‘You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!’ he growled.
‘At your peril you advertise! I wish I had only offered you a sovereign instead of ten pounds. Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I’ve a use for it.’
‘And so have I, sir,’ I returned, putting my hands and my purse behind me. ‘I could not spare the money on any account.’
‘Little niggard!’ said he, ‘refusing me a pecuniary request!
Give me five pounds, Jane.’
‘Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence.’
‘Just let me look at the cash.’
‘No, sir; you are not to be trusted.’
‘Jane!’
‘Sir?’
‘Promise me one thing.’
‘I’ll promise you anything, sir, that I think I am likely to perform.’
‘Not to advertise: and to trust this quest of a situation to me. I’ll find you one in time.’
‘I shall be glad so to do, sir, if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adele shall be both safe out of the house before your bride enters it.’
‘Very well! very well! I’ll pledge my word on it. You go to- morrow, then?’
‘Yes, sir; early.’
‘Shall you come down to the drawing-room after dinner?’
‘No, sir, I must prepare for the journey.’
‘Then you and I must bid good-bye for a little while?’
I suppose so, sir
‘And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I’m not quite up to it.’
‘They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer.’
‘Then say it.’
‘Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present.’
‘What must I say?’
‘The same, if you like, sir.’
‘Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?’
‘Yes?’
‘It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no—that would not content me either. So you’ll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?’
‘It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.
‘Very likely; but it is blank and cool—‘Farewell.’’
‘How long is he going to stand with his back against that door?’ I asked myself; ‘I want to commence my packing.’ T he dinner-bell rang, and suddenly away he bolted, without another syllable: I saw him no more during the day, and was off before he had risen in the morning.
I reached the lodge at Gateshead about five o’clock in the afternoon of the first of May: I stepped in there before going up to the hall. It was very clean and neat: the ornamental windows were hung with little white curtains; the floor was spotless; the grate and fire-irons were burnished bright, and the fire burnt clear. Bessie sat on the hearth, nursing her lastborn, and Robert and his sister played quietly in a corner.