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.