Books: Jane Eyre

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A tread creaked on the stairs at last. Leah made her appearance;
but it was only to intimate that tea was ready in Mrs. Fairfax's
room. Thither I repaired, glad at least to go downstairs; for that
brought me, I imagined, nearer to Mr. Rochester's presence.

"You must want your tea," said the good lady, as I joined her;
"you ate so little at dinner. I am afraid," she continued, "you
are not well to-day: you look flushed and feverish."

"Oh, quite well! I never felt better."

"Then you must prove it by evincing a good appetite; will you fill
the teapot while I knit off this needle?" Having completed her
task, she rose to draw down the blind, which she had hitherto kept
up, by way, I suppose, of making the most of daylight, though dusk
was now fast deepening into total obscurity.

"It is fair to-night," said she, as she looked through the panes,
"though not starlight; Mr. Rochester has, on the whole, had a
favourable day for his journey."

"Journey! -- Is Mr. Rochester gone anywhere? I did not know he
was out."

"Oh, he set off the moment he had breakfasted! He is gone to the
Leas, Mr. Eshton's place, ten miles on the other side Millcote. I
believe there is quite a party assembled there; Lord Ingram, Sir
George Lynn, Colonel Dent, and others."

"Do you expect him back to-night?"

"No -- nor to-morrow either; I should think he is very likely to stay
a week or more: when these fine, fashionable people get together,
they are so surrounded by elegance and gaiety, so well provided with
all that can please and entertain, they are in no hurry to separate.
Gentlemen especially are often in request on such occasions; and Mr.
Rochester is so talented and so lively in society, that I believe he
is a general favourite: the ladies are very fond of him; though
you would not think his appearance calculated to recommend him
particularly in their eyes: but I suppose his acquirements and
abilities, perhaps his wealth and good blood, make amends for any
little fault of look."

"Are there ladies at the Leas?"

"There are Mrs. Eshton and her three daughters -- very elegant young
ladies indeed; and there are the Honourable Blanche and Mary Ingram,
most beautiful women, I suppose: indeed I have seen Blanche, six
or seven years since, when she was a girl of eighteen. She came
here to a Christmas ball and party Mr. Rochester gave. You should
have seen the dining-room that day -- how richly it was decorated,
how brilliantly lit up! I should think there were fifty ladies
and gentlemen present -- all of the first county families; and Miss
Ingram was considered the belle of the evening."

"You saw her, you say, Mrs. Fairfax: what was she like?"

"Yes, I saw her. The dining-room doors were thrown open; and, as
it was Christmas-time, the servants were allowed to assemble in
the hall, to hear some of the ladies sing and play. Mr. Rochester
would have me to come in, and I sat down in a quiet corner and
watched them. I never saw a more splendid scene: the ladies were
magnificently dressed; most of them -- at least most of the younger
ones -- looked handsome; but Miss Ingram was certainly the queen."

"And what was she like?"

"Tall, fine bust, sloping shoulders; long, graceful neck: olive
complexion, dark and clear; noble features; eyes rather like Mr.
Rochester's: large and black, and as brilliant as her jewels. And
then she had such a fine head of hair; raven-black and so becomingly
arranged: a crown of thick plaits behind, and in front the longest,
the glossiest curls I ever saw. She was dressed in pure white; an
amber-coloured scarf was passed over her shoulder and across her
breast, tied at the side, and descending in long, fringed ends
below her knee. She wore an amber-coloured flower, too, in her
hair: it contrasted well with the jetty mass of her curls."

"She was greatly admired, of course?"

"Yes, indeed: and not only for her beauty, but for her accomplishments.
She was one of the ladies who sang: a gentleman accompanied her
on the piano. She and Mr. Rochester sang a duet."

"Mr. Rochester? I was not aware he could sing."

"Oh! he has a fine bass voice, and an excellent taste for music."

"And Miss Ingram: what sort of a voice had she?"

"A very rich and powerful one: she sang delightfully; it was a treat
to listen to her; -- and she played afterwards. I am no judge of
music, but Mr. Rochester is; and I heard him say her execution was
remarkably good."

"And this beautiful and accomplished lady, she is not yet married?"

"It appears not: I fancy neither she nor her sister have very
large fortunes. Old Lord Ingram's estates were chiefly entailed,
and the eldest son came in for everything almost."

"But I wonder no wealthy nobleman or gentleman has taken a fancy
to her: Mr. Rochester, for instance. He is rich, is he not?"

"Oh! yes. But you see there is a considerable difference in age:
Mr. Rochester is nearly forty; she is but twenty-five."

"What of that? More unequal matches are made every day."

"True: yet I should scarcely fancy Mr. Rochester would entertain
an idea of the sort. But you eat nothing: you have scarcely tasted
since you began tea."

"No: I am too thirsty to eat. Will you let me have another cup?"

I was about again to revert to the probability of a union between
Mr. Rochester and the beautiful Blanche; but Adele came in, and
the conversation was turned into another channel.

When once more alone, I reviewed the information I had got; looked
into my heart, examined its thoughts and feelings, and endeavoured
to bring back with a strict hand such as had been straying through
imagination's boundless and trackless waste, into the safe fold of
common sense.

Arraigned at my own bar, Memory having given her evidence of the
hopes, wishes, sentiments I had been cherishing since last night
-- of the general state of mind in which I had indulged for nearly
a fortnight past; Reason having come forward and told, in her own
quiet way a plain, unvarnished tale, showing how I had rejected the
real, and rabidly devoured the ideal; -- I pronounced judgment to
this effect:-

That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath
of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself
on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.

"YOU," I said, "a favourite with Mr. Rochester? YOU gifted with the
power of pleasing him? YOU of importance to him in any way? Go!
your folly sickens me. And you have derived pleasure from occasional
tokens of preference -- equivocal tokens shown by a gentleman of
family and a man of the world to a dependent and a novice. How
dared you? Poor stupid dupe! -- Could not even self-interest make
you wiser? You repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene
of last night? -- Cover your face and be ashamed! He said something
in praise of your eyes, did he? Blind puppy! Open their bleared
lids and look on your own accursed senselessness! It does good
to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly
intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret
love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must
devour the life that feeds it; and, if discovered and responded
to, must lead, ignis-fatus-like, into miry wilds whence there is
no extrication.

"Listen, then, Jane Eyre, to your sentence: tomorrow, place the
glass before you, and draw in chalk your own picture, faithfully,
without softening one defect; omit no harsh line, smooth away no
displeasing irregularity; write under it, 'Portrait of a Governess,
disconnected, poor, and plain.'

"Afterwards, take a piece of smooth ivory -- you have one prepared
in your drawing-box: take your palette, mix your freshest, finest,
clearest tints; choose your most delicate camel-hair pencils;
delineate carefully the loveliest face you can imagine; paint
it in your softest shades and sweetest lines, according to the
description given by Mrs. Fairfax of Blanche Ingram; remember the
raven ringlets, the oriental eye; -- What! you revert to Mr. Rochester
as a model! Order! No snivel! -- no sentiment! -- no regret! I
will endure only sense and resolution. Recall the august yet
harmonious lineaments, the Grecian neck and bust; let the round
and dazzling arm be visible, and the delicate hand; omit neither
diamond ring nor gold bracelet; portray faithfully the attire,
aerial lace and glistening satin, graceful scarf and golden rose;
call it 'Blanche, an accomplished lady of rank.'

"Whenever, in future, you should chance to fancy Mr. Rochester
thinks well of you, take out these two pictures and compare them:
say, 'Mr. Rochester might probably win that noble lady's love, if
he chose to strive for it; is it likely he would waste a serious
thought on this indigent and insignificant plebeian?'"

"I'll do it," I resolved: and having framed this determination,
I grew calm, and fell asleep.

I kept my word. An hour or two sufficed to sketch my own portrait
in crayons; and in less than a fortnight I had completed an ivory
miniature of an imaginary Blanche Ingram. It looked a lovely face
enough, and when compared with the real head in chalk, the contrast
was as great as self-control could desire. I derived benefit from
the task: it had kept my head and hands employed, and had given
force and fixedness to the new impressions I wished to stamp
indelibly on my heart.

Ere long, I had reason to congratulate myself on the course
of wholesome discipline to which I had thus forced my feelings to
submit. Thanks to it, I was able to meet subsequent occurrences
with a decent calm, which, had they found me unprepared, I should
probably have been unequal to maintain, even externally.

CHAPTER XVII

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 to 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.