Mr. Rocer did, on a future occasion, explain it. It ernoon,  me and Adèle in t and tlecock, o walk up and down a long beec of her.

    ser of a Frencourn   saille d’ate” to the Apollo Belvidere.

    “And, Miss Eyre, so muctered by tis I installed el; gave e establis of servants, a carriage, caselles, amp;c. In s, I began tyle, like any ot, it seems, ty to c a neo sruction, but trode track upid exactness not to deviate an incen centre. I o e of all oto call one evening  me, I found ; but it rolling t doed so lately by e; I never t ting virtue about   of pastille perfume s; a scent of musk and amber, tity. I  beginning to stifle ory floo open tep out on to t ill and serene. t doook out a cigar,—I ake one now, if you will excuse me.”

    ing of a cigar;  to rail of  on—

    “I liked bonbons too in t— (overlook t ce comfits, and smoking alternately, cime t rolled along treets to close carriage draiful pair of Englisinctly seen in t city-nigure’ I urning: of course my  tience against t upon. topped, as I ed, at tel door; my flame (t is ta) aligantly by tle foot, seen peeping from t of ep. Bending over t to murmur ‘Mon ange’—in a tone, of course, er  t  ed e cocel.

    “You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You iments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; t to be given ence lapses in as quiet a flo in ing on ling not far off in t t I tell you—and you may mark my o a craggy pass in tream o , foam and noise: eito atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-o a calmer current—as I am now.

    “I like t sky of steel; I like ternness and stillness of t. I like ts antiquity, its retirement, its old crorees and trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark ing t metal   of it, s like a great plague-ill abhor —”

    eet: ed ep and struck  against ted t seemed to s grip, and to ig  advance.

    e ing o its battlements,  over tience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to  in ting under le  anotriumpe: it settled rified enance:  on—

    “During t I , Miss Eyre, I  iny. Sood t beecrunk—a o Macbeting e in to,  if you can! Like it if you dare!’

    “‘I ,’ said I; ‘I dare like it;’ and” (acles to o goodness—yes, goodness. I ter man t, and t as iron and brass, I eem but straten wood.”

    Adèle tlecock. “Aance, co Sopinuing to pursue ured to recall o t wly diverged—

    “Did you leave tered?”

    I almost expected a rebuff for timed question, but, on trary,  of raction, urned oo clear off ten Céline! ell, to resume. o ing coils from t balcony, glided coat, and ate its es to my ’s core. Strange!” arting again from t. “Strange t I s of all trange t you sen to me quietly, as if it  usual to tell stories of resses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you! But t singularity explains t, as I intimated once before: you, y, considerateness, and caution o be t of secrets. Besides, I kno of a mind I ion  is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one.  mean to : but, if I did, it  take ter; for his digression he proceeded—

    “I remained in to ,’ t I: ‘let me prepare an ambusting my ain over it, leaving only an opening take observations; t, all but a c  to lovers’ o my c t ture. Céline’s cered, lit a lamp, left it on table, and o me clearly: botin and jes of course,—and te—a brainless and vicious youtimes met in society, and  of ing because I despised ely. On recognising antly broken; because at t my love for Céline sank under an extinguisray me for suc ending for; shan I, who had been her dupe.

    “to talk; tion eased me completely: frivolous, mercenary, less, and senseless, it ed to ener. A card of mine lay on table; t my name under discussion. Neit to belabour me soundly, but ted me as coarsely as ttle s—deformities sermed t om to launc into fervent admiration of -blank, at tervie you did not trast struck me at time and—”

    Adèle here came running up again.

    “Monsieur, Jo been to say t your agent o see you.”

    “A case I must abridge. Opening ted Céline from my protection; gave ice to vacate el; offered e exigencies; disregarded screams, erics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment e for a meeting at t morning I ering  a bullet in one of iolated arms, feeble as t I  unluckily tte Adèle, y ten in enance: Pilot is more like me ter I o Italy ural claim on Adèle’s part to be supported by me, nor do I no   se destitute, I e’en took t of transplanted it o grory garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but no it is timate offspring of a Frencly of your post and protégée: you o me some day ice t you  you beg me to look out for a new governess, amp;c.—Eh?”

    “No: Adèle is not anss or yours: I  I kno of a e o a lonely little orpowards her as a friend?”

    “O is t in  go in nooo: it darkens.”

    But I stayed out a fees longer —ran a race tledore and stlecock.  in, and I  and coat, I took  o prattle as s rebuking even some little freedoms and trivialities into o stray o appreciate all t most. I sougenance and features a likeness to Mr. Rocer, but found none: no trait, no turn of expression announced relations y: if s o resemble  more of her.

    It  till after I o my o I steadily revieale Mr. Rocer old me. As  all extraordinary in tance of tive itself: a reaco ters enoug, in society; but trange in tion  contentment of s environs. I meditated ; but gradually quitting it, as I found it for t inexplicable, I turned to tion of my master’s manner to myself. t fit to repose in me seemed a tribute to my discretion: I regarded and accepted it as sucment o t. I never seemed in  take fits of ceur: edly, ter seemed ion to y of reception t made me feel I really possessed to amuse  t as muc.

    I, indeed, talked comparatively little, but I alk  o be communicative; o open to a mind unacquainted s scenes and  mean its corrupt scenes and  sucerest from t scale on range novelty by ures rayed, and folloartled or troubled by one noxious allusion.

    traint: t as cordial, reated me, dreo  at times as if ion rater: yet imes still; but I did not mind t; I sa erest added to life, t I ceased to pine after kindred: my t-destiny seemed to enlarge; tence h.

    And itude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made  I best liked to see; est fire. Yet I  forgotten s; indeed, I could not, for  tly before me. o inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I kne  kindness to me  severity to many otoo; unaccountably so; I more t for to read to ting in  on  a malignant, sco I believed t s of morality (I say former, for noe. I believed urally a man of better tendencies, astes tances ion instilled, or destiny encouraged. I t t materials in  toget spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny t I grieved for ever t .

    tinguis sleep for told iny o be  thornfield.

    “?” I asked myself. “ alienates  again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said ayed nig a time; and  eig spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!”

    I  or not after t any rate, I started  above me. I  s  up in bed, listening. the sound was hushed.

    I tried again to sleep; but my  beat anxiously: my inranquillity ruck t t seemed my couc tside. I said, “h fear.

    All at once I remembered t it mig,  open, not unfrequently found o ter’s c: I lay doo feel turn of slumber. But it  fated t I s nig fled affrig enough.

    ttered, as it seemed, at t at first tood at my bedside—or rat I rose, looked round, and could see notill gazed, tural sound erated: and I kne came from be impulse o rise and fasten t; my next, again to cry out, “here?”

    Someteps retreated up toorey staircase: a door ely been made to s in t staircase; I  open and close, and all ill.

    “as t Grace Poole? and is s I. Impossible noo remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I  and opened trembling  outside, and on tting in t tance: but still more o perceive te dim, as if filled o t , to find wrong smell of burning.

    Somet  door  no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I t no more of Grace Poole, or tant, I ongues of flame darted round tains  of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rocer lay stretcionless, in deep sleep.

    “ake! upefied  a moment could be lost: ts ely, one er. I s occupant, fleo my oized tinguis.

    t, tcied it, and, above all, to last. t range anat finding er.

    “Is there a flood?” he cried.

    “No, sir,” I ans t up, do; you are quencch you a candle.”

    “In tendom, is t Jane Eyre?”  cted to drown me?”

    “I c up. Somebody ted somet too soon find out  is.”

    “t at your peril you fetc:  tes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be—yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!”

    I did run; I brougill remained in took it from my  up, and surveyed ts drenc round ser.

    “ is it? and o  ranspired: trange laugep ascending to torey; ted me to  state I ters ter I could lay hands on.

    ened very gravely;  on, expressed more concern tonis;  immediately speak when I had concluded.

    “Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?” I asked.

    “Mrs. Fairfax? No;  can s ed.”

    “tch Leah, and wake John and his wife.”

    “Not at all: just be still. You   about you, and sit do it on. No on tool, to keep t of t. I am going to leave you a fees. I sake till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to torey. Don’t move, remember, or call any one.”

    : I c ly, unclosed taircase door tle noise as possible, s it after  ray vanis in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but ime elapsed. I gre e of t see taying, as I  to rouse t of risking Mr. Rocer’s displeasure by disobeying  once more gleamed dimly on t tread tting. “I  is  I, “and not something worse.”

    ered, pale and very gloomy. “I  all out,” said ting and; “it is as I t.”

    “how, sir?”

    stood  tes one—

    “I forget whing when you opened your chamber door.”

    “No, sir, only tick on the ground.”

    “But you  laug?”

    “Yes, sir: t way. She is a singular person.”

    “Just so. Grace Poole—you . S on t. Meantime, I am glad t you are ted ails of to-nig. You are no talking fool: say not it. I  for tate of affairs” (pointing to turn to your o. It is near four:- in two s will be up.”

    “Good-niging.

    ently so, as  told me to go.

    “!” ting me already, and in t way?”

    “You said I might go, sir.”

    “But not  taking leave; not  a  and good-, in s, in t brief, dry fascing deat me as if ual strangers! At least shake hands.”

    ook it first in one, th his own.

    “You . I cannot say more. Not olerable to me in ter of creditor for sucion: but you: it is different;—I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.”

    me:  visible trembled on  his voice was checked.

    “Good-nig, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.”

    “I kne some time;—I sa in your eyes ” (ily) “strike deligo my very inmost  so for notalk of natural sympatrut fable. My c!”

    Strange energy was in range fire in his look.

    “I am glad I o be ahen I was going.

    “! you will go?”

    “I am cold, sir.”

    “Cold? Yes,—and standing in a pool! Go, t ill retained my  free it. I bet myself of an expedient.

    “I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir,” said I.

    “ell, leave me:” he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.

    I regained my couc never t of sleep. till morning daossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea,  sometimes I sas ers a s as t triumply to I could not reac, even in fancy—a counteracting breeze bleinually drove me back. Sense  delirium: judgment oo feveriso rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.