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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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"
In
what
way
is
he
peculiar
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
--
it
is
not
easy
to
describe
--
nothing
striking
,
but
you
feel
it
when
he
speaks
to
you
;
you
can
not
be
always
sure
whether
he
is
in
jest
or
earnest
,
whether
he
is
pleased
or
the
contrary
;
you
do
n't
thoroughly
understand
him
,
in
short
--
at
least
,
I
do
n't
:
but
it
is
of
no
consequence
,
he
is
a
very
good
master
.
"
This
was
all
the
account
I
got
from
Mrs.
Fairfax
of
her
employer
and
mine
.
There
are
people
who
seem
to
have
no
notion
of
sketching
a
character
,
or
observing
and
describing
salient
points
,
either
in
persons
or
things
:
the
good
lady
evidently
belonged
to
this
class
;
my
queries
puzzled
,
but
did
not
draw
her
out
.
Mr.
Rochester
was
Mr.
Rochester
in
her
eyes
;
a
gentleman
,
a
landed
proprietor
--
nothing
more
:
she
inquired
and
searched
no
further
,
and
evidently
wondered
at
my
wish
to
gain
a
more
definite
notion
of
his
identity
.
When
we
left
the
dining-room
,
she
proposed
to
show
me
over
the
rest
of
the
house
;
and
I
followed
her
upstairs
and
downstairs
,
admiring
as
I
went
;
for
all
was
well
arranged
and
handsome
.
The
large
front
chambers
I
thought
especially
grand
:
and
some
of
the
third-storey
rooms
,
though
dark
and
low
,
were
interesting
from
their
air
of
antiquity
.
The
furniture
once
appropriated
to
the
lower
apartments
had
from
time
to
time
been
removed
here
,
as
fashions
changed
:
and
the
imperfect
light
entering
by
their
narrow
casement
showed
bedsteads
of
a
hundred
years
old
;
chests
in
oak
or
walnut
,
looking
,
with
their
strange
carvings
of
palm
branches
and
cherubs
'
heads
,
like
types
of
the
Hebrew
ark
;
rows
of
venerable
chairs
,
high-backed
and
narrow
;
stools
still
more
antiquated
,
on
whose
cushioned
tops
were
yet
apparent
traces
of
half-effaced
embroideries
,
wrought
by
fingers
that
for
two
generations
had
been
coffin-dust
.
All
these
relics
gave
to
the
third
storey
of
Thornfield
Hall
the
aspect
of
a
home
of
the
past
:
a
shrine
of
memory
.
I
liked
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
.
