hisshadow,thrownlohegardenbythemoon,risenhigh,hesaidquietly,withoutturning—

    “Jane,eandlookatthisfellow.”

    Ihadmadenonoise:hehadnoteyesbehind—couldhisshadowfeel?Istartedatfirst,andthenIapproachedhim.

    “Lookathiswings,”saidhe,“heremiherofaWestIndia;ooftenseeseandgayanight-roverinEngland;there!heisflown.”

    Themothroamedaway.Iwassheepishlyretreatingalso;butMr.Rochesterfollowedme,andwhenwereachedthewicket,hesaid—

    “Turnbasolovelyanightitisashametositinthehouse;andsurelynoonewishtogotobedwhilesuhusatmeetingwithmoonrise.”

    Itisoneofmyfaults,thatthoughmytongueissometimespromptenoughatanaherearetimeswhenitsadlyfailsmeinframinganexcuse;andalwaysthelapseoccursatsomecrisis,whenafacilewordorplausiblepretextisspeciallywaogetmeoutofpainfulembarrassment.IdidnotliketowalkatthishouralohMr.Rochesterintheshadowyorchard;butIcouldnotfindareasontoallegeforleavinghim.Ifollowedwithlaggingstep,andthoughtsbusilybentondiscamearication;buthehimselflookedsoposedandsogravealso,Ibecameashamedoffeelinganyfusion:theevil—ifevilexistentorprospectivetherewas—seemedtoliewithmeonly;hismindwasunsciousandquiet.

    “Jane,”hereenced,asweehelaurelwalk,andslowlystrayeddowninthedireofthesunkfehehorse-chestnut,“Thornfieldisapleasantplasummer,isitnot?”

    “Yes,sir.”

    “Youmusthavebeeinsomedegreeattachedtothehouse,—you,whohaveaneyefornaturalbeauties,andagooddealoftheanofAdhesiveness?”

    “Iamattachedtoit,indeed.”

    “AndthoughIdon’tprehendhowitis,Iperceiveyouhaveacqu