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She approached the basin, and bent over it as if to fill her
pitcher; she again lifted it to her head. The personage on the
well-brink now seemed to accost her; to make some request:- 'She
hasted, let down her pitcher on her hand, and gave him to drink.' From
the bosom of his robe he then produced a casket, opened it and
showed magnificent bracelets and earrings; she acted astonishment
and admiration; kneeling, he laid the treasure at her feet;
incredulity and delight were expressed by her looks and gestures;
the stranger fastened the bracelets on her arms and the rings in her
ears. It was Eliezer and Rebecca: the camels only were wanting.
The divining party again laid their heads together: apparently they
could not agree about the word or syllable the scene illustrated.
Colonel Dent, their spokesman, demanded 'the tableau of the whole';
whereupon the curtain again descended.
On its third rising only a portion of the drawing-room was
disclosed; the rest being concealed by a screen, hung with some sort
of dark and coarse drapery. The marble basin was removed; in its place
stood a deal table and a kitchen chair: these objects were visible
by a very dim light proceeding from a horn lantern, the wax candles
being all extinguished.
Amidst this sordid scene, sat a man with his clenched hands resting
on his knees, and his eyes bent on the ground. I knew Mr. Rochester;
though the begrimed face, the disordered dress (his coat hanging loose
from one arm, as if it had been almost torn from his back in a
scuffle), the desperate and scowling countenance the rough,
bristling hair might well have disguised him. As he moved, a chain
clanked; to his wrists were attached fetters.
'Bridewell!' exclaimed Colonel Dent, and the charade was solved.
A sufficient interval having elapsed for the performers to resume
their ordinary costume, they re-entered the dining-room. Mr. Rochester
led in Miss Ingram; she was complimenting him on his acting.
'Do you know,' said she, 'that, of the three characters, I liked
you in the last best? Oh, had you but lived a few years earlier,
what a gallant gentleman-highwayman you would have made!'
'Is all the soot washed from my face?' he asked, turning it towards
her.
'Alas! yes: the more's the pity! Nothing could be more becoming
to your complexion than that ruffian's rouge.'
'You would like a hero of the road then?'
'An English hero of the road would be the next best thing to an
Italian bandit; and that could only be surpassed by a Levantine
pirate.'
'Well, whatever I am, remember you are my wife; we were married
an hour since, in the presence of all these witnesses.' She giggled,
and her colour rose.
'Now, Dent,' continued Mr. Rochester, 'it is your turn.' And as the
other party withdrew, he and his band took the vacated seats. Miss
Ingram placed herself at her leader's right hand; the other diviners
filled the chairs on each side of him and her. I did not now watch the