I.The Master of Thornfield Hall Thornfield, my new home after I left school, was, I found, a fine old battlemented hall, and Mrs. Fairfax, who had answered my advertisement, a mild, elderly lady, related by marriage to Mr. Rochester, the owner of the estate and the guardian of Adela Varens, my little pupil.

" "Whose house is it?" "Mr. Rochester's.

" The next day I was summoned to take tea with Mr. Rochester and my pupil.

Mr. Rochester bowed, still not taking his eyes from the group of the dog and the child.

Tongues of fire darted round the bed; the curtains were on fire, and in the midst lay Mr. Rochester, in deep sleep.

One day Mr. Rochester had been called away from home, and on his return, as I was the first inmate of the house to meet him, I remarked: "Oh, are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived since you left this morning?" "A stranger!

" "Go back into the room; step quietly up to Mason, tell him Mr. Rochester has come and wishes to see him; show him in here, and then leave me.

The door at the end of the gallery opened, and Mr. Rochester advanced with a candle.

Mr. Rochester went forward into this apartment, and a shout of laughter greeted his entrance.

I have known you, Mr. Rochester.

"As we are!" repeated Mr. Rochester, gathering me to his heart and pressing his lips on my lips.

Mr. Rochester sat looking at me gently, and at last said, drawing me to him again: "My bride is here, because my equal is here, and my likeness.

"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester; "the weather changes.

IV.The Mystery Explained There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to wait for or marshal; none but Mr. Rochester and I.

"Mr. Rochester has a wife now living.

I looked at Mr. Rochester; I made him look at me.

" I saw a grim smile contract Mr. Rochester's lip.

"That is my wife," said Mr. Rochester, "whom I was cheated into marrying fifteen years agoa mad woman and a drunkard, of a family of idiots and maniacs for three generations.

And it was the voice of a human beinga loved, well-remembered voicethat of Edward Fairfax Rochester; and it spoke in pain and woe, wildly, eerily, urgently.

"Is Mr. Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?" "No, ma'amoh, no!

Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out, and he went up to the attics and got the servants out of their beds, and then went back to get his mad wife out of her cell.

We saw Mr. Rochester approach her and call 'Bertha!'

It was my master, Edward Fairfax Rochester.

"What is the matter?" inquired Mr. Rochester.

The girl survived but a few days, and, I believe, saw her mistress no more" Mr. GEORGE A. AVERY, an elder of a Presbyterian church in Rochester, N.Y., who lived some years in Virginia, gives the following: