CHAPTER XII 143 western sky, now seemed one mass of shadow.
" Yes, sir." " Whose house is it?" " Mr. Rochester ' s." " Do you know Mr. Rochester?" " No, I have never seen him." " He is not resident, then?" " No." " Can you tell me where he is?" " I cannot."
" You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are-- " He stopped, ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quite simple: a black merino cloak, a black beaver bonnet; neither of them half fine enough for a lady ' s-maid. He seemed puzzled to decide what I was; I helped him.
" I am the governess."
" Ah, the governess!" he repeated; " deuce take me, if I had not forgotten! The governess!" and again my raiment underwent scrutiny. In two minutes he rose from the stile: his face expressed pain when he tried to move.
" I cannot commission you to fetch help," he said; " but you may help me a little yourself, if you will be so kind."
" Yes, sir."