CHAPTER XIII
Mr. Rochester, it seems, by the surgeon's orders, went to bed early
that night; nor did he rise soon next morning. When he did come
down, it was to attend to business: his agent and some of his
tenants were arrived, and waiting to speak with him.
Adele and I had now to vacate the library: it would be in daily
requisition as a reception-room for callers. A fire was lit in
an apartment upstairs, and there I carried our books, and arranged
it for the future schoolroom. I discerned in the course of the
morning that Thornfield Hall was a changed place: no longer silent
as a church, it echoed every hour or two to a knock at the door,
or a clang of the bell; steps, too, often traversed the hall, and
new voices spoke in different keys below; a rill from the outer world
was flowing through it; it had a master: for my part, I liked it
better.
|