continuous？”

“The　eagerness　of　a　listener　quickens　the　tongue　of　a　narrator。”　I　said　this　rather　to　myself　than　to　the　gipsy；　whose　strange　talk；　voice；　manner；　had　by　this　time　wrapped　me　in　a　kind　of　dream。　One　unexpected　sentence　came　from　her　lips　after　another；　till　I　got　involved　in　a　web　of　mystification；　and　wondered　what　unseen　spirit　had　been　sitting　for　weeks　by　my　heart　watching　its　workings　and　taking　record　of　every　pulse。

“Eagerness　of　a　listener！”　repeated　she：　“yes；　Mr。　Rochester　has　sat　by　the　hour；　his　ear　inclined　to　the　fascinating　lips　that　took　such　delight　in　their　task　of　municating；　and　Mr。　Rochester　was　so　willing　to　receive　and　looked　so　grateful　for　the　pastime　given　him；　you　have　noticed　this？”

“Grateful！　I　cannot　remember　detecting　gratitude　in　his　face。”

“Detecting！　You　have　analysed；　then。　And　what　did　you　detect；　if　not　gratitude？”

I　said　nothing。

“You　have　seen　love：　have　you　not？—and；　looking　forward；　you　have　seen　him　married；　and　beheld　his　bride　happy？”

“Humph！　Not　exactly。　Your　witch’s　skill　is　rather　at　fault　sometimes。”

“What　the　devil　have　you　seen；　then？”

“Never　mind：　I　came　here　to　inquire；　not　to　confess。　Is　it　known　that　Mr。　Rochester　is　to　be　married？”

“Yes；　and　to　the　beautiful　Miss　Ingram。”

“Shortly？”

“Appearances　would　warrant　that　conclusion：　and；　no　doubt　（though；　with　an　audacity　that　wants　chastising　out　of　you；　you　seem　to　question　it