"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 e and reside here permanently; or，at least，visit it rather oftener: great houses and fine grounds require the presence of the proprietor."

"Mr. Rochester!" I exclaimed. "Who is he?"

"The owner of Thornfield," she responded quietly. "Did you not know he was called Rochester?"

Of course I did not- I had never heard of him before; but the old lady seemed to regard his existence as a universally understood fact，with which everybody must be acquainted by instinct.

"I thought," I continued，"Thornfield belonged to you."

"To me? Bless you，child; what an idea! To me! I am only the housekeeper- the manager. To be sure I am distantly related to the Rochesters by the mother"s side，or at least my husband was; he was a clergyman，incumbent of Hay- that little village yonder on the hill- and that church near the gates was his. The present Mr. Rochester"s mother was a Fairfax，second cousin to my husband: but I never presume on the connection- in fact，it is nothing to me; I consider myself quite in the light of an ordinary housekeeper: my employer is always civil，and I expect nothing more."

"And the little girl- my pupil!"