Jane Eyre

school girl, peculiar. As to the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream. How could you make them look so clear, and yet not at all brilliant? for the planet above quells their rays. And what meaning is that in their solemn depth? And who taught you to paint wind? There is a high gale in that sky, and on this hill-top. Where did you see Latmos? For that is Latmos. There, – put the drawings away!«
    I had scarce tied the strings of the portfolio, when, looking at his watch, he said abruptly –
    »It is nine o'clock; what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adèle sit up so long? Take her to bed.«
    Adèle went to kiss him before quitting the room: he endured the caress, but scarcely seemed to relish it more than Pilot would have done, nor so much.
    »I wish you all good-night, now,« said he, making a movement of the hand towards the door, in token that he was tired of our company, and wished to dismiss us. Mrs. Fairfax folded up her knitting: I took my portfolio: we curtseyed to him, received a frigid bow in return, and so withdrew.
    »You said Mr. Rochester was not strikingly peculiar, Mrs. Fairfax,« I observed, when I rejoined her in her room, after putting Adèle to bed.
    »Well, is he?«
    »I think so: he is very changeful and abrupt.«
    »True: no doubt he may appear so to a stranger, but I am so accustomed to his manner, I never think of it; and then, if he has peculiarities of temper, allowance should be made.«
    »Why?«
    »Partly, because it is his nature – and we can none of us help our nature; and partly, he has painful thoughts, no doubt, to harass him, and make his spirits unequal.«
    »What about?«
    »Family troubles, for one thing.«
    »But he has no family.«
    »Not now, but he has had – or, at least, relatives. He lost his elder brother a few years since.«
    »His
elaer
brother?«
    »Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long in possession of the property: only about nine years.«
    »Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brother as to be still inconsolable for his loss?«
    »Why, no – perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandings between them. Mr. Rowland Rochester was not quite just to Mr. Edward; and perhaps he prejudiced his father against him. The old gentleman was fond of money, and anxious to keep the family estate together. He did not like to diminish the property by division, and yet he was anxious that Mr. Edward should have wealth, too, to keep up the consequence of the name; and soon after he was of age, some steps were taken that were not quite fair, and made a great deal of mischief. Old Mr. Rochester and Mr. Rowland combined to bring Mr. Edward into what he considered a painful position, for the sake of making his fortune: what the precise nature of that position was I never clearly knew, but his spirit could not brook what he had to suffer in it. 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 been resident at Thornfield for a fortnight together, since the death of his brother without a will, left him master of the estate: and, indeed, no wonder he shuns the old place.«
    »Why should he shun it?«
    »Perhaps he thinks it gloomy.«
    The answer was evasive – I should have liked something clearer; but Mrs. Fairfax either could not, or would not, give me more explicit information of the origin and nature of Mr. Rochester's trials. She averred they were a mystery to herself, and that what she knew was chiefly from conjecture. It was evident, indeed, that she wished me to drop the subject; which I did accordingly.
     
     
Chapter XIV
    For several subsequent days I saw little of Mr. Rochester. In the mornings he seemed much engaged with business, and in the afternoon, gentlemen from Millcote or the neighbourhood called, and sometimes stayed to dine with him. When his sprain was well enough to admit of horse exercise, he rode out a good deal; probably to return these visits, as he generally did not come back till late at night.
    During this interval, even Adèle was seldom sent for to his presence, and all my acquaintance with him was confined to an occasional rencontre in the hall, on the stairs, or in the gallery; when he would sometimes pass me haughtily and coldly, just acknowledging my presence by a distant nod or a cool glance, and sometimes bow and smile with gentlemanlike affability. His changes