ntactsyoueverperformed.”

    Adèle,indeed,nosoonersawMrs.Fairfax,thanshesummoohersofa,andtherequicklyfilledherlapwiththeporcelain,theivory,thewaxententsofher“boite;”pout,meantime,explanationsandrapturesinsuchbrokenEnglishasshewasmistressof.

    “Noerformedthepartofagoodhost,”pursuedMr.Rochester,“putmyguestsintothewayofamusingeachother,Ioughttobeatlibertytoattendtomyownpleasure.MissEyre,drawyourchairstillalittlefartherforward:youareyettoofarback;Iotseeyouwithoutdisturbingmypositioninthisfortablechair,whichIhavenomindtodo.”

    IdidasIwasbid,thoughIwouldmuchratherhaveremainedsomewhatintheshade;butMr.Rochesterhadsuchadirectwayofgivingorders,itseemedamatterofcoursetoobeyhimpromptly.

    Wewere,asIhavesaid,inthedining-room:thelustre,whichhadbeenlitfordinner,filledtheroomwithafestalbreadthoflight;thelargefirewasallredahepurplecurtainshungridamplebeforetheloftywindowandloftierarch;everythingwasstill,savethesubduedchatofAdèle(shedarednotspeakloud),and,fillingupeachpause,thebeatingofwinterrainagainstthepanes.

    Mr.Rochester,ashesatinhisdamask-coveredchair,lookeddifferenttowhatIhadseenhimlookbefore;notquitesostern—muchlessgloomy.Therewasasmileonhislips,andhiseyessparkled,whetherwithwineornot,Iamnotsure;butIthinkitveryprobable.Hewas,inshort,inhisafter-dinnermood;moreexpandedandgenial,andalsomoreself-indulgentthanthefrigidandrigidtemperofthem;stillhelookedpreciouslygrim,cushioninghismassiveheadagainsttheswellingbackofhischair,andreceivingthelightofthefireonhisgranite-hew