining my bread; how I was
ready to turn my hand to any useful thing, provided it was not
wrong or degrading: how I would be a child's nurse or a lady's-
maid, and would not refuse even housework adapted to my
strength. Madame heard this; and questioning her countenance,
I almost thought the tale won her ear.
"Il n'y a que les Anglaises pour ces sortes d'entreprises,"
said she: "sont-elles donc intrépides, ces femmes-là! "
not
She asked my name, my age; she sat and looked at me-
pityingly, not with interest: never a gleam of sympathy or a
shade of compassion crossed her countenance during the inter-
view. I felt she was not one to be led an inch by her feelings:


## p. 2400 (#602) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2400
grave and considerate, she gazed, consulting her judgment and
studying my narrative.
In the dead of night I suddenly awoke. All was hushed, but
a white figure stood in the room-Madame in her night-dress.
Moving without perceptible sound, she visited the three children.
in the three beds; she approached me; I feigned sleep, and she
studied me long. A small pantomime ensued, curious enough.
I dare say she sat a quarter of an hour on the edge of my bed,
gazing at my face. She then drew nearer, bent close over me;
slightly raised my cap, and turned back the border so as to
expose my hair; she looked at my hand lying on the bed-clothes.
This done, she turned to the chair where my clothes lay; it was
at the foot of the bed. Hearing her touch and lift them, I
opened my eyes with precaution, for I own I felt curious to see
how far her taste for research would lead her. It led her a good
way: every article did she inspect. I divined her motive for this
proceeding; viz. , the wish to form from the garments a judgment
respecting the wearer, her station, means, neatness, etc. The
end was not bad, but the means were hardly fair or justifiable.
In my dress was a pocket; she fairly turned it inside out; she
counted the money in my purse; she opened a little memorandum-
book, coolly perused its contents, and took from between the
leaves a small plaited lock of Miss Marchmont's gray hair. To a
bunch of three keys, being those of my trunk, desk, and work-
box, she accorded special attention: with these, indeed, she with-
drew a moment to her own room. I softly rose in my bed and
followed her with my eye: these keys, reader, were not brought
back till they had left on the toilet of the adjoining room the
impress of their wards in wax. All being thus done decently
and in order, my property was returned to its place, my clothes
were carefully refolded. Of what nature were the conclusions
deduced from this scrutiny? Were they favorable or otherwise?
Vain question. Madame's face of stone (for of stone in its pres-
ent night-aspect it looked: it had been human, and as I said
before, motherly, in the salon) betrayed no response.
Her duty done I felt that in her eyes this business was a
duty she rose, noiseless as a shadow: she moved toward her
own chamber; at the door she turned, fixing her eyes on the
heroine of the bottle, who still slept and loudly snored. Mrs.
Svini (I presume this was Mrs. Svini, Anglicé or Hibernicé
Sweeny) Mrs. Sweeny's doom was in Madame Beck's eye-
―――――――――
•


## p. 2401 (#603) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2401
an immutable purpose that eye spoke: madame's visitations for
shortcomings might be slow, but they were sure. All this was
very un-English: truly I was in a foreign land. .
When attired, Madame Beck appeared a personage of a figure
rather short and stout, yet still graceful in its own peculiar way:
that is, with the grace resulting from proportion of parts. Her
complexion was fresh and sanguine, not too rubicund; her eye,
blue and serene; her dark silk dress fitted her as a French
sempstress alone can make a dress fit; she looked well, though
a little bourgeoise, as bourgeoise indeed she was. I know not
what of harmony pervaded her whole person; and yet her face
offered contrast too: its features were by no means such as are
usually seen in conjunction with a complexion of such blended.
freshness and repose: their outline was stern; her forehead was
high but narrow; it expressed capacity and some benevolence,
but no expanse; nor did her peaceful yet watchful eye ever
know the fire which is kindled in the heart or the softness which
flows thence. Her mouth was hard: it could be a little grim;
her lips were thin. For sensibility and genius, with all their
tenderness and temerity, I felt somehow that madame would be
the right sort of Minos in petticoats.
In the long run, I found that she was something else in pet-
ticoats too. Her name was Modeste Maria Beck, née Kint: it
ought to have been Ignacia. She was a charitable woman, and
did a great deal of good. There never was a mistress whose
rule was milder. I was told that she never once remonstrated
with the intolerable Mrs. Sweeny [the heroine's predecessor],
despite her tipsiness, disorder, and general neglect; yet Mrs.
Sweeny had to go, the moment her departure became conven-
ient. I was told too that neither masters nor teachers were
found fault with in that establishment: yet both masters and
teachers were often changed; they vanished and others filled
their places, none could well explain how.
The establishment was both a pensionnat and an externat:
the externes or day-pupils exceeded one hundred in number;
the boarders were about a score. Madame must have possessed
high administrative powers: she ruled all these, together with
four teachers, eight masters, six servants, and three children,
managing at the same time to perfection the pupil's parents and
friends; and that without apparent effort, without bustle, fatigue,
fever, or any symptom of undue excitement; occupied she always
IV-151


## p. 2402 (#604) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
was
--
- busy, rarely. It is true that madame had her own system
for managing and regulating this mass of machinery; and a very
pretty system it was: the reader has seen a specimen of it in
that small affair of turning my pocket inside out and reading
my private memoranda. Surveillance, espionnage, these were her
watchwords.
2402
Still, madame knew what honesty was, and liked it—that is,
when it did not obtrude its clumsy scruples in the way of her
will and interest. She had a respect for "Angleterre "; and as
to "les Anglaises," she would have the women of no other coun-
try about her own children, if she could help it.
Often in the evening, after she had been plotting and counter-
plotting, spying and receiving the reports of spies all day, she
would come up to my room, a trace of real weariness on her
brow, and she would sit down and listen while the children said
their little prayers to me in English: the Lord's Prayer and the
hymn beginning "Gentle Jesus," these little Catholics were per-
mitted to repeat at my knee; and when I had put them to bed,
she would talk to me (I soon gained enough French to be able
to understand and even answer her) about England and English-
women, and the reason for what she was pleased to term their
superior intelligence, and more real and reliable probity. Very
good sense she often showed; very sound opinions she often
broached: she seemed to know that keeping girls in distrustful
restraint, in blind ignorance, and under a surveillance that left
them no moment and no corner for retirement, was not the
best way to make them grow up honest and modest women; but
she averred that ruinous consequences would ensue if any other
method were tried with Continental children - they were SO
accustomed to restraint that relaxation, however guarded, would
be misunderstood and fatally presumed on: she was sick, she
would declare, of the means she had to use, but use them she
must; and after discoursing, often with dignity and delicacy, to
me, she would move away on her "souliers de silence," and glide
ghost-like through the house, watching and spying everywhere,
peering through every key-hole, listening behind every door.
After all, madame's system was not bad- let me do her just-
ice. Nothing could be better than all her arrangements for the
physical well-being of her scholars. No minds were overtasked;
the lessons were well distributed and made incomparably easy to
the learner; there was a liberty of amusement and a provision


## p. 2403 (#605) ###########################################

BRONTÉ SISTERS
2403
for exercise which kept the girls healthy; the food was abundant
and good: neither pale nor puny faces were anywhere to be seen
in the Rue Fossette. She never grudged a holiday; she allowed
plenty of time for sleeping, dressing, washing, eating:
her
method in all these matters was easy, liberal, salutary, and
rational; many an austere English schoolmistress would do vastly
well to imitate it and I believe many would be glad to do so,
if exacting English parents would let them.
As Madame Beck ruled by espionage, she of course had her
staff of spies; she perfectly knew the quality of the tools she
used, and while she would not scruple to handle the dirtiest for
a dirty occasion-flinging this sort from her like refuse rind,
after the orange has been duly squeezed - I have known her
fastidious in seeking pure metal for clean uses; and when once a
bloodless and rustless instrument was found, she was careful of
the prize, keeping it in silk and cotton-wool. Yet woe be to the
man or woman who relied on her one inch beyond the point
where it was her interest to be trustworthy; interest was the
master-key of madame's nature—the mainspring of her motives
-the alpha and omega of her life. I have seen her feelings
appealed to, and I have smiled in half-pity, half-scorn at the
appellants. None ever gained her ear through that channel, or
swayed her purpose by that means. On the contrary, to attempt
to touch her heart was the surest way to rouse her antipathy,
and to make of her a secret foe. It proved to her that she had
no heart to be touched: it reminded her where she was impotent
and dead. Never was the distinction between charity and mercy
better exemplified than in her. While devoid of sympathy, she
had a sufficiency of rational benevolence: she would give in the
readiest manner to people she had never seen — rather, however,
to classes than to individuals. "Pour les pauvres" she opened
her purse freely - against the poor man, as a rule, she kept it
closed. In philanthropic schemes, for the benefit of society at
large, she took a cheerful part; no private sorrow touched her:
no force or mass of suffering concentrated in one heart had
power to pierce hers. Not the agony of Gethsemane, not the
death on Calvary, could have wrung from her eyes one tear.
I say again, madame was a very great and a very capable
woman. That school offered for her powers too limited a
sphere: she ought to have swayed a nation; she should have
been the leader of a turbulent legislative assembly. Nobody


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2404
BRONTÉ SISTERS
could have browbeaten her, none irritated her nerves, exhausted
her patience, or overreached her astuteness. In her own single
person, she could have comprised the duties of a first minister
and a superintendent of police. Wise, firm, faithless, secret,
crafty, passionless; watchful and inscrutable; acute and insensate
withal perfectly decorous what more could be desired?
A YORKSHIRE LANDSCAPE
From Shirley'
ISS KEELDAR, just stand still now, and look down at
"M" Nunneley dale and wood. "
They both halted on the green brow of the Common.
They looked down on the deep valley robed in May raiment; on
varied meads, some pearled with daisies and some golden with
kingcups: to-day all this young verdure smiled clear in sunlight;
transparent emerald and amber gleams played over it. On Nunn-
wood- the sole remnant of antique British forest in a region
whose lowlands were once all sylvan chase, as its highlands were
breast-deep heather-slept the shadow of a cloud; the distant
hills were dappled, the horizon was shaded and tinted like mother-
of-pearl; silvery blues, soft purples, evanescent greens and rose-
shades, all melting into fleeces of white cloud, pure as azury
snow, allured the eye with a remote glimpse of heaven's founda-
tions. The air blowing on the brow was fresh and sweet and
bracing.
"Our England is a bonnie island," said Shirley, "and York-
shire is one of her bonniest nooks. "
-
"You are a Yorkshire girl too? "
"I am
Yorkshire in blood and birth. Five generations of
my race sleep under the aisles of Briarfield Church: I drew my
first breath in the old black hall behind us. "
Hereupon Caroline presented her hand, which was accordingly
taken and shaken. "We are compatriots," said she.
"Yes," agreed Shirley, with a grave nod.
"And that," asked Miss Keeldar, pointing to the forest-
"that is Nunnwood ? »
"It is. "
"Were you ever there? "
"Many a time. "


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BRONTÉ SISTERS
2405
"In the heart of it? "
"Yes. "
"What is it like ? "
"It is like an encampment of forest sons of Anak. The trees
are huge and old. When you stand at their roots, the summits
seem in another region: the trunks remain still and firm as pil-
lars, while the boughs sway to every breeze. In the deepest
calm their leaves are never quite hushed, and in a high wind a
flood rushes a sea thunders above you. "
"Was it not one of Robin Hood's haunts ? »
<< Yes, and there are mementos of him still existing. To pene-
trate into Nunnwood, Miss Keeldar, is to go far back into the
dim days of eld. Can you see a break in the forest, about the
centre?
>>>
"Yes, distinctly. "
"That break is a dell—a deep hollow cup, lined with turf as
green and short as the sod of this Common: the very oldest of
the trees, gnarled mighty oaks, crowd about the brink of this
dell; in the bottom lie the ruins of a nunnery.
"We will go you and I alone, Caroline-to that wood, early
some fine summer morning, and spend a long day there. We
can take pencils and sketch-books, and any interesting reading-
book we like; and of course we shall take something to eat. I
have two little baskets, in which Mrs. Gill, my house-keeper,
might pack our provisions, and we could each carry our own. It
would not tire you too much to walk so far? "
"Oh, no; especially if we rested the whole day in the wood;
and I know all the pleasantest spots. I know where we could
get nuts in nutting time; I know where wild strawberries abound;
I know certain lonely, quite untrodden glades, carpeted with
strange mosses, some yellow as if gilded, some
a sober gray,
some gem-green. I know groups of trees that ravish the eye
with their perfect, picture-like effects: rude oak, delicate birch,
glossy beech, clustered in contrast; and ash-trees, stately as Saul,
standing isolated; and superannuated wood-giants clad in bright
shrouds of ivy. "


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2406
BRONTÉ SISTERS
THE END OF HEATHCLIFF
From Emily Bronté's Wuthering Heights'
F
OR some days after that evening Mr. Heathcliff shunned
meeting us at meals; yet he would not consent formally to
exclude Hareton and Cathy. He had an aversion to yield-
ing so completely to his feelings, choosing rather to absent him-
self; and eating once in twenty-four hours seemed sufficient
sustenance for him.
One night, after the family were in bed, I heard him go
down-stairs and out at the front door: I did not hear him re-
enter, and in the morning I found he was still away.
We were
in April then, the weather was sweet and warm, the grass as
green as showers and sun could make it, and the two dwarf
apple-trees near the southern wall in full bloom.
After breakfast, Catherine insisted on my bringing a chair
and sitting with my work under the fir-trees at the end of the
house; and she beguiled Hareton, who had recovered from his
accident, to dig and arrange her little garden, which was shifted
to that corner by the influence of Joseph's complaints.
I was comfortably reveling in the spring fragrance around,
and the beautiful soft blue overhead, when my young lady, who
had run down near the gate to procure some primrose roots for
a border, returned only half laden, and informed us that Mr.
Heathcliff was coming in.
"And he spoke to me," she added with a perplexed look.
"What did he say? " asked Hareton.
"He told me to begone as fast as I could," she answered.
"But he looked so different from his usual look that I stopped a
moment to stare at him. "
"How? " he inquired.
"Why, almost bright and cheerful-no, almost nothing-
very much excited, and wild, and glad! " she replied.
"Night-walking amuses him, then," I remarked, affecting a
careless manner; in reality as surprised as she was, and anxious
to ascertain the truth of her statement. for to see the master
looking glad would not be an every-day spectacle: I framed an
excuse to go in.
Heathcliff stood at the open door-he was pale, and he trem-
bled; yet certainly he had a strange joyful glitter in his eyes,
that altered the aspect of his whole face.


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BRONTÉ SISTERS
2407
"Will you
have some breakfast? " I said. "You must be
hungry, rambling about all night! "
I wanted to discover where he had been; but I did not like
to ask directly.
"No, I'm not hungry," he answered, averting his head, and
speaking rather contemptuously, as if he guessed I was trying to
divine the occasion of his good humor.
I felt perplexed- I didn't know whether it were not a proper
opportunity to offer a bit of admonition.
"I don't think it right to wander out of doors," I observed,
"instead of being in bed: it is not wise, at any rate, this moist
season. I daresay you'll catch a bad cold, or a fever-you have
something the matter with you now! "
"Nothing but what I can bear," he replied, "and with the
greatest pleasure, provided you'll leave me alone-get in, and
don't annoy me. "
I obeyed; and in passing, I saw he breathed as fast as a cat.