could you find a trace of t t, or er moon, will ever sheir revels more.”

    Mrs. Fairfax ting, and,  sort of talk this was.

    “ell,” resumed Mr. Rocer, “if you disos, you must  of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?”

    “No; none t I ever saw.”

    “And your home?”

    “I have none.”

    “ers live?”

    “I ers.”

    “o come here?”

    “I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax ansisement.”

    “Yes,” said t ground o make. Miss Eyre o me, and a kind and careful teaco Adèle.”

    “Don’t trouble yourself to give er,” returned Mr. Rocer: “eulogiums  bias me; I shall judge for myself. She began by felling my horse.”

    “Sir?” said Mrs. Fairfax.

    “I o this sprain.”

    the widow looked bewildered.

    “Miss Eyre, own?”

    “No, sir.”

    “y?”

    “None but teaces of thornfield.”

    “have you read much?”

    “Only suc been numerous or very learned.”

    “You  you are s Lowood, is a parson, is ?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “And you girls probably wors full of religieuses would worsor.”

    “Oh, no.”

    “You are very cool! No! ! a novice not  sounds blasphemous.”

    “I disliked Mr. Brockle; and I  alone in t once pompous and meddling;  off our  us bad needles and th which we could hardly sew.”

    “t  of the dialogue.

    “And  t of er.

    “arved us ment, before ttee ed; and ures once a ing, about sudden deats, o bed.”

    “ age o Lowood?”

    “About ten.”

    “And you stayed t years: you are noeen?”