The marble basin was removed; in its place, stood a deal table and a kitchen chair: these objects were visible by a very dim light proceeding from a horn lantern, the wax candles being all extinguished.
Amidst this sordid scene, sat a man with his clenched hands resting on his knees, and his eyes bent on the ground.

I knew Mr.Rochester; though the begrimed face, the disordered dress (his coat hanging loose from one arm, as if it had been almost torn from his back in a scuffle), the desperate and scowling countenance, the rough, bristling hair might well have disguised him.

As he moved, a chain clanked; to his wrists were attached fetters.
"Bridewell!" exclaimed Colonel Dent, and the charade was solved.
A sufficient interval having elapsed for the performers to resume their ordinary costume, they re-entered the dining-room.

Mr.Rochester led in Miss Ingram; she was complimenting him on his acting.
"Do you know," said she, "that, of the three characters, I liked you in the last best?
Oh, had you but lived a few years earlier, what a gallant gentleman-highwayman you would have made!" "Is all the soot washed from my face ?" he asked, turning it towards her.
"Alas! yes: the more's the pity! Nothing could be more becoming to your complexion than that ruffian's rouge." "You would like a hero of the road then ?" "An English hero of the road would be the next best thing to an Italian bandit; and that could only be surpassed by a Levantine pirate." "Well, whatever I am, remember you are my wife; we were married an hour since, in the presence of all these witnesses." She giggled, and her colour rose.
"Now, Dent," continued Mr.Rochester, "it is your turn." And as the other party withdrew, he and his band took the vacated seats.

Miss Ingram placed herself at her leader's right hand; the other diviners filled the chairs on each side of him and her.