your uncle really is the angel you said he was. Are you going to be nice? Are you?"
He was smiling by this time.
"How eloquent you are!" he said. "I've never heard you say so much at once since I've known you."
"I'm never eloquent when Jane's there," said Lucilla—"she does it so much better than I do; and you will be nice?"
"I'll do anything you like. I'll even try to admire your far too admirable gardener. Please forgive me, and let's enjoy the day of days."
"Mr. Dix will have to be allowed to enjoy it too," she stipulated.
"Out of working hours," he urged. "If he's a gardener, let him jolly well garden."
"And now," she said, smiling as April smiles, "let's go and find Jane, and tell her. Monday's early-closing day—at least it ought to be. We'll lock up the shop and be free for happiness."
They found Jane on the stone seat in the nut-walk at the far end of the garden. On the way, Mr. Rochester noted with some satisfaction that the gardener was jolly well gardening. He had his wheelbarrow and was pitchforking weeds into it with due energy.
Mr. Rochester thought he had never seen anything so satisfying as the light of half incredulous joy that shone in Jane's eyes when Lucilla—without any beating about the bush—broke out with:
"It's all right, Jane. It's the exact opposite of what we thought. We're to have all Cedar Court, my dear—and do just what we like with it."
"You're not—not joking?" Jane asked, afraid to take this new joy in her hands.
"Joking?" said Lucilla. "Not much. It's dream-like, but it's true. Mr. Rochester's got the keys. Let's go now, this very minute, and see all over everything."
"Oh yes!" said Jane. "Oh, who would have thought
