rprised　me　by　looking　out　of　the　window　with　a　sad　countenance；　and　saying　gravely—“Miss　Eyre；　will　you　e　to　breakfast？”　During　the　meal　she　was　quiet　and　cool：　but　I　could　not　undeceive　her　then。　I　must　wait　for　my　master　to　give　explanations；　and　so　must　she。　I　ate　what　I　could；　and　then　I　hastened　upstairs。　I　met　Adèle　leaving　the　schoolroom。

“Where　are　you　going？　It　is　time　for　lessons。”

“Mr。　Rochester　has　sent　me　away　to　the　nursery。”

“Where　is　he？”

“In　there；”　pointing　to　the　apartment　she　had　left；　and　I　went　in；　and　there　he　stood。

“e　and　bid　me　good…morning；”　said　he。　I　gladly　advanced；　and　it　was　not　merely　a　cold　word　now；　or　even　a　shake　of　the　hand　that　I　received；　but　an　embrace　and　a　kiss。　It　seemed　natural：　it　seemed　genial　to　be　so　well　loved；　so　caressed　by　him。

“Jane；　you　look　blooming；　and　smiling；　and　pretty；”　said　he：　“truly　pretty　this　morning。　Is　this　my　pale；　little　elf？　Is　this　my　mustard…seed？　This　little　sunny…faced　girl　with　the　dimpled　cheek　and　rosy　lips；　the　satin…smooth　hazel　hair；　and　the　radiant　hazel　eyes？”　（I　had　green　eyes；　reader；　but　you　must　excuse　the　mistake：　for　him　they　were　new…dyed；　I　suppose。）

“It　is　Jane　Eyre；　sir。”

“Soon　to　be　Jane　Rochester；”　he　added：　“in　four　weeks；　Ja；　not　a　day　more。　Do　you　hear　that？”

I　did；　and　I　could　not　quite　prehend　it：　it　made　me　giddy。　The　feeling；　the　announcement　sent　through　me；　was　something　stronger　than　was　consistent　with　joy—something　that　smote　and　stunned。　It　was；　I　think　almost　fear。

“You　blushed；　and　now　you　are　white；　Jane：　what　is　that　for？”

“Because　you　gave　me　a　new　name—Jane　Rochester；　and　it　seems　so　strange。”

“Yes；　Mrs。　Rochester；”　said　he；　“young　Mrs。　Rochester—Fairfax　Rochester’s　girl…bri