Iwasstowedawayinthecoach,myproteountedhisow,soundedhishollowhorn,andawaywerattledoverthe“stonystreet”ofL-.

    Theafternooncameoandsomewhatmisty:asitwaodusk,IbegahatweweregettingveryfarindeedfromGateshead:weceasedtopassthroughtowns;thetryged;greatgreyhillsheaveduproundthehorizon:astwilightdeepened,wedesdedavalley,darkwithwood,andlongafternighthadovercloudedtheprospect,Iheardawildwindrushingamongsttrees.

    Lulledbythesound,Iatlastdroppedasleep;Ihadnotlongslumberedwhenthesuddeionofmotionawokeme;thecoach-dooren,andapersonlikeaservantwasstandingatit:Isawherfaddressbythelightofthelamps.

    “IstherealittlegirlcalledJaneEyrehere?”sheasked.Ianswered“Yes,”andwasthenliftedout;mytrunkwashandeddown,andthecoastantlydroveaway.

    Iwasstiffwithlongsitting,andbewilderedwiththenoiseandmotionofthecoach:Gatheringmyfaculties,Ilookedaboutme.Rain,wind,anddarknessfilledtheair;heless,Idimlydisedawallbeforemeandadooropeninit;throughthisdoorIpassedwithmynewguide:sheshutandlockeditbehiherewasnowvisibleahouseorhouses—forthebuildingspreadfar—withmanywindows,andlightsburninginsome;wewentupabroadpebblypath,splashi,andwereadmittedatadoor;thentheservahroughapassageintoaroomwithafire,wheresheleftmealone.

    Istoodandwarmedmynumbedfingersovertheblaze,thenIlookedround;therewasnodle,buttheuainlightfromthehearthshowed,byintervals,paperedwalls,carpet,curtains,shiningmahoganyfurniture:itarlour,notsospaciousorsplendidasthedrawing-roomatGateshead,butfortableenough.Iuzzlingtomakeoutthesubjectofapic