Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gazer." My
master's colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and
jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,--all
energy, decision, will,--were not beautiful, according to rule; but
they were more than beautiful to me; they were full of an interest,
an influence that quite mastered me,--that took my feelings from my
own power and fettered them in his. I had not intended to love him;
the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the
germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of
him, they spontaneously arrived, green and strong! He made me love
him without looking at me.
I compared him with his guests. What was the gallant grace of the
Lynns, the languid elegance of Lord Ingram,--even the military
distinction of Colonel Dent, contrasted with his look of native pith
and genuine power? I had no sympathy in their appearance, their
expression: yet I could imagine that most observers would call them
attractive, handsome, imposing; while they would pronounce Mr.
Rochester at once harsh-featured and melancholy-looking. I saw them
smile, laugh--it was nothing; the light of the candles had as much
soul in it as their smile; the tinkle of the bell as much
significance as their laugh. I saw Mr. Rochester smile:- his stern
features softened; his eye grew both brilliant and gentle, its ray
both searching and sweet. He was talking, at the moment, to Louisa
and Amy Eshton. I wondered to see them receive with calm that look
which seemed to me so penetrating: I expected their eyes to fall,
their colour to rise under it; yet I was glad when I found they were
in no sense moved. "He is not to them what he is to me," I thought:
"he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;--I am sure he
is--I feel akin to him--I understand the language of his countenance
and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have
something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that
assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I
had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands?
Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than as a
paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous
feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal
my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot
care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not
mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I
mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with
him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever
sundered:- and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him."