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sure in meeting my master again; even though broken by the fear that he was so soon to cease to be my master; and by the knowledge that I was nothing to him: but there was ever in Mr。 Rochester (so at least I thought) such a wealth of the power of municating happiness; that to taste but of the crumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me; was to feast genially。 His last words were balm: they seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not。 And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home—would that it were my home!
He did not leave the stile; and I hardly liked to ask to go by。 I inquired soon if he had not been to London。
“Yes; I suppose you found that out by second…sight。”
“Mrs。 Fairfax told me in a letter。”
“And did she inform you what I went to do?”
“Oh; yes; sir! Everybody knew your errand。”
“You must see the carriage; Jane; and tell me if you don’t think it will suit Mrs。 Rochester exactly; and whether she won’t look like Queen Boadicea; leaning back against those purple cushions。 I wish; Jane; I were a trifle better adapted to match with her externally。 Tell me now; fairy as you are—can’t you give me a charm; or a philter; or something of that sort; to make me a handsome man?”
“It would be past the power of magic; sir;” and; in thought; I added; “A loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty。”
Mr。 Rochest
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