A week passed,
and no news arrived of Mr. Rochester:
ten days, and still he did not
come. Mrs. Fairfax said she should
not be
surprised if he were to go straight from the Leas to London, and
thence to the Continent, and not show his face again at Thornfield
for a year to come; he had not unfrequently quitted it in a manner
quite as abrupt and unexpected. When I heard this, I was beginning
to feel a strange chill and failing at the heart. I was actually
permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment;
but rallying my wits, and recollecting my principles, I at once
called my sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got over
the temporary blunder--how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr.
Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take a
vital interest. Not that I humbled myself by a slavish notion of
inferiority: on the contrary, I just said -
"You
have nothing
to do with
the master
of Thornfield,
further
than to receive the salary he
gives you for teaching his protegee,
and to be grateful for such respectful
and kind treatment as, if you
do your duty, you have a right
to expect at his hands. Be sure
that is the only tie he seriously
acknowledges between you and
him; so don't make him the object
of your fine feelings, your raptures,
agonies, and so forth. He is
not of your order: keep to your
caste, and be too self-respecting
to lavish the love of the whole
heart, soul, and strength, where
such a gift is not wanted and
would be despised."
I went on with my day's business
tranquilly; but ever and anon
vague suggestions kept wandering
across my brain of reasons why
I should quit Thornfield; and
I kept involuntarily framing
advertisements and pondering
conjectures about new situations:
these thoughts I did not think
check; they might germinate and
bear fruit if they could.
Mr. Rochester had been absent
upwards of a fortnight, when
the post brought Mrs. Fairfax
a letter.
"It is from the master," said
she, as she looked at the direction. "Now
I suppose we shall know whether
we are to expect his return or
not."
And while she broke the seal
and perused the document, I went
on taking my coffee (we were
at breakfast): it was hot, and
I attributed to that circumstance
a fiery glow which suddenly rose
to my face. Why my hand shook,
and why I involuntarily spilt
half the contents of my cup into
my saucer, I did not choose to
consider.
"Well, I sometimes think we
are too quiet; but we run a chance
of being busy enough now: for
a little while at least," said
Mrs. Fairfax, still holding the
note before her spectacles.
Ere I permitted myself to request
an explanation, I tied the string
of Adele's pinafore, which happened
to be loose: having helped her
also to another bun and refilled
her mug with milk, I said, nonchalantly
-
"Mr.
Rochester is
not likely
to return soon,
I suppose?"
"Indeed he is--in three days,
he says: that will be next Thursday;
and not alone either. I don't
know how many of the fine people
at the Leas are coming with him:
he sends directions for all the
best bedrooms to be prepared;
and the library and drawing-rooms
are to be cleaned out; I am to
get more kitchen hands from the
George Inn, at Millcote, and
from wherever else I can; and
the ladies will bring their maids
and the gentlemen their valets:
so we shall have a full house
of it." And Mrs. Fairfax swallowed
her breakfast and hastened away
to commence operations.
The
three days
were, as she
had foretold, busy enough. I
had thought all the rooms at
Thornfield beautifully clean
and well arranged; but it appears
I was mistaken. Three women were
got to help; and such scrubbing,
such brushing, such washing of
paint and beating of carpets,
such taking down and putting
up of pictures, such polishing
of mirrors and lustres, such
lighting of fires in bedrooms,
such airing of sheets and feather-beds
on hearths, I never beheld, either
before or since. Adele ran quite
wild in the midst of it: the
preparations for company and
the prospect of their arrival,
seemed to throw her into ecstasies.
She would have Sophie to look
over all her "toilettes," as
she called frocks; to furbish
up any that were "passees," and
to air and arrange the new. For
herself, she did nothing but
caper about in the front chambers,
jump on and off the bedsteads,
and lie on the mattresses and
piled-up bolsters and pillows
before the enormous fires roaring
in the chimneys. From school
duties she was exonerated: Mrs.
Fairfax had pressed me into her
service, and I was all day in
the storeroom, helping (or hindering)
her and the cook; learning to
make custards and cheese-cakes
and French pastry, to truss game
and garnish desert-dishes.
The party were expected to
arrive on Thursday afternoon,
in time for dinner at six. During
the intervening period I had
no time to nurse chimeras; and
I believe I was as active and
gay as anybody--Adele excepted.
Still, now and then, I received
a damping check to my cheerfulness;
and was, in spite of myself,
thrown back on the region of
doubts and portents, and dark
conjectures. This was when I
chanced to see the third-storey
staircase door (which of late
had always been kept locked)
open slowly, and give passage
to the form of Grace Poole, in
prim cap, white apron, and handkerchief;
when I watched her glide along
the gallery, her quiet tread
muffled in a list slipper; when
I saw her look into the bustling,
topsy-turvy bedrooms,--just say
a word, perhaps, to the charwoman
about the proper way to polish
a grate, or clean a marble mantelpiece,
or take stains from papered walls,
and then pass on. She would thus
descend to the kitchen once a
day, eat her dinner, smoke a
moderate pipe on the hearth,
and go back, carrying her pot
of porter with her, for her private
solace, in her own gloomy, upper
haunt. Only one hour in the twenty-four
did she pass with her fellow-servants
below; all the rest of her time
was spent in some low-ceiled,
oaken chamber of the second storey:
there she sat and sewed--and
probably laughed drearily to
herself,--as companionless as
a prisoner in his dungeon.
The strangest thing of all
was, that not a soul in the house,
except me, noticed her habits,
or seemed to marvel at them:
no one discussed her position
or employment; no one pitied
her solitude or isolation. I
once, indeed, overheard part
of a dialogue between Leah and
one of the charwomen, of which
Grace formed the subject. Leah
had been saying something I had
not caught, and the charwoman
remarked -
"She
gets good wages,
I guess?"
"Yes," said Leah; "I
wish I had
as good; not
that mine are
to complain of,--there's no stinginess
at Thornfield; but they're not
one fifth of the sum Mrs. Poole
receives. And she is laying by:
she goes every quarter to the
bank at Millcote. I should not
wonder but she has saved enough
to keep her independent if she
liked to leave; but I suppose
she's got used to the place;
and then she's not forty yet,
and strong and able for anything.
It is too soon for her to give
up business."
"She is a good hand, I daresay," said
the charwoman.
"Ah!--she understands what
she has to do,--nobody better," rejoined
Leah significantly; "and it is
not every one could fill her
shoes-- not for all the money
she gets."
"That it is not!" was the reply. "I
wonder whether the master--"
The charwoman was going on;
but here Leah turned and perceived
me, and she instantly gave her
companion a nudge.
"Doesn't she know?" I
heard the woman
whisper.
Leah shook her head, and the
conversation was of course dropped.
All I had gathered from it amounted
to this,--that there was a mystery
at Thornfield; and that from
participation in that mystery
I was purposely excluded.
Thursday came: all work had
been completed the previous evening;
carpets were laid down, bed-hangings
festooned, radiant white counterpanes
spread, toilet tables arranged,
furniture rubbed, flowers piled
in vases: both chambers and saloons
looked as fresh and bright as
hands could make them. The hall,
too, was scoured; and the great
carved clock, as well as the
steps and banisters of the staircase,
were polished to the brightness
of glass; in the dining-room,
the sideboard flashed resplendent
with plate; in the drawing-room
and boudoir, vases of exotics
bloomed on all sides.
Afternoon
arrived: Mrs.
Fairfax assumed
her best black
satin
gown, her gloves, and her gold
watch; for it was her part to
receive the company,--to conduct
the ladies to their rooms, &c.
Adele, too, would be dressed:
though I thought she had little
chance of being introduced to
the party that day at least.
However, to please her, I allowed
Sophie to apparel her in one
of her short, full muslin frocks.
For myself, I had no need to
make any change; I should not
be called upon to quit my sanctum
of the schoolroom; for a sanctum
it was now become to me,--"a
very pleasant refuge in time
of trouble."
It had been a mild, serene
spring day--one of those days
which, towards the end of March
or the beginning of April, rise
shining over the earth as heralds
of summer. It was drawing to
an end now; but the evening was
even warm, and I sat at work
in the schoolroom with the window
open.
"It gets late," said Mrs. Fairfax,
entering in rustling state. "I
am glad I ordered dinner an hour
after the time Mr. Rochester
mentioned; for it is past six
now. I have sent John down to
the gates to see if there is
anything on the road: one can
see a long way from thence in
the direction of Millcote." She
went to the window. "Here he
is!" said she. "Well, John" (leaning
out), "any news?"
"They're coming, ma'am," was
the answer. "They'll be here
in ten minutes."
Adele flew to the window. I
followed, taking care to stand
on one side, so that, screened
by the curtain, I could see without
being seen.
The ten minutes John had given
seemed very long, but at last
wheels were heard; four equestrians
galloped up the drive, and after
them came two open carriages.
Fluttering veils and waving plumes
filled the vehicles; two of the
cavaliers were young, dashing-looking
gentlemen; the third was Mr.
Rochester, on his black horse,
Mesrour, Pilot bounding before
him; at his side rode a lady,
and he and she were the first
of the party. Her purple riding-habit
almost swept the ground, her
veil streamed long on the breeze;
mingling with its transparent
folds, and gleaming through them,
shone rich raven ringlets.
"Miss Ingram!" exclaimed
Mrs. Fairfax,
and away she
hurried
to her post below.
The
cavalcade,
following the
sweep of the drive, quickly turned
the angle of the house, and I
lost sight of it. Adele now petitioned
to go down; but I took her on
my knee, and gave her to understand
that she must not on any account
think of venturing in sight of
the ladies, either now or at
any other time, unless expressly
sent for: that Mr. Rochester
would be very angry, &c. "Some
natural tears she shed" on being
told this; but as I began to
look very grave, she consented
at last to wipe them.
A joyous stir was now audible
in the hall: gentlemen's deep
tones and ladies' silvery accents
blent harmoniously together,
and distinguishable above all,
though not loud, was the sonorous
voice of the master of Thornfield
Hall, welcoming his fair and
gallant guests under its roof.
Then light steps ascended the
stairs; and there was a tripping
through the gallery, and soft
cheerful laughs, and opening
and closing doors, and, for a
time, a hush.
"Elles changent de toilettes," said
Adele; who, listening attentively,
had followed every movement;
and she sighed.
"Chez maman," said she, "quand
il y avait du monde, je le suivais
partout, au salon et e leurs
chambres; souvent je regardais
les femmes de chambre coiffer
et habiller les dames, et c'etait
si amusant: comme cela on apprend."
"Don't
you feel hungry,
Adele?"
"Mais
oui, mademoiselle:
voile cinq
ou six heures
que nous n'avons
pas mange."
"Well
now, while
the ladies
are in their
rooms, I will
venture
down and get you something to
eat."
And issuing from my asylum
with precaution, I sought a back-stairs
which conducted directly to the
kitchen. All in that region was
fire and commotion; the soup
and fish were in the last stage
of projection, and the cook hung
over her crucibles in a frame
of mind and body threatening
spontaneous combustion. In the
servants' hall two coachmen and
three gentlemen's gentlemen stood
or sat round the fire; the abigails,
I suppose, were upstairs with
their mistresses; the new servants,
that had been hired from Millcote,
were bustling about everywhere.
Threading this chaos, I at last
reached the larder; there I took
possession of a cold chicken,
a roll of bread, some tarts,
a plate or two and a knife and
fork: with this booty I made
a hasty retreat. I had regained
the gallery, and was just shutting
the back-door behind me, when
an accelerated hum warned me
that the ladies were about to
issue from their chambers. I
could not proceed to the schoolroom
without passing some of their
doors, and running the risk of
being surprised with my cargo
of victualage; so I stood still
at this end, which, being windowless,
was dark: quite dark now, for
the sun was set and twilight
gathering.
Presently the chambers gave
up their fair tenants one after
another: each came out gaily
and airily, with dress that gleamed
lustrous through the dusk. For
a moment they stood grouped together
at the other extremity of the
gallery, conversing in a key
of sweet subdued vivacity: they
then descended the staircase
almost as noiselessly as a bright
mist rolls down a hill. Their
collective appearance had left
on me an impression of high-born
elegance, such as I had never
before received.
I
found Adele
peeping through
the schoolroom door, which she
held ajar. "What beautiful ladies!" cried
she in English. "Oh, I wish I
might go to them! Do you think
Mr. Rochester will send for us
by- and-bye, after dinner?"
"No,
indeed, I don't;
Mr. Rochester
has something else to think about.
Never mind the ladies to-night;
perhaps you will see them to-morrow:
here is your dinner."
She
was really
hungry, so
the chicken
and tarts served
to divert
her attention for a time. It
was well I secured this forage,
or both she, I, and Sophie, to
whom I conveyed a share of our
repast, would have run a chance
of getting no dinner at all:
every one downstairs was too
much engaged to think of us.
The dessert was not carried out
till after nine and at ten footmen
were still running to and fro
with trays and coffee-cups. I
allowed Adele to sit up much
later than usual; for she declared
she could not possibly go to
sleep while the doors kept opening
and shutting below, and people
bustling about. Besides, she
added, a message might possibly
come from Mr. Rochester when
she was undressed; "et alors
quel dommage!"
I told her stories as long
as she would listen to them;
and then for a change I took
her out into the gallery. The
hall lamp was now lit, and it
amused her to look over the balustrade
and watch the servants passing
backwards and forwards. When
the evening was far advanced,
a sound of music issued from
the drawing-room, whither the
piano had been removed; Adele
and I sat down on the top step
of the stairs to listen. Presently
a voice blent with the rich tones
of the instrument; it was a lady
who sang, and very sweet her
notes were. The solo over, a
duet followed, and then a glee:
a joyous conversational murmur
filled up the intervals. I listened
long: suddenly I discovered that
my ear was wholly intent on analysing
the mingled sounds, and trying
to discriminate amidst the confusion
of accents those of Mr. Rochester;
and when it caught them, which
it soon did, it found a further
task in framing the tones, rendered
by distance inarticulate, into
words.
The clock struck eleven. I
looked at Adele, whose head leant
against my shoulder; her eyes
were waxing heavy, so I took
her up in my arms and carried
her off to bed. It was near one
before the gentlemen and ladies
sought their chambers.
The next day was as fine as
its predecessor: it was devoted
by the party to an excursion
to some site in the neighbourhood.
They set out early in the forenoon,
some on horseback, the rest in
carriages; I witnessed both the
departure and the return. Miss
Ingram, as before, was the only
lady equestrian; and, as before,
Mr. Rochester galloped at her
side; the two rode a little apart
from the rest. I pointed out
this circumstance to Mrs. Fairfax,
who was standing at the window
with me -
"You said it was not likely
they should think of being married," said
I, "but you see Mr. Rochester
evidently prefers her to any
of the other ladies."
"Yes,
I daresay:
no doubt he
admires her."
"And she him," I added; "look
how she leans her head towards
him as if she were conversing
confidentially; I wish I could
see her face; I have never had
a glimpse of it yet."
"You will see her this evening," answered
Mrs. Fairfax. "I happened to
remark to Mr. Rochester how much
Adele wished to be introduced
to the ladies, and he said: 'Oh!
let her come into the drawing-room
after dinner; and request Miss
Eyre to accompany her.'"
"Yes; he said that from mere
politeness: I need not go, I
am sure," I answered.
"Well,
I observed
to him that
as you were unused to company,
I did not think you would like
appearing before so gay a party--all
strangers; and he replied, in
his quick way--'Nonsense! If
she objects, tell her it is my
particular wish; and if she resists,
say I shall come and fetch her
in case of contumacy.'"
"I will not give him that trouble," I
answered. "I will go, if no better
may be; but I don't like it.
Shall you be there, Mrs. Fairfax?"
"No;
I pleaded off,
and he admitted
my plea. I'll
tell you
how to manage so as to avoid
the embarrassment of making a
formal entrance, which is the
most disagreeable part of the
business. You must go into the
drawing-room while it is empty,
before the ladies leave the dinner-table;
choose your seat in any quiet
nook you like; you need not stay
long after the gentlemen come
in, unless you please: just let
Mr. Rochester see you are there
and then slip away--nobody will
notice you."
"Will
these people
remain long,
do you think?"
"Perhaps
two or three
weeks, certainly
not more. After
the
Easter recess, Sir George Lynn,
who was lately elected member
for Millcote, will have to go
up to town and take his seat;
I daresay Mr. Rochester will
accompany him: it surprises me
that he has already made so protracted
a stay at Thornfield."
It was with some trepidation
that I perceived the hour approach
when I was to repair with my
charge to the drawing-room. Adele
had been in a state of ecstasy
all day, after hearing she was
to be presented to the ladies
in the evening; and it was not
till Sophie commenced the operation
of dressing her that she sobered
down. Then the importance of
the process quickly steadied
her, and by the time she had
her curls arranged in well-smoothed,
drooping clusters, her pink satin
frock put on, her long sash tied,
and her lace mittens adjusted,
she looked as grave as any judge.
No need to warn her not to disarrange
her attire: when she was dressed,
she sat demurely down in her
little chair, taking care previously
to lift up the satin skirt for
fear she should crease it, and
assured me she would not stir
thence till I was ready. This
I quickly was: my best dress
(the silver-grey one, purchased
for Miss Temple's wedding, and
never worn since) was soon put
on; my hair was soon smoothed;
my sole ornament, the pearl brooch,
soon assumed. We descended.
Fortunately there was another
entrance to the drawing-room
than that through the saloon
where they were all seated at
dinner. We found the apartment
vacant; a large fire burning
silently on the marble hearth,
and wax candles shining in bright
solitude, amid the exquisite
flowers with which the tables
were adorned. The crimson curtain
hung before the arch: slight
as was the separation this drapery
formed from the party in the
adjoining saloon, they spoke
in so low a key that nothing
of their conversation could be
distinguished beyond a soothing
murmur.
Adele, who appeared to be still
under the influence of a most
solemnising impression, sat down,
without a word, on the footstool
I pointed out to her. I retired
to a window-seat, and taking
a book from a table near, endeavoured
to read. Adele brought her stool
to my feet; ere long she touched
my knee.
"What
is it, Adele?"
"Est-ce
que je ne puis
pas prendrie
une seule de
ces fleurs
magnifiques, mademoiselle? Seulement
pour completer ma toilette."
"You think too much of your
'toilette,' Adele: but you may
have a flower." And I took a
rose from a vase and fastened
it in her sash. She sighed a
sigh of ineffable satisfaction,
as if her cup of happiness were
now full. I turned my face away
to conceal a smile I could not
suppress: there was something
ludicrous as well as painful
in the little Parisienne's earnest
and innate devotion to matters
of dress.
A soft sound of rising now
became audible; the curtain was
swept back from the arch; through
it appeared the dining-room,
with its lit lustre pouring down
light on the silver and glass
of a magnificent dessert-service
covering a long table; a band
of ladies stood in the opening;
they entered, and the curtain
fell behind them.
There were but eight; yet,
somehow, as they flocked in,
they gave the impression of a
much larger number. Some of them
were very tall; many were dressed
in white; and all had a sweeping
amplitude of array that seemed
to magnify their persons as a
mist magnifies the moon. I rose
and curtseyed to them: one or
two bent their heads in return,
the others only stared at me.
They dispersed about the room,
reminding me, by the lightness
and buoyancy of their movements,
of a flock of white plumy birds.
Some of them threw themselves
in half-reclining positions on
the sofas and ottomans: some
bent over the tables and examined
the flowers and books: the rest
gathered in a group round the
fire: all talked in a low but
clear tone which seemed habitual
to them. I knew their names afterwards,
and may as well mention them
now.
First, there was Mrs. Eshton
and two of her daughters. She
had evidently been a handsome
woman, and was well preserved
still. Of her daughters, the
eldest, Amy, was rather little:
naive, and child-like in face
and manner, and piquant in form;
her white muslin dress and blue
sash became her well. The second,
Louisa, was taller and more elegant
in figure; with a very pretty
face, of that order the French
term minois chiffone: both sisters
were fair as lilies.
Lady Lynn was a large and stout
personage of about forty, very
erect, very haughty-looking,
richly dressed in a satin robe
of changeful sheen: her dark
hair shone glossily under the
shade of an azure plume, and
within the circlet of a band
of gems.
Mrs. Colonel Dent was less
showy; but, I thought, more lady-like.
She had a slight figure, a pale,
gentle face, and fair hair. Her
black satin dress, her scarf
of rich foreign lace, and her
pearl ornaments, pleased me better
than the rainbow radiance of
the titled dame.
But the three most distinguished--partly,
perhaps, because the tallest
figures of the band--were the
Dowager Lady Ingram and her daughters,
Blanche and Mary. They were all
three of the loftiest stature
of women. The Dowager might be
between forty and fifty: her
shape was still fine; her hair
(by candle-light at least) still
black; her teeth, too, were still
apparently perfect. Most people
would have termed her a splendid
woman of her age: and so she
was, no doubt, physically speaking;
but then there was an expression
of almost insupportable haughtiness
in her bearing and countenance.
She had Roman features and a
double chin, disappearing into
a throat like a pillar: these
features appeared to me not only
inflated and darkened, but even
furrowed with pride; and the
chin was sustained by the same
principle, in a position of almost
preternatural erectness. She
had, likewise, a fierce and a
hard eye: it reminded me of Mrs.
Reed's; she mouthed her words
in speaking; her voice was deep,
its inflections very pompous,
very dogmatical,--very intolerable,
in short. A crimson velvet robe,
and a shawl turban of some gold-wrought
Indian fabric, invested her (I
suppose she thought) with a truly
imperial dignity.
Blanche and Mary were of equal
stature,--straight and tall as
poplars. Mary was too slim for
her height, but Blanche was moulded
like a Dian. I regarded her,
of course, with special interest.
First, I wished to see whether
her appearance accorded with
Mrs. Fairfax's description; secondly,
whether it at all resembled the
fancy miniature I had painted
of her; and thirdly--it will
out!-- whether it were such as
I should fancy likely to suit
Mr. Rochester's taste.
As far as person went, she
answered point for point, both
to my picture and Mrs. Fairfax's
description. The noble bust,
the sloping shoulders, the graceful
neck, the dark eyes and black
ringlets were all there;--but
her face? Her face was like her
mother's; a youthful unfurrowed
likeness: the same low brow,
the same high features, the same
pride. It was not, however, so
saturnine a pride! she laughed
continually; her laugh was satirical,
and so was the habitual expression
of her arched and haughty lip.
Genius
is said to
be self-conscious.
I cannot tell whether Miss Ingram
was a genius, but she was self-conscious--remarkably
self- conscious indeed. She entered
into a discourse on botany with
the gentle Mrs. Dent. It seemed
Mrs. Dent had not studied that
science: though, as she said,
she liked flowers, "especially
wild ones;" Miss Ingram had,
and she ran over its vocabulary
with an air. I presently perceived
she was (what is vernacularly
termed) TRAILING Mrs. Dent; that
is, playing on her ignorance--her
TRAIL might be clever, but it
was decidedly not good-natured.
She played: her execution was
brilliant; she sang: her voice
was fine; she talked French apart
to her 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
as 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
she 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.
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