Colonel Dent，their spokesman，demanded "the tableau of the whole"; whereupon the curtain again descended.

On its third rising only a portion of the drawing-room was disclosed; the rest being concealed by a screen，hung with some sort of dark and coarse drapery. The marble basin was removed; in its place stood a deal table and a kitchen chair: these objects were visible by a very dim light proceeding from a horn lantern，the wax candles being all extinguished.

Amidst this sordid scene，sat a man with his clenched hands resting on his knees，and his eyes bent on the ground. I knew Mr. Rochester; though the begrimed face，the disordered dress (his coat hanging loose from one arm，as if it had been almost torn from his back in a scuffle)，the desperate and scowling countenance the rough，bristling hair might well have disguised him. As he moved，a chain clanked; to his wrists were attached fetters.

"Bridewell!" exclaimed Colonel Dent，and the charade was solved.

A sufficient interval having elapsed for the performers to resume their ordinary costume，they re-entered the dining-room. Mr. Rochester led in Miss Ingram; she was plimenting him on his acting.

"Do you know," said she，"that，of the three characters，I liked you in the last best? Oh，had you but lived a few years earlier，what a gallant gentleman-highwayman you would have made!"

"Is all the soot washed from my face?" he asked，turning it towards her.

"Alas! yes: the more"s the pity! Nothing could be more being to your plexion than that ruffian"s rouge."

"You would like a hero of the road then?"