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1This lane inclined up-hill all the way to Hay; having reached the middle, I sat down on a stile which led thence into a
2field. Gathering my mantle about me, and sheltering my hands in my muff, I did not feel the cold, though it froze
3keenly; as was attested by a sheet of ice covering the causeway, where a little brooklet, now congealed, had overflowed
4after a rapid thaw some days since. From my seat I could look down on Thornfield: the grey and battlemented hall was the
5principal object in the vale below me; its woods and dark rookery rose against the west. I lingered till the sun went
6down amongst the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them. I then turned eastward. On the hill-top above me sat the
7rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees, sent up a
8blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet a mile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin
9murmurs of life. My ear, too, felt the flow of currents; in what dales and depths I could not tell: but there were many
10hills beyond Hay, and doubtless many becks threading their passes. That evening calm betrayed alike the tinkle of the
11nearest streams, the sough of the most remote. A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings, at once so
12far away and so clear: a positive tramp, tramp, a metallic clatter, which effaced the soft wave-wanderings; as, in a
13picture, the solid mass of a crag, or the rough boles of a great oak, drawn in dark and strong on the foreground, efface
14the aërial distance of azure hill, sunny horizon, and blended clouds where tint melts into tint. The din was on the
15causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached. I was just leaving the stile; yet,
16as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by. In those days I was young, and all sorts of fancies bright and dark
17tenanted my mind: the memories of nursery stories were there amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing
18youth added to them a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As this horse approached, and as I watched
19for it to appear through the dusk, I remembered certain of Bessie's tales, wherein figured a North-of-England spirit
20called a "Gytrash," which, in the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon
21belated travellers, as this horse was now coming upon me. It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to
22the tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and
23white colour made him a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form of Bessie's Gytrash--a lion-like
24creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange
25pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would. The horse followed,--a tall steed, and on its back a rider.
26The man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins, to
27my notions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts, could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human
28form. No Gytrash was this,--only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote. He passed, and I went on; a few steps,
29and I turned: a sliding sound and an exclamation of "What the deuce is to do now?" and a clattering tumble, arrested my
30attention. Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the causeway. The dog came
31bounding back, and seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the evening hills echoed
32the sound, which was deep in proportion to his magnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran up to
33me; it was all he could do,--there was no other help at hand to summon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller,
34by this time struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were so vigorous, I thought he could not be much hurt;
35but I asked him the question-- "Are you injured, sir?" I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was
36pronouncing some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly. "Can I do anything?" I asked again. "You must
37just stand on one side," he answered as he rose, first to his knees, and then to his feet. I did; whereupon began a
38heaving, stamping, clattering process, accompanied by a barking and baying which removed me effectually some yards'
39distance; but I would not be driven quite away till I saw the event. This was finally fortunate; the horse was
40re-established, and the dog was silenced with a "Down, Pilot!" The traveller now, stooping, felt his foot and leg, as if
41trying whether they were sound; apparently something ailed them, for he halted to the stile whence I had just risen, and
42sat down. I was in the mood for being useful, or at least officious, I think, for I now drew near him again. "If you are
43hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch some one either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay." "Thank you: I shall do: I have
44no broken bones,--only a sprain;" and again he stood up and tried his foot, but the result extorted an involuntary
45"Ugh!" Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly. His figure was
46enveloped in a riding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent, but I traced the general
47points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his
48eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age;
49perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking
50young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will, and offering my services
51unasked. I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I had a theoretical reverence and
52homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I
53should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have
54shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic. If even this stranger had
55smiled and been good-humoured to me when I addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and with
56thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation to renew inquiries: but the frown, the roughness of the
57traveller, set me at my ease: I retained my station when he waved to me to go, and announced-- "I cannot think of
58leaving you, sir, at so late an hour, in this solitary lane, till I see you are fit to mount your horse." He looked at
59me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my direction before. "I should think you ought to be at home
60yourself," said he, "if you have a home in this neighbourhood: where do you come from?" "From just below; and I am not
61at all afraid of being out late when it is moonlight: I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure, if you wish it:
62indeed, I am going there to post a letter." "You live just below--do you mean at that house with the battlements?"
63pointing to Thornfield Hall, on which the moon cast a hoary gleam, bringing it out distinct and pale from the woods
64that, by contrast with the western sky, now seemed one mass of shadow. "Yes, sir." "Whose house is it?" "Mr.
65Rochester's." "Do you know Mr. Rochester?" "No, I have never seen him." "He is not resident, then?" "No." "Can you tell
66me where he is?" "I cannot." "You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are--" He stopped, ran his eye over my
67dress, which, as usual, was quite simple: a black merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither of them half fine enough
68for a lady's-maid. He seemed puzzled to decide what I was; I helped him. "I am the governess."
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