rty; my errand, however, was one I could not defer, so I approached the master where he stood at Miss Ingram's side. She turned as I drew near, and looked at me haughtily: her eyes seemed to demand, 'What can the creeping creature want now?' and when I said, in a low voice, 'Mr. Rochester,' she made a movement as if tempted to order me away. I remember her appearance at the moment- it was very graceful and very striking: she wore a morning robe of sky-blue crape; a gauzy azure scarf was twisted in her hair. She had been all animation with the game, and irritated pride did not lower the expression of her haughty lineaments.
'Does that person want you?' she inquired of Mr. Rochester; and Mr. Rochester turned to see who the 'person' was. He made a curious grimace- one of his strange and equivocal demonstrations- threw down his cue and followed me from the room.
'Well, Jane?' he said, as he rested his back against the school-room door, which he had shut.
'If you please, sir, I want leave of absence for a week or two.'
'What to do?- where to go?'
'To see a sick lady who has sent for me.'
'What sick lady?- where does she live?'
for people to see her that distance?'
'Her name is Reed sir- Mrs. Reed.'
'Reed of Gateshead? There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate.'
'It is his widow, sir.'
'And what have you to do with her? How do you know her?'
'Mr. Reed was my uncle- my mother's brother.'
'The deuce he was! You never told me that before: you always said you had no relations.'
'None that would own me, sir. Mr. Reed is dead, and his wife cast me off.'
'Why?'
'Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me.'
'But Reed left children?- you must have cousins? Sir George Lynn was talking of a Reed of Gateshead yesterday, who, he said, was one of the veriest rascals on town; and Ingram was mentioning a Georgiana Reed of the same place, who was much admired for her beauty a season or two ago in London.'
'John Reed is dead, too, sir: he ruined himself and half-ruined his f
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