Too often she betrayed this，by the undue vent she gave to a spiteful antipathy she had conceived against little Adele: pushing her away with some contumelious epithet if she happened to approach her; sometimes ordering her from the room，and always treating her with coldness and acrimony. Other eyes besides mine watched these manifestations of character- watched them closely，keenly，shrewdly.

Yes; the future bridegroom，Mr. Rochester himself，exercised over his intended a ceaseless surveillance; and it was from this sagacity- this guardedness of his- this perfect，clear consciousness of his fair one"s defects- this obvious absence of passion in his sentiments towards her，that my ever-torturing pain arose.

I saw he was going to marry her，for family，perhaps political reasons，because her rank and connections suited him; I felt he had not given her his love，and that her qualifications were ill adapted to win from him that treasure. This was the point- this was where the nerve was touched and teased- this was where the fever was sustained and fed: she could not charm him.