Mr. Rochester, having quitted the Eshtons, stands on the hearth as solitary as she stands by the table: she confronts him, taking her station on the opposite side of the mantelpiece.

     "Mr. Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children?"

     "Nor am I."

     "Then, what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that?" (pointing to Adele). "Where did you pick her up?"

     "I did not pick her up; she was left on my hands."

     "You should have sent her to school."

     "I could not afford it: schools are so dear."

     "Why, I suppose you have a governess for her: I saw a person with her just now--is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind the window-curtain. You pay her, of course; I should think it quite as expensive,--more so; for you have them both to keep in addition."

     I feared--or should I say, hoped?--the allusion to me would make Mr. Rochester glance my way; and I involuntarily shrank farther into the shade: but he never turned his eyes.