"She is Mr. Rochester"s ward; he missioned me to find a believe. Here she es，with her "bonne," as she calls her nurse."

The enigma then was explained: this affable and kind little widow was no great dame; but a dependant like myself. I did not like her the worse for that; on the contrary，I felt better pleased than ever.

The equality between her and me was real; not the mere result of condescension on her part: so much the better- my position was all the freer.

As I was meditating on this discovery，a little girl，followed by her attendant，came running up the lawn. I looked at my pupil，who did not at first appear to notice me: she was quite a child，perhaps seven or eight years old，slightly built，with a pale，small-featured face，and a redundancy of hair falling in curls to her waist.

"Good morning，Miss Adela," said Mrs. Fairfax. "e and speak to the lady who is to teach you，and to make you a clever woman some day." She approached.

"C"est la ma gouvernante!" said she，pointing to me，and addressing her nurse; who answered- "Mais oui，certainement."

"Are they foreigners?" I inquired，amazed at hearing the French language.

"The nurse is a foreigner，and Adela was born on the Continent; and，I believe，never left it till within six months ago. When she first came here she could speak no English; now she can make shift to talk it a little: I don"t understand her，she mixes it so with French; but you will make out her meaning very well，I daresay."

Fortunately I had had the advantage of being taught French by a French lady; and as I had always made a point of conversing with Madame pierrot as often as I could，and had besides，during the last seven years，learnt a portion of French by heart daily- applying myself to take pains with my accent，and imitating as closely as possible the pronunciation of my teacher，I had acquired a certain degree of readiness and correctness in the language，and was not likely to be much at a loss with Mademoiselle Adela. She came and shook hands with me when she heard that I was her governess; and as I led her in to breakfast，I addressed some phrases to her in her own tongue: she replied briefly at first，but after we were seated at the table，and she had examined me some ten minutes with her large hazel eyes，she suddenly menced chattering fluently.

"Ah!" cried she，in French，"you speak my language as well as Mr. Rochester does: I can talk to you as I can to him，and so can Sophie. She will be glad: nobody here understands her: Madame Fairfax is all English. Sophie is my nurse; she came with me over the sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked- how it did smoke!- and I was sick，and so was Sophie，and so was Mr. Rochester. Mr. Rochester lay down on a sofa in a pretty room called the salon，and Sophie and I had little beds in another place. I nearly fell out of mine; it was like a shelf. And Mademoiselle- what is your name?"