himself free of his steed. I think he was swearing, but am not certain.

"Can I do anything?" I asked.

"You can stand on one side," he answered as he rose. Whereupon began a
heaving, stamping process, accompanied by a barking and baying, and the
horse was re-established and the dog silenced with a "Down, Pilot!"

"If you are hurt and want help, sir," I remarked, "I can fetch someone,
either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay."

"Thank you, I shall do. I have no broken bones, only a sprain." And he
limped to the stile.

He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow. His eyes and
gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted; he was past youth, but had
not reached middle age--perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear
of him and but little shyness. His frown and roughness set me at ease.

He waved me to go, but I said:

"I cannot think of leaving you in this solitary lane till you are fit to
mount your horse."

"You ought to be at home yourself," said he. "Where do you come from?"

"From just below."

"Do you mean that house with the battlements?"