art　of　the　morning；　I　momentarily　expected　his　ing；　he　was　not　in　the　frequent　habit　of　entering　the　schoolroom；　but　he　did　step　in　for　a　few　minutes　sometimes；　and　I　had　the　impression　that　he　was　sure　to　visit　it　that　day。

But　the　morning　passed　just　as　usual：　nothing　happened　to　interrupt　the　quiet　course　of　Adèle’s　studies；　only　soon　after　breakfast；　I　heard　some　bustle　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Mr。　Rochester’s　chamber；　Mrs。　Fairfax’s　voice；　and　Leah’s；　and　the　cook’s—that　is；　John’s　wife—and　even　John’s　own　gruff　tones。　There　were　exclamations　of　“What　a　mercy　master　was　not　burnt　in　his　bed！”　“It　is　always　dangerous　to　keep　a　candle　lit　at　night。”　“How　providential　that　he　had　presence　of　mind　to　think　of　the　water…jug！”　“I　wonder　he　waked　nobody！”　“It　is　to　be　hoped　he　will　not　take　cold　with　sleeping　on　the　library　sofa；”　&c。

To　much　confabulation　succeeded　a　sound　of　scrubbing　and　setting　to　rights；　and　when　I　passed　the　room；　in　going　downstairs　to　dinner；　I　saw　through　the　open　door　that　all　was　again　restored　to　plete　order；　only　the　bed　was　stripped　of　its　hangings。　Leah　stood　up　in　the　window…seat；　rubbing　the　panes　of　glass　dimmed　with　smoke。　I　was　about　to　address　her；　for　I　wished　to　know　what　account　had　been　given　of　the　affair：　but；　on　advancing；　I　saw　a　second　person　in　the　chamber—a　woman　sitting　on　a　chair　by　the　bedside；　and　sewing　rings　to　new　curtains。　That　woman　was　no　other　than　Grace　Poole。

There　she　sat；　staid　and　taciturn…look