regard； did in no shape denote admiration。
'No； Miss Jane； not exactly： you are genteel enough； you look
like a lady； and it is as much as ever I expected of you： you were
no beauty as a child。'
I smiled at Bessie's frank answer： I felt that it was correct；
but I confess I was not quite indifferent to its import： at eighteen
most people wish to please； and the conviction that they have not an
exterior likely to second that desire brings anything but
gratification。
'I daresay you are clever； though；' continued Bessie； by way of
solace。 'What can you do？ Can you play on the piano？'
'A little。'
There was one in the room； Bessie went and opened it； and then
asked me to sit down and give her a tune： I played a waltz or two； and
she was charmed。
'The Miss Reeds could not play as well！' said she exultingly。 'I
always said you would surpass them in learning： and can you draw？'
'That is one of my paintings over the chimney…piece。' It was a
landscape in water colours； of which I had made a present to the
superintendent； in acknowledgment of her obliging mediation with the
committee on my behalf； and which she had framed and glazed。
'Well； that is beautiful； Miss Jane！ It is as fine a picture as any
Miss Reed's drawing…master could paint； let alone the young ladies
themselves； who could not come near it： and have you learnt French？'
'Yes； Bessie； I can both read it and speak it。'
'And you can work on muslin and canvas？'
'I can。'
'Oh； you are quite a lady； Miss Jane！ I knew you would be： you will
get on whether your relations notice you or not。 There was something I
wanted to ask you。 Have you ever heard anything from your father's
kinsfolk； the Eyres？'
'Never in my life。'
'Well； you know； Missis always said they were poor and quite
despicable： and they may be poor； but I believe they are as much
gentry as the Reeds are； for one day； nearly seven years ago； a Mr。
Eyre came to Gateshead and wanted to see you； Missis said you were
at school fifty miles off； he seemed so much disappointed； for he
could not stay： he was going on a voyage to a foreign country； and the
ship was to sail from London in a day or two。 He looked quite a
gentleman； and I believe he was your father's brother。'
'What foreign country was he going to； Bessie？'
'An island thousands of miles off； where they make wine… the butler
did tell me…'
'Madeira？' I suggested。
'Yes； that is it… that is the very word。'
'So he went？'
'Yes； he did not stay many minutes in the house： Missis was very
high with him； she called him afterwards a 〃sneaking tradesman。〃 My
Robert believes he was a wine…merchant。'
'Very likely；' I returned； 'or perhaps clerk or agent to a
wine…merchant。'
Bessie and I conversed about old times an hour longer； and then she
was obliged to leave me： I saw her again for a few minutes the next
morning at Lowton； while I was waiting for the coach。 We parted
finally at the door of the Brocklehurst Arms there； each went her
separate way； she set off for the brow of Lowood Fell to meet the
conveyance which was to take her back to Gateshead； I mounted the
vehicle which was to bear me to new duties and a new life in the
unknown environs of Millcote。
CHAPTER XI
A NEW chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play；
and when I draw up the curtain this time； reader； you must fancy you
see a room in the George Inn at Millcote； with such large figured
papering on the walls as inn rooms have； such a carpet； such
furniture； such ornaments on the mantel…piece； such prints；
including a portrait of George the Third； and another of the Prince of
Wales； and a representation of the death of Wolfe。 All this is visible
to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling； and by
that of an excellent fire； near which I sit in my cloak and bonnet； my
muff and umbrella lie on the table； and I am warming away the numbness
and chill contracted by sixteen hours' exposure to the rawness of an
October day： I left Lowton at four o'clock A。M。； and the Millcote town
clock is now just striking eight。
Reader； though I look comfortably accommodated； I am not very
tranquil in my mind。 I thought when the coach stopped here there would
be some one to meet me； I looked anxiously round as I descended the
wooden steps the 'boots' placed for my convenience； expecting to
hear my name pronounced； and to see some description of carriage
waiting to convey me to Thornfield。 Nothing of the sort was visible；
and when I asked a waiter if any one had been to inquire after a
Miss Eyre； I was answered in the negative： so I had no resource but to
request to be shown into a private room： and here I am waiting；
while all sorts of doubts and fears are troubling my thoughts。
It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel
itself quite alone in the world； cut adrift from every connection；
uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached； and
prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted。
The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation； the glow of pride
warms it； but then the throb of fear disturbs it； and fear with me
became predominant when half an hour elapsed and still I was alone。
I bethought myself to ring the bell。
'Is there a place in this neighbourhood called Thornfield？' I asked
of the waiter who answered the summons。
'Thornfield？ I don't know； ma'am； I'll inquire at the bar。' He
vanished； but reappeared instantly…
'Is your name Eyre； Miss？'
'Yes。'
'Person here waiting for you。'
I jumped up； took my muff and umbrella； and hastened into the
inn…passage： a man was standing by the open door； and in the
lamp…lit street I dimly saw a one…horse conveyance。
'This will be your luggage； I suppose？' said the man rather
abruptly when he saw me； pointing to my trunk in the passage。
'Yes。' He hoisted it on to the vehicle； which was a sort of car；
and then I got in； before he shut me up； I asked him how far it was to
Thornfield。
'A matter of six miles。'
'How long shall we be before we get there？'
'Happen an hour and a half。'
He fastened the car door； climbed to his own seat outside； and we
set off。 Our progress was leisurely； and gave me ample time to
reflect； I was content to be at length so near the end of my
journey； and as I leaned back in the comfortable though not elegant
conveyance； I meditated much at my ease。
'I suppose；' thought I； 'judging from the plainness of the
servant and carriage； Mrs。 Fairfax is not a very dashing person： so
much the better； I never lived amongst fine people but once； and I was
very miserable with them。 I wonder if she lives alone except this
little girl； if so； and if she is in any degree amiable； I shall
surely be able to get on with her； I will do my best； it is a pity
that doing one's best does not always answer。 At Lowood； indeed； I
took that resolution； kept it； and succeeded in pleasing； but with
Mrs。 Reed； I remember my best was always spurned with scorn。 I pray
God Mrs。 Fairfax may not turn out a second Mrs。 Reed； but if she does；
I am not bound to stay with her！ let the worst come to the worst； I
can advertise again。 How far are we on our road now； I wonder？'
I let down the window and looked out； Millcote was behind us；
judging by the number of its lights； it seemed a place of considerable
magnitude； much larger than Lowton。 We were now； as far as I could
see； on a sort of common； but there were houses scattered all over the
district； I felt we were in a different region to Lowood； more
populous； less picturesque； more stirring； less romantic。
The roads were heavy； the night misty； my conductor let his horse
walk all the way； and the hour and a half extended； I verily
believe； to two hours； at last he turned in his seat and said…
'You're noan so far fro' Thornfield now。'
Again I looked out： we were passing a church； I saw its low broad
tower against the sky； and its bell was tolling a quarter； I saw a
narrow galaxy of lights too； on a hillside； marking a village or
hamlet。 About ten minutes after； the driver got down and opened a pair
of gates： we passed through； and they clashed to behind us。 We now
slowly ascended a drive； and came upon the long front of a house：
candlelight gleamed from one curtained bow…window； all the rest were
dark。 The car stopped at the front door； it was opened by a
maid…servant； I alighted and went in。
'Will you walk this way； ma'am？' said the girl； and I followed
her across a square hall with high doors all round： she ushered me
into a room whose double illumination of fire and candle at first
dazzled me； contrasting as it did with the darkness to which my eyes
had been for two hours inured； when I could see； however； a cosy and
agreeable picture presented itself to my view。
A snug small room； a round table by a cheerful fire； an arm…chair
high…backed and old…fashioned； wherein sat the neatest imaginable
little elderly lady； in widow's cap； bl