Джейн Эйр / Jane Eyre

“I hardly know, sir. I have little experience of them. They are generally thought pleasant things.”

“But what do YOU think?”

“A present has many faces to it, has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion.”

“Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adèle. The moment she sees me, she demands presents.”

“That’s not true at all,” he replied. “I can see what good work you have done with Adèle. By the way, I have examined Adèle, and think you have taken great pains with her. She is not bright, she has no talents; yet in a short time she has made much progress.”

“Sir, you have now given me my present, as this praise is the best present you could ever give a teacher,” I said.

Mr. Rochester grunted, and took his cup of tea from Mrs. Fairfax.

“You have been here how long?”

“Three months, sir.”

“And you came from —?”

“From Lowood school, in – shire.”

“How long were you there?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years! No wonder you have rather the look of another world. When I saw you last night, I thought of fairy tales. I decided you had bewitched my horse. I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?”

“I have none.”

“So when you standing there, you were waiting for your real family, the elves and the fairies.”

I shook my head. “The men in green all left England a hundred years ago,” said I, speaking as seriously as he had done.

Mrs. Fairfax had dropped her knitting, and, with raised eyebrows, tried to understand what sort of talk this was.

“Who recommended you to come here?”

“I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement.”

“Yes,” said the good lady, who now knew we were talking about, “and I am daily thankful for the choice Providence let me make. Miss Eyre has been an invaluable companion to me, and a kind teacher to Adele.”

“I will judge for myself. First of all, I have to thank her for this sprain.”

Mrs. Fairfax wanted to object, but Mr. Rochester did not let her do it. He interrogated me about Lowood and things I had been taught there. He asked me to go to the piano in the library and play a tune there. “You play rather better than some school-girls but not well,” was his judgement. “ showed me some sketches this morning, which she said were yours. Has any master helped you?”

“No, indeed!”

“Ah! that pricks pride.” He wanted to see more works. I brought the portfolio from the library. He deliberately scrutinised each sketch and painting.

“Were you happy when you painted these pictures?”

“To paint them was to enjoy one of the few pleasures I have ever known.”

“You had not enough of the artist’s skill and science to give it full being. Yet the drawings are, for a school-girl, peculiar.”

Then looking at his watch, he said abruptly, “It is nine o’clock: Miss Eyre, you should not let Adèle sit up so long. Take her to bed. I wish you all good-night, now.”

I took my portfolio. We curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow in return, and left the room.

“You said he was not strikingly peculiar,” I told Mrs. Fairfax after putting the girl to bed. “I think he is very changeful.”

“I am so accustomed to his manner, I never think of it,” she said. “He has had a few family troubles. He lost his elder brother nine years ago.”

“Was he so very fond of his brother?”

“Why, no – perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandings between them. He is not very forgiving: he broke with his family, and now for many years he has led an unsettled kind of life. I don’t think he has ever stayed at Thornfield for a fortnight, since the death of his brother without a will left him master of the mansion. Indeed, no wonder he shuns the place.”

“Why should he shun it?”

“Perhaps he thinks it gloomy.”

The answer was evasive. It was evident that Mrs. Fairfax wished me to drop the subject.

Chapter 15

For the next few days I hardly saw Mr. Rochester. In the mornings he was busy with visitors and, since his sprain was better, he often went out riding. He generally did not come back till late at night. I occasionally bumped into him on the stairs or in the hall. Sometimes he would bow and smile; other times he seemed irritated, and barely glanced at me.

One day after a dinner party with some friends, he asked Mrs. Fairfax to bring and me to the drawing room. His things had at last arrived from Millcote, and he gave her box of presents. While she sat on the sofa ecstatically examining her treasure, Mr. Rochester asked me to come and seat in a chair near his own.

“I am really not fond of children. Don’t draw that chair farther off, Miss Eyre; sit down exactly where I placed it – if you please, that is.”