I hastened to Mrs. Fairfax’s room; there was
a fire there too, but no candle, and no Mrs. Fairfax.
Instead, all alone, sitting upright on the rug, and
gazing with gravity at the blaze, I beheld a great
black and white long-haired dog, just like the Gytrash
of the lane. It was so like it that I went forward
and said — “Pilot” and the
thing got up and came to me and snuffed me. I
caressed him, and he wagged his great tail; but he
looked an eerie creature to be alone with, and I could
not tell whence he had come. I rang the bell,
for I wanted a candle; and I wanted, too, to get an
account of this visitant. Leah entered.
“What dog is this?”
“He came with master.”
“With whom?”
“With master — Mr. Rochester —
he is just arrived.”
“Indeed! and is Mrs. Fairfax with him?”
“Yes, and Miss Adele; they are in the dining-room,
and John is gone for a surgeon; for master has had
an accident; his horse fell and his ankle is sprained.”
“Did the horse fall in Hay Lane?”
“Yes, coming down-hill; it slipped on some ice.”
“Ah! Bring me a candle will you Leah?”
Leah brought it; she entered, followed by Mrs. Fairfax,
who repeated the news; adding that Mr. Carter the
surgeon was come, and was now with Mr. Rochester:
then she hurried out to give orders about tea, and
I went upstairs to take off my things.
Mr. Rochester, it seems, by the surgeon’s orders,
went to bed early that night; nor did he rise soon
next morning. When he did come down, it was
to attend to business: his agent and some of
his tenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with
him.
Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it
would be in daily requisition as a reception-room
for callers. A fire was lit in an apartment
upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged
it for the future schoolroom. I discerned in
the course of the morning that Thornfield Hall was
a changed place: no longer silent as a church,
it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door,
or a clang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed
the hall, and new voices spoke in different keys below;
a rill from the outer world was flowing through it;
it had a master: for my part, I liked it better.
Adele was not easy to teach that day; she could not
apply: she kept running to the door and looking
over the banisters to see if she could get a glimpse
of Mr. Rochester; then she coined pretexts to go downstairs,
in order, as I shrewdly suspected, to visit the library,
where I knew she was not wanted; then, when I got a
little angry, and made her sit still, she continued
to talk incessantly of her “ami, Monsieur Edouard
Fairfax de Rochester,” as she dubbed him
(I had not before heard his prenomens), and to conjecture
what presents he had brought her: for it appears
he had intimated the night before, that when his luggage
came from Millcote, there would be found amongst it
a little box in whose contents she had an interest.
