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of myself。 I know another way to the house。 It does not signify if I knew twenty ways; for he has seen me。
“Hillo!” he cries; and he puts up his book and his pencil。 “There you are! e on; if you please。”
I suppose I do e on; though in what fashion I know not; being scarcely cognisant of my movements; and solicitous only to appear calm; and; above all; to control the working muscles of my face— which I feel rebel insolently against my will; and struggle to express what I had resolved to conceal。 But I have a veil—it is down: I may make shift yet to behave with decent posure。
“And this is Jane Eyre? Are you ing from Millcote; and on foot? Yes—just one of your tricks: not to send for a carriage; and e clattering over street and road like a mon mortal; but to steal into the vicinage of your home along with twilight; just as if you were a dream or a shade。 What the deuce have you done with yourself this last month?”
“I have been with my aunt; sir; who is dead。”
“A true Janian reply! Good angels be my guard! She es from the other world—from the abode of people who are dead; and tells me so when she meets me alone here in the gloaming! If I dared; I’d touch you; to see if you are substance or shadow; you elf!—but I’d as soon offer to take hold of a blue ignis fatuus light in a marsh。 Truant! truant!” he added; when he had paused an instant。 “Absent from me a whole month; and forgetting me quite; I’ll be sworn!”
I knew there would be pleasure in meeting my master again; even though broken by the fear that he was so soon to cease to be my master; and by the knowledge that I was nothing to him: but there was ever in Mr。 Rochester (so at least I thought) such a wealth of the power of municating happiness; that to taste but of the crumb