lling up each pause； the beating of winter rain against the panes。
Mr。 Rochester； as he sat in his damask…covered chair； looked different to what I had seen him look before； not quite so stern— much less gloomy。 There was a smile on his lips； and his eyes sparkled； whether with wine or not； I am not sure； but I think it very probable。 He was； in short； in his after…dinner mood； more expanded and genial； and also more self…indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning； still he looked preciously grim； cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair； and receiving the light of the fire on his granite…hewn features； and in his great； dark eyes； for he had great； dark eyes； and