Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentlemen came after. At the front door of the hall we found the carriage.
“Take it back to the coach-house, John,” said Mr. Rochester coolly; “it will not be wanted to-day.”
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sophie, Leah, advanced to meet and greet us.
“To the right-about—every soul!” cried the master; “away with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I!—they are fifteen years too late!”
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand, and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him, which they did. We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded to the third storey: the low, black door, opened by Mr. Rochester’s master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its great bed and its pictorial
