of sitting still in the library through a whole long morning: Mrs。 Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting to be posted; so I put on my bon and cloak and volunteered to carry it to Hay; the distance; two miles; would be a pleasant winter afternoon walk。 Having seen Adèle fortably seated in her little chair by Mrs。 Fairfax’s parlour fireside; and given her her best wax doll (which I usually kept enveloped in silver paper in a drawer) to play with; and a story…book for change of amusement; and having replied to her “Revenez bient?t; ma bonne amie; ma chère Mdlle。 Jeante;” with a kiss I set out。
The ground was hard; the air was still; my road was lonely; I walked fast till I got warm; and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analyse the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation。 It was three o’clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under the belfry: the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness; in the low…gliding and pale…beaming sun。 I was a mile from Thornfield; in a lane noted for wild roses in summer; for nuts and blackberries in autumn; and even now possessing a few coral treasures in hips and haws; but whose best winter delight lay in its utter solitude and leafless repose。 If a breath of air stirred; it made no sound here; for there was not a holly; not an evergreen to rustle; and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as the white; worn stones which causewayed the middle of the path。 Far and wide; on each side; there were only fields; where no cattle now browsed; and the little brown birds; which stirred occasionally in the hedge; looked like single russet leaves that had forgotten to drop。
This lane inclined up…hill all the way to Hay; having reached the middle; I sat down on a stile which led thence into a field。 Gathering my mantle about me; and sheltering my hands in my muff; I did not feel the cold; though it froze keenly; as was attested by a sheet of ice covering the causeway; where a little brooklet; now congealed; had overflowed after a rapid thaw some days since。 From my seat I could look down on Thornfield: the grey and battlemented hall was the principal object in the vale below me; its woods and dark rookery rose against the west。 I lingered till the sun went down amongst the trees; and sank crimson and clear behind them。 I then turned eastward。
On the hill…top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud; but brightening momentarily; she looked over Hay; which; half lost in trees; sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet a mile distant; but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life。 My ear; too; felt the flow of currents; in what dales and depths I could not tell: but there were many hills beyond Hay; and doubtless many becks threading their passes。 That evening calm betrayed alike the tinkle of the nearest streams; the sough of the most remote。
A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings; at once so far away and so clear: a positive tramp; tramp; a metallic clatter; which effaced the soft wave…wanderings; as; in a picture; the solid mass of a crag; or the rough boles of a great oak; drawn in dark and strong on the foreground; efface the aerial distance of azure hill; sunny horizon; and blended clouds where tint melts into tint。
The din was on the causeway: a horse was ing; the windings of the lane yet hid it; but it approached。 I was just leaving the stile; yet; as the path was narrow; I sat still to let it go by。 In those days I was young; and all sorts of fancies bright and dark tenanted my mind: the memories of nursery stories were there amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred; maturing youth added to them a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give。 As this horse approached; and as I watched for it to appear through the dusk; I remembered certain of Bessie’s tales; wherein figured a North…of…England spirit called a “Gytrash;” which; in the form of horse; mule; or large dog; haunted solitary ways; and sometimes came upon belated travellers; as this horse was now ing upon me。
It was very near; but not yet in sight; when; in addition to the tramp; tramp; I heard a rush under the hedge; and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog; whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees。 It was exactly one form of Bessie’s Gytrash—a lion…like creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me; however; quietly enough; not staying to look up; with strange pretercanine eyes; in my face; as I half expected it would。 The horse followed;—a tall steed; and on its back a rider。 The man; the human being; broke the spell at once。 Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins; to my notions; though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts; could scarce covet shelter in the monplace human form。 No Gytrash was this;—only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote。 He passed; and I went on; a few steps; and I turned: a sliding sound and an exclamation of “What the deuce is to do now?” and a clattering tumble; arrested my attention。 Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the causeway。 The dog came bounding back; and seeing his master in a predicament; and hearing the horse groan; barked till the evening hills echoed the sound; which was deep in proportion to his magnitude。 He snuffed round the prostrate group; and then he ran up to me; it was all he could do;—there was no other help at hand to summon。 I obeyed him; and walked down to the traveller; by this time struggling himself free of his steed。 His efforts were so vigorous; I thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the question—
“Are you injured; sir?”
I think he was swearing; but am not certain; however; he was pronouncing some formula which prevented him from replying to me directly。
“Can I do anything?” I asked again。
“You must just stand on one side;” he answered as he rose; first to his knees; and then to his feet。 I did; whereupon began a heaving; stamping; clattering process; acpanied by a barking and baying which removed me effectually some yards’ distance; but I would not be driven quite away till I saw the event。 This was finally fortunate; the horse was re…established; and the dog was silenced with a “Down; Pilot!” The traveller now; stooping; felt his foot and leg; as if trying whether they were sound; apparently something ailed them; for he halted to the stile whence I had just risen; and sat down。
I was in the mood for being useful; or at least officious; I think; for I now drew near him again。
“If you are hurt; and want help; sir; I can fetch some one either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay。”
“Thank you: I shall do: I have no broken bones;—only a sprain;” and again he stood up and tried his foot; but the result extorted an involuntary “Ugh!”
Something of daylight still lingered; and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly。 His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak; fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent; but I traced the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest。 He had a dark face; with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth; but had not reached middle…age; perhaps he might be thirty…five。 I felt no fear of him; and but little shyness。 Had he been a handsome; heroic…looking young gentleman; I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will; and offering my services unasked。 I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one。 I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty; elegance; gallantry; fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape; I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me; and should have shunned them as one would fire; lightning; or anything else that is bright but antipathetic。
If even this stranger had smiled and been good…humoured to me when I addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and with thanks; I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation to renew inquiries: but the frown; the roughness of the traveller; set me at my ease: I retained my station when he waved to me to go; and announced—
“I cannot think of leaving you; sir; at so late an hour; in this solitary lane; till I see you are fit to mount your horse。”
He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in my direction before。
“I should think you ought to be at home yourself;” said he; “if you have a home in this neighbourhood: where do you e from?”
“From just below; and I am not at all afraid of being out late when it is moonlight: I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure; if you wish it: indeed; I am going there to post a letter。”
“You live just below—do you mean at that house with the battlements?” pointing to Thornfield Hall; on which the moon cast a hoary gleam; bringing it out distinct and pale from the woods that; by contrast with the western sky; now seemed one mass of shadow。
“Yes; sir。”