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.
