"Is Miss Eyre there?" now demanded the master, half rising from his
seat to look round to the door, near which I still stood.
"Ah! well, come forward; be seated here." He drew a chair near his
own. "I am not fond of the prattle of children," he continued;
"for, old bachelor as I am, I have no pleasant associations
connected with their lisp. It would be intolerable to me to pass a
whole evening tete-e-tete with a brat. Don't draw that chair
farther off, Miss Eyre; sit down exactly where I placed it--if you
please, that is. Confound these civilities! I continually forget
them. Nor do I particularly affect simple-minded old ladies. By-
the-bye, I must have mine in mind; it won't do to neglect her; she
is a Fairfax, or wed to one; and blood is said to be thicker than
water."
He rang, and despatched an invitation to Mrs. Fairfax, who soon
arrived, knitting-basket in hand.
"Good evening, madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose. I
have forbidden Adele to talk to me about her presents, and she is
bursting with repletion: have the goodness to serve her as
auditress and interlocutrice; it will be one of the most benevolent
acts you ever performed."
Adele, indeed, no sooner saw Mrs. Fairfax, than she summoned her to
her sofa, and there quickly filled her lap with the porcelain, the
ivory, the waxen contents of her "boite;" pouring out, meantime,
explanations and raptures in such broken English as she was mistress
of.
"Now I have performed the part of a good host," pursued Mr.
Rochester, "put my guests into the way of amusing each other, I
ought to be at liberty to attend to my own pleasure. Miss Eyre,
draw your chair still a little farther forward: you are yet too far
back; I cannot see you without disturbing my position in this
comfortable chair, which I have no mind to do."
I did as I was bid, though I would much rather have remained
somewhat in the shade; but Mr. Rochester had such a direct way of
giving orders, it seemed a matter of course to obey him promptly.
We were, as I have said, in the dining-room: the lustre, which had
been lit for dinner, filled the room with a festal breadth of light;
the large fire was all red and clear; the purple curtains hung rich
and ample before the lofty window and loftier arch; everything was
still, save the subdued chat of Adele (she dared not speak loud),
and, filling up each pause, the beating of winter rain against the
panes.