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1And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial,
2made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I
3had not forgotten his faults; indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic,
4harsh to inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust
5severity to many others. He was moody, too; unaccountably so; I more than once, when sent for to read to him, found him
6sitting in his library alone, with his head bent on his folded arms; and, when he looked up, a morose, almost a
7malignant, scowl blackened his features. But I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of
8morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate. I believed he
9was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles, and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed,
10education instilled, or destiny encouraged. I thought there were excellent materials in him; though for the present they
11hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny that I grieved for his grief, whatever that was, and would
12have given much to assuage it. Though I had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed, I could not sleep for
13thinking of his look when he paused in the avenue, and told how his destiny had risen up before him, and dared him to be
14happy at Thornfield. "Why not?" I asked myself. "What alienates him from the house? Will he leave it again soon? Mrs.
15Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than a fortnight at a time; and he has now been resident eight weeks. If he
16does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and
17fine days will seem!" I hardly know whether I had slept or not after this musing; at any rate, I started wide awake on
18hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious, which sounded, I thought, just above me. I wished I had kept my candle
19burning: the night was drearily dark; my spirits were depressed. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was
20hushed. I tried again to sleep; but my heart beat anxiously: my inward tranquillity was broken. The clock, far down in
21the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber-door was touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a
22way along the dark gallery outside. I said, "Who is there?" Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear. All at once I
23remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen-door chanced to be left open, not unfrequently found his way up
24to the threshold of Mr. Rochester's chamber: I had seen him lying there myself in the mornings. The idea calmed me
25somewhat: I lay down. Silence composes the nerves; and as an unbroken hush now reigned again through the whole house, I
26began to feel the return of slumber. But it was not fated that I should sleep that night. A dream had scarcely
27approached my ear, when it fled affrighted, scared by a marrow-freezing incident enough. This was a demoniac laugh--low,
28suppressed, and deep--uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the
29door, and I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside--or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose,
30looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came
31from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, "Who is there?"
32Something gurgled and moaned. Ere long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase: a door had
33lately been made to shut in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still. "Was that Grace Poole? and is
34she possessed with a devil?" thought I. Impossible now to remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I hurried
35on my frock and a shawl; I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand. There was a candle burning just
36outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to
37perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these
38blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning. Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and
39that door was Mr. Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I thought
40no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted round the bed:
41the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.
42"Wake! wake!" I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him. Not a moment could be
43lost: the very sheets were kindling, I rushed to his basin and ewer; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and
44both were filled with water. I heaved them up, deluged the bed and its occupant, flew back to my own room, brought my
45own water-jug, baptized the couch afresh, and, by God's aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring
46it. The hiss of the quenched element, the breakage of a pitcher which I flung from my hand when I had emptied it, and,
47above all, the splash of the shower-bath I had liberally bestowed, roused Mr. Rochester at last. Though it was now dark,
48I knew he was awake; because I heard him fulminating strange anathemas at finding himself lying in a pool of water. "Is
49there a flood?" he cried. "No, sir," I answered; "but there has been a fire: get up, do; you are quenched now; I will
50fetch you a candle." "In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?" he demanded. "What have you done
51with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?" "I will fetch you a candle,
52sir; and, in Heaven's name, get up. Somebody has plotted something: you cannot too soon find out who and what it is."
53"There! I am up now; but at your peril you fetch a candle yet: wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if
54any dry there be--yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!" I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the
55gallery. He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the
56carpet round swimming in water. "What is it? and who did it?" he asked. I briefly related to him what had transpired:
57the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery: the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,--the smell of fire
58which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the
59water I could lay hands on. "What is it and who did it?" he asked He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on,
60expressed more concern than astonishment; he did not immediately speak when I had concluded. "Shall I call Mrs.
61Fairfax?" I asked. "Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested."
62"Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife." "Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not
63warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there,--I will put it on.
64Now place your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the
65candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don't move,
66remember, or call any one."
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