721豆瓣　　'The owner of Thornfield,' she responded quietly. 'Did you not knowhe was called Rochester?'

　　When thus alone, I not unfrequently heard Grace Poole's laugh:the same peal, the same low, slow ha! ha! which, when first heard, hadthrilled me: I heard, too, her eccentric murmurs; stranger than herlaugh. There were days when she was quite silent; but there wereothers when I could not account for the sounds she made. Sometimes Isaw her: she would come out of her room with a basin, or a plate, or atray in her hand, go down to the kitchen and shortly return, generally(oh, romantic reader, forgive me for telling the plain truth!) bearinga pot of porter. Her appearance always acted as a damper to thecuriosity raised by her oral oddities: hard-featured and staid, shehad no point to which interest could attach. I made some attempts todraw her into conversation, but she seemed a person of few words: amonosyllabic reply usually cut short every effort of that sort.

721豆瓣 

　　'Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brotheras to be still inconsolable for his loss?'
　　'Is there anything else you wish for, Jane? I assure you, Idesire to be your friend.'