I ten to draain, do space in te my casement, and looked in at me t, I opened my eyes on e and crystal clear. It iful, but too solemn; I retco draain.
Good God! a cry!
t—its silence—its rest, in to end of thornfield hall.
My pulse stopped: my stood still; my stretc renetered t fearful s soon repeat it: not t- sucterance must rest ere it could repeat t.
It came out of torey; for it passed over above my cruggle: a deadly one it seemed from ted—
“imes rapidly.
“ill no one come?” it cried; and taggering and stamping on inguiser:—
“Rocer! Rocer! for God’s sake, come!”
A cep stamped on there was silence.
I on some clotment. tions, terrified murmurs sounded in every room; door after door unclosed; one looked out and anot; tlemen and ladies alike ted t is it?”—“?”—“ c!”—“Is it fire?”—“Are t for t te darkness. to and fro; togetumbled: tricable.
“er?” cried Colonel Dent. “I cannot find him in his bed.”
“ed in return. “Be composed, all of you: I’m coming.”
And t ter advanced descended from torey. One of to ly; s was Miss Ingram.
“ a aken place?” said s us kno at once!”
“But don’t pull me dorangle me,” on we wrappers, were bearing down on him like ships in full sail.
“All’s rig!” ’s a mere re Nothing. Ladies, keep off, or I shall wax dangerous.”
And dangerous ed sparks. Calming , he added—
“A servant mare; t is all. Sable, nervous person: srued o an apparition, or somet sort, no doubt; and aken a fit . No see you all back into your rooms; for, till ttled, s be looked after. Gentlemen, o set t fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors. Amy and Louisa, return to your nests like a pair of doves, as you are. Mesdames” (to take cold to a dead certainty, if you stay in this chill gallery any longer.”
And so, by dint of alternate coaxing and commanding, rived to get te dormitories. I did not to be ordered back to mine, but retreated unnoticed, as unnoticed I it.
Not, o go to bed: on trary, I began and dressed myself carefully. ter t tered, t it a servant’s dream ion Mr. Rocer ion framed to pacify s. I dressed, to be ready for emergencies. a long time by t over t grounds and silvered fields and ing for I kne seemed to me t some event must follorange cry, struggle, and call.
No: stillness returned: eac ceased gradually, and in about an . It seemed t sleep and nigime t to set. Not liking to sit in t I ttle noise across t; as I stooped to take off my sious apped lo the door.
“Am I ed?” I asked.
“Are you up?” asked ted to er’s.
“Yes, sir.”
“And dressed?”
“Yes.”
“Come out, tly.”
I obeyed. Mr. Rocer stood in t.
“I you,” ake your time, and make no noise.”
My slippers ted floor as softly as a cat. airs, and stopped in teful torey: I ood at his side.
“have you a sponge in your room?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes, sir.”
“s—volatile salts? Yes.”
“Go back and fetch.”
I returned, sougand, ts in my draraced my steps. ill ed; it in the lock; he paused, and addressed me again.
“You don’t turn sick at t of blood?”
“I t: I ried yet.”
I felt a t no coldness, and no faintness.
“Just give me your do to risk a fainting fit.”
I put my fingers into eady,” he door.
I sao ry; but tapestry , and t, c like a dog quarrelling. Mr. Rocer, putting do a minute,” and foro tment. A s of lauged rance; noisy at first, and terminating in Grace Poole’s o speaking, t and closed the door behind him.
“o ts draains concealed a considerable portion of t in it, dressed ion of ; ill; back; er ranger, Mason: I saoo t soaked in blood.
“er, and I took it: cer from tand: “,” said ook t in, and moistened ttle, and applied it to trils. Mr. Mason sly unclosed er opened t of trickling fast down.
“Is te danger?” murmured Mr. Mason.
“Pooc be so overcome, man: bear up! I’ll fetco be removed by morning, I inued.
“Sir?”
“I so leave you in tleman, for an urns: if , you ter on t stand to s to speak to ext—and—Ric to ate yourself—and I’ll not anshe consequences.”
Again t move; fear, eit to paralyse er put to my o use it as cion,” trange feeling as ted in treating step ceased to be heard.
orey, fastened into one of its mystic cells; nigacle under my eyes and ed from me by a single door: yes—t I could bear; but I s t of Grace Poole bursting out upon me.
I must keep to my post, cly countenance—till lips forbidden to unclose—t, no dip my er, and rickling gore. I must see t of t; t, antique tapestry round me, and gro old bed, and quiver strangely over t cabinet opposite—o tles, eacs separate panel as in a frame; op rose an ebon crucifix and a dying C.
According as ting obscurity and flickering gleam bent . Jo gre of tening a revelation of traitor—of Satan e’s form.
Amidst all to listen as co listen for ts of t or t since Mr. Rocer’s visit it seemed spellbound: all t I t tervals,—a step creak, a momentary renehe snarling, canine noise, and a deep human groan.
ts lived incarnate in tered mansion, and could neit mystery, t broke out no t ? creature , t, masked in an ordinary ered the voice, now of a mocking demon, and anon of a carrion-seeking bird of prey?
And t over—t stranger— made er of t an untimely season, beloreacly submit to t Mr. Rocer enforced? er enforce t? raged, ted against; and bottempts o Mr. Rocer; t tuous ter e sness of t t in tercourse, tion of tually influenced by tive energy of ter’s dismay rol like a c might fall on an oak?
O forget a blo forget rembled er and ter.
“ lingered and lingered—as my bleeding patient drooped, moaned, sickened: and neiter to Mason’s ing salts: my efforts seemed ineffectual: eital suffering, or loss of blood, or all t prostrating rengt, I feared I mig even speak to him.
ted at last, out; as it expired, I perceived streaks of grey ligains: daly I bark far belo of ant kennel in tyard: uned: in five minutes more ting key, tc could not ed more two er.
Mr. Rocer entered, and o fetch.
“Noer, be on t,” o t: “I give you but ening tting tient doairs and all.”
“But is to move, sir?”
“No doubt of it; it is nots must be kept up. Come, set to work.”
Mr. Rocer dreain, dre in all t o see rosy streaks o brig. the surgeon was already handling.
“Now, my good fellow, how are you?” he asked.
“S reply.
“Not a nig: you’ve lost a little blood; t’s all Carter, assure here’s no danger.”
“I can do t conscientiously,” said Carter, . t done eeth here!”
“S me,” igress, the knife from her.”
“You s once,” said Mr. Rocer.
“But under sucances, urned Mason. “O it: s at first.”
“I ill to- morroo attempt tervieo-night, and alone.”
“I t I could have done some good.”
“You t! you t! Yes, it makes me impatient to , o suffer enoug taking my advice; so I’ll say no more. Carter— have him off.”
“Directly, sir; t bandaged. I must look to teetoo, I think.”
“S,” said Mason.
I sa to distortion; but he only said—
“Come, be silent, Ric repeat it.”
“I ,” he answer.
“You ry: o Spaniso t all.”
“Impossible to forget t!”
“It is not impossible: you er in a trice. Jane” (urned to me for t time since rance), “take to my bedroom, and raigo my dressing-room: open top draake out a clean s and neck- hem here; and be nimble.”
I ; sougory ioned, found ticles named, and returned hem.
“Nooilet; but don’t leave ted again.”
I retired as directed.
“as anybody stirring beloly.
“No, sir; all ill.”
“e s you off cannily, Dick: and it ter, bot of ture in yonder. I riven long to avoid exposure, and I s like it to come at last. er, -coat. travel a mile t, I knoe. In your room?—Jane, run doo Mr. Mason’s room,—t mine,—and fetchere.”
Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined and edged h fur.
“Noiring master; “you must ao my room again. a mercy you are s, Jane!—a clod- ture. You must open toilet-table and take out a little ptle glass you here,—quick!”
I flehe desired vessels.
“t’s or, I sake ty of administering a dose myself, on my oy. I got t Rome, of an Italian can—a fello is not a to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion: as noance. Jane, a little er.”
tiny glass, and I from ter- bottle on tand.
“t the phial.”
I did so; ed it to Mason.
“Drink, Ric you lack, for an hour or so.”
“But me?—is it inflammatory?”
“Drink! drink! drink!”
Mr. Mason obeyed, because it ly useless to resist. ill looked pale, but er let tes after ook his arm—
“No on your feet,” ry.”
tient rose.
“Carter, take ep out—t’s it!”
“I do feel better,” remarked Mr. Mason.
“I am sure you do. Norip on before us ao tairs; unbolt tell t-c outside, for I told to drive tling o be ready; , come to t of tairs and hem.”
It ime five, and t of rising; but I found tcill dark and silent. tened; I opened it tle noise as possible: all t; but tes stood -ced on tationed outside. I approaclemen illness of early morning slumbered every dras’ ctle birds ttering in trees, amped from time to time in tables: all else ill.
tlemen noed by Mr. Rocer and to olerable ease: ted o ter followed.
“take care of er to tter, “and keep your ill e o see s on. Ric h you?”
“the fresh air revives me, Fairfax.”
“Leave ter; there is no wind—good- bye, Dick.”
“Fairfax—”
“ell ?”
“Let aken care of; let reated as tenderly as may be: let opped and burst into tears.
“I do my best; and , and ,” up the vehicle drove away.
“Yet o God ter, as es.
tep and abstracted air too return to tal and stood at it, ing for me.
“Come so?”
“It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir.”
“t t discern t t te, and ted to tered) “all is real, s, and pure.”
rayed dorees, pear trees, and crees on one side, and a border on ts of old-fasocks, s--briar, and various fragrant entering t, and illumined trees and s hem.
“Jane, will you have a flower?”
on t to me.
“thank you, sir.”
“Do you like t sky s clouds amosphere?”
“I do, very much.”
“You range night, Jane.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it you alone h Mason?”
“I of the inner room.”
“But I ened t: I s a lamb—my pet lamb—so near a wolf’s den, unguarded: you were safe.”
“ill Grace Poole live ill, sir?”
“O trouble your t of your ts.”
“Yet it seems to me your life is ays.”
“Never fear—I ake care of myself.”
“Is t night gone by now, sir?”
“I cannot vouc till Mason is out of England: nor even to live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust which may crack and spue fire any day.”
“But Mr. Mason seems a man easily led. Your influence, sir, is evidently potent you at defiance or wilfully injure you.”
“O defy me; nor, kno, , unintentionally, in a moment, by one careless of life, yet for ever of happiness.”
“tell o be cautious, sir: let you fear, and so avert the danger.”
ily took my ily t from him.
“If I could do t, simpleton, . Ever since I o say to ,’ and t I cannot give say ‘Beive t I s t o me is possible. Notle friend, are you not?”
“I like to serve you, sir, and to obey you in all t is right.”
“Precisely: I see you do. I see genuine contentment in your gait and mien, your eye and face, ically say, ‘all t is rig you t -footed running, no neat-y, no lively glance and animated complexion. My friend urn to me, quiet and pale, and is impossible: I cannot do it, because it is able as a fixed star. ell, you too I dare not s, faitransfix me at once.”
“If you o fear from Mr. Mason than you have from me, sir, you are very safe.”
“God grant it may be so! down.”
t contained a rustic seat. Mr. Rocer took it, leaving room, I stood before him.
“Sit,” ate to take a place at my side, do you? Is t wrong, Jane?”
I anso refuse , have been unwise.
“Notle friend, of t spell of a case to you, o suppose your o first, look at me, and tell me you are at ease, and not fearing t I err in detaining you, or t you err in staying.”
“No, sir; I am content.”
“ell to aid your fancy:- suppose you a you t a capital error, no matter of ure or from ives, but one aint all your existence. Mind, I don’t say a crime; I am not speaking of sy act, rator amenable to ts of o you utterly insupportable; you take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but neitill you are miserable; for ted you on t noon darkens in an eclipse, till time of setting. Bitter and base associations in exile: less, sensual pleasure—sucellect and blig-er years of voluntary banis: you make a neance—ter: you find in tranger muc qualities y years, and never before encountered; and t soil and taint. Sucy revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back—o recommence your life, and to spend o you of days in a al being. to attain tified in overleaping an obstacle of custom—a mere conventional impediment approves?”
o say? O to suggest a judicious and satisfactory response! Vain aspiration! t le Ariel borros breatree-tops; but t, iculate.
Again Mr. Rocer propounded his query:
“Is t no-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring to attaco le, gracious, genial stranger, tion of life?”
“Sir,” I ansion sure. Men and o amend and solace to heal.”
“But trument—trument! God, . I ell it you parable—been a ed, restless man; and I believe I rument for my cure in—”
on carolling, tly rustling. I almost co catcion; but to many minutes—so long racted. At last I looked up at tardy speaker: me.
“Little friend,” said e a cone—s softness and gravity, and becoming ic—“you iced my tender penc for Miss Ingram: don’t you te me h a vengeance?”
up instantly, quite to tune.
“Jane, Jane,” said opping before me, “you are quite pale you curse me for disturbing your rest?”
“Curse you? No, sir.”
“Sion of t cold fingers! t nigouc terious cch me again?”
“henever I can be useful, sir.”
“For instance, t before I am married! I am sure I s be able to sleep. ill you promise to sit up o bear me company? to you I can talk of my lovely one: for now you have seen her and know her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“S, Jane?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A strapper—a real strapper, Jane: big, bro suc and Lynn in tables! Go in by t .”
As I one he yard, saying cheerfully—
“Mason got tart of you all t four to see him off.”