Jane Eyre - Page 195/412

It was by this time half-past five, and the sun was on the point of

rising; but I found the kitchen still dark and silent. The side-

passage door was fastened; I opened it with as little noise as

possible: all the yard was quiet; but the gates stood wide open,

and there was a post-chaise, with horses ready harnessed, and driver

seated on the box, stationed outside. I approached him, and said

the gentlemen were coming; he nodded: then I looked carefully round

and listened. The stillness of early morning slumbered everywhere;

the curtains were yet drawn over the servants' chamber windows;

little birds were just twittering in the blossom-blanched orchard

trees, whose boughs drooped like white garlands over the wall

enclosing one side of the yard; the carriage horses stamped from

time to time in their closed stables: all else was still.

The gentlemen now appeared. Mason, supported by Mr. Rochester and

the surgeon, seemed to walk with tolerable ease: they assisted him

into the chaise; Carter followed.

"Take care of him," said Mr. Rochester to the latter, "and keep him

at your house till he is quite well: I shall ride over in a day or

two to see how he gets on. Richard, how is it with you?"

"The fresh air revives me, Fairfax."

"Leave the window open on his side, Carter; there is no wind--good-

bye, Dick."

"Fairfax--"

"Well what is it?"

"Let her be taken care of; let her be treated as tenderly as may be:

let her--" he stopped and burst into tears.

"I do my best; and have done it, and will do it," was the answer:

he shut up the chaise door, and the vehicle drove away.

"Yet would to God there was an end of all this!" added Mr.

Rochester, as he closed and barred the heavy yard-gates.

This done, he moved with slow step and abstracted air towards a door

in the wall bordering the orchard. I, supposing he had done with

me, prepared to return to the house; again, however, I heard him

call "Jane!" He had opened feel portal and stood at it, waiting for

me.

"Come where there is some freshness, for a few moments," he said;

"that house is a mere dungeon: don't you feel it so?"

"It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir."

"The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes," he answered; "and

you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that the

gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that the marble is

sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly

bark. Now HERE" (he pointed to the leafy enclosure we had entered)

"all is real, sweet, and pure."