ed　the　hush；　the　gloom；　the　quaintness　of　these　retreats　in　the　day；　but　I　by　no　means　coveted　a　night’s　repose　on　one　of　those　wide　and　heavy　beds：　shut　in；　some　of　them；　with　doors　of　oak；　shaded；　others；　with　wrought　old　English　hangings　crusted　with　thick　work；　portraying　effigies　of　strange　flowers；　and　stranger　birds；　and　strangest　human　beings；—　all　which　would　have　looked　strange；　indeed；　by　the　pallid　gleam　of　moonlight。

“Do　the　servants　sleep　in　these　rooms？”　I　asked。

“No；　they　occupy　a　range　of　smaller　apartments　to　the　back；　no　one　ever　sleeps　here：　one　would　almost　say　that；　if　there　were　a　ghost　at　Thornfield　Hall；　this　would　be　its　haunt。”

“So　I　think：　you　have　no　ghost；　then？”

“None　that　I　ever　heard　of；”　returned　Mrs。　Fairfax；　smiling。

“Nor　any　traditions　of　one？　no　legends　or　ghost　stories？”

“I　believe　not。　And　yet　it　is　said　the　Rochesters　have　been　rather　a　violent　than　a　quiet　race　in　their　time：　perhaps；　though；　that　is　the　reason　they　rest　tranquilly　in　their　graves　now。”

“Yes—‘after　life’s　fitful　fever　they　sleep　well；’”　I　muttered。　“Where　are　you　going　now；　Mrs。　Fairfax？”　for　she　was　moving　away。

“On　to　the　leads；　will　you　e　and　see　the　view　from　thence？”　I　followed　still；　up　a　very　narrow　staircase　to　the　attics；　and　thence　by　a　ladder　and　through　a　trap…door　to　the　roof　of　the　hall。　I　was　now　on　a　level　with　the　crow　colony；　and　could　see　into　their　nests。　Leaning　over　the　battlements　and　l