distant, how far estranged we were! So
far estranged, that I did not expect him to come and speak to me. I did
not wonder, when, without looking at me, he took a seat at the other side
of the room, and began conversing with some of the ladies.

No sooner did I see that his attention was riveted on them, and that I
might gaze without being observed, than my eyes were drawn involuntarily
to his face; I could not keep their lids under control: they would rise,
and the irids would fix on him. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in
looking,--a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely
point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel
who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and
drinks divine draughts nevertheless.

Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gazer." My master's
colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows,
deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,--all energy, decision,
will,--were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than
beautiful to me; they were full of an interest, an influence that quite
mastered me,--that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them
in his. I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought
hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now,
at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and
strong! He made me love him without looking at me.

I compared him with his guests. What was the gallant grace of the Lynns,
the languid elegance of Lord Ingram,--even the military distinction of
Colonel Dent, contrasted with his look of native pith and genuine power?
I had no sympathy in their appearance, their expression: yet I could
imagine that most observers would call them attractive, handsome,
imposing; while they would pronounce Mr. Rochester at once harsh-featured
and melancholy-looking. I saw them smile, laugh--it was nothing; the
light of the candles had as much soul in it as their smile; the tinkle of
the bell as much significance as their laugh. I saw Mr. Rochester
smile:--his stern features softened; his eye grew both brilliant and
gentle, its ray both searching and sweet. He was talking, at the moment,
to Louisa and Amy Eshton. I wondered to see them receive with calm that
look which seemed to me so penetrating: I expected their eyes to fall,
their colour to rise under it; yet I was glad when I fo