"I like to observe all the faces, and all the figures."
"But do you never single one from the rest, or it may be, two?"
"I do frequently; when the gestures or looks of a pair seem telling a tale; it amuses me to watch them."
"What tale do you like best to hear?"
"Oh, I have not much choice! They generally run on the same theme--courtship; and promise to end in the same catastrophe--marriage."
"And do you like that monotonous theme?"
"Positively, I don't care about it: it is nothing to me."
"Nothing to you? When a lady, young and full of life and health, charming with beauty and endowed with rank and fortune, sits and smiles in the eyes of a gentleman you--"
"I what?"
"You know--and, perhaps, think well of."
"I don't know the gentlemen here. I have scarcely interchanged a syllable with one of them, I consider some respectable and stately, and middle-aged, and others young, dashing, handsome,and lively; but certainly they are all at liberty to be the recipients of whose smiles they please, without my feeling disposed to consider the transaction of any moment to me."
"You don't know the gentlemen here? You have not exchanged a syllable with one of them? Will you say that of the master of the house?"
"He is not at home."
"A profound remark! A most ingenious quibble! He went to Millcote this morning, and will be back here to-night, or to-morrow; does that circumstance exclude him from the list of your acquaintance--blot him, as it were, out of existence?"
"No; but I can scarcely see what Mr. Rochester has to do with the theme you had introduced."
"I was talking of ladies smiling in the eyes of gentlemen; and of late so many smiles have been shed into Mr. Rochester's eyes, that they overflow like two cups filled above the brim; have you never remarked that?"
"Mr. Rochester has a right to enjoy the society of his guests."
"No question about his right; but have you never observed that, of all the tales told here about matrimony, Mr. Rochester has been favored with the most lively and the most continuous?"
"The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator." I said this rather to myself than to the gypsy, whose strange talk, voice, manner, had by this time wrapped me in a kind of dream. One unexpected sentence came from her lips after another, till I got involved in a web of mystification; and wondered what unseen spirit had been sitting for weeks by my heart, watching its workings, and taking record of every pulse.
"Eagerness of a listener!" repeated she; "yes; Mr. Rochester has sat by the hour, his ear inclined to the fascinating lips that took such delight in their task of communicating; and Mr. Rochester was so willing to receive, and looked so grateful for the pastime given him; you have noticed this?"
"Grateful! I cannot remember detecting gratitude in his face."
"Detecting! You have analyzed, then. And what did you detect, if not gratitude?"
I said nothing.
"You have seen love; have you not?--and, looking forward, you have seen him married, and beheld his bride happy?"
"Humph! Not exactly. Your witch's skill is rather at fault sometimes."
"What the devil have you seen, then?"
"Never mind; I came here to inquire, not to confess. Is it known that Mr. Rochester is to be married?"
"Yes; and to the beautiful Miss Ingram."
"Shortly?"
"Appearances would warrant that conclusion; and, no doubt (though, with an audacity that wants chastising out of you, you seem to question it), they will be a superlatively happy pair. He must love such a handsome, noble, witty, accomplished lady; and probably she loves him; or, if not his person, at least his purse. I know she considers the Rochester estate eligible to the last degree; though (God pardon me!) I told her something on that point about an hour ago, which made her look wondrous grave; the corners of her mouth fell half an inch. I would advise her black a-visedfc suitor to look out; if another comes, with a longer or clearer rent-roll, he's dished."
"But, mother, I did not come to hear Mr. Rochester's fortune; I came to hear my own, and you have told me nothing of it."
"Your fortune is yet doubtful; when I examined your face, one trait contradicted another. Chance has meted you a measure of happiness; that I know. I knew it before I came here this evening. She has laid it carefully on one side for you; I saw her do it; it depends on yourself to stretch out your hand, and take it up; but whether you will do so, is the problem I study. Kneel again on the rug."
"Don't keep me long--the fire scorches me."
I knelt; she did not stoop toward me, but only gazed, leaning back in her chair. She began muttering:
"The flame flickers in the eye--the eye shines like dew; it looks soft and full of feeling--it smiles at my jargon fd--it is susceptible; impression follows impression through its clear sphere; when it ceases to smile, it is sad--an unconscious lassitude weighs on the lid, that signifies melancholy resulting from loneliness; it turns from me; it will not suffer further scrutiny; it seems to deny, by a mocking glance, the truth of the discoveries I have already made--to disown the charge both of sensibility and chagrin; its pride and reserve only confirm me in my opinion. The eye is favorable.
"As to the mouth, it delights at times in laughter; it is disposed to impart all that the brain conceives, though, I dare say, it would be silent on much the heart experiences. Mobile and flexible, it was never intended to be compressed in the eternal silence of solitude; it is a mouth which should speak much and smile often, and have human affection for its interlocutor. That feature, too, is propitious.
"I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say--'I can live alone, if self-respect and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure, born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.' The forehead declares, 'Reason sits firm and holds the reins, and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms. The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things:53 but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision. Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.'54
"Well said, forehead; your declaration shall be respected. I have formed my plans--right plans I deem them--and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience, the counsels of reason. I know how soon youth would fade, and bloom perish, if, in the cup of bliss offered, but one dreg of shame, or one flavor of remorse, were detected; and I do not want sacrifice, sorrow, dissolution--such is not my taste. I wish to foster, not to blight--to earn gratitude, not to wring tears of blood--no, nor of brine; my harvest must be in smiles, in endearments, in sweet--that will do. I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium. I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not. So far I have governed myself thoroughly. I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength. Rise, Miss Eyre, leave me; 'the play is played out.' "55
Where was I? Did I wake or sleep? Had I been dreaming? Did I dream still? The old woman's voice had changed. Her accent, her gesture, and all, were familiar to me as my own face in the glass--as the speech of my own tongue. I got up, but did not go. I looked; I stirred the fire, and I looked again; but she drew her bonnet and her bandage closer about her face, and again beckoned me to depart. The flame illuminated her hand stretched out. Roused now, and on the alert for discoveries, I at once noticed that hand; it was no more the withered limb of eldfe than my own; it was a rounded, supple member, with smooth fingers, symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger, and, stooping forward, I looked at it, and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before. Again I looked at the face, which was no longer turned from me;
on the contrary, the bonnet was doffed, the bandage displaced, the head advanced.
"Well, Jane, do you know me?" asked the familiar voice.
"Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then--"
"But the string is in a knot--help me."
"Break it, sir."
"There, then--'Off, ye lendings!' "56 And Mr. Rochester stepped out of his disguise.
"Now, sir, what a strange idea!"
"But well carried out, eh? Don't you think so?"
"With the ladies you must have managed well."
"But not with you."
"You did not act the character of a gypsy with me."
"What character did I act? My own?"
"No; some unaccountable one. In short, I believe you have been trying to draw me out--or in. You have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense. It is scarcely fair, sir."
"Do you forgive me, Jane?"
"I cannot tell till I have thought it all over. If, on reflection, I find I have fallen into no great absurdity, I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right."
"Oh, you have been very correct, very careful, very sensible!"
I reflected, and thought, on the whole, I had. It was a comfort; but, indeed, I had been on my guard almost from the beginning of the interview. Something of a masquerade I suspected. I knew gypsies and fortune-tellers did not express themselves as this seeming old woman had expressed herself; besides, I had noted her feigned voice--her anxiety to conceal her features. But my mind had been running on Grace Poole--that living enigma--that mystery of mysteries, as I considered her; I had never thought of Mr. Rochester.57
"Well," said he, "what are you musing about? What does that grave smile signify?"
"Wonder and self-congratulation, sir. I have your permission to retire, now, I suppose?"
"No; stay a moment, and tell me what the people in the drawing-room, yonder, are doing."
"Discussing the gypsy, I dare say."
"Sit down, sit down! Let me hear what they said about me."
"I had better not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o'clock. Oh! are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?"
"A stranger!--no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?"
"No; he said he had known you long, and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned."
"The devil he did! Did he give his name?"
"His name is Mason, sir; and he comes from the West Indies--from Spanish Town, in Jamaica, I think."
Mr. Rochester was standing near me; he had taken my hand, as if to lead me to a chair. As I spoke, he gave my wrist a convulsive grasp; the smile on his lips froze--apparently a spasm caught his breath.
"Mason!--the West Indies!" he said, in the tone one might fancy a speaking automaton to enounce its single words; "Mason! the West Indies!" he reiterated; and he went over the syllables three times, growing, in the intervals of speaking, whiter than ashes: he hardly seemed to know what he was doing.
"Do you feel ill, sir?" I inquired.
"Jane, I've got a blow; I've got a blow, Jane!" He staggered.
"Oh! lean on me, sir."
"Jane, you offered me your shoulder once before; let me have it now."
"Yes, sir, yes; and my arm."
He sat down, and made me sit beside him. Holding my hand in both of his own, he chafed it, gazing on me, at the same time, with the most troubled and dreary look.
"My little friend!" said he, "I wish I were in a quiet island with only you, and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections removed from me."
"Can I help you, sir? I'd give my life to serve you."
"Jane, if aid is wanted, I'll seek it at your hands--I promise you that."
"Thank you, sir; tell me what to do--I'll try, at least, to do it."
"Fetch me now, Jane, a glass of wine from the dining-room--they will be at supper there; and tell me if Mason is with them, and what he is doing."
I went. I found all the party in the dining-room at supper, as Mr. Rochester had said; they were not seated at table--the supper was arranged on the sideboard; each had taken what he chose, and they stood about, here and there, in groups, their plates and glasses in their hands. Every one seemed in high glee; laughter and conversation were general and animated. Mr. Mason stood near the fire, talking to Colonel and Mrs. Dent, and appeared as merry as any of them. I filled a wine-glass (I saw Miss Ingram watch me frowningly as I did so; she thought I was taking a liberty, I dare say), and I returned to the library.
Mr. Rochester's extreme pallor had disappeared, and he looked once more firm and stern. He took the glass from my hand.
"Here is your health, ministrant spirit!" he said; he swallowed the contents and returned it to me. "What are they doing, Jane?"
"Laughing and talking, sir."
"They don't look grave and mysterious, as if they had heard something strange?"
"Not at all; they are full of jests and gayety."
"And Mason?"
"He was laughing too."
"If all these people came in a body and spit at me, what would you do, Jane?"
"Turn them out of the room, sir, if I could."
He half smiled. "But if I were to go to them, and they only looked at me coldly, and whispered sneeringly among each other, and then dropped off and left me, one by one, what then? Would you go with them?"
"I rather think not, sir; I should have more pleasure in staying with you."
"To comfort me?"
"Yes, sir, to comfort you, as well as I could."
"And if they laid you under a ban for adhering to me?"
"I probably should know nothing about their ban; and if I did, I should care nothing about it."
"Then, you could dare censure for my sake?"
"I could dare it for the sake of any friend who deserved my adherence, as you, I am sure, do."
"Go back now into the room; step quietly up to Mason, and whisper in his ear that Mr. Rochester is come, and wishes to see him; show him in here, and then leave me."
"Yes, sir."
I did his behest. The company all stared at me as I passed straight among them. I sought Mr. Mason, delivered the message, and preceded him from the room; I ushered him into the library, and then I went up stairs.
At a late hour, after I had been in bed some time, I heard the visitors repair to their chambers; I distinguished Mr. Rochester's voice, and heard him say, "This way, Mason; this is your room."
He spoke cheerfully; the gay tones set my heart at ease. I was soon asleep.
Chapter XX
I had forgotten to draw my curtain,ff which I usually did, and also 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 paralyzed. 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 evry. The thing delivering such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort.
It came out of the third story; 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 moonlight 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 story. 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 inclosed in their separate dormitories. I did not wait to be ordered back to mine, but retreated unnoticed, as unnoticed I had left it.