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1I had forgotten to draw my curtain, which I usually did, and also to let down my window-blind. The consequence was, that
2when the moon, which was full and bright (for the night was fine), came in her course to that space in the sky opposite
3my casement, and looked in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me. Awaking in the dead of night,
4I opened my eyes on her disk--silver-white and crystal clear. It was beautiful, but too solemn: I half rose, and
5stretched my arm to draw the curtain. Good God! What a cry! The night--its silence--its rest, was rent in twain by a
6savage, a sharp, a shrilly sound that ran from end to end of Thornfield Hall. My pulse stopped: my heart stood still; my
7stretched arm was paralysed. The cry died, and was not renewed. Indeed, whatever being uttered that fearful shriek could
8not soon repeat it: not the widest-winged condor on the Andes could, twice in succession, send out such a yell from the
9cloud shrouding his eyrie. The thing delivering such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort. It came out of
10the third storey; for it passed overhead. And overhead--yes, in the room just above my chamber-ceiling--I now heard a
11struggle: a deadly one it seemed from the noise; and a half-smothered voice shouted-- "Help! help! help!" three times
12rapidly. "Will no one come?" it cried; and then, while the staggering and stamping went on wildly, I distinguished
13through plank and plaster:-- "Rochester! Rochester! for God's sake, come!" A chamber-door opened: some one ran, or
14rushed, along the gallery. Another step stamped on the flooring above and something fell; and there was silence. I had
15put on some clothes, though horror shook all my limbs; I issued from my apartment. The sleepers were all aroused:
16ejaculations, terrified murmurs sounded in every room; door after door unclosed; one looked out and another looked out;
17the gallery filled. Gentlemen and ladies alike had quitted their beds; and "Oh! what is it?"--"Who is hurt?"--"What has
18happened?"--"Fetch a light!"--"Is it fire?"--"Are there robbers?"--"Where shall we run?" was demanded confusedly on all
19hands. But for the moonlight they would have been in complete darkness. They ran to and fro; they crowded together: some
20sobbed, some stumbled: the confusion was inextricable. "Where the devil is Rochester?" cried Colonel Dent. "I cannot
21find him in his bed." "Here! here!" was shouted in return. "Be composed, all of you: I'm coming." And the door at the
22end of the gallery opened, and Mr. Rochester advanced with a candle: he had just descended from the upper storey. One of
23the ladies ran to him directly; she seized his arm: it was Miss Ingram. "What awful event has taken place?" said she.
24"Speak! let us know the worst at once!" "But don't pull me down or strangle me," he replied: for the Misses Eshton were
25clinging about him now; and the two dowagers, in vast white wrappers, were bearing down on him like ships in full sail.
26"All's right!--all's right!" he cried. "It's a mere rehearsal of Much Ado about Nothing. Ladies, keep off, or I shall
27wax dangerous." And dangerous he looked: his black eyes darted sparks. Calming himself by an effort, he added-- "A
28servant has had the nightmare; that is all. She's an excitable, nervous person: she construed her dream into an
29apparition, or something of that sort, no doubt; and has taken a fit with fright. Now, then, I must see you all back
30into your rooms; for, till the house is settled, she cannot be looked after. Gentlemen, have the goodness to set the
31ladies the example. Miss Ingram, I am sure you will not fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors. Amy and Louisa,
32return to your nests like a pair of doves, as you are. Mesdames" (to the dowagers), "you will take cold to a dead
33certainty, if you stay in this chill gallery any longer." And so, by dint of alternate coaxing and commanding, he
34contrived to get them all once more enclosed in their separate dormitories. I did not wait to be ordered back to mine,
35but retreated unnoticed, as unnoticed I had left it. Not, however, to go to bed: on the contrary, I began and dressed
36myself carefully. The sounds I had heard after the scream, and the words that had been uttered, had probably been heard
37only by me; for they had proceeded from the room above mine: but they assured me that it was not a servant's dream which
38had thus struck horror through the house; and that the explanation Mr. Rochester had given was merely an invention
39framed to pacify his guests. I dressed, then, to be ready for emergencies. When dressed, I sat a long time by the window
40looking out over the silent grounds and silvered fields and waiting for I knew not what. It seemed to me that some event
41must follow the strange cry, struggle, and call. No: stillness returned: each murmur and movement ceased gradually, and
42in about an hour Thornfield Hall was again as hushed as a desert. It seemed that sleep and night had resumed their
43empire. Meantime the moon declined: she was about to set. Not liking to sit in the cold and darkness, I thought I would
44lie down on my bed, dressed as I was. I left the window, and moved with little noise across the carpet; as I stooped to
45take off my shoes, a cautious hand tapped low at the door. "Am I wanted?" I asked. "Are you up?" asked the voice I
46expected to hear, viz., my master's. "Yes, sir." "And dressed?" "Yes." "Come out, then, quietly." I obeyed. Mr.
47Rochester stood in the gallery holding a light. "I want you," he said: "come this way: take your time, and make no
48noise." My slippers were thin: I could walk the matted floor as softly as a cat. He glided up the gallery and up the
49stairs, and stopped in the dark, low corridor of the fateful third storey: I had followed and stood at his side. "Have
50you a sponge in your room?" he asked in a whisper. "Yes, sir." "Have you any salts--volatile salts?" "Yes." "Go back and
51fetch both." I returned, sought the sponge on the washstand, the salts in my drawer, and once more retraced my steps. He
52still waited; he held a key in his hand: approaching one of the small, black doors, he put it in the lock; he paused,
53and addressed me again. "You don't turn sick at the sight of blood?" "I think I shall not: I have never been tried yet."
54I felt a thrill while I answered him; but no coldness, and no faintness. "Just give me your hand," he said: "it will not
55do to risk a fainting fit." I put my fingers into his. "Warm and steady," was his remark: he turned the key and opened
56the door. I saw a room I remembered to have seen before, the day Mrs. Fairfax showed me over the house: it was hung with
57tapestry; but the tapestry was now looped up in one part, and there was a door apparent, which had then been concealed.
58This door was open; a light shone out of the room within: I heard thence a snarling, snatching sound, almost like a dog
59quarrelling. Mr. Rochester, putting down his candle, said to me, "Wait a minute," and he went forward to the inner
60apartment. A shout of laughter greeted his entrance; noisy at first, and terminating in Grace Poole's own goblin ha! ha!
61She then was there. He made some sort of arrangement without speaking, though I heard a low voice address him: he came
62out and closed the door behind him. "Here, Jane!" he said; and I walked round to the other side of a large bed, which
63with its drawn curtains concealed a considerable portion of the chamber. An easy-chair was near the bed-head: a man sat
64in it, dressed with the exception of his coat; he was still; his head leant back; his eyes were closed. Mr. Rochester
65held the candle over him; I recognised in his pale and seemingly lifeless face--the stranger, Mason: I saw too that his
66linen on one side, and one arm, was almost soaked in blood. "Hold the candle," said Mr. Rochester, and I took it: he
67fetched a basin of water from the washstand: "Hold that," said he. I obeyed. He took the sponge, dipped it in, and
68moistened the corpse-like face; he asked for my smelling-bottle, and applied it to the nostrils. Mr. Mason shortly
69unclosed his eyes; he groaned. Mr. Rochester opened the shirt of the wounded man, whose arm and shoulder were bandaged:
70he sponged away blood, trickling fast down. "Is there immediate danger?" murmured Mr. Mason.
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