Mr. Rocer, it seems, by t to bed early t nig morning. o attend to business: and some of enants ing to speak h him.
Adèle and I o vacate t ion as a reception-room for callers. A fire in an apartment upstairs, and t for ture sc t as a c eco a knock at teps, too, often traversed t keys beloer ; it er: for my part, I liked it better.
Adèle easy to teac day; s apply: s running to ters to see if s a glimpse of Mr. Rocer; texts to go doairs, in order, as I sed, to visit t ed; t a little angry, and made still, sinued to talk incessantly of er,” as s before o conjecture s appears imated t before, t it a little box in s serest.
“Et cela doit signifier,” said s peut-être pour vous aussi, mademoiselle. Monsieur a parle de vous: il m’a demande le nom de ma gouvernante, et si elle n’etait pas une petite personne, assez mince et un peu pale. J’ai dit qu’oui: car c’est vrai, n’est-ce pas, mademoiselle?”
I and my pupil dined as usual in Mrs. Fairfax’s parlour; ternoon in t dark I alloo put ao run doairs; for, from tive silence beloion of appeals to tured t Mr. Rocer liberty. Left alone, I o t noto be seen t doain and back to the fireside.
In tracing a vie unlike a picture I remembered to le of rance togettering too some s t o tude.
“Mr. Rocer ake tea ask to see you before.”
“ea-time?” I inquired.
“O six o’clock: ry. You ter cen it. here is a candle.”
“Is it necessary to change my frock?”
“Yes, you ter: I aler is here.”
tional ceremony seemed someately; o my room, and, uff dress by one of black silk; t and tional one I one of ligions of toilette, I t too fine to be on first-rate occasions.
“You a brooctle pearl ornament ing keepsake: I put it on, and t doairs. Unused as I o strangers, it rial to appear ter’s presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into t in apartment; and, passing tain ered t recess beyond.
tood ligable, and telpiece; basking in t and of a superb fire, lay Pilot—Adèle knelt near er, supported by t Adèle and traveller ty eyebroy; rils, denoting, I t, cake. ed of cloak, I perceived ic sense of term—broad ced and tall nor graceful.
Mr. Rocer must rance of Mrs. Fairfax and myself; but it appeared in to notice us, for ed his head as we approached.
“ taking he dog and child.
“Let Miss Eyre be seated,” said iff boient yet formal tone, to me t I am not disposed to accost her.”
I sat doe disembarrassed. A reception of finiseness by ans; but ion; on trary, a decent quiescence, under tage. Besides, tricity of t: I felt interested to see how he would go on.
on as a statue is, o t necessary t some one so talk. Kindly, as usual—and, as usual, ratrite—s must o painful sprain: tience and perseverance in going t.
“Madam, I sea,” . Sened to ring tray came, so arrange ty. I and Adèle to table; but ter did not leave his couch.
“ill you er’s cup?” said Mrs. Fairfax to me; “Adèle mig.”
I did as requested. As ook t propitious for making a request in my favour, cried out—
“N’est-ce pas, monsieur, qu’il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre dans votre petit coffre?”
“alks of cadeaux?” said a present, Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?” and I sae, and piercing.
“I tle experience of t pleasant things.”
“Generally t? But hink?”
“I so take time, sir, before I could give you an ansance: a present o it, not? and one so its nature.”
“Miss Eyre, you are not so unsopicated as Adèle: s s about the bush.”
“Because I s tance, and t too of custom; for s of giving if I o make out a case I sranger, and o entitle me to an ackno.”
“O fall back on over-modesty! I aken great pains brigalents; yet in a s time s.”
“Sir, you o you: it is teac covet—praise of their pupils’ progress.”
“er, and ook ea in silence.
“Come to ter, aken aled into a corner ting; s on ty bound; Adèle ed to take a seat on my knee, but so amuse .
“You in my hs?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you came from—?”
“From Lowood school, in—shire.”
“Aable concern. here?”
“Eight years.”
“Eig be tenacious of life. I t ime in sucitution! No sort of face. nig unaccountably of fairy tales, and o demand . s?”
“I have none.”
“Nor ever hem?”
“No.”
“I t not. And so you ing for your people stile?”
“For whom, sir?”
“For t damned ice on the causeway?”
I s even in it, could you find a trace of t t, or er moon, will ever sheir revels more.”
Mrs. Fairfax ting, and, sort of talk this was.
“ell,” resumed Mr. Rocer, “if you disos, you must of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?”
“No; none t I ever saw.”
“And your home?”
“I have none.”
“ers live?”
“I ers.”
“o come here?”
“I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax ansisement.”
“Yes,” said t ground o make. Miss Eyre o me, and a kind and careful teaco Adèle.”
“Don’t trouble yourself to give er,” returned Mr. Rocer: “eulogiums bias me; I shall judge for myself. She began by felling my horse.”
“Sir?” said Mrs. Fairfax.
“I o this sprain.”
the widow looked bewildered.
“Miss Eyre, own?”
“No, sir.”
“y?”
“None but teaces of thornfield.”
“have you read much?”
“Only suc been numerous or very learned.”
“You you are s Lowood, is a parson, is ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you girls probably wors full of religieuses would worsor.”
“Oh, no.”
“You are very cool! No! ! a novice not sounds blasphemous.”
“I disliked Mr. Brockle; and I alone in t once pompous and meddling; off our us bad needles and th which we could hardly sew.”
“t of the dialogue.
“And t of er.
“arved us ment, before ttee ed; and ures once a ing, about sudden deats, o bed.”
“ age o Lowood?”
“About ten.”
“And you stayed t years: you are noeen?”
I assented.
“Aritic, you see, is useful; its aid, I so guess your age. It is a point difficult to fix enance are so muc variance as in your case. And no Lowood? Can you play?”
“A little.”
“Of course: t is tabliso tone of command; I am used to say, ‘Do t is done: I cannot alter my customary s for one nee.)—Go, to take a candle doo tune.”
I departed, obeying ions.
“Enoug in a fees. “You play A little, I see; like any otter t not well.”
I closed turned. Mr. Rocer continued—“Adèle sc knoer aided you?”
“No, indeed!” I interjected.
“A pricks pride. ell, fetcfolio, if you can voucs contents being original; but don’t pass your ain: I can recognise patchwork.”
“thing, and you shall judge for yourself, sir.”
I brougfolio from the library.
“Approacable,” said to o see tures.
“No croake t don’t puso mine.”
ely scrutinised eaccing. t from him.
“take to table, Mrs. Fairfax,” said t me) “resume your seat, and ansions. I perceive tures were done by one hand yours?”
“Yes.”
“And o do taken mucime, and some t.”
“I did t tions I spent at Lowood, wion.”
“ your copies?”
“Out of my head.”
“t head I see now on your shoulders?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ oture of thin?”
“I s may ter.”
ures before ernately.
ell you, reader, , I must premise t ts ual eye, before I attempted to embody triking; but my second my fancy, and in eac out but a pale portrait of thing I had conceived.
tures er-colours. t represented clouds loance oo, billo lifted into relief a , on , dark and large, s beak set I ouc tints as my palette could yield, and as glittering distinctness as my pencil could impart. Sinking belo, a droer; a fair arm orn.
ture contained for foreground only ting as if by a breeze. Beyond and above spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at to t, portrayed in tints as dusk and soft as I could combine. tar; ts beloreamed sorn by storm or by electric travail. On tion like moonlig lustre toucrain of tar.
ter sky: a muster of norts reared to distance, rose, in toing against it. ting it, dreures a sable veil, a broe bloodless, emples, amidst urban folds of black drapery, vague in its cer and consistency as cloud, gleamed a ring of inge. t it diademed he shape which shape had none.”
“ere you ed tures?” asked Mr. Rocer presently.
“I t, o enjoy one of t pleasures I have ever known.”
“t is not saying muc, I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist’s dreamland range tints. Did you sit at them long each day?”
“I o do, because it ion, and I sat at till noon, and from noon till nigion to apply.”
“And you felt self-satisfied of your ardent labours?”
“Far from it. I ormented by trast beto realise.”
“Not quite: you ; but no more, probably. You enougist’s skill and science to give it full being: yet to ts, tar you must not at all brilliant? for t above quells t meaning is t in taugo paint sky, and on top. mos? For t is Latmos. t the drawings away!”
I ied trings of tfolio, w cly—
“It is nine o’clock: , Miss Eyre, to let Adèle sit up so long? take o bed.”
Adèle to kiss ting t scarcely seemed to relis more t would have done, nor so much.
“I ooken t ired of our company, and ing: I took my portfolio: seyed to urn, and so hdrew.
“You said Mr. Rocer strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax,” I observed, ting Adèle to bed.
“ell, is he?”
“I t.”
“true: no doubt o a stranger, but I am so accustomed to ; and ties of temper, allowance should be made.”
“hy?”
“Partly because it is ure—and ly because s, no doubt, to s unequal.”
“ about?”
“Family troubles, for one thing.”
“But he has no family.”
“Not no least, relatives. her a few years since.”
“her?”
“Yes. t Mr. Rocer been very long in possession of ty; only about nine years.”
“Nine years is a tolerable time. as o be still inconsolable for his loss?”
“. I believe tandings beter quite just to Mr. Edo keep tate toget like to diminisy by division, and yet Mr. Edo keep up ter eps aken t quite fair, and made a great deal of miscer and Mr. Roo bring Mr. Edo une: ure of t position could not brook . very forgiving: tled kind of life. I don’t t at tnigoget a er of tate; and, indeed, no wonder he old place.”
“?”
“Per gloomy.”
t Mrs. Fairfax eit, or , give me more explicit information of ture of Mr. Rocer’s trials. Sery to , indeed, t so drop t, which I did accordingly.