CHAPTER SEVEN
Mr. Rochester
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Let's see... you aren't a servant at Thornfield. I can tell because of your black dress. You must be..." He stopped speaking, but seemed to want to know who I was, so I told him.
"I am the governess."
"Ah, the governess! Of course! I had forgotten!" He tried to stand up but his leg was still hurting him badly. "Well, I don't want you to find help, but you could help me yourself, if you like."
"Of course, sir," I said. And so he leaned his weight on my shoulder and I helped him walk to his horse. In a moment he had jupmed on to the horse's back.
"Thank you. You should go home now, it's getting dark!" he said, as he [-----1-----] away.
I walked back to the house, happy with the interesting meeting. In my mind I saw the man's dark, stong face. Even when I arrived back at Thornfield, I did not go into the houseimmediately. I knew I would only spend the evening quietly with old Mrs. Fairfax. Instead I stayed outside, [-----2-----] up at the moon and the stars, thinking about a different, more [-----3-----] life.
When I went inside, the servants told me that Mr. Rochester had arrived, but that he had hurt his leg when his horse slipped on the ice!
