withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member, with
smooth fingers, symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the
little finger, and stooping forward, I looked at it, and saw a gem I
had seen a hundred times before. Again I looked at the face; which was
no longer turned from me- on the contrary, the bonnet was doffed,
the bandage displaced, the head advanced.
'Well, Jane, do you know me?' asked the familiar voice.
'Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then-'
'But the string is in a knot- help me.'
'Break it, sir.'
'There, then- "Off, ye lendings!"' And Mr. Rochester stepped out of
his disguise.
'Now, sir, what a strange idea!'
'But well carried out, eh? Don't you think so?'
'With the ladies you must have managed well.'
'But not with you?'
'You did not act the character of a gipsy with me.'
'What character did I act? My own?'
'No; some unaccountable one. In short, I believe you have been
trying to draw me out- or in; you have been talking nonsense to make
me talk nonsense. It is scarcely fair, sir.'
'Do you forgive me, Jane?'
'I cannot tell till I have thought it all over. If, on
reflection, I find I have fallen into no great absurdity, I shall
try to forgive you; but it was not right.'
'Oh, you have been very correct- very careful, very sensible.'
I reflected, and thought, on the whole, I had. It was a comfort;
but, indeed, I had been on my guard almost from the beginning of the
interview. Something of masquerade I suspected. I knew gipsies and
fortune-tellers did not express themselves as this seeming old woman
had expressed herself; besides I had noted her feigned voice, her
anxiety to conceal her features. But my mind had been running on Grace
Poole- that living enigma, that mystery of mysteries, as I
considered her. I had never thought of Mr. Rochester.
'Well,' said he, 'what are you musing about? What does that grave
smile signify?'
'Wonder and self-congratulation, sir. I have your permission to
retire now, I suppose?'
'No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing-room
yonder are doing.'
'Discussing the gipsy, I daresay.'
'Sit down!- Let me hear what they said about me.'
'I had better not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o'clock.
Oh, are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived here
since you left this morning?'
'A stranger!- no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?'
'No; he said he had known you long, and that he could take the
liberty of installing himself here till you returned.'
'The devil he did! Did he give his name?'
'His name is Mason, sir; and he comes from the West Indies; from
Spanish Town, in Jamaica, I think.'
Mr. Rochester was standing near me; he had taken my hand, as if
to lead me to a chair. As I spoke he gave my wrist a convulsive
grip; the smile on his lips froze: apparently a spasm caught his
breath.
'Mason!- the West Indies!' he said, in the tone one might fancy a
speaking automaton to enounce its single words; 'Mason!- the West
Indies!' he reiterated; and he went over the syllables three times,
growing, in the intervals of speaking, whiter than ashes: he hardly
seemed to know what he was doing.
'Do you feel ill, sir?' I inquired.
'Jane, I've got a blow; I've got a blow, Jane!' He staggered.
'Oh, lean on me, sir.'
'Jane, you offered me your shoulder once before; let me have it
now.'
'Yes, sir, yes; and my arm.'
He sat down, and made me sit beside him. Holding my hand in both
his own, he chafed it; gazing on me, at the same time, with the most
troubled and dreary look.
'My little friend!' said he, 'I wish I were in a quiet island
with only you; and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections
removed from me.'
'Can I help you, sir?- I'd give my life to serve you.'
'Jane, if aid is wanted, I'll seek it at your hands; I promise
you that.'
'Thank you, sir. Tell me what to do,- I'll try, at least, to do
it.'
'Fetch me now, Jane, a glass of wine from the dining-room: they
will be at supper there; and tell me if Mason is with them, and what
he is doing.'
I went. I found all the party in the dining-room at supper, as
Mr. Rochester had said; they were not seated at table,- the supper was
arranged on the sideboard; each had taken what he chose, and they
stood about here and there in groups, their plates and glasses in
their hands. Every one seemed in high glee; laughter and
conversation were general and animated. Mr. Mason stood near the fire,
talking to Colonel and Mrs. Dent, and appeared as merry as any of
them. I filled a wine-glass (I saw Miss Ingram watch me frowningly
as I did so: she thought I was taking a liberty, I daresay), and I
returned to the library.
Mr. Rochester's extreme pallor had disappeared, and he looked
once more firm and stern. He took the glass from my hand.
'Here is to your health, ministrant spirit!' he said. He
swallowed the contents and returned it to me. 'What are they doing,
Jane?'
'Laughing and talking, sir.'
'They don't look grave and mysterious, as if they had heard
something strange?'
'Not at all: they are full of jests and gaiety.'
'And Mason?'
'He was laughing too.'
'If all these people came in a body and spat at me, what would
you do, Jane?'
'Turn them out of the room, sir, if I could.'
He half smiled. 'But if I were to go to them, and they only
looked at me coldly, and whispered sneeringly amongst each other,
and then dropped off and left me one by one, what then? Would you go
with them?'
'I rather think not, sir: I should have more pleasure in staying
with you.'
'To comfort me?'
'Yes, sir, to comfort you, as well as I could.'
'And if they laid you under a ban for adhering to me?'
'I, probably, should know nothing about their ban; and if I did,
I should care nothing about it.'
'Then, you could dare censure for my sake?'
'I could dare it for the sake of any friend who deserved my
adherence; as you, I am sure, do.'
'Go back now into the room; step quietly up to Mason, and whisper
in his ear that Mr. Rochester is come and wishes to see him: show
him in here and then leave me.'
'Yes, sir.'
I did his behest. The company all stared at me as I passed straight
among them. I sought Mr. Mason, delivered the message, and preceded
him from the room: I ushered him into the library, and then I went
upstairs.
At a late hour, after I had been in bed some time, I heard the
visitors repair to their chambers: I distinguished Mr. Rochester's
voice, and heard him say, 'This way, Mason; this is your room.'
He spoke cheerfully: the gay tones set my heart at ease. I was soon
asleep.
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CHAPTER XX
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I HAD forgotten to draw my curtain, which I usually did, and also
to let down my window-blind. The consequence was, that when the
moon, which was full and bright (for the night was fine), came in
her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement, and looked
in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me.
Awaking in the dead of night, I opened my eyes on her disk-
silver-white and crystal clear. It was beautiful, but too solemn: I
half rose, and stretched my arm to draw the curtain.
Good God! What a cry!
The night- its silence- its rest, was rent in twain by a savage,
a sharp, a shrilly sound that ran from end to end of Thornfield Hall.
My pulse stopped: my heart stood still; my stretched arm was
paralysed. The cry died, and was not renewed. Indeed, whatever being
uttered that fearful shriek could not soon repeat it: not the
widest-winged condor on the Andes could, twice in succession, send out
such a yell from the cloud shrouding his eyrie. The thing delivering
such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort.
It came out of the third storey; for it passed overhead. And
overhead- yes, in the room just above my chamber-ceiling- I now
heard a struggle: a deadly one it seemed from the noise; and a
half-smothered voice shouted-
'Help! help! help!' three times rapidly.
'Will no one come?' it cried; and then, while the staggering and
stamping went on wildly, I distinguished through plank and plaster:-
'Rochester! Rochester! for God's sake, come!'
A chamber-door opened: some one ran, or rushed, along the
gallery. Another step stamped on the flooring above and something
fell; and there was silence.
I had put on some clothes, though horror shook all my limbs; I
issued from my apartment. The sleepers were all aroused: ejaculations,
terrified murmurs sounded in every room; door after door unclosed; one
looked out and another looked out; the gallery filled. Gentlemen and
ladies alike had quitted their beds; and 'Oh! what is it?'- 'Who is
hurt?'- 'What has happened?'- 'Fetch a light!'- 'Is it fire?'- 'Are
there robbers?'- 'Where shall we run?' was demanded confusedly on
all hands. But for the moon-light they would have been in complete
darkness. They ran to and fro; they crowded together: some sobbed,
some stumbled: the confusion was inextricable.
'Where the devil is Rochester?' cried Colonel Dent. 'I cannot
find him in his bed.'
'Here! here!' was shouted in return. 'Be composed, all of you:
I'm coming.'
And the door at the end of the gallery opened, and Mr. Rochester
advanced with a candle: he had just descended from the upper storey.
One of the ladies ran to him directly; she seized his arm: it was Miss
Ingram.
'What awful event has taken place?' said she. 'Speak! let us know
the worst at once!'
'But don't pull me down or strangle me,' he replied: for the Misses
Eshton were clinging about him now; and the two dowagers, in vast
white wrappers, were bearing down on him like ships in full sail.
'All's right!- all's right!' he cried. 'It's a mere rehearsal of
Much Ado about Nothing. Ladies, keep off, or I shall wax dangerous.'
And dangerous he looked: his black eyes darted sparks. Calming
himself by an effort, he added-
'A servant has had the nightmare; that is all. She's an
excitable, nervous person: she construed her dream into an apparition,
or something of that sort, no doubt; and has taken a fit with
fright. Now, then, I must see you all back into your rooms; for,
till the house is settled, she cannot be looked after. Gentlemen, have
the goodness to set the ladies the example. Miss Ingram, I am sure you
will not fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors. Amy and Louisa,
return to your nests like a pair of doves, as you are. Mesdames' (to
the dowagers), 'you will take cold to a dead certainty, if you stay in
this chill gallery any longer.'
And so, by dint of alternate coaxing and commanding, he contrived
to get them all once more enclosed in their separate dormitories. I
did not wait to be ordered back to mine, but retreated unnoticed, as
unnoticed I had left it.
Not, however, to go to bed: on the contrary, I began and dressed
myself carefully. The sounds I had heard after the scream, and the
words that had been uttered, had probably been heard only by me; for
they had proceeded from the room above mine: but they assured me
that it was not a servant's dream which had thus struck horror through
the house; and that the explanation Mr. Rochester had given was merely
an invention framed to pacify his guests. I dressed, then, to be ready
for emergencies. When dressed, I sat a long time by the window looking
out over the silent grounds and silvered fields and waiting for I knew
not what. It seemed to me that some event must follow the strange cry,
struggle, and call.
No: stillness returned: each murmur and movement ceased
gradually, and in about an hour Thornfield Hall was again as hushed as
a desert. It seemed that sleep and night had resumed their empire.
Meantime the moon declined: she was about to set. Not liking to sit in
the cold and darkness, I thought I would lie down on my bed, dressed
as I was. I left the window, and moved with little noise across the
carpet; as I stooped to take off my shoes, a cautious hand tapped
low at the door.
'Am I wanted?' I asked.
'Are you up?' asked the voice I expected to hear, viz., my
master's.
'Yes, sir.'
'And dressed?'
'Yes.'
'Come out, then, quietly.'
I obeyed. Mr. Rochester stood in the gallery holding a light.
'I want you,' he said: 'come this way: take your time, and make
no noise.'
My slippers were thin: I could walk the matted floor as softly as a
cat. He glided up the gallery and up the stairs, and stopped in the
dark, low corridor of the fateful third storey: I had followed and
