"Good evening，madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose. I have forbidden Adele to talk to me about her presents，and she is bursting with repletion; have the goodness to serve her as auditress and interlocutrice; it will be one of the most benevolent acts you ever performed."

Adele，indeed，no sooner saw Mrs. Fairfax，than she summoned her to her sofa，and there quickly filled her lap with the porcelain，the ivory，the waxen contents of her "boite"; pouring out，meantime，explanations and raptures in such broken English as she was mistress of.

"Now I have performed the part of a good host," pursued Mr. Rochester，"put my guests into the way of amusing each other，I ought to be at liberty to attend to my own pleasure. Miss Eyre，draw your chair still a little farther forward: you are yet too far back; I cannot see you without disturbing my position in this fortable chair，which I have no mind to do."

I did as I was bid，though I would much rather have remained somewhat in the shade; but Mr. Rochester had such a direct way of giving orders，it seemed a matter of course to obey him promptly.

We were，as I have said，in the dining-room: the lustre，which had been lit for dinner，filled the room with a festal breadth of light; the large fire was all red and clear; the purple curtains hung rich and ample before the lofty window and loftier arch; everything was still，save the subdued chat of Adele (she dared not speak loud)，and，filling up each pause，the beating of winter rain against the panes.

Mr. Rochester，as he sat in his damask-covered chair，looked different to what I had seen him look before; not quite so stern- much less gloomy. There was a smile on his lips，and his eyes sparkled，whether with wine or not，I am not sure; but I think it very probable.