"Take them off to the other table，Mrs. Fairfax," said he，"and look at them with Adele;- you" (glancing at me) "resume your seat，and answer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by one hand: was that hand yours?"

"Yes."

"And when did you find time to do them? They have taken much time，and some thought."

"I did them in the last two vacations I spent at Lowood，when I had no other occupation."

"Where did you get your copies?"

"Out of my head."

"That head I see now on your shoulders?"

"Yes，sir."

"Has it other furniture of the same kind within?"

"I should think it may have: I should hope- better."

He spread the pictures before him，and again surveyed them alternately.

While he is so occupied，I will tell you，reader，what they are: and first，I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. The subjects had，indeed，risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them with the spiritual eye，before I attempted to embody them，they were striking; but my hand would not second my fancy，and in each case it had wrought out but a pale portrait of the thing I had conceived.

These pictures were in water-colours. The first represented clouds low and livid，rolling over a swollen sea: all the distance was in eclipse; so，too，was the foreground; or rather，the nearest billows，for there was no land. One gleam of light lifted into relief a half-submerged mast，on which sat a cormorant，dark and large，with wings flecked with foam; its beak held a gold bracelet set with gems，that I had touched with as brilliant tints as my palette could yield，and as glittering distinctness as my pencil could impart.

Sinking below the bird and mast，a drowned corpse glanced through the green water; a fair arm was the only limb clearly visible，whence the bracelet had been washed or torn.