"I cannot tell till I have thought it all over. If，on reflection，I find I have fallen into no great absurdity，I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right."

"Oh，you have been very correct- very careful，very sensible."

I reflected，and thought，on the whole，I had. It was a fort; but，indeed，I had been on my guard almost from the beginning of the interview. Something of masquerade I suspected. I knew gipsies and fortune-tellers did not express themselves as this seeming old woman had expressed herself; besides I had noted her feigned voice，her anxiety to conceal her features. But my mind had been running on Grace poole- that living enigma，that mystery of mysteries，as I considered her. I had never thought of Mr. Rochester.

"Well," said he，"what are you musing about? What does that grave smile signify?"

"Wonder and self-congratulation，sir. I have your permission to retire now，I suppose?"

"No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing-room yonder are doing."

"Discussing the gipsy，I daresay."

"Sit down!- Let me hear what they said about me."

"I had better not stay long，sir; it must be near eleven o"clock.

Oh，are you aware，Mr. Rochester，that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?"

"A stranger!- no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?"

"No; he said he had known you long，and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned."

"The devil he did! Did he give his name?"