Nevertheless, the door nearest me opened, and a servant came out--a set,
square-made figure, with a hard, plain face.
"Too much noise, Grace," said Mrs. Fairfax. "Remember directions!"
Grace curtseyed silently, and went in.
Not unfrequently after that I heard Grace Poole's laugh and her
eccentric murmurs, stranger than her laugh.
Late one fine, calm afternoon in January I volunteered to carry to the
post at Hay, two miles distant, a letter Mrs. Fairfax had just written.
The lane to Hay inclined uphill all the way, and having reached the
middle, I sat on a stile till the sun went down, and on the hill-top
above me stood the rising moon. The village was a mile distant, but in
the absolute hush I could hear plainly its murmurs of life.
A rude noise broke on the fine ripplings and whisperings of the evening
calm, a metallic clatter, a horse was coming. The windings of the lane
hid it as it approached. Then I heard a rush under the hedge, and close
by glided a great dog, not staying to look up. The horse followed--a
tall steed, and on its back a rider. He passed; a sliding sound, a
clattering tumble, and man and horse were down. They had slipped on the
sheet of ice which glased the causeway. The dog came bounding back,
sniffed round the prostrate group, and then ran up to me; it was all he
could do. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller struggling
himself free of his steed. I think he was swearing, but am not certain.
"Can I do anything?" I asked.
"You can stand on one side," he answered as he rose. Whereupon began a
heaving, stamping process, accompanied by a barking and baying, and the
horse was re-established and the dog silenced with a "Down, Pilot!"
"If you are hurt and want help, sir," I remarked, "I can fetch someone,
either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay."
"Thank you, I shall do. I have no broken bones, only a sprain." And he
limped to the stile.
He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow. His eyes and
gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted; he was 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?"