1 He paused: the birds went on carolling, the leaves lightly rustling.
2 Mr. Rochester took it, leaving room, however, for me: but I stood before him.
3 When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed.
4 I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by.
5 At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon.
6 Flowers peeped out amongst the leaves; snow-drops, crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies.
7 She closed the door, leaving me solus with Mr. St. John, who sat opposite, a book or newspaper in his hand.
8 Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home.
9 The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of a hill, with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze.
10 I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him.
11 Moreover, before I definitively resolve on quitting England, I will know for certain whether I cannot be of greater use by remaining in it than by leaving it.
12 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.
13 I covered my head and arms with the skirt of my frock, and went out to walk in a part of the plantation which was quite sequestrated; but I found no pleasure in the silent trees, the falling fir-cones, the congealed relics of autumn, russet leaves, swept by past winds in heaps, and now stiffened together.
14 My father always cherished the idea that he would atone for his error by leaving his possessions to us; that letter informs us that he has bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception of thirty guineas, to be divided between St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers, for the purchase of three mourning rings.
15 In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot out the friendly gleam again, from the lozenged panes of a very small latticed window, within a foot of the ground, made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was set.
16 Thus engaged, he appeared, sitting in his own recess, quiet and absorbed enough; but that blue eye of his had a habit of leaving the outlandish-looking grammar, and wandering over, and sometimes fixing upon us, his fellow-students, with a curious intensity of observation: if caught, it would be instantly withdrawn; yet ever and anon, it returned searchingly to our table.