“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 manding; 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。”
“e out; then; quietly。”
I obeyed。 Mr。 Rochester stood in the gallery holding a light。
“I want you;” he said: “e 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 seemingly lifeless 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 overe; 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
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