oil painting artist

'You want a brooch,' said Mrs. Fairfax. I had a single little pearl
ornament which Miss Temple gave me as a parting keepsake: I put it on,
and then we went downstairs. Unused as I was to strangers, it was
rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr. Rochester's
presence. I let Mrs. Fairfax precede me into the dining-room, and kept
in her shade as we crossed that apartment; and, passing the arch,
whose curtain was now dropped, entered the elegant recess
Two wax candles stood lighted on the table, and two on the
mantelpiece; basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, lay
Pilot- Adele knelt near him. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr.
Rochester, his foot supported by the cushion; he was looking at
Adele and the dog: the fire shone full on his face. I knew my
traveller with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead, made
squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. I recognised his
decisive nose, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full
nostrils, denoting, I thought, choler; his grim mouth, chin, and
jaw- yes, all three were very grim, and no mistake. His shape, now