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of　myself。　I　know　another　way　to　the　house。　It　does　not　signify　if　I　knew　twenty　ways；　for　he　has　seen　me。

“Hillo！”　he　cries；　and　he　puts　up　his　book　and　his　pencil。　“There　you　are！　e　on；　if　you　please。”

I　suppose　I　do　e　on；　though　in　what　fashion　I　know　not；　being　scarcely　cognisant　of　my　movements；　and　solicitous　only　to　appear　calm；　and；　above　all；　to　control　the　working　muscles　of　my　face—　which　I　feel　rebel　insolently　against　my　will；　and　struggle　to　express　what　I　had　resolved　to　conceal。　But　I　have　a　veil—it　is　down：　I　may　make　shift　yet　to　behave　with　decent　posure。

“And　this　is　Jane　Eyre？　Are　you　ing　from　Millcote；　and　on　foot？　Yes—just　one　of　your　tricks：　not　to　send　for　a　carriage；　and　e　clattering　over　street　and　road　like　a　mon　mortal；　but　to　steal　into　the　vicinage　of　your　home　along　with　twilight；　just　as　if　you　were　a　dream　or　a　shade。　What　the　deuce　have　you　done　with　yourself　this　last　month？”

“I　have　been　with　my　aunt；　sir；　who　is　dead。”

“A　true　Janian　reply！　Good　angels　be　my　guard！　She　es　from　the　other　world—from　the　abode　of　people　who　are　dead；　and　tells　me　so　when　she　meets　me　alone　here　in　the　gloaming！　If　I　dared；　I’d　touch　you；　to　see　if　you　are　substance　or　shadow；　you　elf！—but　I’d　as　soon　offer　to　take　hold　of　a　blue　ignis　fatuus　light　in　a　marsh。　Truant！　truant！”　he　added；　when　he　had　paused　an　instant。　“Absent　from　me　a　whole　month；　and　forgetting　me　quite；　I’ll　be　sworn！”

I　knew　there　would　be　pleasure　in　meeting　my　master　again；　even　though　broken　by　the　fear　that　he　was　so　soon　to　cease　to　be　my　master；　and　by　the　knowledge　that　I　was　nothing　to　him：　but　there　was　ever　in　Mr。　Rochester　（so　at　least　I　thought）　such　a　wealth　of　the　power　of　municating　happiness；　that　to　taste　but　of　the　crumbs　he　scattered　to　stray　and　stranger　birds　like　me；　was　to　feast　genially。　His　last　words　were　balm：　they　seemed　to　imply　that　it　imported　something　to　him　whether　I　forgot　him　or　not。　And　he　had　spoken　of　Thornfield　as　my　home—would　that　it　were　my　home！

He　did　not　leave　the　stile；　and　I　hardly　liked　to　ask　to　go　by。　I　inquired　soon　if　he　had　not　been　to　London。

“Yes；　I　suppose　you　found　that　out　by　second…sight。”

“Mrs。　Fairfax　told　me　in　a　letter。”

“And　did　she　inform　you　what　I　went　to　do？”

“Oh；　yes；　sir！　Everybody　knew　your　errand。”

“You　must　see　the　carriage；　Jane；　and　tell　me　if　you　don’t　think　it　will　suit　Mrs。　Rochester　exactly；　and　whether　she　won’t　look　like　Queen　Boadicea；　leaning　back　against　those　purple　cushions。　I　wish；　Jane；　I　were　a　trifle　better　adapted　to　match　with　her　externally。　Tell　me　now；　fairy　as　you　are—can’t　you　give　me　a　charm；　or　a　philter；　or　something　of　that　sort；　to　make　me　a　handsome　man？”

“It　would　be　past　the　power　of　magic；　sir；”　and；　in　thought；　I　added；　“A　loving　eye　is　all　the　charm　needed：　to　such　you　are　handsome　enough；　or　rather　your　sternness　has　a　power　beyond　beauty。”

Mr。　Rochester　had　sometimes　read　my　unspoken　thoughts　with　an　acumen　to　me　inprehensible：　in　the　present　instance　he　took　no　notice　of　my　abrupt　vocal　response；　but　he　smiled　at　me　with　a　certain　smile　he　had　of　his　own；　and　which　he　used　but　on　rare　occasions。　He　seemed　to　think　it　too　good　for　mon　purposes：　it　was　the　real　sunshine　of　feeling—he　shed　it　over　me　now。

“Pass；　Ja；”　said　he；　making　room　for　me　to　cross　the　stile：　“go　up　home；　and　stay　your　weary　little　wandering　feet　at　a　friend’s　threshold。”

All　I　had　now　to　do　was　to　obey　him　in　silence：　no　need　for　me　to　colloquise　further。　I　got　over　the　stile　without　a　word；　and　meant　to　leave　him　calmly。　An　impulse　held　me　fast—a　force　turned　me　round。　I　said—or　something　in　me　said　for　me；　and　in　spite　of　me—

“Thank　you；　Mr。　Rochester；　for　your　great　kindness。　I　am　strangely　glad　to　get　back　again　to　you：　and　wherever　you　are　is　my　home—my　only　home。”

I　walked　on　so　fast　that　even　he　could　hardly　have　overtaken　me　had　he　tried。　Little　Adèle　was　half　wild　with　delight　when　she　saw　me。　Mrs。　Fairfax　received　me　with　her　usual　plain　friendliness。　Leah　smiled；　and　even　Sophie　bid　me　“bon　soir”　with　glee。　This　was　very　pleasant；　there　is　no　happiness　like　that　of　being　loved　by　your　fellow…creatures；　and　feeling　that　your　presence　is　an　addition　to　their　fort。

I　that　evening　shut　my　eyes　resolutely　against　the　future：　I　stopped　my　cars　against　the　voice　that　kept　warning　me　of　near　separation　and　ing　grief。　When　tea　was　over　and　Mrs。　Fairfax　had　taken　her　knitting；　and　I　had　assumed　a　low　seat　near　her；　and　Adèle；　kneeling　on　the　carpet；　had　nestled　close　up　to　me；　and　a　sense　of　mutual　affection　seemed　to　surround　us　with　a　ring　of　golden　peace；　I　uttered　a　silent　prayer　that　we　might　not　be　parted　far　or　soon；　but　when；　as　we　thus　sat；　Mr。　Rochester　entered；　unannounced；　and　looking　at　us；　seemed　to　take　pleasure　in　the　spectacle　of　a　group　so　amicable—when　he　said　he　supposed　the　old　lady　was　all　right　now　that　she　had　got　her　adopted　daughter　back　again；　and　added　that　he　saw　Adèle　an　Anglaise”—I　half　ventured　to　hope　that　he　would；　even　after　his　marriage；　keep　us　together　somewhere　under　the　shelter　of　his　protection；　and　not　quite　exiled　from　the　sunshine　of　his　presence。

A　fortnight　of　dubious　calm　succeeded　my　return　to　Thornfield　Hall。　Nothing　was　said　of　the　master’s　marriage；　and　I　saw　no　preparation　going　on　for　such　an　event。　Almost　every　day　I　asked　Mrs。　Fairfax　if　she　had　yet　heard　anything　decided：　her　answer　was　always　in　the　negative。　Once　she　said　she　had　actually　put　the　question　to　Mr。　Rochester　as　to　when　he　was　going　to　bring　his　bride　home；　but　he　had　answered　her　only　by　a　joke　and　one　of　his　queer　looks；　and　she　could　not　tell　what　to　make　of　him。

One　thing　specially　surprised　me；　and　that　was；　there　were　no　journeyings　backward　and　forward；　no　visits　to　Ingram　Park：　to　be　sure　it　was　twenty　miles　off；　on　the　borders　of　another　county；　but　what　was　that　distance　to　an　ardent　lover？　To　so　practised　and　indefatigable　a　horseman　as　Mr。　Rochester；　it　would　be　but　a　morning’s　ride。　I　began　to　cherish　hopes　I　had　no　right　to　conceive：　that　the　match　was　broken　off；　that　rumour　had　been　mistaken；　that　one　or　both　parties　had　changed　their　minds。　I　used　to　look　at　my　master’s　face　to　see　if　it　were　sad　or　fierce；　but　I　could　not　remember　the　time　when　it　had　been　so　uniformly　clear　of　clouds　or　evil　feelings。　If；　in　the　moments　I　and　my　pupil　spent　with　him；　I　lacked　spirits　and　sank　into　inevitable　dejection；　he　became　even　gay。　Never　had　he　called　me　more　frequently　to　his　presence；　never　been　kinder　to　me　when　there—and；　alas！　never　had　I　loved　him　so　well。

Chapter　23

A　splendid　Midsummer　shone　over　England：　skies　so　pure；　suns　so　radiant　as　were　then　seen　in　long　succession；　seldom　favour　even　singly；　our　wave…girt　land。　It　was　as　if　a　band　of　Italian　days　had　e　from　the　South；　like　a　flock　of　glorious　passenger　birds；　and　lighted　to　rest　them　on　the　cliffs　of　Albion。　The　hay　was　all　got　in；　the　fields　round　Thornfield　were　green　and　shorn；　the　roads　white　and　baked；　the　trees　were　in　their　dark　prime；　hedge　and　wood；　full…leaved　and　deeply　tinted；　contrasted　well　with　the　sunny　hue　of　the　cleared　meadows　between。

On　Midsummer…eve；　Adèle；　weary　with　gathering　wild　strawberries　in　Hay　Lane　half　the　day；　had　gone　to　bed　with　the　sun。　I　watched　her　drop　asleep；　and　when　I　left　her；　I　sought　the　garden。

It　was　now　the　sweetest　hour　of　the　twenty…four：…　“Day　its　fervid　fires　had　wasted；”　and　dew　fell　cool　on　panting　plain　and　scorched　summit。　Where　the　sun　had　gone　down　in　simple　state—pure　of　the　pomp　of　clouds—spread　a　solemn　purple；　burning　with　the　light　of　red　jewel　and　furnace　flame　at　one　point；　on　one　hill…peak；　and　extending　high　and　wide；　soft　and　still　softer；　over　half　heaven。　The　east　had　its　own　charm　or　fine　deep　blue；　and　its　own　modest　gem；　a　casino　and　solitary　star：　soon　it　would　boast　the　moon；　but　she　was　yet　beneath　the　horizon。

I　walked　a　while　on　the　pavement；　but　a　subtle；　well…known　scent—　that　of　a　cigar—stole　from　some　window；　I　saw　the　library　casement　open　a　handbreadth；　I　knew　I　might　be　watched　thence；　so　I　went　apart　into　the　orchard。　No　nook　in　the　grounds　more　sheltered　and　more　Eden…like；　it　was　full　of　trees；　it　bloomed　with　flowers：　a　very　high　wall　shut　it　out　from　the　court；　on　one　side；　on　the　other；　a　beech　avenue　screened　it　from　the　lawn。　At　the　bottom　was　a　sunk　fence；　its　sole　separation　from　lonely　fields：　a　winding　walk；　bordered　with　laurels　and　terminating　in　a　giant　horse…　chestnut；　circled　at　the　base　by　a　seat；　led　down　to　the　fence。　Here　one　could　wander　unseen。　While　such　honey…dew　fell；　such　silence　reigned；　such　gloaming　gathered；　I　felt　as　if　I　could　haunt　such　shade　for　ever；　but　in　threading　the　flower　and　fruit　parterres　at　the　upper　part　of　the　enclosure；　enticed　there　by　the　light　the　now　rising　moon　cast　on　this　more　open　quarter；　my　step　is　stayed—　not　by　sound；　not　by　sight；　but　once　more　by　a　warning　fragrance。

Sweet…briar　and　southernwood；　jasmine；　pink；　and　rose　have　long　been　yielding　their　evening　sacrifice　of　incense：　this　new　scent　is　neither　of　shrub　nor　flower；　it　is—I　know　it　well—it　is　Mr。　Rochester’s　cigar。　I　look　round　and　I　listen。　I　see　trees　laden　with　ripening　fruit。　I　hear　a　nightingale　warbling　in　a　wood　half　a　mile　off；　no　moving　form　is　visible；　no　ing　step　audible；　but　that　perfume　increases：　I　must　flee。　I　make　for　the　wicket　leading　to　the　shrubbery；　and　I　see　Mr。　Rochester　entering。　I　step　aside　into　the　ivy　recess；　he　will　not　stay　long：　he　will　soon　return　whence　he　came；　and　if　I　sit　still　he　will　never　see　me。

But　no—eventide　is　as　pleasant　to　him　as　to　me；　and　this　antique　garden　as　attractive；　and　he　strolls　on；　now　lifting　the　gooseberry…　tree　branches　to　look　at　the　fruit；　large　as　plums；　with　which　they　are　laden；　now　taking　a　ripe　cherry　from　the　wall；　now　stooping　towards　a　knot　of　flowers；　either　to　inhale　their　fragrance　or　to　admire　the　dew…beads　on　their　petals。　A　great　moth　goes　humming　by　me；　it　alights　on　a　plant　at　Mr。　Rochester’s　foot：　he　sees　it；　and　bends　to　examine　it。

“Now；　he　has　his　back　towards　me；”　thought　I；　“and　he　is　occupied　too；　perhaps；　if　I　walk　softly；　I　can　slip　away　unnoticed。”

I　trode　on　an　edging　of　turf　that　the　crackle　of　the　pebbly　gravel　might　not　betray　me：　he　was　standing　among　the　beds　at　a　yard　or　two　distant　from　where　I　had　to　pass；　the　moth　apparently　engaged　him。　“I　shall　get　by　very　well；”　I　meditated。　As　I　crossed　his　shadow；　thrown　long　over　the　garden　by　the　moon；　not　yet　risen　high；　he　said　quietly；　without　turning—

“Jane；　e　and　look　at　this　fellow。”

I　had　made　no　noise：　he　had　not　eyes　behind—could　his　shadow　feel？　I　started　at　first；　and　then　I　approached　him。

“Look　at　his　wings；”　said　he；　“he　reminds　me　rather　of　a　West　Indian　insect；　one　does　not　often　see　so　large　and　gay　a　night…rover　in　England；　there！　he　is　flown。”

The　moth　roamed　away。　I　was　sheepishly　retreating　also；　but　Mr。　Rochester　followed　me；　and　when　we　reached　the　wicket；　he　said—

“Turn　back：　on　so　lovely　a　night　it　is　a　shame　to　sit　in　the　house；　and　surely　no　one　can　wish　to　go　to　bed　while　sunset　is　thus　at　meeting　with　moonrise。”

It　is　one　of　my　faults；　that　though　my　tongue　is　sometimes　prompt　enough　at　a

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