CHAPTER XIII 153
look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse: I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?"
" I have none." " Nor ever had, I suppose: do you remember them?" " No."
" I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on that stile?"
" For whom, sir?"
" For the men in green: it was a proper moonlight evening for them. Did I break through one of your rings, that you spread that damned ice on the causeway?"
I shook my head. " The men in green all forsook England a hundred years ago," said I, speaking as seriously as he had done. " And not even in Hay Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace of them. I don ' t think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, will ever shine on their revels more."
Mrs. Fairfax had dropped her knitting, and, with raised eyebrows, seemed wondering what sort of talk this was.
" Well," resumed Mr. Rochester, " if you disown parents, you must have some sort of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?"
" No; none that I ever saw." " And your home?"