The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar wintersky: a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances, closeserried, along the horizon. Throwing these into distance, rose, in theforeground, a head,- a colossal head, inclined towards the iceberg,and resting against it. Two thin hands, joined under the forehead, andsupporting it, drew up before the lower features a sable veil; abrow quite bloodless, white as bone, and an eye hollow and fixed,blank of meaning but for the glassiness of despair, alone werevisible. Above the temples, amidst wreathed turban folds of blackdrapery, vague in its character and consistency as cloud, gleamed aring of white flame, gemmed with sparkles of a more lurid tinge.This pale crescent was 'the likeness of a kingly crown'; what itdiademed was 'the shape which shape had none.'。， 'Don't trouble yourself to give her a character,' returned Mr.Rochester: 'eulogiums will not bias me; I shall judge for myself.She began by felling my horse.'
。， 'Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax,' said he, 'andlook at them with Adele;- you' (glancing at me) 'resume your seat, andanswer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by onehand: was that hand yours?'
'Humph!' said Mr. Rochester, and he took his tea in silence.。， 'He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of theprovision department, before the committee was appointed; and he boredus with long lectures once a week, and with evening readings frombooks of his own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, whichmade us afraid to go to bed.'
While he is so occupied, I will tell you, reader, what they are:and first, I must premise that they are nothing wonderful. Thesubjects had, indeed, risen vividly on my mind. As I saw them with thespiritual eye, before I attempted to embody them, they werestriking; but my hand would not second my fancy, and in each case ithad wrought out but a pale portrait of the thing I had conceived.。， 'That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, havebeen few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist'sdreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints. Did yousit at them long each day?'
'I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst; and I was not alone in the feeling.He is a harsh man; at once pompous and meddling; he cut off ourhair; and for economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, withwhich we could hardly sew.'。，
。， 'He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of theprovision department, before the committee was appointed; and he boredus with long lectures once a week, and with evening readings frombooks of his own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, whichmade us afraid to go to bed.'