and　felt　it　was　no　longer　plain：　there　was　hope　in　its　aspect　and　life　in　its　colour；　and　my　eyes　seemed　as　if　they　had　beheld　the　fount　of　fruition；　and　borrowed　beams　from　the　lustrous　ripple。　I　had　often　been　unwilling　to　look　at　my　master；　because　I　feared　he　could　not　be　pleased　at　my　look；　but　I　was　sure　I　might　lift　my　face　to　his　now；　and　not　cool　his　affection　by　its　expression。　I　took　a　plain　but　clean　and　light　summer　dress　from　my　drawer　and　put　it　on：　it　seemed　no　attire　had　ever　so　well　bee　me；　because　none　had　I　ever　worn　in　so　blissful　a　mood。

I　was　not　surprised；　when　I　ran　down　into　the　hall；　to　see　that　a　brilliant　June　morning　had　succeeded　to　the　tempest　of　the　night；　and　to　feel；　through　the　open　glass　door；　the　breathing　of　a　fresh　and　fragrant　breeze。　Nature　must　be　gladsome　when　I　was　so　happy。　A　beggar…woman　and　her　little　boy—pale；　ragged　objects　both—were　ing　up　the　walk；　and　I　ran　down　and　gave　them　all　the　money　I　happened　to　have　in　my　purse—some　three　or　four　shillings：　good　or　bad；　they　must　partake　of　my　jubilee。　The　rooks　cawed；　and　blither　birds　sang；　but　nothing　was　so　merry　or　so　musical　as　my　own　rejoicing　heart。

Mrs。　Fairfax　surprised　me　by　looking　out　of　the　window　with　a　sad　countenance；　and　saying　gravely—“Miss　Eyre；　will　you　e　to　breakfast？”　During　the　meal　she　was　quiet　and　cool：　but　I　could　not　undeceive　her　then。　I　must　wait　for　my　master　to　give　explanations；　and　so　must　she。　I　ate　what　I　could；　and　then　I　hastene