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