"Yes，you had better: I always dress for the evening when Mr. Rochester is here."

This additional ceremony seemed somewhat stately; however，I repaired to my room，and，with Mrs. Fairfax"s aid，replaced my black stuff dress by one of black silk; the best and the only additional one I had，except one of light grey，which，in my Lowood notions of the toilette，I thought too fine to be worn，except on first-rate occasions.

"You want a brooch," said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearl ornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put it on，and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers，it was rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr. Rochester"s presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into the dining-room，and kept in her shade as we crossed that apartment; and，passing the arch，whose curtain was now dropped，entered the elegant recess beyond.

Two wax candles stood lighted on the table，and two on the mantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire，lay pilot- Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr. Rochester，his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at Adele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead，made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his decisive nose，more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils，denoting，I thought，choler; his grim mouth，chin，and jaw- yes，all three were very grim，and no mistake. His shape，now divested of cloak，I perceived harmonised in squareness with his physiognomy: I suppose it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term- broad chested and thin flanked，though neither tall nor graceful.

Mr. Rochester must have been aware of the entrance of Mrs. Fairfax and myself; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice us，for he never lifted his head as we approached.