"Did you not know he was called Rochester ?" Of course I did not--I had never heard of him before; but the old lady seemed to regard his existence as a universally understood fact, with which everybody must be acquainted by instinct.
"I thought," I continued, "Thornfield belonged to you." "To me?
Bless you, child; what an idea! To me! I am only the housekeeper--the manager.

To be sure I am distantly related to the Rochesters by the mother's side, or at least my husband was; he was a clergyman, incumbent of Hay--that little village yonder on the hill--and that church near the gates was his.

The present Mr.Rochester's mother was a Fairfax, and second cousin to my husband: but I never presume on the connection--in fact, it is nothing to me; I consider myself quite in the light of an ordinary housekeeper: my employer is always civil, and I expect nothing more." "And the little girl--my pupil!" "She is Mr.Rochester's ward; he commissioned me to find a governess for her.

He intended to have her brought up in -- -shire, I believe.

Here she comes, with her 'bonne,' as she calls her nurse." The enigma then was explained: this affable and kind little widow was no great dame; but a dependant like myself.