Traversing the long and matted gallery, I descended the slippery

steps of oak; then I gained the hall: I halted there a minute; I

looked at some pictures on the walls (one, I remember, represented a

grim man in a cuirass, and one a lady with powdered hair and a pearl

necklace), at a bronze lamp pendent from the ceiling, at a great

clock whose case was of oak curiously carved, and ebon black with

time and rubbing. Everything appeared very stately and imposing to

me; but then I was so little accustomed to grandeur. The hall-door,

which was half of glass, stood open; I stepped over the threshold.

It was a fine autumn morning; the early sun shone serenely on

embrowned groves and still green fields; advancing on to the lawn, I

looked up and surveyed the front of the mansion. It was three

storeys high, of proportions not vast, though considerable: a

gentleman's manor-house, not a nobleman's seat: battlements round

the top gave it a picturesque look. Its grey front stood out well

from the background of a rookery, whose cawing tenants were now on

the wing: they flew over the lawn and grounds to alight in a great

meadow, from which these were separated by a sunk fence, and where

an array of mighty old thorn trees, strong, knotty, and broad as

oaks, at once explained the etymology of the mansion's designation.

Farther off were hills: not so lofty as those round Lowood, nor so

craggy, nor so like barriers of separation from the living world;

but yet quiet and lonely hills enough, and seeming to embrace

Thornfield with a seclusion I had not expected to find existent so

near the stirring locality of Millcote. A little hamlet, whose

roofs were blent with trees, straggled up the side of one of these

hills; the church of the district stood nearer Thornfield: its old

tower-top looked over a knoll between the house and gates.

I was yet enjoying the calm prospect and pleasant fresh air, yet

listening with delight to the cawing of the rooks, yet surveying the

wide, hoary front of the hall, and thinking what a great place it

was for one lonely little dame like Mrs. Fairfax to inhabit, when

that lady appeared at the door.

"What! out already?" said she. "I see you are an early riser." I

went up to her, and was received with an affable kiss and shake of

the hand.

"How do you like Thornfield?" she asked. I told her I liked it very

much.

"Yes," she said, "it is a pretty place; but I fear it will be

getting out of order, unless Mr. Rochester should take it into his

head to come and reside here permanently; or, at least, visit it

rather oftener: great houses and fine grounds require the presence

of the proprietor."




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