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onze lamp pendent from the ceiling; at a great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved; and ebon black with time and rubbing。 everything appeared very stately and imposing to me; but then i was so little accustomed to grandeur。 the hall…door; which was half of glass; stood open; i stepped over the threshold。 it was a fine autumn morning; the early sun shone serenely on embrowned groves and still green fields; advancing on to the lawn; i looked up and surveyed the front of the mansion。 it was three storeys high; of proportions not vast; though considerable: a gentleman’s manor…house; not a nobleman’s seat: battlements round the top gave it a picturesque look。 its grey front stood out well from the background of a rookery; whose cawing tenants were now on the wing: they flew over the lawn and grounds to alight in a great meadow; from which these were separated by a sunk fence; and where an array of mighty old thorn trees; strong; knotty; and broad as oaks; at once explained the etymology of the mansion’s designation。 farther off were hills: not so lofty as those round lowood; nor so craggy; nor so like barriers of separation from the living world; but yet quiet and lonely hills enough; and seeming to embrace thornfield with a seclusion i had not expected to find existent so near the stirring locality of millcote。 a little hamlet; whose roofs were blent with trees; straggled up the side of one of these hills; the church of the district stood nearer thornfield: its old tower…top looked over a knoll between the house and gates。
i was yet enjoying the calm prospect and pleasant fresh air; yet listening with delight to the cawing of the rooks; yet surveying the wide; hoary front of the hall; and thinking what a great place it was for one lonely little dame like mrs。 fairfax to inhabit; when that lady appeared at the door。
“what! out already?” said she。 “i see you are an early riser。” i went up to her; and was received with an affable kiss and shake of the hand。
“how do you like thornfield?” she asked。 i told her i liked it very much。
“yes;” she said; “it is a pretty place; but i fear it will be getting out of order; unless mr。 rochester should take it into his head to e and reside here permanently; or; at least; visit it rather oftener: great houses and fine grounds require the presence of the proprietor。”
“mr。 rochester!” i exclaimed。 “who is he?”
“the owner of thornfield;” she responded quietly。 “did you not know he was called rochester?”
of course i did not—i had never heard of him before; but the old lady seemed to regard his existence as a universally understood fact; with which everybody must be acquainted by instinct。
“i thought;” i continued; “thornfield belonged to you。”
“to me? bless you; child; what an idea! to me! i am only the housekeeper—the manager。 to be sure i am distantly related to the rochesters by the mother’s side; or at least my husband was; he was a clergyman; incumbent of hay—that little village yonder on the hill—and that church near the gates was his。 the present mr。 rochester’s mother was a fairfax; and second cousin to my husband: but i never presume on the connection—in fact; it is nothing to me; i consider myself quite in the light of an ordinary housekeeper: my employer is always civil; and i expect nothing more。”
“and the little girl—my pupil!”
“she is mr。 rochester’s ward; he missioned me to find a governess for her。 he intended to have her brought up in—shire; i believe。 here she es; with her ‘bonne;’ as she calls her nurse。” the enigma then was explained: this affable and kind little widow was no great dame; but a dependant like myself。 i did not like her the worse for that; on the contrary; i felt better pleased than ever。 the equality between her and me was real; not the mere result of condescension on her part: so much the better—my position was all the freer。
as i was meditating on this discovery; a little girl; followed by her attendant; came running up the lawn。 i looked at my pupil; who did not at first appear to notice me: she was quite a child; perhaps seven or eight years old; slightly built; with a pale; small…featured face; and a redundancy of hair falling in curls to her waist。
“good morning; miss adela;” said mrs。 fairfax。 “e and speak to the lady who is to teach you; and to make you a clever woman some day。” she approached。
“c’est le ma gouverante!” said she; pointing to me; and addressing her nurse; who answered—
“mais oui; certainement。”
“are they foreigners?” i inquired; amazed at hearing the french language。
“the nurse is a foreigner; and adela was born on the continent; and; i believe; never left it till within six months ago。 when she first came here she could speak no english; now she can make shift to talk it a little: i don’t understand her; she mixes it so with french; but you will make out her meaning very well; i dare say。”
fortunately i had had the advantage of being taught french by a french lady; and as i had always made a point of conversing with madame pierrot as often as i could; and had besides; during the last seven years; learnt a portion of french by heart daily—applying myself to take pains with my accent; and imitating as closely as possible the pronunciation of my teacher; i had acquired a certain degree of readiness and correctness in the language; and was not likely to be much at a loss with mademoiselle adela。 she came and shook hand with me when she heard that i was her governess; and as i led her in to breakfast; i addressed some phrases to her in her own tongue: she replied briefly at first; but after we were seated at the table; and she had examined me some ten minutes with her large hazel eyes; she suddenly menced chattering fluently。
“ah!” cried she; in french; “you speak my language as well as mr。 rochester does: i can talk to you as i can to him; and so can sophie。 she will be glad: nobody here understands her: madame fairfax is all english。 sophie is my nurse; she came with me over the sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked—how it did smoke!—and i was sick; and so was sophie; and so was mr。 rochester。 mr。 rochester