No |
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1913 |
No, indeed, I don¡¯t; Mr. Rochester |
xrtwq32 |
14 |
2019-06-14 14:51 |
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No, indeed, I don¡¯t; Mr. Rochester has something else to think about. Never mind the ladies to-night; perhaps you will see them to-morrow: here is your dinner.
He gathered a half-blown rose, the first on the bush, and offered it to me.
On the contrary, said I, I bolted my door.
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That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, have been few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist¡¯s dreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did you sit at them long each day?
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I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you, said she, but as there is so little toast, you must have it now, and she proceeded to cut slices with a generous hand.
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Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a cautious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one of the strangers?a gentleman, evidently?was advancing up the chancel. The service began. The explanation of the intent of matrimony was gone through; and then the clergyman came a step further forward, and, bending slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.
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I am ignorant of all concerning Mr. Rochester: the letter never mentions him but to narrate the fraudulent and illegal attempt I have adverted to. You should rather ask the name of the governess?the nature of the event which requires her appearance.
And I am a hard woman,?impossible to put off.
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It is not impossible: have some energy, man. You thought you were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now. There!?Carter has done with you or nearly so; I¡¯ll make you decent in a trice. Jane (he turned to me for the first time since his re-entrance), take this key: go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room: open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and neck-handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble.
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That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar.
I and my pupil dined as usual in Mrs. Fairfax¡¯s parlour; the afternoon was wild and snowy, and we passed it in the schoolroom. At dark I allowed Ad?le to put away books and work, and to run downstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from the cessation of appeals to the door-bell, I conjectured that Mr. Rochester was now at liberty. Left alone, I walked to the window; but nothing was to be seen thence: twilight and snowflakes together thickened the air, and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. I let down the curtain and went back to the fireside.
Mr. Rochester had been absent upwards of a fortnight, when the post brought Mrs. Fairfax a letter.
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