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

stood at his side.

'Have you a sponge in your room?' he asked in a whisper.

'Yes, sir.'

'Have you any salts- volatile salts?'

'Yes.'

'Go back and fetch both.'

I returned, sought the sponge on the washstand, the salts in my

drawer, and once more retraced my steps. He still waited; he held a

key in his hand: approaching one of the small, black doors, he put

it in the lock; he paused, and addressed me again.

'You don't turn sick at the sight of blood?'

'I think I shall not: I have never been tried yet.'

I felt a thrill while I answered him; but no coldness, and no

faintness.

'Just give me your hand,' he said: 'it will not do to risk a

fainting fit.'

I put my fingers into his. 'Warm and steady,' was his remark: he

turned the key and opened the door.

I saw a room I remembered to have seen before, the day Mrs. Fairfax

showed me over the house: it was hung with tapestry; but the

tapestry was now looped up in one part, and there was a door apparent,

which had then been concealed. This door was open; a light shone out

of the room within: I heard thence a snarling, snatching sound, almost

like a dog quarrelling. Mr. Rochester, putting down his candle, said

to me, 'Wait a minute,' and he went forward to the inner apartment.

A shout of laughter greeted his entrance; noisy at first, and

terminating in Grace Poole's own goblin ha! ha! She then was there. He

made some sort of arrangement without speaking, though I heard a low

voice address him: he came out and closed the door behind him.

'Here, Jane!' he said; and I walked round to the other side of a

large bed, which with its drawn curtains concealed a considerable

portion of the chamber. An easy-chair was near the bed-head: a man sat

in it, dressed with the exception of his coat; he was still; his

head leant back; his eyes were closed. Mr. Rochester held the candle

over him; I recognised in his pale and seeminglylifeless face- the

stranger, Mason: I saw too that his linen on one side and one arm, was

almost soaked in blood.

'Hold the candle,' said Mr. Rochester, and I took it: he fetched

a basin of water from the washstand: 'Hold that,' said he. I obeyed.

He took the sponge, dipped it in, and moistened the corpse-like

face; he asked for my smelling-bottle, and applied it to the nostrils.

Mr. Mason shortly unclosed his eyes; he groaned. Mr. Rochester

opened the shirt of the wounded man, whose arm and shoulder were

bandaged: he sponged away blood, trickling fast down.

'Is there immediate danger?' murmured Mr. Mason.

'Pooh! No- a mere scratch. Don't be so overcome, man: bear up! I'll

fetch a surgeon for you now, myself: you'll be able to be removed by

morning, I hope. Jane,' he continued.

'Sir?'

'I shall have to leave you in this room with this gentleman, for an

hour, or perhaps two hours: you will sponge the blood as I do when

it returns: if he feels faint, you will put the glass of water on that

stand to his lips, and your salts to his nose. You will not speak to

him on any pretext- and- Richard, it will be at the peril of your life

if you speak to her: open your lips- agitate yourself- and I'll not

answer for the consequences.'

Again the poor man groaned; he looked as if he dared not move;

fear, either of death or of something else, appeared almost to

paralyse him. Mr. Rochester put the now bloody sponge into my hand,

and I proceeded to use it as he had done. He watched me a second, then

saying, 'Remember!- No conversation,' he left the room. I

experienced a strange feeling as the key grated in the lock, and the

sound of his retreating step ceased to be heard.

Here then I was in the third storey, fastened into one of its

mystic cells; night around me; a pale and bloody spectacle under my

eyes and hands; a murderess hardly separated from me by a single door:

yes- that was appalling- the rest I could bear; but I shuddered at the

thought of Grace Poole bursting out upon me.

I must keep to my post, however. I must watch this ghastly

countenance- these blue, still lips forbidden to unclose- these eyes

now shut, now opening, now wandering through the room, now fixing on

me, and ever glazed with the dulness of horror. I must dip my hand

again and again in the basin of blood and water, and wipe away the

trickling gore. I must see the light of the unsnuffed candle wane on

my employment; the shadows darken on the wrought, antiquetapestry

round me, and grow black under the hangings of the vast old bed, and

quiver strangely over the doors of a great cabinet opposite- whose

front, divided into twelve panels, bore, in grim design, the heads

of the twelve apostles, each enclosed in its separate panel as in a

frame; while above them at the top rose an ebon crucifix and a dying

Christ.

According as the shifting obscurity and flickering gleam hovered

here or glanced there, it was now the bearded physician, Luke, that

bent his brow; now St. John's long hair that waved; and anon the

devilish face of Judas, that grew out of the panel, and seemed

gathering life and threatening a revelation of the arch-traitor- of

Satan himself- in his subordinate's form.

Amidst all this, I had to listen as well as watch: to listen for

the movements of the wild beast or the fiend in yonder side den. But

since Mr. Rochester's visit it seemed spellbound: all the night I

heard but three sounds at three long intervals,- a step creak, a

momentary renewal of the snarling, canine noise, and a deep human

groan.

Then my own thoughts worried me. What crime was this, that lived

incarnate in this sequestered mansion, and could neither be expelled

nor subdued by the owner?- what mystery, that broke out now in fire

and now in blood, at the deadest hours of night? What creature was it,

that, masked in an ordinary woman's face and shape, uttered the voice,

now of a mocking demon, and anon of a carrion-seeking bird of prey?

And this man I bent over- this commonplace, quiet stranger- how had

he become involved in the web of horror? and why had the Fury flown at

him? What made him seek this quarter of the house at an untimely

season, when he should have been asleep in bed? I had heard Mr.

Rochester assign him an apartment below- what brought him here? And

why, now, was he so tame under the violence or treachery done him? Why

did he so quietly submit to the concealment Mr. Rochester enforced?

Why did Mr. Rochester enforce this concealment? His guest had been

outraged, his own life on a former occasion had been hideously plotted

against; and both attempts he smothered in secrecy and sank in

oblivion! Lastly, I saw Mr. Mason was submissive to Mr. Rochester;

that the impetuous will of the latter held complete sway over the

inertness of the former: the few words which had passed between them

assured me of this. It was evident that in their former intercourse,

the passive disposition of the one had been habitually influenced by

the active energy of the other: whence then had arisen Mr. Rochester's

dismay when he heard of Mr. Mason's arrival? Why had the mere name

of this unresisting individual- whom his word now sufficed to

control like a child- fallen on him, a few hours since, as a

thunderbolt might fall on an oak?

Oh! I could not forget his look and his paleness when he whispered:

'Jane, I have got a blow- I have got a blow, Jane.' I could not forget

how the arm had trembled which he rested on my shoulder: and it was no

light matter which could thus bow the resolute spirit and thrill the

vigorous frame of Fairfax Rochester.

'When will he come? When will he come?' I cried inwardly, as the

night lingered and lingered- as my bleeding patient drooped, moaned,

sickened: and neither day nor aid arrived. I had, again and again,

held the water to Mason's white lips; again and again offered him

the stimulating salts: my efforts seemed ineffectual: either bodily or

mental suffering, or loss of blood, or all three combined, were fast

prostrating his strength. He moaned so, and looked so weak, wild,

and lost, I feared he was dying; and I might not even speak to him.

The candle, wasted at last, went out; as it expired, I perceived

streaks of grey light edging the window curtains: dawn was then

approaching. Presently I heard Pilot bark far below, out of his

distant kennel in the courtyard: hope revived. Nor was it unwarranted:

in five minutes more the grating key, the yielding lock, warned me

my watch was relieved. It could not have lasted more than two hours:

many a week has seemed shorter.

Mr. Rochester entered, and with him the surgeon he had been to

fetch.

'Now, Carter, be on the alert,' he said to this last: 'I give you

but half an hour for dressing the wound, fastening the bandages,

getting the patient downstairs and all.'

'But is he fit to move, sir?'

'No doubt of it; it is nothing serious; he is nervous, his

spirits must be kept up. Come, set to work.'

Mr. Rochester drew back the thick curtain, drew up the holland

blind, let in all the daylight he could; and I was surprised and

cheered to see how far dawn was advanced: what rosy streaks were

beginning to brighten the east. Then he approached Mason, whom the

surgeon was already handling.

'Now, my good fellow, how are you?' he asked.

'She's done for me, I fear,' was the faint reply.

'Not a whit!- courage! This day fortnight you'll hardly be a pin

the worse of it: you've lost a little blood; that's all. Carter,

assure him there's no danger.'

'I can do that conscientiously,' said Carter, who had now undone

the bandages; 'only I wish I could have got here sooner: he would

not have bled so much- but how is this? The flesh on the shoulder is

torn as well as cut. This wound was not done with a knife: there

have been teeth here!'

'She bit me,' he murmured. 'She worried me like a tigress, when

Rochester got the knife from her.'

'You should not have yielded: you should have grappled with her

at once,' said Mr. Rochester.

'But under such circumstances, what could one do?' returned

Mason. 'Oh, it was frightful!' he added, shuddering. 'And I did not

expect it: she looked so quiet at first.'

'I warned you,' was his friend's answer; 'I said- be on your

guard when you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till

to-morrow, and had me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the

interview to-night, and alone.'

'I thought I could have done some good.'

'You thought! you thought! Yes, it makes me impatient to hear

you: but, however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer

enough for not taking my advice; so I'll say no more. Carter-

hurry!- hurry! The sun will soon rise, and I must have him off.'

'Directly, sir; the shoulder is just bandaged. I must look to

this other wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think.'

'She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart,' said Mason.

I saw Mr. Rochester shudder: a singularly marked expression of

disgust, horror, hatred, warped his countenance almost to

distortion, but he only said-

'Come, be silent, Richard, and never mind her gibberish: don't

repeat it.'

'I wish I could forget it,' was the answer.

'You will when you are out of the country: when you get back to

Spanish Town, you may think of her as dead and buried- or rather,

you need not think of her at all.'

'Impossible to forget this night!'

'It is not impossible: have some energy, man. You thought you

were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and

talking now. There!- Carter has done with you or nearly so; I'll

make you decent in a trice. Jane' (he turned to me for the first

time since his re-entrance), 'take this key: go down into my

bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room: open the top

drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and

neck-handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble.'

I went; sought the repository he had mentioned, found the

articles named, and returned with them.

'Now,' said he, 'go to the other side of the bed while I order

his toilet; but don't leave the room: you may be wanted again.'

I retired as directed.

'Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane?' inquired Mr.

Rochester presently.

'No, sir; all was very still.'

'We shall get you off cannily, Dick: and it will be better, both

for your sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder. I have

striven long to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at

last. Here, Carter, help him on with his waistcoat. Where did you

leave your furred cloak? You can't travel a mile without that, I know,

in this damned cold climate. In your room?- Jane, run down to Mr.

Mason's room,- the one next mine,- and fetch a cloak you will see

there.'

Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined

and edged with fur.

'Now, I've another errand for you,' said my untiring master; you

must away to my room again. What a mercy you are shod with velvet,

Jane!- a clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture. You

must open the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little

phial and a little glass you will find there,- quick!'