“PASS, Janet,” said he, making room for me to cross the stile: “go up home, and stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend’s threshold.”
All I had now to do was to obey him in silence: no need for me to colloquise further. I got over the stile without a word, and meant to leave him calmly. An impulse held me fast — a force turned me round. I said — or something in me said for me, and in spite of me —
“Thank you, Mr Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home — my only home.”
I walked on so fast that even he could hardly have overtaken me had he tried. Little Adèle was half wild with delight when she saw me. Mrs Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness. Leah smiled, and even Sophie bid me “bon soir” with glee.* This was very pleasant; there is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.
* Mrs Fairfax was the housekeeper, a position of considerable responsibility, and even more than usual, as we learn when her true function at the Hall is revealed; Leah was a housemaid. Adèle was Mr Rochester’s natural daughter, born in France and primarily French-speaking, and Sophie her French nurse. Bon soir is, of course, French for ‘good evening’.