as past youth, but had
not reached middle age--perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear
of him and but little shyness. His frown and roughness set me at ease.

He waved me to go, but I said:

"I cannot think of leaving you in this solitary lane till you are fit to
mount your horse."

"You ought to be at home yourself," said he. "Where do you come from?"

"From just below."

"Do you mean that house with the battlements?"

"Yes, sir."

"Whose house is it?"

"Mr. Rochester's."

"Do you know Mr. Rochester?"

"No, I have never seen him."

"You are not a servant at the Hall, of course. You are--"

"I am the governess."

"Ah, the governess!" he repeated. "Deuce take me if I had not forgotten!
Excuse me," he continued, "necessity compels me to make you useful."

He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, limped to his horse, caught the
bridle, and, grimacing grimly, sprang into the saddle and, with a "Thank
you," bounded away.

When I returned from Hay, after posting Mrs. Fairfax's letter, I went to
her room. She was not there, but sitting upright on the rug was a great
black-and-white long-haired dog. I went forward and said, "Pilot," and
the thing got up, came to me, sniffed me, and wagged his great tail. I
rang the bell.

"What dog is this?"

"He came with master, who has just arrived. He has had an accident, and
his ankle is sprained."

The next day I was summoned to take tea with Mr. Rochester and my pupil.
When I entered he was looking at Adela, who knelt on the hearth beside
Pilot.

"Here is Miss Eyre, sir," said Mrs. Fairfax, in her quiet way.

Mr. Rochester bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog
and the child.

I sat down, disembarrassed. Politeness might have confused me; caprice
laid me under no obligation.

Mrs. Fairfax seemed to think someone should be amiable, and she began to
talk.

"Madam, I should like some tea," was the sole rejoinder she got.

"Come to the fire," said the master, when the tray was taken away. "When
you came on me in Hay lane last night I thought unaccountably of fairy
tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse.
I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?"

"I have none."

"I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on
that stile?"

"For whom, sir?"

"For the men in green. Did I break through one of your rings that you
spread that ice on the causeway?"

I shook my head.

"The men