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1I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night: I wanted to hear his voice
2again, yet feared to meet his eye. During the early part of the morning, I momentarily expected his coming; he was not
3in the frequent habit of entering the schoolroom, but he did step in for a few minutes sometimes, and I had the
4impression that he was sure to visit it that day. But the morning passed just as usual: nothing happened to interrupt
5the quiet course of Adèle's studies; only soon after breakfast, I heard some bustle in the neighbourhood of Mr.
6Rochester's chamber, Mrs. Fairfax's voice, and Leah's, and the cook's--that is, John's wife--and even John's own gruff
7tones. There were exclamations of "What a mercy master was not burnt in his bed!" "It is always dangerous to keep a
8candle lit at night." "How providential that he had presence of mind to think of the water-jug!" "I wonder he waked
9nobody!" "It is to be hoped he will not take cold with sleeping on the library sofa," &c. To much confabulation
10succeeded a sound of scrubbing and setting to rights; and when I passed the room, in going downstairs to dinner, I saw
11through the open door that all was again restored to complete order; only the bed was stripped of its hangings. Leah
12stood up in the window-seat, rubbing the panes of glass dimmed with smoke. I was about to address her, for I wished to
13know what account had been given of the affair: but, on advancing, I saw a second person in the chamber--a woman sitting
14on a chair by the bedside, and sewing rings to new curtains. That woman was no other than Grace Poole. There she sat,
15staid and taciturn-looking, as usual, in her brown stuff gown, her check apron, white handkerchief, and cap. She was
16intent on her work, in which her whole thoughts seemed absorbed: on her hard forehead, and in her commonplace features,
17was nothing either of the paleness or desperation one would have expected to see marking the countenance of a woman who
18had attempted murder, and whose intended victim had followed her last night to her lair, and (as I believed), charged
19her with the crime she wished to perpetrate. I was amazed--confounded. She looked up, while I still gazed at her: no
20start, no increase or failure of colour betrayed emotion, consciousness of guilt, or fear of detection. She said "Good
21morning, Miss," in her usual phlegmatic and brief manner; and taking up another ring and more tape, went on with her
22sewing. "I will put her to some test," thought I: "such absolute impenetrability is past comprehension." "Good morning,
23Grace," I said. "Has anything happened here? I thought I heard the servants all talking together a while ago." "Only
24master had been reading in his bed last night; he fell asleep with his candle lit, and the curtains got on fire; but,
25fortunately, he awoke before the bed-clothes or the wood-work caught, and contrived to quench the flames with the water
26in the ewer." "A strange affair!" I said, in a low voice: then, looking at her fixedly--"Did Mr. Rochester wake nobody?
27Did no one hear him move?" She again raised her eyes to me, and this time there was something of consciousness in their
28expression. She seemed to examine me warily; then she answered-- "The servants sleep so far off, you know, Miss, they
29would not be likely to hear. Mrs. Fairfax's room and yours are the nearest to master's; but Mrs. Fairfax said she heard
30nothing: when people get elderly, they often sleep heavy." She paused, and then added, with a sort of assumed
31indifference, but still in a marked and significant tone--"But you are young, Miss; and I should say a light sleeper:
32perhaps you may have heard a noise?" "I did," said I, dropping my voice, so that Leah, who was still polishing the
33panes, could not hear me, "and at first I thought it was Pilot: but Pilot cannot laugh; and I am certain I heard a
34laugh, and a strange one." She took a new needleful of thread, waxed it carefully, threaded her needle with a steady
35hand, and then observed, with perfect composure-- "It is hardly likely master would laugh, I should think, Miss, when he
36was in such danger: You must have been dreaming." "I was not dreaming," I said, with some warmth, for her brazen
37coolness provoked me. Again she looked at me; and with the same scrutinising and conscious eye. "Have you told master
38that you heard a laugh?" she inquired. "I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him this morning." "You did not
39think of opening your door and looking out into the gallery?" she further asked. She appeared to be cross-questioning
40me, attempting to draw from me information unawares. The idea struck me that if she discovered I knew or suspected her
41guilt, she would be playing of some of her malignant pranks on me; I thought it advisable to be on my guard. "On the
42contrary," said I, "I bolted my door." "Then you are not in the habit of bolting your door every night before you get
43into bed?" "Fiend! she wants to know my habits, that she may lay her plans accordingly!" Indignation again prevailed
44over prudence: I replied sharply, "Hitherto I have often omitted to fasten the bolt: I did not think it necessary. I was
45not aware any danger or annoyance was to be dreaded at Thornfield Hall: but in future" (and I laid marked stress on the
46words) "I shall take good care to make all secure before I venture to lie down." "It will be wise so to do," was her
47answer: "this neighbourhood is as quiet as any I know, and I never heard of the hall being attempted by robbers since it
48was a house; though there are hundreds of pounds' worth of plate in the plate-closet, as is well known. And you see, for
49such a large house, there are very few servants, because master has never lived here much; and when he does come, being
50a bachelor, he needs little waiting on: but I always think it best to err on the safe side; a door is soon fastened, and
51it is as well to have a drawn bolt between one and any mischief that may be about. A deal of people, Miss, are for
52trusting all to Providence; but I say Providence will not dispense with the means, though He often blesses them when
53they are used discreetly." And here she closed her harangue: a long one for her, and uttered with the demureness of a
54Quakeress. I still stood absolutely dumfoundered at what appeared to me her miraculous self-possession and most
55inscrutable hypocrisy, when the cook entered. "Mrs. Poole," said she, addressing Grace, "the servants' dinner will soon
56be ready: will you come down?" "No; just put my pint of porter and bit of pudding on a tray, and I'll carry it
57upstairs." "You'll have some meat?" "Just a morsel, and a taste of cheese, that's all." "And the sago?" "Never mind it
58at present: I shall be coming down before teatime: I'll make it myself." The cook here turned to me, saying that Mrs.
59Fairfax was waiting for me: so I departed. I hardly heard Mrs. Fairfax's account of the curtain conflagration during
60dinner, so much was I occupied in puzzling my brains over the enigmatical character of Grace Poole, and still more in
61pondering the problem of her position at Thornfield and questioning why she had not been given into custody that
62morning, or, at the very least, dismissed from her master's service. He had almost as much as declared his conviction of
63her criminality last night: what mysterious cause withheld him from accusing her? Why had he enjoined me, too, to
64secrecy? It was strange: a bold, vindictive, and haughty gentleman seemed somehow in the power of one of the meanest of
65his dependents; so much in her power, that even when she lifted her hand against his life, he dared not openly charge
66her with the attempt, much less punish her for it.
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